"phasing" poems
The late January 2 p.m. sun is as follows:
- omnipresent
- ten thousand photon hands per body
- shining through souls;
> flesh has no stopping force if completely unraveled and dissolved in the sweetness of spring;
the promise.
a spring something that wafts through the still fresh year air,
the one that gets animals and humans alike frantic,
pink in patches, rhythms beating,
resonance seeking of matter against matter,
Surface vertical,
horizontal,
--Phasing--
& Finally
Upwards when we merge,
having found each other,
released in sync
into the sky;
Light
and heavy with the journey.
And then I kiss you again.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 4:02 PM UTC
Blurring,
Through a lifeless realm of light.
Blinding,
Is the massive ray display!
Phasing through two different voids,
As life enfolds, the dark engulfed.
Before the storm,
The tallest bricks reform.
And waves ring silence,
As the boat stays on the shore!
I'll travel to the distant past
To cast the gauntlet to the mass!
As the wise men fill with rage,
Their heads take cover
Under hoods of shape!
Detonate!
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
I liked quirky women
It was easier to breathe around them
Their irregularities gave me something to watch, whether it was entertaining or simply odd
The ones that fully embraced that quality were the most radiant
Looking at the them was almost the same as looking into the sun
They gave me insight as to what I was lacking
Embracing their warmth gave me balance
I gladly take the backseat to them to this day
My place is observing from the side
I like for my vanity to be silent
The only issue with them—women in general—is that they have a need for constant communication and affirmation and affection
In the beginning, it’s more tolerable because everything is new and exciting
Then comes the inevitable: I get tired
Their quirks have become predictable, and their conversations dull
One week I’m deeply infatuated, then after the experiment becomes a process, the next couple weeks drag by with each day seeming to last years
That’s when I withdraw
Phasing out of a fifty year long commitment of love and charity, like the coward I am, then drifting back to the safety of solitude until the cycle repeats itself
I’m a dog
I’m a loner
One of these days I’ll have to pick one
But it won’t be today, and certainly not tomorrow
Sometime.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
This town is famous
for pretty faces,
broken legs,
and misplaced names--
A sentence penned,
An Oxford comma
dangling off the edge of pages,
setting off appositive phrases,
lighting fuses--accidental--
phasing out of view and staging
tactical retreats
The winds of February mark off
intersections
Dow & Broadway
Midnight laughs echo off stratos
then fall back--
snowstorms at midday.
Caught in the rain on Sunday evening
this place don't stay awake so late.
Except, perhaps, for pretty faces,
misplaced names, or broken legs--
But forget the Oxford comma
retreating, drenched, off of the page.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
I have been informed
That phasing through walls is just
A stereotype.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
The screeching noise on the pouch
marked with evil twisted eyes
pawns so dark and painful
watching on, phasing on
trying to deliver depressive storms
turns torn with thorns
others taken off from the throne
for his nerves never ever rests
and his mind a clogged drainage
for there is always time to stop
to give it up and let life live
for there is always time to slide
to leave all the burdens on a bridge
for there is always time to grow
to sink in the ever glowing circles
the doves have a disturbing coo
as their coldness distributes
the celestial night gets kidnapped
his footsteps stride in a torment bang
crashing the black box in pieces
punching for a breath as pressure rises
until the dawn brings the sunrise
wiping all the daunting scares
erasing all of the vengeful tears
Celebrating life as it should be
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC
**I tread to keep my head
Just above the water;
But find myself floating away ~
While others were sinking
or swimming
down yonder, I ponder,
though my thoughts betray
The reality that I perceive
Which may, or may not be as limiting
Of that which you can conceive,
Or can see much stronger
I no longer bother;
It’s deceiving so I castaway,
And leave myself astray in the fray /
Blottering•
To alter my relief of mindscape
and believe, there’ll better days,
beyond what I face
Cremate my remains in the ashtray someday
Energy never ceases to exist
It perpetually permeates the cosmic collective consciousness
Wherever my soul will occupy
the confines in space
Of the vibrations that happen
to solidify my base
And give me just the slightest trace,
that I’m phasing amidst
these in-between places
I feel as though I am an imposter -
Egregiously living a grievous dream,
of which I have conjured;
That I am lost,
and therefore cannot prosper
Because I harbor improper resentment,
that I will foster until my departure
This fractal picture of the macrocosm
only grows larger,
but from farther away;
As it becomes harder to map the realms
of territories unchartered in my escape
I try to attain, but only falter in vain
To discover what the universe
truly contains
And convey that in words
to paint mental frames/
Maybe it’s strange
but one must think
outside the constraints
It may sound absurd but please
keep up the pace
Spiritual enlightenment for real
is the surreal end-game
in which we all play chase replacing
Incarcerated rocks to be polished,
in this giant machine
Perpetually incarnating
A shining spirit until
that’s all that remains
Once every imperfection
Is completely erased
When the correct particles
have been finally arranged
& Nirvana has since become fully sustained
Can I truly be One with my Self-
And not just a product of fate**
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC
Night is like a black fox, prancing and gliding about
His black fur iridescent with the stars that come out
His large brush of a tail sweeps over the earth
His phasing eyes a moon full of mirth
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
**Poet took a grandiose leap of faith,
amid a big swig of moonbeams
dabbling toes beyond starry galaxies
Milky Way spun in translations
Pluto still looked perplexed,
Big Dipper gave a smart **** grimace
wondering what the hell was
going on 'neath the stratosphere
when human beings can't keep
their heads above ambiguous clouds
feet firmly planted on ground,
delving lofty heaven's bliss
escaping the wrath of hell's fire,
aggrandizing endless poesy that
absorbs sparks of a universal desire
never phasing sun's obstinance,
but, if you believe in poetry
there's no telling where
boundless skies will surrender**
...and the man in the moon tilted on his axis in a
backward's spiral and unabashedly winked
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 7:59 AM UTC
I cross my legs under the Bodhi tree, sitting
in the sanctity of my well afflicted fortune
I splice the moment’s intermittent air
to drink of the jeweled river cascades
electric plush ~ ripened
to taste like lemonade Nirvana,
puckered up with pleasant chills
flowing through crystalline lattice
works to cleanse my mental palette
with a hint of mint placed on an Other-side
be rest assured the crest rolls atop the tide.
A vacant awareness is aroused from within the
sanctity of my sweet surrender ~
My eyes flutter blissful blinks like flirting butterfly’s
flapping wings resounding good vibrations
across the globe where space rebounds with
positive affirmation of *the little girl with wet eyes,
smiles wide, an outstretched palm placed firmly
in a mother’s hand, how safely she's returned,
perfectly as planned.*
I celebrate this victorious vision inside my skull
with grunting cheer and a third eye sneeze ~
my air fills with a burst of vision mist coating
my recollections piece by piece holistically,
light as a photon beam phasing in for safe landing,
strapped back in my body for leave of meditation.
I rise out from under the Bodhi tree, in my sanctity
of well afflicted fortune and give a thankful bow
for the good outcomes of the day.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Wired like a loaded gun
Waiting for the morning sun
Hello! How are you today
And I wonder
My love
Should I take the sun from you
Put it in a box of darkness
Like setting
I spread the ashes of a love never in love
just a circle venn diagram make believe but not Peter Pan
And love
I love you so
I am the sun
And I shine for no one
So box of darkness
Here I come
Speckled star dust farm eggs
Fresh renewed self conviction
Moon born
Phasing through to a life
Without you
Hedonism blood pulse
Still sentimental soul
Selling out to the lone wolf
Sneaky fox
Flowers tainting memories
Hand holding cheek kissing nostalgia bliss
Don't think
Of the one you will miss
Just kiss
Supernova
Little sunhat at nighttime party
Don't don't listen to the lies you whisper to yourself
You are the one you'll miss
If you don't help yourself
Feast on sin and self-righteousness
Reincarnation is second chance
Listen to the hands with the carnations outstretched
Fellow stranger with star burnt eyes
caring for those self told lies
You cheat
yourself
with handholding cypress knees bending towards
neurons collapsing
into the one who
Binary stars you
Binary stares at you
Holds you in your sleep from far away
Dream meeting past life fleeting into the now
You answer to this highschool crush pop quiz invader of reality
Who questions what color to paint the moon
Never almost drowning
But who has only ever taken a life
that belonged to them alone
relating in fictional patterns of physics
Undeniable wavelengths
colliding crashing consoling
You knew from the first eyes
that seeds of doubt would sprout in what you mislead as love
And you ask
Why not?
