"randomized" poems
for Harlon Rivers
the river potion,
the river portent,
the river potent
it is all of these and not one
he is bank sided,
observing the false idols,
the image mirrored
in the glass of the river
transfigured molecularly
he becomes something ferried frothily, forcefully
as if a twig
or a small thing of human manufacture,
an object tossed up airborne-repeatedly
his poetry:
the clash of particles at the many junctions
of objects and water, eddies and the currents,
ceaselessly circumnavigating,
searching revisionary pathways
directed,
but randomized,
prisoner of the flows,
servant to the wind's directives and the
earths magnetic indivisible undulating waves
thinking,
this life,
its unsteady gait,
the irreverent wavering of drunkenness
resultant from potent potions,
portents of inopportune position
in him,
my own histories,
my poetic recordings
also become
water borne,
watermarked,
replayed back for me,
for erasure, censure, closure
and rededication
this River
is a tapestry,
a torn map,
drawn on broken shards
of slivered water,
living with all the others
but we,
are the untitled,
we,
are the un-entitled,
and he is the
Rivers
<•>
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
Seven years I lived my life, fading from reality. Crossing into machinery. Robotics with which I am so unfamiliar. Machined, greased, lubricated parts. Built with a purpose. A meaningless purpose. Destined for failure.
A broken down machine I stand. Sit. Lay. Run. Work. Play. Slide. Cursed and wretched as the demons which haunt the dreams of the fallen. I rise above. Skyrocketing through reason. Through the seventh layer of Heaven and Hell. On a false sense of cloud nine I currently float…awaiting the plummet.
Its falling away from me. I sail through a shattered sea of broken glass. I closed my eyes and the tears could not flow. Blocked by my eyelids, restricting emotion. After all of this, I am amazed. The wall could be broken. Forgotten faded memories of which I have no say.
Of past. Of present. Of gifts. Of futures. Of lists. Lists of black. Hit lists in my head. I live in my head. I am not what I wish. I am what I’m not. I am what I dream. A scream. A cry. Laying here, blank as the page on which I cannot create a scene. A scene behind my eyes, yet I cannot attain it on paper. These words flow meaninglessly, but not slow.
Daedalus, Icarus, Thrice. Three times I roam. Randomized plains of thought, laid out on a digital page. Keys, not a pen. Ones and Zeros, not ink. Screens, not pages. Neat, not sloppy…yet my words do not understand one another… nor do I….
If we make the mainland, this song would not be made. Epic beauty, formed through misfortune and tragedy. Oh son…I beg you…keep a steady wing. For you are the only one who means anything to me. My wings are made of melting, shredding, fading elements. The sun, heating, lighting, someday dying. I understand that nothing is as it may seem. Nor is any seam as true as the seamstress believed. The Gods did not take the only thing which meant anything to you, father of legend. Your son is not dead…only afire. Acquired by the forces you believed to be merciful.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
~~
Then it became a blue afternoon
while came to evening
They were the realities of her farewell
Glowed in the dark blue,
what an abstract shadow cast!
Floating Autumn Clouds,
away the red hibiscus grew gray
heard a vague weird tune
Then one morning
Along with a purple flower
red hibiscus saw inset
and the dark chorus of a clay oven
covered her face
away in the loft several gourd hanging
walking,
walking down the way
at the end,
stood beneath a banyan tree
Doors opened in the silence
southern wind followed
to move in the room
randomized the bed cover,
poetry books,
morning news paper
while closed the door
opened the northern windows
The tireless long night
while I left the room,
wandering as the lonely clouds
went through the garden
where the sky came down
wanted to say life
walked on foot
A long sleepless night
saw the stars fairs
heard a vague weird tune
At that April's night,
Caught the sight of
dry dropping leaves
The smell of gardenia
to bring me the new ideas
of poetry
touched the sky
wandering on a raft of clouds
filled with
see you decided to
Then it all went down together
in the dark with blue
anyhow a golden sun bought
a yellow day
and all the red flamboyant trees
singing
while standing beside
the two sides of the road
with the wind in breath,
my dying
And instead of go with them
mingled the ways of life is changed
when the ways rolled along a curve
One January morning's mist
coming off the sun on the dew
I liked to walk barefoot
in the soft sun
with a woolen blanket covering
At noon,
the river flowing
with streaming sound
took flock a small Sampan
toward upstream
uprising mind grew cool
with stream
Today is just going to get lost
beyond the horizon
Feel to see back,
Slowly known nature
grew small with time,
after some times
shadows mingled
with a dark space
While came the night
Footprints remain in the dust
of shadows
after millions of years
to become fossils
In the mind and
In the deep heart of
the Milky Way
Her fade face is still
to come and go
Over time,
in terms of conservation
of energy
Again when I opened the window
At a long sleepless night
Saw the stars fairs
Heard a vague weird tune
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
I'm standing close by a river of rhyme,
where words cascade, in endless pantomime,
each line is a ripple, on the rugose water's crest,
but the chaotic current seems a randomized mess.
