"precocity" poems
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
Shifting vistas
Freeing shackles
Playing it smart
Making it casual
Averting agitations
Eluding expectations
The finest tool to fight disillusionment
The smartest step to shun disenchantment
An act of precocity
An art of rationality
Avoidance.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
The **** does it really?
The **** does it all mean?
To caren’t oh so freely,
To not aim to read in between.
The **** is this monstrosity?
The **** does this represent?
This self-aware precocity,
Diving and thriving in its own lament.
Possessions stemmed from possessiveness,
Losses that led to lenience,
No ***** to give and not a **** to lose,
Too many have come and went.
The **** does it matter, truly?
The **** should it matter to me?
These thinking caps are on too tight,
I’ll embrace this coldness cruelly.
Not to say that I am so daft,
This emulation of me is unflattering,
I’ve come to love this newfound craft,
The ***** become irrelevant when they stop mattering.
Jan 9, 2024
Jan 9, 2024 at 12:48 AM UTC
Allow me to enumerate, subjugate and demonstrate.
To those parts of you which hold doubt.
But first, I must abdicate, on how your words agitate,
all the parts of me which act out.
You talk about eternity, the ageless infinity
But your precocity holds you like a vice in its grip.
You hold its hair back, like girls in sorority.
Desperate to keep it making the slightest of slips.
Don't ask for reason, is there ever any worth hearing?
I can tell you "you're beautiful, with a personality to boot."
But does that really make my words any more endearing?
For me, that is something that your self must refute.
If you had telepathy your thoughts would be a mess.
Sorting out the messages, from thoughts I can't suppress.
Enabling my addiction to your body and your soul.
You would watch my mind, as infatuation takes control.
Faith I have in abundance, in people not in gods.
Charon can take all his coins, and I will take those odds.
I approach with uncertainty. and offer it candidly.
My love is yours to take, don't take it offhandedly.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 2:25 AM UTC
The precocity of a newborn day
Floating anecdotes
A glaring sun
Phony probity
A scrambled sky
Fleeing clouds
Slapped by the wind
Contrasting greys
Swirling around
Decadent, dim.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
I'm naturally a ****** fool
Who’s an earnest tool
As I burrow through my coyness
Strangers leer upon me
I can feel there sorrow eyes daut me
For my precocity of intimacy.
For I don't lack legitimacy
I swear it to be.
I won't be the fool,
Who is the tool for the fool.
I just need to know if I'm minuscule to you.
Or am I more than I molecule to ridicule
I just need you to overrule my angst
By telling me what am I.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
the rest of the lights before you
slid into erasures. we have become
everything the city is in its precocity;
from the wind that gallops, the dog
howling into a crossfade, even underneath
the already dead lampposts that give
in to the velocity of such departure,
a divisible line. a border I cannot cross.
I dip my body into the thick dark
and become bendable light through
the crevice of doors. the gnawing silence,
your leitmotif. something the wind is still
all beautiful things passing and I become
nothing more but a dank memory in the muck
of forgetting – whatever it was, that I conversed with,
stars their dereliction, all across the flagrant void,
I am beating with more life than ever,
dancing around your leftover moon.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
Books are for imprudent tonicity
Imprudent – not understand totality
Of books – suffer of turgidity:
The poet are blessed of tranquility
Of books as they work in torridity
Where books are the only security.
They take away our minority.
If you believe in their agility
You will experience seniority.
Have faith in their mobility.
Irresponsible insult reality -
Reality is book’s relativity
In our life and its polarity:
Joining two poles – absurdity
With intelligence and precocity.
Hence friends! Value the ministry
Who control the Money’s orogeny.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC
I look at you and wonder,
How soft those tendrils feel,
Always pulling me asunder,
Pulling my mind to heel.
The looks you gave,
The depth of your eyes
Made my heart cave
As I reached new highs.
As if like pools of wisdom,
I'd willingly drown in them,
Feel my desires through a prism,
And allow fate to condemn
My hidden desires.
As they come and go
I seek not to douse the fires,
I'll leave the embers to glow.
Watch them light the night sky,
With a childish curiosity.
Against the damp ground, I lie
Carried by my precocity.
To share this
Would be wonderous,
This unadulterated bliss.
I'm left feeling ponderous.
Until such time,
I will lie here
Listening to the wind chime
As the embers disappear.
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 1:47 PM UTC