Hello,
today is not tomorrow.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
I’d done it before—losing that feeling that came in the door
when my love walked through, that the ground I was
standing on wasn’t quite steady and the world was spinning
the other way—but he loves me back this time, so now guiltily solid,
I watch as he shakes, head over heels with that feeling
I'm losing and painfully, I remember when both our axes
tilted right instead of left, when earthquakes followed our footsteps.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
Stimulated by Neva's lovely verse "Layers of Faces"
Phasing from the pockmarked scowl
Of urchin from the pauper's keep,
To fresh complexioned beauty
As she prepares herself for sleep.
Plunging to absurd
Amidst a paroxysm of mirth
With heaving breath and yellow teeth
Atop substantial girth.
A vacancy of shock
Within two eyes of palest blue
Who witnessed a young fledgling killed
By the cat who lives with you.
Dribbles from a masticating jaw
begin to dry
And a sudden bark of anger
causes feeding birds to fly.
A smile as warm as sunshine
Brings the pherimones to bear
And the young and the beautiful
Both magnetically stare.
There's a fan dance of faces
Stretched across the prosaic
And the layers within layers
Etch it all a rich mosaic.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
22 February 2011
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 12:06 PM UTC
There is beauty on the horizon that I can almost see
A dream dances a breath from my fingertips,
Ghosting in the corner of my eye.
Yet all I find is the winter in my heart and the burning in my throat.
Yet all I see is a watery landscape disfigured through blurred, infected eyes.
This beauty on the horizon calls to me
Leaves forgotten sticky notes that won’t stay put,
Fluttering around the caverns in my mind.
Yet all they do is land in puddles of venom.
Yet all they do is make me pain for what I could be chosen to forget.
That beauty is almost past me now
In search of another lover to spend the night
Or a ***** to pay to hold him for a while.
Yet he doesn’t know what I’d give to be near him without this broken shell.
Yet he doesn’t know how easily we could intertwine and never be broken.
Those beautiful dreams could be mine to hold
Weighing less than a handful of sand,
Phasing more quickly than smoke through the air.
Yet my heart feels knives smirking in the shadows.
Yet my heart has nothing left
Except to bleed.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
I am not apt to dance with fleeting judgement
Gone awry, left of right
A pain stained glance through her window
Strikes a splintered gaze in spite~
loyalties sworn in the moment,
shifted by the hands of time
reaching out with subtle movement
crashed onto the seaweed shore.
Coral kiss may not recover, unresolved and underscored.
A talon's reach amidst the plunder grabbing bodies off the floor
diving swiftly out and under
shifting upwards, on the run.
Phasing inwards contemplation
in between the Earth and Sun.
Moonlight walkers jubilation~
infiltrating everyone.
Cast a spell of Celebrations,
right of left, to keep the balance
turns the page
for brand new season~
blows the Horn of Clarion.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
clawing at my mind
memories that are not mine
implanted as a powerful seed
hunger for more fueled by greed
envisioning surreal landscapes, places never seen
only within an imagination exists a country so serene
for it is not this era that I breathe
rather a time when the land was cherished beneath
footsteps resound down a dusty, old road
I watch breathless while the sands of time erode
phasing into the future, a place where I do not belong
the strings in my mind strum a sad, mournful song
as these strange memories align
memories that are not mine
thoughts from another time
one in which by chance existence was a bit more peaceful
perhaps memories are just as deceitful
when they are not mine
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
You lie next to your pillows in bed and you have trouble sleeping the way the moon does when it’s phasing out. I can see it in your nutty eyes the fear that lingers from the nightmares you still have from that day he took you and did harm like raging fires on the hills of a dried out California.
Unlike anything before you linger in your corner
wondering if you’ll ever be okay,
if this tragedy is something that’ll prevent someone,
or something from loving you.
It causes havoc in your heart
and I can hear it in your voice
as it shakes from your mind
replaying those burning moments
that have left third-degree marks on your skin.
His hands swept through the surface of your skin
as if you were some prize he won at a county fair.
You pop like a balloon and tears run down your face
you scream for help,
but nothing is heard
you feel alone,
no one believes you
because well,
you asked for it,
right?
Wrong
Your skin wasn’t asking to be touched by fire,
leaving scars that don’t fade by time itself,
Your body didn’t ask to be taken advantage of like dry grass in a drought.
so now you live in fear,
fear that you aren’t worth being loved,
fear that you have to live for the rest of life reliving those moments of torment
I am here to tell you even the deepest wounds can heal,
It just needs the tender love of someone with a steady hand to hold the pieces in place,
you are a walking miracle as your face is hit by the warm sunlight and your eyes melt like honey.
You are the hero in your story,
you don’t need to be saved by anyone
Most importantly
Don’t Forget to love yourself,
as I have learned to love even the darkest bits of universe.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
beautiful blackbirds
ebony adorned from head to foot
camouflaged for stealth
in shadows and night time sky
sleek sateenic sheen
iridescence of well oiled machine
efficient avian predators
ruthless in their call
attacking nested eggs and fledglings
with never ending caw
boldly bantering by day
foraging in parks, parking lots, streets and alleys
searching for food with eerie, ethereal, slow motion hops
seemingly phasing, at will, out of sync with time
ancient spirit travelers to another plane
they watch the world with weary eyes
spying and recording the day’s events
atop skies, trees and telephone lines
then whispering into the ears
of gods and poets and cornfields
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 1:23 PM UTC
I’m phased out to sepia, Pet,
The last cab on the rank,
My good looks and *** a memory, Sweet,
For which, I’ve you to thank.
One day blending through to next
Increasingly a blur,
Dissatisfaction total now
For things ain’t what they were.
Ignored by all and sundry
Quite invisible to they
Who converse in hieroglyphics,
Incomprehensible, I say.
Overtaken by technology
Can’t figure out the phone
Facebook, watch and wallet mishmash
Won’t leave us alone.
Confusion at the pace of things,
It’s all moving far too fast
Queuing up for life
Leaves us, inevitably, last.
But bitterness ain’t with me
For I’ve loved your churlish ways,
Tho we’ve sailed through life on cobblestones
That old sunshine warmed our days.
But now I’m phasing out to sepia, Sweet,
Cos I’m the last cab on the rank
One quick kiss before departure, Pet,
For which..... I’ve you to thank.
M.
Auckland
22 April 2015
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
Memories Perfectly Printed In The Pages,
Of A Locked--Leather Backed Book,
I've Repayed My Erie Wages,
And Yet My Pride Is Took,
Misery Formed In Many Different Stages,
Mirrors Reflect A Conversation Piece--The Hook,
Feared Creatures Locked In Steel Cages,
Sadly They Thought I Was A Crook,
Help Written In The Margins--Doleful--Enraged,
Bitter Words Spat In My Face--Look,
Actions And Emotions Staged,
A Mind Mastering Melancholy And Is Shook,
Names And Places Engraved,
The Platter Of Humane Treatment--Perfectly Cooked,
At The Last Paragraph In This Phasing,
Locked Book,
The Words To Be Continued,
Reflect In The Green Eyes,
Of A Caged Being
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
Sure I’m what most would consider a bright guy
but I’m not uncommonly intelligent
I’ve met many people I consider smarter
I make frequent dumb mistakes
What you like is caused mostly by
an idyllic childhood,
an extremely loving but eccentric mother,
overcoming a wide variety of relatively-uncommon/not-dangerous/but-embarrassing afflictions
constant movement around the country,
lack of religion, nation or professional sports team,
rampant self-pity
and
*** use and abuse phasing between infrequent* to daily**
I’m afraid of practically everything
But I’m blessed with the ability to constantly face my fears
Cannabis induces the purest fear of existence (i.e. awe)
Once overcome it produces life
And what dreams may come
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
_Deep in my soul
I felt weak and weary
And knew that my end
Hung silently near me
But on the wind
And through the trees
A sound fluttered down
A nearby breeze
It danced along
A deviant path
Bending and phasing
In a joy filled wrath
My hollow bones
So light and enchanted
By that colorful tone
Not evil nor slanted
Pushed ever onward
And looked out below
The source of this song
I was thirsty to know...
I came upon a white city
Shining in the distance
If it weren’t for the music
I would have missed it
Eagles soared above
From mountaintop trees
They flew with grace
Together on a breeze
I felt myself hopeful
And drawn to their course
To that faraway city
Far off to the north
With haste I dashed
Down rocky plateaus
For I felt at home
From my head to my toes
Like a child I raced
As the sun finally set
Until I was caught
By a rope-wound net!
It was forever as if
I floated across those plains
My captors carried me
With grace so strange
As the music got nearer
Eagles sang with flutes
Piecing together a melody
Known by trees and their roots...
I was placed in company
Of a magnificent king
His crown was white
And his robe, and his ring
He bid me welcome
To live among his people
In his white city of courtyards
Towers and steeples
As I opened my mouth
And my heart to say yes
He stopped me before that
With one lone request
I must dwell in this realm
Until the end of my days
For in hiding, he said,
We all must remain
Hidden from the darkness
That dwells beyond the mountains
Hidden among fairies,
Family, and fountains...
So there I dwelt
Until the end of my life
In that shinning white city
With my children and wife
I’ll never forget
That most fortunate day
That by music and eagle
I was once led astray..._
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 8:58 PM UTC
Sitting in my red Lambo
the wind breathing down our backs like a perve
I look to my right after working up the nerve
She's sipping that malt like nobody's business
Her hellcat smile barely containing a playful tongue
Funny, I never thought I'd be jealous of a straw
My Ray Bans refract the setting Sun's spit onto her shades
We play tag with it before tossing the light through the windshield
Doctor Dusk gave us the full dosage
The tires grind on the gravel of our asphalt Neverland
I Peter Panic when she sheds her masquerade
She's got stunning mocha eyes frosted with truthful lies
I see her spirit phasing into my chest
A pair of luscious lips giving my heart a crimson kiss
She tells me I carry the scent of leather and sorrow on my sin
On hers, I discern daddy issues and untapped sin
The girl's as broken as I am
Sure, I might occasionally be smarmy and sick
by no means, though, a consistent ****
Her giggles wash all the bad days away
so my Lucifer impressions melts her ears with a
"Baby, wanna play?"
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
The Man in the Moon will be leavin’ soon
Officially, he retired.
But Polaris and some other stars
Are saying he got fired
The Man in the Moon would never leave
Of his own volition.
Management, cutting back on costs,
Is phasing out his position.
His quarterly reviews have not been going very well,
They say he isn’t any good with change.
When he gives his full attention, he seems to do ok,
But lately he’s been acting kind of strange,
His bosses claim he sleeps all day.
And on cloudy nights, he stays away,
(It’d be age discrimination if they said he’s getting old)
So they say that he won’t listen and won’t do as he is told.
They say because he has seniority,
That he resents authority,
Won’t show his new boss how the job is done,
And in their final summary, out of ten, they gave him three,
Said that he doesn’t hold a candle to the sun.
But those of us who know his work
Know he would never, ever shirk
Responsibility, or jobs that must be done -
At night when he works overtime,
Countless souls look up to him, but
At night they’ll never, ever, see the sun.
If The Man in the Moon is told to leave
Our lives will be amiss,
So I took a poet’s initiative
To make management a list:
Reasons Not to Fire the Man in the Moon
Who will watch young lovers kiss?
Who will push and pull the tides?
Who will occupy the space
Where The Man in the Moon resides?
Who will tell the farmer when it’s time to plant his field?
Who will lead the eclipse when the sun needs lunar shield?
Who will be the subject of songs and nursery rhymes?
Who will notify the werewolf when it’s his changin’ time?
Who will calm the sailors after stormy nights at sea?
Who will make a silhouette of an owl in the tree?
Who will light the children’s path each All Hallows’ Eve?
Who would raise vampires from their coffins
Were The Man in the Moon to leave?
I ask these questions with a plea
Knowing that, if it were up to me
And I had the power to blunt the cutter’s knife,
We’d leave the Earth and Heavens as they’ve been for all these years,
And The Man in the Moon would have his job for life.
PwL 5/24/15w
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC