"piscean" poems
Bluto, the world’s strongest man, could tear bread loaf-sized pieces off a steel-belted tractor tire with his bare hands.
But he could not lift a single smithereen of his sensitive Piscean heart when Lily, the luscious, leggy Leo trapeze artist, left him for steely-eyed Arien Karl, the literate and literary lion tamer.
Horoscopic Circus, Act II
She was a Cancer Dragon. Like catnip to the Piscean Tiger, whose feline DNA was his Achilles heel. Especially when she wore heels. And nylons. The end is nylon, he thought. I love you she said. I love you more he affirmed. And firm he soon became. Then being the ringmaster, she opened her mouth and incinerated him -- as only dragons can….
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 1:53 PM UTC
you
in perfect transparent
translations
6 dimensional shapes
rolling, falling, flying
away.
i have no idea who or what
you are.
remember that chinese place
off old 66?
i had no idea who i was then
but i would do it a million times over
again and again.
schizophrenic eyes
telephone conversations
alternate zodiacs, tigers and sheep.
piscean planning
and piscean demise.
dolores haze,
her very essence left
trampled on the page.
she was such a beauty in those days.
do you remember those
san franciscan lies?
they say it never rains
but i see that it does
all the time.
i’m still staying there
for all my life.
sweet, sick little complexities
there’s never a cycle you break.
you were in a room rull of people
who would meet your same fate.
three before thirty
you had no clue you’d lead the way.
socially starved, you say?
i guess i can’t deny it,
but i’ll fight it.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
You always talk about how you conquer
lay women of all types and credentials
figure it out that you are a ***** of a man
and pieces you have shattered along
promising empty and delayed dreams
get your sick **** to sleep for a while
and treat your girlfriend right and good
because she is a queen and deserves love
Don’t fool yourself in this age dear friend
As your flag posts don’t really matter
because you still remain so cold and lonely
shallow and always disrupted to grow
as your oats floats with the melting snow
watching all your friends leave you behind
wanting, groaning, moaning and frowning
It’s like some sort of a Piscean crises
crushes of addiction and utter mind games
When will it stop, come to a halt dear friend
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:24 AM UTC
we bloomed then died soon after
I just needed someone to spoon, a catcher
as I was falling for another who found their lover
which was not me and you were my only sensible option
to numb my pain like nova cane
it was Leo season and I was vain
knew it was never going to truly work but in the present, I stayed
now you tell me you got a special someone
and I got the same
divisive silence as you realize I was playing game
I want to paint myself in cool hues and tell you how I am the victim
but while you were all in I was just skinny dipping
having fun under the sheets living my Piscean vision
Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 8:06 PM UTC
The experiment is maliciously cold, dangerously cunning-
A wrong sort of rapture
An invitation made in amusement
People surround you like the frigid flames in a hyena’s eyes just before it pounces
The experiment is brutality, a completely psychological Auschwitz-
A nightmare down memory lane-
But whose memories are they?
The experiment (seems) to work by gas lighting and technology-
That’s all it needs- cigarettes and soup
But who’s at the watchtower?
I have no delusions of reprieve- despite what people tell me
They- the illusions, delusions, holograms of people reaching out in “love”
Your love is a weight, just like mine is to you
Yes, I bring sorrow to you, but out of this sorrow something was created
Something you can never know because it can’t be possessed-
Too many ideas and too much time…
Still searching for one thing- not love, but truth
Have a roast, lay it on me
Don’t hold back because you don’t want my blood on your hands
It’s already been spilled
You live with my faults and my dilemmas and my neurosis,
But I must live everyday in the body that houses these faults, dilemmas, neurosis.
Still they turn on their Piscean baths, expecting a scorpion not to drown-
A crematorium with no weapons-
Inanimate objects speak, but humans gurgle out white noise,
A poison formed first in the brain then saturated by the tongue
And all the demonic children….
I am that demonic child. I am that vat of toxic waste.
I am a liar, a sinner, a drunk, a madman, a beggar, a freak, a thief
My pain fascinates others as they tap on the fishbowl glass,
Making me shudder
Are these the people of God?
Am I a person of God?
Most likely neither
But how did it come to this?
And really, what would Jesus do?
Jesus probably wouldn’t live in America
And love isn’t enough
They crave conformity, obedience-
What a sick, twisted practice
The sacrifice of one for all
Don’t make any waves, but here’s an ocean
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 1:50 PM UTC
Blessed are the poorly, for theirs is the kingdom of mudflats
The dispirited streak turgid waters
sinuously, through unsettled feelings
in the wake of boats shedding
filaments of fuel,
sheen on a turbid infusion
and the cordgrass nods a resilience
or an apathy as the silt settles
on their Piscean gleam
Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see a salted heaven
Angelic Menhaden of the Atlantic,
are silvery stretches of scale,
dulled in death under a festering sun
and the retreating tide of dying waters
brined in ocean, freshwater spirited
to secret spaces, some dammed crevasse,
now tumultuous fate in a salted heaven
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be filled
At the Tabgha of this intertidal palette
Cattails whisper beatitudes
latched onto the tails of wind gusts
and the plovers descended
in a litany of bird song
amassed like the manna
trailing tidal waters
as the sea swallows herself.
Blessed are the herons, the mallards,
the geese. Time is measured
in the passage of fish that
cycle themselves through the innards of birds
Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the rocks
The meek Menhaden, leaped
onto the rocks that hemmed the inlet,
escaping the hungry habits of herons.
They inherited Earth in agony
pounding a rocky surface,
but the air I swim, had no water.
I prodded these Menhaden of the Rock
to the fringe of retreating tides,
and they leaped to die once more
to breathe water that had no air
Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted
Blessed is the discomfiture
of my brackish tears
that streak marsh faces
as fish struggle out of dead water.
I take comfort I don't inhabit
tainted places or do I take comfort,
all places are the tint of poison,
the gleam of a genesis of sorrow
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 3:36 PM UTC
Saying Grace
The day roped in happiness
like tidal waters
streaked with seaweed,
joyous to be afloat again.
The rocky inlet imbued
a stony demeanour, while
calmly contemplating
the resounding consonants
of a cavern within.
I could hear it swish syllables
as it lapped in the waves,
and I now channel
in gratitude,
that exuberant overflow,
and this,
which needs no rationale.
As we sit at a table,
enjoying a meal
cobbled together
from the sweet of corn,
the crunch of lettuce,
the ocean yield
of Piscean gleam,
it has begun to look
like Eden on a plate,
and I allow myself
to feel touched.
I am touched.
Gratitude is a verb
when I feel thankful
for being able to share
in the sacrificial generosity
of plants and animals.
Do we feel blessed?
We must,
for what could be sweeter
than that
we haven't been refused
- a share
of the Universal largesse.
From this bounty,
we take as we may,
so we simply survive
to another day.
It is wonderful to be alive
and I am grateful.
We are grateful.
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 10:51 AM UTC
It was the arrangement of the stars
As i was brought in here
Sun in pisces
Oh, was it my fault
I saw it end before it even began
i was saving two ends from tying knot
From damaged knits and sorrow
I felt it like you sense a coming
Tragedy or a storm
On a bright day in warm arms
I felt it in rushing heartbeats
And in withdrawing tongues
That self-realization is on your front door
And later that night your
Atoms will soon be weary of mine
Must i be mad and blame
That cosmic movement for
This piscean intuition
Must i be mad for i had not
Felt love as it was
For this heart was already in
The crashing end, ready to free you
When you so willingly still
wanted to be held
Had i not, Youd be the one
to let loose while i was still in
the comfort of your arms
and id be the one to beg
Love me and my misery, again
But i dont intend to shame myself
On a bright day in warm arms
I saved two hearts from crashing
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 10:14 PM UTC
My Pisces lover
Written by
Jude Kyrie
*when he lay beside me
in the ink of dreamy
nighttime poems.
I could hear the peaceful
Waters of lazy
mountain streams.
or the cry of a dolphin
far far away in the guiding
light of the sea.
Even his dreams
sparkled with sunbeams.
and the whispers of oceans.
His breathing in his sleep
sang lullabies from
a dreamy river bank.
And when he touched
me with his fingertips.
it spoke in a language
that needed no words.
But with the primeval sounds
Of sea creatures.
As we swam in the
deep mystical waters of the
piscean sea.
He held my hand
as we explored the streams
of life. within
the magical realm
of his gentle kingdom.*
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 3:04 PM UTC
*When he lay beside me
in the velvet ink of nighttime poetry.
I could hear the peaceful
ripples of lazy
mountain streams
or the cry of a dolphin
far away in his guiding
light of the deep sea.
Even his dreams
sparkled with sunbeams
that danced upon wavelet
of calm blue oceans.
His breath of sleep
sang lullabies from
a dreamy island.
And when he touched
me with his fingertips
it spoke in a language
that needed no words.
As he swam in the
deep waters of the
Piscean seas.
He held my hand
as we explored
the magical realm
of his gentle kingdom
And we travelled to morning
In synchronous grace.
Like dolphins that guide
lost sailors home
in front of their ships.*
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
***L Ron Hubbard's Birthday...
May he Rest in Pieces***
Here's a pome for LRH
On Monday the 13th
A Piscean. That double fish
Now buried beneath
He wrote Dianetics
"Bestseller" on the lists
It got to NYTBSL
But there's something that was missed
He had his brave adherents
Go to take a look
If there were many on the shelves
They purchased every book!
Well. They then RESOLD THEM.
If they could find someone to BUY
Or stocked them in a WAREHOUSE
SO THOSE "STATS" WERE ALL A LIE
A real man of letters
Who washed out in school
They say he was an "Eagle Scout"
Thinking we are fools!
Smoked just like a chimney stack
His unfiltered KOOLs
He was just a huckster
A liar and a CON
He created Scientology
Through the drugs that he was on.
He has a mighty debt to pay
Now he's reached the Bridge of Sighs
He's been thoroughly evil
Destroyed so many lives!
I'd tell you more,
it's there... GALORE!
To see what you may think.
But I HATE LIES, and I despise
**So I won't waste my INK.**
SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/13/2017
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC
Then I remember
Then my vision gets a bit
Blurry, my stomach quivers.
The water begins to flow.
Releasing pressure.
I remember, from younger,
Little person memories.
Ones of free.
I remember, me.
My heart yearns to serve
And share in the beauty
This pure bliss of witness.
All things I see.
Releasing the quest to solve my duality
The virgo piscean. The madness
Constantly challenging the other.
Peace only in wholeness.
Embrace the heart of the servant
And the mind of the intellect.
Standing firm in One.
And as I watched her sway, I too
Heard the groans. Weeks before,
And I just wanted to know
Why...
My heart whispered clear,
Reborn, limbs and loves essence.
Weeks before, I knew the end was near.
All is to transform.
To reunite to its whole.
As the layers shed, seasonally
Revealing anew, thoughts of my
Reunion with you liter my mind.
I assume, each tear I release
Brings me closer to you.
The grace, the reabsorbtion,
The rotation of my time.
In that moment where time disolves,
Where new life crowns.
That point where its me, and God
And I realize I've been home the whole time.
In that moment, I and I become One,
Again. Just a moment, then
I prepare to crown, again.
To root down, in deep,
Down, loaded, tuned.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 2:30 AM UTC
Mars continues its retrograde
motion towards Saturn,
as Jupiter moves slowly towards
the southern predawn sky.
A thin waxing crescent Moon
joins Mercury and Venus
in the western sky at dusk.
The bright stars Deneb and Altair
lie east as Mars and Saturn
rise early in the morning sky.
The Sun marches across the sky,
its centre crosses Earth’s Equator.
The Equinox heralds a changing
of the seasons-Spring
in the Northern Hemisphere,
Autumn in the South.
A magnificent celestial alignment it is.
At the house of Mercy, the cool
evening breeze blows silently,
leaving a slight chill in the air
as the Heavens open up to serenade
the arrival of the Piscean twins.
How majestic is March 20th, 2018!
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 1:03 AM UTC
We sit on opposing sides
We watch one another, carefully
Cautiously.
We notice the difference.
The diversity.
We see it as challenge.
Neutrality, the option of the stars.
The opinion of the cycles.
My own personal dedication.
Unlearn division.
Learn to move through the steps
Gracefully.
Hold another's hand gently,
Allowing room to wiggle.
To hurt.
Create space to heal and touch.
I need to be touched.
I need to reconcile my hearts work out.
I love unconditional and have had a guard
Up. Taught young that my love would
Be taken advantage of.
Never worried up front.
The first hurt though,
Instant cover up.
Instantly taking my personal path
Up another rung.
Following that piscean path to One.
It's the blood,
They taught me to keep my fists up.
I fight for you. For love. I've been beat up.
All who whisper love to me, it seems.
It's a conundrum.
Born with unconditional love for everyone,
It just isn't for me.
It's in my stars.
I barely recognize I'm alive.
When the moons glow is full,
I fill with the want to go home.
Though,
My heart was born for you.
while I'm here and aware
I'll stayed focused on how to repair
These broken habits
And serve as I'm meant to.
My Virgo essence reconciling in my sea.
Influencing me to critique and heal.
One will know me.
And in that moment,
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 4:11 AM UTC
I've been cruising
Bouncing from home to home
Searching for satisfaction
I'm a maggot
******* sweet sustenance
I'm a maggot
Absorbing essence
I thought I could force affection
How Piscean of me
Nothing's ever set in stone
I'm a maggot
Tasting tangy toxins
I'm a maggot
Licking rotten flesh
To evolve is convenience
Because travel would be easier
Maybe then satisfaction can be found
I'm a maggot
Plunging into the darkest oceans
I'm a maggot
Sliding down the most jagged of poles
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC