"photon" poems
Clicketyclick —
sickly screens,
shooting
sixty
picture-frames
per second
Tickety ticktock, rapid-fire
photon cannons,
ripping holes
through our
faces
rectangles,
riddled with anxiety ridden
read scripts
the resultant
retinal scarring
Wicketywicked, weary eyes,
dripping with serrated pixels
triple dotted,
typing-awareness indicators
create silly suspenses,
inducing temporal
dramas,
emotional
micro-traumas
every second a slice
through my,
now practically nonexistent,
patience
Am I a server,
or am I a servant?
Eyes, sunken, with
withered skin
I'm waiting for my fix
Ding-ding
Bloop!
Pinggg
Here comes the dopamine! —
—Clicketyclick
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
poem in two parts (a plane and bird)
You are a sound in still silence; a point against negative space toward which my eye is drawn. The sun set, peeking beneath a blanket of storm clouds, painting the underside, as a plane, an infinitesimal photon, a plane flew as an impossible pinprick of optimistic light, moving slowly against the immense parallax backdrop of bright and hazy pink-orange glowing thunder clouds. You are the first breath I took. You are the product of all infinities, divided by itself, the sum of all integers. When the earth falls into the sun, long after humans left, long after you left, and any recognizable trace of you is swallowed, your memory will persist. You will have still lived; You will have been the last breath I took.
A fulcrum of loss and a wedge between two equally lost people, but between them, between them still a bird, flying farther than any eye can see, but should the lights of the lighthouses lose you against their foggy panes, or should the salty wind dash you against something equally heavy, call out, and cast your voice into the sky, upon the sea, and against the stars, and maybe its echoes will live a little longer than you.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in all this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard as fire?
Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind **** you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
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
I'm a simple electron.
And, although I have my quarks,
It's usually a persona I don,
Pretending I enjoy meaningless talks.
See, I was once in a pair,
With a fellow electron.
And, although it was difficult to bear,
The laws of physics ultimately won.
The closer we got,
The more we repelled.
When she was ionised, it hurt a lot,
She left, regardless of how much I held.
She soon paired with another,
Leaving me to start a bond.
It was my emotions I tried to smother,
Of myself, I was certainly not fond.
For a while my thoughts were scattered,
My emotions being forced up and down.
But none of that really mattered,
As I soon met another who would invert my frown.
You see, she was a blinding photon,
And when we met, she certainly did excite me...
And, just like my friend the boson,
I hope you don't take this lightly.
She perked me up a couple of energy levels,
Until she pulled me out of my shell.
Now, together, we're quantum rebels,
I'm a simple electron, and this is the story I tell.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in all this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard as fire?
Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind **** you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
Twist ye not the tendrils of time
frame dragging by any other name
black holes ergosphere sublimes
pulls spacetime to its slow down game
Those clocks and our clocks not the same
Time's vector smeared along its timeline
speeds along its X axis game
Remains longer on its own line rhyme
Then around and around she goes
For this clock so smitten runs so slow
And where the hands stop nobody knows
Spacetime's drill bit twisted so
This black silken dress of spacetime
Wrapped around this gravity vortex
Twisted infinity sublimes
on the singularities’ cortex
Redshifts starlight to infinity
Photons below values of C
Their orange trails of light I see
These curved, stretched, these twisted banshees
Frozen in space these tendrils of time
My heart beats on ever so slow
This time signature of space aligns
reality to its queer clocks of woe
In front of me coasting along
a singular photon it’s brilliance
flitting like a firefly’s lonely song
wave-like in its own resilience
This photonic duplicity
particle now and a wave the next
surrenders its reciprocity
to this block of spacetime so vexed
Such are the tendrils of time here
to the black holes seductive embrace
These time signatures skewed so queer
From the Dark Mother’s fingers trace
As she smiles at me saying:
“Oh my beautiful child of wonder”
“Blessed be your love and curiosity”
“Of all my spells that you fall under”
“To you all of my precocity”
“So I bless thee and thy lady “Star”
“Your undaunting love of Michele
“Shines on in O Class from thee so far”
“I release thee from this spacetime spell”
These tendrils of time wound round
These whirlpools in space
These wonders of space found
In Michele’s beautiful face.
Dave Proffitt
9/10/2016
3:01 PM
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
My shattered soul is
Scattered throughout space and time
Infinite fractals -
Holographic pieces
Containing the Whole
I am stardust in a faraway galaxy
And the warming rays of the sun
The blade of grass on a meadow
Gently undulating in the breeze
The refreshing rain on an arid plane
And the tree that has seen it all
I am the mountain standing firm
In neutral observation
I am the waves on the water and
The teeming life within
I am the Sirian in human disguise
And the quantum of light -
A traveling photon shooting through
An ocean of emptiness
Heralding change
I see myself reflected
A thousand times
I read my words
In other poets’ poems and
Hear my song sung
By venerated voices
My hopes and dreams are
Imagined into reality
By actors calling themselves human
Unaware of their role on
The stage of life
I am the little girl
Scared to face the world
And the Amazon with eagle eyes
And heightened senses
Confident about my next move
The grandmother burdened
By a life of suffering
And the one crouching behind
The eyes of the beggar
Beholding the careless passerby
Who is
Oblivious of my existence
I am the ****** on the roof
The killer and the killed
The mother tenderly nursing my child
And the little boy lost in ecstasy
When I see the ocean
For the first time
I am the light
I am the dark
The poet and the poem
The muse of the painter
And the color on her brush
The blank canvas and
The piece of art
Everything and nothing
A paradox of the universe
So I am sending out
A magnetic pulse
Spreading love through all of existence
Thus calling my shattered pieces
Back to the
HEART
© Jasmine, Amsterdam, October 2013
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:11 PM UTC
we watched raccoons eat our piled-up three day old trash
through the rectangular kitchen window above the sink
angled light emptied through the screen
that we thanked God was there
unopened decks of Bicycle playing cards gripped
the dusted counter for fear of flowing
dislocating elbows away from our stomachs
baring four ivory wrists to the photon flood
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
Working your way out of ionic ******* can be
seriously interesting however, it can also be
lugubrious.
I was standing in the aisle at Bulk Barn.
low on neutrinos, I was looking to stock up
I like to sprinkle them on my cereal in the morning
I then made my way down the anti-photon aisle
if you like your coffee black and not sweet, as I do
this is almost as good as other alternatives
I did realize that
my electron supply was fine
but thought I'd get some anyway
just for the ion-y
I don't understand the economics of this transaction
but it is apparent the invisible hand does
When the clerk looked in my basket
I was waved through
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 7:56 PM UTC
Designs and Equations
Was it the ****** Void filling
or Pandora's box opening?
Was it Victoria's secret
or was it the intellect of victors?
Was it the prowess of Hector/Hercules was it?
Was it the influence of Arthur or Har-Thor was it?
What shapes this world?
Ancient Egypt, Pyramids and the Sphinx?
Stonhenge and oblelisks?
Mystery Schools and occultism scrolls?
Crystal technology shifting poles?
Perhaps the hips and curves of a voluptuous African Queen
Perhaps the fall of Atlantis
or the secrets of the Bermuda Triangle
Perhaps the enthralling dynamics of the Photon Belt
Perhaps the mystery of Shamballa
or maybe underground bases where vortex points are
Perhaps the missing Eyepods
Maybe ancient and present advanced civilizations
Maybe it was the fall of Mars or the destruction of Maldek
Maybe the hope of Terra par DOMA
Or a design from distant super universes
or the amphibian watchers of myths
Maybe you, maybe me, maybe we
The I I I I I's of this world
however our eyes blind for we ruin this world
If we looked long enough at the light would we burn out?
If we truly listened could we hear the music of the verses unison - universes created by the Divine Creator?
would we join it/him/ness? Would we hear then Sophia being played as a harp and worlds conceived
Would we see a billion pictures as the cosmos are breathed?
and Karma come to be...
Would we learn of all life forms? Would we learn that there is more structural design than form? Would we learn that there are other mediums of activity apart from life?
Would we learn that structure is part of a larger paradigm of concentrated design?
Would we learn that universes are gardens and that there are worlds beyond the multiverse based on a hill and mountain orientation not dependant on planes?
Who shapes the world?
Our Souls from the ocean of love reincarnating?
The keepers of sacred knowledge at the temples of Golden Wisdom?
Walk-ins and starseeds? Cryptids and hybrids?
Wars or the Sun? The Peoples of the Moon or the base in Venus? The underground bases of Mars or The Order of The Phoenix?
Maybe royal and mob families?
Maybe government with all its true lies
Maybe the networks sustained by the simple minds of you and I
Whoever or whatever is responsible, either through sonic beams and energy manipulation, it is not so much the power of the Empire but rather the power we surrender.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
A temporal anomaly
Existing in a superposition
Your sound echoes in my ear
Wave like particles collide whenever you are near
Quantumly entangled
Exposing my thoughts faster than a photon of light
You glow more so than electrons energized starbrights
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 8:00 PM UTC
Our scientists say that before The Big Bang
There was Nothing
And therefore
No God.
Through red-shifted space they “see”
Back to The Beginning.
Exploding Singularity.
A photon winks into existence
And BOOM.
Yes they are conceited enough to think
That all we see is all there is to know.
Like people pre-Pythagoras
Who thought the Earth was flat
They Lord it
With Confidence.
Yet Eternal Infinity
Beckons us on.
A light year is 5,878,499,810,000 miles.
An estimated 81,000 years Ion-Drive flight to the nearest star.
About 100 thousand million galaxies in the universe:
70 thousand million million million stars.
But we know it all.
Some say our universe is a bubble
Growing within another
Like a baby in a womb.
Some say it will grow forever,
Slowly petering out
‘Til all is cold.
Others that it will stop, shrink
Implode
Then be reborn
With another Big Bang.
Who knows what will happen?
Not me.
Paul Butters
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:46 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
red green blue
converge to white
reveal what's true
ever of spite
yellow red blue
diverge from white
expressed in color
received in grey
or the other way
yellow red blue
converge to black
yellow cyan magenta
follow suit
reflection refraction
doppler shift
wave and photon
linger the grift
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
I came across a flower once, alongside the path I was traveling.
Every photon that bounced off that flower seemed to glow.
I saw the footprints where others had trampled near it.
So I found a new place, somewhere safe to grow.
In time, the gifts I could give weren't enough.
A beautiful plant needs the sun and a place to show.
"To the windowsill, somewhat removed but close."
The rain can sustain you, and from there the sunshine will flow.
Before I knew it, the time was drawing near.
The flower was ready, it's time to go.
I returned that sunflower to the very same road.
To be visited, loved, admired, and to always know.
Yet to live free without any interference.
So that someone else in need might find peace in your roots below.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 6:12 AM UTC
I told him,
"I love the stars,
because they are so far away, and it takes their light millions of years to reach our eyes."
Its impossible to know if the star we are seeing this very moment, is even still a star.
I told him,
"We are looking into the past in real time when we stargaze."
I told him
I loved the uncertainty.
Because it made me feel things I once hid from.
I didn't tell him,
That if I can still marvel at a long dead stars light.
Then maybe after I'm long gone,
after the very last photon of my being has gone dark,
maybe theres a chance,
no matter how small,
oneday my light might still be seen.
I told him,
"I love the stars and because of them,
Death doesn't seem so scary"
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 5:58 AM UTC
Beams shoot, pierce, being.
Cross light, torch, hydrogen star seams.
The universe fabric'd slightly, by photon lattices,
Making salad, for ingestion purposes, of lettuces
Energy. Chlorophyll. Gathering.
Spectral blue/red (465 nm/665 nm) Smattering.
Frankenstein piece of art worn leather.
Earth is stitched lava, magma sewn together.
Forming the lawn face of all reality.
Reality is suburbia to the string.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
I
Aspiring to reach the solar rabbit hole eclipse
--climbing up the well,
the photon test tube
sodden and crusted on the outside
by angsty
adults
snorting obsession
through The Manhattan Project straw.
The pirate boy wanted to be named
Skip--so determined Alice named him,
Skippy, conqueror of blueberry mucus
--he reminded her of sidewalks
she found far in the misty woods
--no one walked
the unexpected like him.
Each placement of a pore: a bat cave
a depressed skull
a hollow exploit
a lame *** joke
a mildew plop
Almost certainly this cadaver matryoshka doll
would be human by the time
the two runaways
were born again Hallelujah! The dish breaker is crowning again
back to the galleons, rotting awkward candles.
"Leave what is human in
inhumane
places." the well speaks.
Skippy tears the corners of his lips
to his ears. Alice turns her temple to the sharpest part
of the monumental
test tube
and cracks her childhood back to the bottom
--back to Euphoria. light poles open
up faces and throw their lights to the ground.
Both of the thrift store
lovers continue to climb--ripping off purchases
to the beggar's tin cup.
II
Severed hearts beat without metaphor
as the empty vessels that hold them.
Spines sing of freedom like centipedes
facing fan blades. Pirate boys mock the smoker's language
of mutiny.
Devalued skin,
dirty armor
casted,
lowered,
teased, by the cadence
of tumbling blood. Marking territories other brother's can smell
Obediently, we see what
gods are doing to them. They're paying
for drawing the different suits of God
on the cave wall. Hit jobs--vacuum spoils,
sucker punch postage stamps
--revenge from a peaceful creator
forcing the two to climb/climb/climb
back to a speck
where dandelions grow
from the revolution fetus and graphite,
& tongues, & lips, & nerves, & veins &
wolf spiders pour down/red matter clusterfucks.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Appended streams exhume the dreams that surface in conscious guide,
As photon beams augment the seams transmitters must abide.
The quantum strings of knotted ties,
Entangling's of worlds collide,
A vortex of spiraled rings,
In scattered sets convergent glide,
The convex spacial vacuuming's, synaptic points electrified,
A hex, insatiable, stochastically adjoins frequencies over-amplified, as complex oracle valuations weight choices to decide.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
she has always been much closer
than my palms, my fingerprints.
my prints leave a dam, a stony wail of my being outside in the matter,
but she leaves this dam inside me,
this stony wail, like a secret killing,
she has left her fingerprints everywhere in me.
she is inside of me and I am outside of her, all around her,
the walls, the garden,
the unmistakable halo of the town, the photon crowns
of houses. I am all around her,
outside, one of her fingerprints,
the fingerprint of this dam, this stony wail in the matter.
Ion Mircea, from My Cup of Light
translated by Lidia Vianu and Anne Stewart
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:55 AM UTC
We were sitting very quietly
on a moonfull Friday night
neither connected
nor disconnected.
There was definitely space between us.
We were spinning around each other
like two satellites
Eye to eye
mouth to mouth
but never touching.
Not angry
Not sad
Not happy
Not bad.
Enough was enough.
When like being shot out of a photon cannon
We took the endless ride.
I went your way
you went mine.
You went your way
I went mine.
Going our separate ways is never easy.
The distance between us
picking up speed,
sent us flinging
far far far
apart and a way.
When forces of nature take over
We can only take the ride
Like being on acid
there is no place to hide
The moment stands vivid
in present time.
You can't escape by even closing your eyes.
And though far apart
never so connected in our life path
as now.
I took a lover you took your own.
I took those pills
you nearly died.
I failed another job
you went on general relief.
You found a moment of peace
at the seaside
and
I found the space between words
the smile returned
I felt that bliss.
Together we hummed
"you gotta serve someone"
and
"every grain of sand."
The years they passed
and though a universe apart
when you spun
I spin
and
when I spun
you spin.
We didn't know where we were
until some one
found us there
we knew then we existed
right
where we were.
Until the pulls
pulled us back together
the galaxy
running down the drain
enlongated and stretched
time stopped for us there
in the blackness darkness
and we met
in one endless embrace.
When we emerged
we were sitting
there very quietly on a moonfull
Friday night.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
A Photon bumps from place to place
Inside the Suns core day after day
10,000 years if it's lucky
170,000 if it gets stuck
But comes the day it reaches the surface and begins its interstellar journey
It then takes 8 minutes and 19 seconds
If you're picky it's because of procession
A little more or a little less
Because we wobble for seasons sake
But once the photon ends its journey
It could light up just anything
A shaft of light upon a face
That took millennia to make
Or light up a yellow buttercup
Beneath the chin of my little one
Across time and space the photon raced
Just to do its best
For all we had before it came was
Nothing just
darkness
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 6:40 PM UTC