"precognition" poems
Stars to dwell in the night
Paces in the account, of a new peace
Rages, and the toll of evidential might
The cares of worlds that collect but a keeping least
Use, and the unction of void causes
Reciprocate and notice a share in the form
Flowers of justice, tree's of a unique treasure
When we spy a day reproofed, the kiss of all and norm
Wishes to run...
And bless the cold shoulders of avarice
With a requited passage of what is ours, what is fun
When a place above clouds, has a charity to give, this
Speaking of that...
The tow of mutual praise, the tongue we ask in
Is but a soul of callous salt, to understand a matter
That came, and with a loving precognition, we are the spirit to win
A hat of conscience
The truth in a lingering hope, the total of unity in a breeze
We meant, we sent to an angel, for hands of presence
And the miracle of a kindness that liberated even life's dreams
Aug 31, 2022
Aug 31, 2022 at 1:36 PM UTC
sometimes you wish things were different
that every day wouldn't wake up the same homely person
somehow you could be ****** into something less generic
less like your life, where each boring second
is dripping a canyon in your heart's ice age
theorize that maybe you speak a hidden language
something ancient, that can unlock dead secrets
by virtue of how your eyes drift in a set of hexes
if you drew white triangles on the right misty morning
you'd wake up anew to a beautiful sun dawning
and a garden of different faces to choose from
pick one that smells of fresh rain on iron
that never distorts into angry clouds spitting caustic words
you dream about that perfect jawline and how the hair falls just right
but then
you remember
oh
...
this isn't my perfect picture, this is human
this is
bleeding
broken
bruised
a flurry of imperfections
a talented accident
an impossibly improbable confluence of the shy words love speaks
planted by chance
abruptly lucky
forcing a hand out of the ground to grasp the air that flees
as though you knew this destination was perilous
by virtue of murky precognition through your electric embryo
as though your mother had muttered all the secrets before she killed you
and sent you again through the white door to cold air
so now you chant and you pose and you powder your nose
forcing yourself behind glass
into a frame
stood up straight
leering into the mirror just to steer yourself queerer
fighting natural finesse [in compatible] dresses
used to be so perfect
under the knife you're worthless
wishing in wells and walking on shells
someday you just might reverse it
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 12:27 AM UTC
Struck at form you reign--
days orchestrated a destiny...
the image-less precognition
of light and dark.
A self-generated whole, an
energetic rogue...of what
shall have dominion.
All will remain passable,
imbibe what's to be expected
of momentum--the obscuring
verisimilitude has made the
mind's acquaintance.
Twilight Zones are as strangers
to the mind, filtered out with
unblinking exactitude--to regard
them is to engage the borderline
whence they came.
Days come whence they came--
yet, we must not think so.
Struck at form you reign--
over destiny...only when its
shadow be withdrawn to its
selfsame form.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
I need to get this to the external,
A plague of inferno,
A purge of the words that churn internal.
A song on repeat,
No break from the beat.
Like a train grinding track;
there'll be no slack.
This erratic, systematic flood to the brain,
its insane, how the inane can cause all this theoretical pain.
In response to a phrase,
The tree of thoughts that erase
that certainty I chase
and the memories I encase.
A mirage of the soul, so soon it shall lull,
a small jolt of the heart, creating this art
I lap up the words that spill from your lips,
knowing when it hits
the reflex will be instant and instinctual,
harrowing and hysterical.
But it won't last.
Destined to be my past,
a feeling that will fade; thoughts returning to sane
The contact loses strength
as a result of the length
and acceptance of reality delivers the gravity
of the preconceived ending and mending that follows.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
1) Poorly attempted precognition
2) One of the most difficult
delusions to overcome.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
Sickening silver shades,
Burst brightly through my shades.
Illuminating him platinum, glistening.
When I cried it was him who was listening.
Now it's he who graces my bed,
Sleeping the sleep of the dead,
I'm stroking brown curls from his head,
My mind fixating on the words he said.
He's not my opposition, sweet was his proposition.
Never have I loved, ****** yes.
Never to be betrothed, ******* away stress.
I'm held tightly, the sun shines brightly.
Warm body against me, hard but welcoming.
Swarm of kisses against my neck, more love coming.
So sick, love deprived, became depraved.
Skin slick, sleep deprived, but I'm saved.
His eyes, absent of lies, he wears suits and ties.
He is a man, no boy.
He is a man, no toy.
Do I tame his fire, drinking down all his desire.
This time love isn't a liar, all he does is take me higher.
His face stirred instant recognition,
Was it precognition, he mutated my cognition.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
*You can philosophise all day long,
this world contains more than we know.
More than we see, and in some cases
some things we've already seen.
That strong sensation of having been somewhere,
of knowing what a place had once been.
Never getting lost in new places, of remembering old faces.
This precognition scares science, they label it
'Schizophrenic', 'anxiety' and my personal favourite;
the 'dissociative identity disorder'.
Here's a straight jacket for you!
I prefer déjà vu,
such an elegant French description,
even better, they don't hand out a prescription to 'cure' it!
Déjà entendu, "already heard",
the experience of feeling sure that one has already heard something,
ever thought your name was being called?
That you heard whispers in the night,
Only to be told it's the 'house settling'?
How many of us have shook our heads,
and said 'I'm getting old, I'm hearing things!'
These phenomena don't come and go
they stay, they are older than time,
they've always been, just never seen.
Platitudes placate your puzzled mind,
but what if these things are just rips in time?
A leak from the past, occasionally a glimpse of the future?
Or maybe it's all just history's forgotten soft sighs*.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC
How could I shield myself from the words
that lift me into the highest lowness?
Dearly beloved, raw openness,
the source of my grace and imperfection.
I feel strangely weightless
when my precognition
whispers to me about my possible future.
I hush all my names,
they’re not statues carved
by the thoughts of others.
I watch people drift in and out,
I touch the tree leaves in the cold wind.
Looking tenderly into the eyes of black ravens
I just try to see what they see.
I don’t fear the dark,
the primal womb that gives light
and birth to worlds spread across space.
Losing someone I love is my only fear.
Death comes uninvited, in its own time.
Love is my helpless, naked truth.
My moral compass still works
in my body.
At night, I find sleep and rest.
In light, the warmth,
and the souls of others.
I see the tired hearts
I find solace, looking into the light.
The body brings fleeting fullness.
I gather the crumbs of mystery,
expecting nothing,
just enough to find my dignity
and make peace with the unreachable.
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 4:15 PM UTC
Today feels so so surreal.
The pain is so so unreal.
So painful that I have to deal more than some ordinary feeling.
I'll remember this feeling that it's more than pen and paper intriguing.
I needed a sad song to help me resonates with what I'm going through for reassuring that I'm still living.
Imagine I couldn't be so broken and go through what I go through that anything, that drives away will put my muse into transmission instead of reminiscing of this ignition that engines in some sort of remission.
I want to find my omission on this planet which helps me calls my mission.
To know this suffocation isn't the end if this petition.
I gladly know there nothing left to say but to this but be submitting of all of this dedication of this precognition.
With or without written dissertation to someone's else permission. Either to decline nor precise superstition neither to my own future preposition. Expect to a precondition to a certain expectations of neither my rights of a preconceived notions definition.
Can't sway nor hide my any persuasion.
You see you can create things and still called it intrusive, but it how you introduce it as any perspective like it not any other electives. So I'll hear my respective not to misrepresent it. I'll gather my witnesses and still find it by many few selective.
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 10:03 PM UTC
I cut through realities
like a slow-moving train,
seeing chess masters, victims,
silent witnesses
drowning in dense air.
From a dim-lit corner
I see those who run
breathing in danger.
Scattered shreds of information
stick to my head.
Precognition is
riddled with blurry spoilers.
Too vague to hold,
too sharp to ignore.
One girl was saved.
The boy? I sensed the loss
but not the name.
Bitter ineffability.
I draw words from an old well.
I wish my visions
were just a nightmare—
not incarnations
of a day yet to come or not.
The pictures wrench at my veins,
like dulled knives
playing a discordant melody.
Only a clear mind can save me.
I rebel in the silent scream,
clenching my hands
smiling slightly—
just enough
so others don’t see my fear.
The heavy drift of solitude
between reality and possibility…
Stubborn time bends,
refusing to be linear.
Am I still here…
or nothing but a vanishing sound?
Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 12:20 AM UTC
What a place it must be
locked in the mind of your mind,
from where it is your subconscious rears up
and seeps over your eyes,
solidifying,
as all that is commonly referred to as normal
spreading over your taut skin
the drying of tormented tears ,
set like stone from the barren years,
no release from the psychotic prophecy,
lynched to your own lucid lunacy
the thoughts within a thought where the reason is twisted,
only in your terms is your logic listed
every inhalation,
a vessel for the next
evocative emotions' emancipation
a fastidious frenzy of fermenting fears
and of premature precognition
setting fire to a flame,
with your verbal misrepresentation
lost and locked in the designs
of the unfathomable you portray
the filter is blocked,
the valve has stuck open,
and a tsunami is on its way
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
If we fail
Falling we glide
Toward the next step
A new motivation flies
Clearing the distance and screaming a sigh
Thats another love gone by
So now
I walk within an ether glow
Seeing only within a veil the shroud
I speak only to those in the know
And hold my tongue lest i be proud
I hear the flowing delight of sound
But obsidian eyes follow me round
Yelling paranoia an still climbing down
But as above, below we find
A growing desperate glitching mind
Over matter though, an easy night
Black an white
No wrong or right
Nothing lost
nothing found
All the while
Never a frown
Never to stir
Belonging to no one
No yellowy brown
Not him
Not her
No trust
No lust
All guilt
All repression
Sorted into individual moods
Precognition
Quiet unmoving
Cant flinch too soon
A predilection towards a stoic nature
Depression doesnt mix well
Being the Stone is safer.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:21 AM UTC
#FLYING THE GREEN-TEA CAPSULE INTO CITY OF NIGHT BY DRIVING (KC & the Sunshine Band of moonlight/streetlight/headlight) ERRORLESS LEARNING / BRAIN OF HEAVEN / THAT’S THE WAY delayed response: vision by precognition, alert to imminent renewal deja vu SUPREMACY OF ORDER / SACRAMENTAL HEALTH / AUTHOR BEHIND THE SKY rhythm in flow of angelic code X musical mode required no deciphering PLANET OF PERPETUAL BECOMING / LOGOS>CHAOS / ETERNAL RECURRENCE OF MUSIC heightened perception: continual surge of lights on horizon INVISIBLE CONSTELLATIONS DANCING / QUEEN OF THE SOUTH’S SMILE instruments of the angels = seraphic versions of terrestrial instruments LIMITLESS DISCOTHEQUE SMOOTH SPACE= DETAILED LIGHT SHOW lost track of thought on a nomadic journey with no destination WELL OF LIVING WATERS / KEEP IT COMING LOVE / SECRET CHORD BEHIND SONG slow explosions over seconds, minutes, miles; motion times rhythm= yes THE LORD MAINTAINS ANONYMITY THROUGH SYNCHRONICITY random chains of association spiraling toward absolute sovereign transcendence. OVER THE BRIDGE INTO THE CITY / MUSIC OF THE SPHERES / DECENTRALIZED DISCOTHEQUE pray to maintain hermeneutic dimension or risk increasing instability READY NOW: RESTORATION OF ALL THINGS (BUT I HAVE TO STAY IN MY LANE) just some song from the 70’s, driving into the city . . . it was only disco GREEN TEA CAPSULE ARRIVES & ENTERS INTERPLANETARY HUB some song from the 70’s, flying into the city named KC & the Sunshine Band
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 8:07 AM UTC