I see waves of words riding swells of sonnet,
into concrete verse, only to crash upon it.
There are dark plaintive whirlpools of elegy
and swirling haikus kissing off sharp envoi.
This river of rhyme could wash me away,
with its desperate currents of poetic dismay.
Its sensual verses can become a toxic wine,
oh, God, don’t let me drown in the river of rhyme.
Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 1:39 PM UTC
on the margin
the paraphernalia
employed to obtain
the sweated inspirations
to tell these lies randomized
stories, factuelle (feminine)
pestle and mortar martyrs,
crushed together, drink in
her form, the S curves
of her shape, my fav
place, on a long list
of favs,
and she says;
hey poetry man!
which renders my
100 or so
senses,
that radiate,
congregate,
infantuate
rendering moi
delightfully attentive,
and I think:
Solitude:
Be All well and good,
wells and veins awaiting
for spelunking & mining for the
nexus of the
next line, but when she summons me,
with a cherished honorific I am
sundered by words deep felt,
and the next line forgotten,
disappeared and
for multiples,of poems,
that
die
heart busted broke
when she call poet, come,
it is like living in a gearbox
Stuck in Fifth,
that message of multiplex pixels,
so engaging and so many container conceptual structures,
those poetic burst and bust out,,
gnawing to be released free,
***** solitude, it’s her
attitude that gives
more than I can
handle…
and the poems are about the conjoining
of
the mutuality of our:
soliciting solitude attitude
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 11:03 AM UTC
Starting is hard
Growth maltese candles
The painted board next to me
Where i sleep
Cars, unrelenting bring an incessant drone
That lulls
Exstasis
Mechanised intrusion grants
The brevity of randomized input
The aversion of direction
This isn't a poem
Nor is it not a poem
This is a home
This is a home
Shampoo crease salt licks
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Not that but there was something else.
Not what just happened but something else
I remember when i try not to.
I always forget when i try.
I can feel it
It's not suppose to be remembered
It's there to be felt
Something like that
Something similar
Im not going to just say 'something' on a single line
Nope no.
Nothing
That was ordained
Now this is nonsensical
As if any of it was.
Reading
Nothing yet
Nothing worth saying
Yet
Yet.
Yes
Ending is hard
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
temporarily
the currents shift to polarity
stars aligned, planets aligned
event horizon, singularity.
vision stretched to infinity
what it means to see me
wihte room, empty spaces
black sea fibonacci
randomized perfection
crystalline & unstratified
limitless, free direction
open palms, third eye
to truly live, and happily die
beneath the ground, above the sky
this union of the soul
to the peace found inside
of the cosmic energy that flows-
eddying currents,
the tides that wash away
the woes of life
Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 12:05 PM UTC
A book of my thoughts,
careful gestures,
and randomized scribbles.
An assortment of "I don't know"s
and question marks.
Rhetorically, why do I write in this?
Why do I mention this book which keeps me still?
Why ever would 'why' be my ever waking thrill?
Why not try, writing a book dedicated to 'why'?
You'll be amazed at what you don't know.
Why is..
Why me..
Why you..
Why do..
Lovely friends,
I see you now,
because I've asked why and how
and how
could I not see,
until I asked why you were wanting me to be free,
leaving me be?
Lovely friends,
I've opened mind,
opened hands.
Why not write 'why'?
The questions do not torment,
they simply fly away,
replaced with clarity:
you didn't know. I didn't know. We don't always know.
Why are we so wrong?
Why are we so right?
Why do we hate day?
Why do we love night?
Why were we so weak?
Why were we so strong?
Why not move along?
Why is a book binding you to life,
bind you to hope,
helping people strive?
Why, a book like mine is one with a streaming hook.
Why do I love my why book?
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
Unknown threshold
Randomized synchronization,
Cries of the dying kiss,
Amidst the friendship in that bliss,
Reasonless misunderstandings lie above,
Never fading, priceless moments dying,
On the curse of happiness,
Serene moments serenely rising and smiling,
Haunts of cherishing melodies,
Amidst the addiction are these symphonies...
Quiet silent darkness smiles,
When our rare synchronization compiles,
There the friendship of our dies,
Only for the sake of unexpected love rise...
Chants of the operas,
Sipping the dying light,
Oh where the **** is the plight?
Between us, it merely died.
In the abandoned chills of this day,
This momentary moment will be reminiscent of your birthday!
13th March 2014
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
sometimes i wonder how we got here.
how we got to this point in our lives.
how you managed to stay around after years of randomized and (sometimes) painful situations.
how i managed to keep myself in tact when most of the time i'm hanging by a thread.
but then i realize that there is something that binds us together in such a way, it is indescribable.
but so are you.
and i.
there are paths of our lives that cross over in such ways that make our maps look like a 4-year-old's scribbling.
there are stars that glue us together in such a way that our limbs are always tangled.
one mangled, crying, painful mess.
one perfect, strong, gleaming masterpiece.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:29 AM UTC
Double recurrences
Same event, replayed,
Plus another similarity
Played out in front of me..
I heard the engines explode
And the fireballs hit the ground
The lava came up
And I screamed
I heard the lives end,
Of people loved so much,
I saw the world collapse,
And jolted awake
**But I knew
That what I saw
Was what you see
Every day**
The double 9/11,
And the transgender in the car,
Were just randomized
But was it a coincidence?
My brain is twisted,
Shows me the cruel sides,
Tormenting me,
Crying out for help
I will never un-see
What I just saw happen
One, was again, the other, a first
Scarred permanently in my head forever for the worst of reasons
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Frivolous, yet protrusive to the mind,
Reductive, yet ultimately prestigious,
The epitome of chaos, abomination of order,
Mocking ill informed statutes, for what?
Implementing indifference to the recipient,
And therefore is undesirable, but still spontaneous;
Creases upon silk in randomized fashion,
Cloaked by erroneous declarations of meaning
And then to become marooned by others,
That pass by way of order, alas!
Ostracized was any corrupt system
By those who perceived it in due time.
Contemplating on glory and honor.
There the fall occurs, but with temptations near,
And until emancipation from the jumble,
Only until then, will thought cease to come clear.
But until then, with bars of steel in bare hands,
Lonesome tears commemorating those old desires,
Maroon rapids to rid the soul of hope,
And condemnation for darkness to come,
Those old habits yet still don’t penetrate
The achy, destitute mind in need of use,
And still again shall remain until fancied
True ideologies worth revelation arise.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 2:58 PM UTC
Hard-headed peers
Bouncing brains off each other.
A symphony of organs
Blasting through the mess –
That is your thoughts.
When hearts crash,
Love flashes by.
Only for a visit –-
Leaving euphoria behind.
These eyes,
Those lips can never tell a lie.
For in fairy tales,
Honesty doesn’t exists.
I wonder, I ponder
Why children miss out
On the cornerstone of maximum life.
Treat this world like a game,
And found themselves get played.
Tell me why.
Why they dance with the spades?
But forgot the hearts
Of the enchanted cards of plays.
Why randomized such thoughts?
To where their psyches rule in..
The vision has perished
Dreams bumping with each other,
Failing the other persona.
To lose hope means to die
The dream has shattered
The fluid became one
The facade has closed,
Memories were shuttered.
(2/19/14 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
unbeknownst
to the human race,
every year the free trees,
those of the forest, the great gardens,
have an annual convocation, a solemn communion and a
delicate conversation
the gathering is attended by insects and avians,
for theirs is the heavy responsibility,
that which the trees cannot do,
they must do, i.e. move, be agents
of pollination
Trees gather, the sequoias officiate,
for they the elders, are wise in the
rings of history that tells of ritual,
sacred sayings, the reasoning,
the young ones don’t full comprehend
“Who shall give aid and comfort to the human dead?”
Who shall give of their seed
that will be carried by our friends,
they may be scattered planted,
in the graveyards where
those that tended and
sheltered us,
lie buried,
and the living
who tend to
their ancestral,
will adjoin, all
in need of shade and
comforting song?
there is great rustling of the wind,
the most honored,
query those attendees,
why must we choose?
let each of us contribute
according to their needs,
let the randomized
scattering by our winded
and flighted avian friends
best express our gratitude…
thus forests, parks, great gardens,
and yes, the cemeteries of mankind,
ALL
were seeded, deeded and refreshed,
and the world was cleansed,
commended, interdependented,
defended and extended…
Wed Aug 7 2024
Aug 7, 2024
Aug 7, 2024 at 10:48 AM UTC
I wish these puffs were
Eked from a fog machine.
It's not a levitation of battle clouds
From cannons, from a precipitation forecast.
This is another battle-fog:
One composed of vape and cigarette smoke.
It hurts on the inside,
But at least one is at ease
From that troublesome and possibly tedious
Consumer, their complaints with no calm resolution
And no sense.
The scattered and randomized number
Of cigarettes fallen
Is none of my business
But business' business.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
Can you tell me
How it feels to be disconnected?
Was it string by string
Or did you rip it off all at once?
When you looked at me
Did you see the color in my eyes?
Or did you see black and white
Before you looked away?
Was it hard?
Hesitation, doubts, guesses
Or was it easy?
Simple, quick, effortless
When we touched
Did you feel that electricity?
Or did your hand
Only felt an object?
As I loved you
Did you love me?
Or did you just
Say it awkwardly?
When I thought of you
Did you think of me?
Or were your thoughts randomized
With everything but me?
I asked how it felt
Because I am still connected
To someone who is gone
Who pulled away so effortlessly
A red string of fate
Severed by you
And I asked myself
How can I do the same?
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 9:37 AM UTC
*undulate and felicitate
in-a-scent of death skulls and palo santo
sometimes it all feels so fake
just momentarily
I develop a reason
to smell the burning soil
and i remember that love too can spoil
accepting emptiness as it is
like shards of glass
sorrow and madness are the two shapes
that you remember from your childhood
you have come this far in spite of your fear
so drop the ways that you continue to lie
and give this sacred vision a chance to shine*
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 4:33 PM UTC
You know it's ridiculous when you don't even know who the victim is. I'm tired of being victimized as the bad guy by judging eyes. All my thoughts are randomized I never planned **** I'm tired of going with the flow, so now I'll go against it.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
I need a lair because I'm evil.
Typety fingers and flappity lips
The wide gaps in my logic
Are hot holes for working demons
Working their way in.
A desecration of creation,
See beauty bend to the will of Satan
literally, the enemy.
It's all too much, I don't deserve this!
I never should have gone to jail!
I don't get a good amount of sleep because of these randomized drug tests!
I have such a negative association with this house!
And so to stabilize
I need a lair
Then I'll be cool
I need a lair because I'm evil,
Take it like a fool.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
Randomized words, irregular meanings
Lack of awareness, everything is senseless
Stuck in the spot, struggle all you want
Easier to give up and drown in their greed, you will.
Booked lessons, shown on a paper
Proven facts, thrown into ocean
Forgotten about, appear to be not
Only remains, stay in your mind
Fragment of memories, throughout stories.
Visual deception, seen by many
Universal truth, barely new
Used against your will, right to remain silent
Concerned with civil affairs, being held lawfully
Lady in waiting, given no mercy
Judged in the court, sent off-duty.
Flaw in our system, undeniably broken
Ill intentions, massive corruption
Production of gold, votes are sold
Look for the fancy, found to be empty
Quantity over quality, ruled by the company
Genuine response, rare as ****
Undeserving, never learning, ignorance is better fitting
Congratulations, you've earned it.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
I'm caught like a fly
Hypnotized by your web
Youre a spider that spins
Optical illusions with thread
A randomized gamble with life
Oscillating roulette wheel chamber
Revolver lottery deciding my fate
Bullet odds, wishes of death
Chrome ball sped to a halt
Landing on black or red
Consumed by misfortune
The day I fell in your bed
Pillow talk whispers
Spoken spells got you inside of my head
Im a game you play at your discretion
Your boredom builds, so you eventually flee
Your patterns are like counting cards
I know your moves
But I'm weak
I'll never leave
I could never stand alone
I'll turn a blind eye to my own needs
Just to please you
I'll be right here when you come back
I'm here if you feel the need to play with my heart again.
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 10:41 PM UTC