"prismic" poems
Washed ashore
By the angry ebb
Of lost Atlantis,
The ocean brims
In liquid Jade
And grains of gold.
The sun won't sleep
Under the blanket
Of the vast horizon,
But dances with
The velvet moon
At heaven's feet.
Divine rays pierce
The prismic clouds
Bleeding spectrum,
Rain that seethed
At the apex
Of nature's bossom.
They gushed forth
Like raging horses
To a thirsty basin,
That slithered down
The silver rivers
And shallow streams.
Neon vines
Creep in the floor
Of the sleeping forest
Cradled by the songs
Of Mockingjays
And willow dryads.
The zephyr hums
A joyful song
In the laughing thickets
As flowers bloom
Like newborn stars
In the undergrowth.
In the mellow heart
Of the deep forest
A vixen's cry
Echoed woes
Of the hidden land
And its deadly curse.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
“People are strange when you’re a stranger”
– Jim Morrison
I’m a freak of nature.
I have for my eyes
One blue, one green.
And my eyes
They talk to me.
They tell me stuff
Like “you’re strange,
You have one green eye
And the other blue.”
They would point to people
And say “see, see,
That is what normal
Looks like.
Deep black eyes.
Brown eyes,
Red.” Red? Where? That one’s
Definitely an addict.
Such strange eyes they are
Telling me that I’m strange
When they are the ones
In different colors.
Yes I’m a freak of nature.
I may not see the blue in things
Or the green. Colors, it seems,
Are mere prismic reflections
Of memories.
The green, the blue,
The blood-shot red,
The normal and the strange,
They are all in white.
The wheel never stops spinning
And the spectrum of voices
Are all mine.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Nervous butterflies
emerging from a chrysalis
of chrysanthemum wings of doves.
Flying towards burgeoning horizons
fluttering erudite on solar winds
lost amongst deranged proximities
bounded by blackened skies
Escaping realisation
subterranean rainbows flicker in prismic identities
diverging depleting
diminishing deconstruction into distinctive dominions
waning light that merges into surroundings
(bound together by the unfortunicity of birth)
[aren't all?]
Falling since conception
“all things are a part
all things are apart”
Loud
crimson daylight
excess is the prerogative of the crystalline
...
time
distances
people
such a petty quality
one feels more distance
by degrees
the closer the surroundings.
(and when I say dancing, I mean jumping through galaxies)
[oh good, I am better at the latter]
(it's like tumbling,)
[was all there ever was]
[a can? Or a cylindrical box of tin?]
…
…
…
[but I digress.]
(My my my
Don't touch the apple pie)
[if you do I will cry
antelope bones down a chalkboard.]
(what?)
[Screaming “sirens, sirens
Sleeping alarm bells
show me madness,
I am cluttered”]
there are no gods
only pillars of marshmallow
transforming, caressing
endlessly
-oliver and jonte
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
Take flight! Bright Iris, cirrus sunken cloud;
Paint heralds through azure unblemished skies,
So all may witness your wild repose avowed,
Reflected and collected for reprise.
I rise, soft solemn dreams with you so high,
And oft decry that chasmic space between,
Where spread across angelic wings we lie/die
Our temporary deaths down deep ravine.
Now over the rainbow Destiny she stirs;
Her prismic glances scatter spectral Sun,
And Moon with endless eternal eclipse,
Awaits the Synchronist to come.
Awake! Dear dreamer you alone I see;
A ghost, a dream, the rise of Mercury.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
i am prismic and entrancing, refracting - always reflecting my insides outwards. you will know how i feel if i want you to know so, i will tell you how to feel and by my will you will do so, i am hypnotic and sympathetic. i am blinding and righteous.
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC
The pantheons demand the poets limn vision
‘Motionless inside dreaming still shores,
—I sleep lucid, prismic eternally awake.
In the absence of beta waves, alpha
—echoes unfold stretching into theta dives’.
Galactic chrysanthemums implode tearing—
liquid waves into writhing silver storms.
A thousand moons of mercury evaporate, reappear
and explode into black diamonds spray-painting
—cyclopean skies.
A supernatural alchemy beseeches, whispering inside
—my bloods dying, resurrected—breathing magic
that sips from rich ****** rivers; rushing through
distant canons of twisting blood vessels;
whereupon a billion red cells form aromatic pools—
igniting into an endless sea of bellowing fires.
‘Orphic, I am enchanted tasting a sorcerous nature,
angels conjuring eyes—burn mortal tinted memory shores,
bestowing ashes of what was, what is—the ‘I’ exhumed,
—raptly in deaths breath to unseen wisdom’.
Dust devils transform into ether crystal blown screens—
—bending, jostling, wrapping around nameless fluid planets,
luring my eye forth into dimensions lost, pulsing—
—only in sirens earendel song.
In black diamond stars, ‘spirits dream in frenetic pulses,
the cosmic lotus-eaters waiting in sky pearls—
—purveyors of ethereal dreaming, poets weaving
eternity before mortal life.
© ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens)
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC