"regeneration" poems
Silence surrounds The sun still shines
but loneliness cannot exist on this perfect day
Not in a place except, too often,
where time never quits. no children play.
It's unfortunate The empty park
that bit by decaying bit beyond these walls
our generations keep cries in memory
losing grip. of laughs and falls.
It's a terrifying thought that But wait,
when asked "what time is it?" does hope approach at dawn?
it'll seem foreign and insane He pauses to finish a text..
to glance at my wrist. And then he is gone.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
lotus in a mirror
its roots clutch crepuscular slums of dredging mud
deep dark stagnant
thick with worms and milk flower petals
we remain nourished
wisdom expands into darkness
all of us students in the school of shadows
irreverent desires reverent
wise children of light bathe in waters
of cimmerian shade
*** death and regeneration
are celebrated in ******
of feral lucidity
souls are soiled by devils
the bog swallows bones
to bloom seraph's and cherubim floating
the third eye open
a cascading light
secret kiss
a breathless eternity
at the root
flames lick
open orifice
of ripples silk
empyrean *** magicians
weave
hips voodoo
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
#
From an ornate podium
the orator spoke words--
..extraordinarily elaborate ones..
as if,
as if
But those who know..
we who have laid low,
down in to the trenches
as grunts, both outside
and inside
of the wire..
Those who have quietly
done their legwork..
who have accepted their
difficult fate as that borne of
and in to, a training.. an equipping;
lay low,
lay low
. . . .
The throngs
at the foot of the podium--
mesmerized by their own need
to be mesmerized, never even
noticed the children
who in their innocence, peered
out from under the crowd's legs
to better see the 'magnificent' podium..
The oldest of which, ran back to trenches
trying to describe what they saw.
Two of the quiet, unassuming-ones
made their way back to the podium,
and in blocking out the orator's voice,
(which to the knowing,
was as that of a clanging bell..)
Now observed up close, the inner-workings
of the elaborate podium
and sat in wonder of its expenditures--
wrapped around such slipshod, weak
and hastily assembled framework..
And in having become interested in the
structure's groundedness to what one
would hope would be a solid-built
foundation, placed onto solid, earthen ground
They instead gasped as they saw its
legs floating upon nothing..
*"What the **** is holding this thing up..?"*
War-trained and battle-hardened,
they remembered their superiors speaking
in hushed tones that even ****** with all
of his blowhard oratorical ******** at least
had a semblance of the podium's fastenings..
Albeit, partially assembled by our own country's
stupidity within certain provisions brought forth
in the Treaty of Versailles,
but this
but this;
This oratorical misleading of the broken-ones
this empty illusion of a presentation, borne
not from a suffering leading to true regeneration
but instead, a distractive short-cut into the Realms;
This counterfeit substance..
as if borne in power, as if.. as if.
.. But the realms.. they know
It is only those down here on earth, spirit
cloaked within the deceptive misgivings
of the flesh-- so aching to establish itself
apart from the necessary legwork needed
to humbly become a part of Stream's flow:
(borne, solely from the inner Wellspring-- deep
within the bowels of Love's True Ache)..
It is here.. on earth.. that you will find
the reward you seek.. oh wondrous orator,
oh magnificent 'smither' of fine words..
**Your podium, a whitewashed soapbox
floating upon nothing..**
--And therefore meaning nothing
within the Substance-Based parameters
of the Realms.
#
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 3:48 PM UTC
shallow creeper
blindly seeks
subterranean passage
horizontal
push and ******
fingered shoots
in compliant ground
purple sword
arcs skyward
a deception
yet to unfurl
gold to conceal
the tangle
underneath
perennation
in unfavorable
seasons
propagates
subversive
perpetual
regeneration
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
My friend came by the other day.
As a leaf in the wind he has blown
From street to street
Town to town.
A wanderer he may be
but not at heart.
He longs to be attached to a tree
Any tree.
In spring and summer the leaves are green
And
attached.
Summer slowly dries them out as the tree
Prepares for winter.
My friend, the dry brown leaf
Blows in his perpetual autumn.
We all grow in our own time and season:
Winter dormancy
Spring regeneration
Summer fulfillment
Fall preparing for the
Inevitable
season of death.
These seasons of the soul
Are the very essence of our existence.
They teach us
Temper us
Fulfill us.
But there are those who do not see
The purpose of the seasons.
To them winter means only
Cold
Snow
Desolation.
Spring means only
Rain
Mud
Flooding.
Summer means
Beauty to mock
The heart in winter.
I trust in the wisdom of the seasons.
Nature teaches us lessons in her cycles.
Let the l
e
a
f
fall to the ground.
Let it rot into cold
Stark
Winter
Desolation.
Spring will come.
Bleak gray will become bright colours
Of spring.
The beauty will fade again but will
Reappear in winter's own stark beauty
Though it may be cold and gray.
Then spring will come.
Spring will come!!!
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 10:56 PM UTC
Melatonin is a conduit,
a flux for regeneration;
an endocrine neurohormone
that really only likes to secrete
when the Eyes are not stimulated;
that is to say
Sleep and Meditation
in this way
are Medicine of the Body.
Sleep more;
****** Self!
Sleep more.
If not, at least
Meditate more.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 7:59 AM UTC
Aural sounds of delectation
funk-fuel in fervent distillation
undertones of jazz-swing in migration
electronic clicks and blips for relaxation
ambience is my one true occupation.
The resonance of sound in rotation
the initiation itself a radiation
morphological alternation in isolation
as the hubbub of voices echo respiration
breath in, breath out, in elevation.
No underlying obligation, only inspiration
and celebration of collaboration
revel in the pleasures of sensation
like the first discovery of amplification
and in its appreciation and stimulation
embrace variation in all its illumination.
Seek out new music from recommendation
the gravitation towards transformation
the re-education and regeneration
this musical manifestation of civilisation
saturated in complex contemplation
adoration in meditation
the simplest form of gratification
the creative urge for diversification
and technological intensity
of electronic experimentation.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
Evermore has man searched for God,
the one who lives forever,
reaching upward towards the sun,
Icarus smitten with metallic rod.
Evermore has man dreamed of eternal life,
mixing potions,
magnum opus,
man or monster under knife.
Evermore has man sought immunity,
medical perfection,
telomeres with regeneration,
society given a longer unity.
Evermore has man longed for the paranormal,
vampires and immortal beasts,
fireside stories fit for fear,
portals to the imagination.
*The bird of Hermes,
is my name,
eating my wings,
to make me tame.*
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
the dust
that collects underneath my
bed
flakes of old
skin
are more myself
than I am
the person I was
when I was seven
is not me
nor
the person I was
on my fourteenth birthday
the person I was
yesterday
is not
the person I am
in this moment
the cells
the building blocks
of this body that carries me
are constantly
changing
they die
and entirely new ones
take place
how can I say
I am the same
person
that I was at fourteen
when every particle
of myself
is completely different
what is it that has
kept me the same
person
throughout my regeneration
is it my consciousness
is this my soul
I am a tree
grown from just a seed
every year
my leaves
shrivel up and die
and every year
I grow
brand new ones
it is still the same
tree
because it's trunk
remains the same
I am still the same
me
because my consciousness
remains the same
after a tree
is cut down
it does not disappear
it's trunk
remains
smaller,
yes
but still there
now a stump
if I am still myself
after my body
changes every molecule
of my prior self
this begs the question
will my consciousness
remain
after this body has died
if
I
am not limited
to a specific
chemical makeup-
able to transcend
different bodies-
does that mean
I will transcend
this
life
as well
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
3D Printing
Proud owners of 3D Printers !
Makers of 3D Printers !
Designers of 3D Printers !
What you are creating
Does't hold a candle
To Designer-maker-owner
All-in-one models
Created eons ago !!
It is the female of
Every species of mammals !
Bones, flesh, blood
Nerves, memory cells
Power plants to convert
Food to energy !
Control systems to regulate
Regeneration of fresh cells
Filter system to provide
Clean oxygen to
Fuel the Power Plants
With Powerful binoculars
Audio production mechanics
Audio receptors to pass on
Grey cells enclosed in
Secure and hard shell
Strands of fine hairs
To cushion impact and
As thermal insulation
Protection shields for
All sensory units
Efficient drainage system
Propulsion facilities
Guidance and command
Center for all activities!!
Processors working 24/7
Processing gene information
Tweaking and fine tuning
Some info and trashing a few
Data storage many TB more
Than many data centers could
Offer with minimum
Upkeep and maintenance
Self-Encryption capabilities
And above all the ability
To produce both male and
Female of their species
All from getting just
One ***** and
ultimately infusion
of LIFE
Into the product as casual
As our breathing.
Do we know the creator?
Different Religions have
Different Names for it
But all the same it is
THE ONLY ONE
That counts :-)
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
A bright blue police box spins through the sky
Over 50 years have passed, so no one bothers to ask why.
A Doctor in name, but no medicine dispensed
His adventures defy all common sense.
A Companion is always along for the ride
When the TARDIS lifts off; it’s bigger inside.
Our open-mouthed guide every step of the way
Their first visit extends to a permanent stay
The last of the Timelords or so people say
From a long-distant planet they call Gallifrey
Endlessly loyal with a mind second to none
He has never resolved a dispute with a gun.
He never seems to look the same for more than a few years
A fact that has left some in fits of angry tears
But everyone he’s truly known has felt a deep bond
Just ask Rose, Martha, Donna, Clara, or Amy & Rory Pond
Questioning the world and its traditions, his mind often lingers
On the tasty goodness of custard and fish fingers.
His personality leaves cause for some alienation
But what else can one expect after regeneration?
Friends often follow quickly in his tracks
Like Danny Pink, Madame Vastra, Jenny, & Strax
Otherworldly villains into our imaginations creep
Psychotic snowmen, The Master, Daleks, Cybermen, and unrelenting Angels that Weep
Dinosaurs in London, the Titanic in space
Motorcycles driving up Big Ben fast enough to win a race
Green forests of Sherwood; painting with Van Gogh
He can take us anywhere we want to go
And if when the journey stops your lips begin to quiver
Just breathe deep and imagine the Song of a River
Don’t go off the handle or fly into a rage
Open up a favorite book and tear out the last page.
That way, the stories won’t ever end and we can let them be
Soon another generation will come along to see
How a man whose true name remains unspoken
Can face life’s harshest obstacles and still remain unbroken
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
Renaissance
Rebirth
Regeneration
Renew
A fresh start, a new beginning
Recovery
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding snakeskin cells as
lead from no. 2 pencil
am **** and blood, skin and hairless,
all-to-come-to-go,
return retuned, at their own chosen speed,
gen of regeneration of disrupted oils and heavenly blessings,
morning cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently,
to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon’s decisions
that govern the lunatic cycle
you may kiss me with all your heart unto a robust welcoming,
scorn with spittle and deem unfit,
I know the difference and it is inconsequential
see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty,
as a new or a two day old leaking birthday balloon, or a haiku
that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing
think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of
your nippled forefinger, but my powers are unlisted,
therefore unlimited
for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they
appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine
forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensating,
the temperature of your breath, the many odors of you
as inputs that bear newborn children notions in
my chested gas chambers, the belligerent bellum bellies of my brain
my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide,
but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are
my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour
if you are awake between midnight and dawn when from
wells the visions, the fluids - the words are drawn
they, the residuals of a man’s *********** with
other humans, kin akin, and the thriving discourse between l,
man and parental gods of invisible powers, that offers insanity
as a viable solution, to cracking the codex human DNA
in the vial labelled Medusa
Who else?
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
with each passing day, I understand less and less, for
who could ever claim to know it all, yet, the simplicity
of our base-ic basest instincts makes evil so easily attractive,
that now, I forgive almost nothing, anyone for the cruelty
inherent in on the surfacial skin of our normalcy, so easily,
revealed, and reveled in, wrecks me, and the poetry
sparks are not doused, but wick and ember shriveled
oh the irony, that foolish me should write of the
commandment to love just as the world displays
old levels of hate historically deep… .I am hated,
to many who would know me only as Jew,
and this refresher course in my brain, reminds me,
that love thy neighbor as thyself, can morph into a
generational opposite, that my former degree of comfort,
beliefs, was only skin deep…and Tolstoy was a naïf, a romantic,
a royal, who hoped for the best in each man, and that
cannot ne achieved for hate is so easy digestible, so sweet a treat
for humans, who desire no compass other than simple baseness
to know which direction to take….
————————————————————————————-
”There can be only one permanent revolution—a moral one; the regeneration of the inner man. How is this revolution to take place? Nobody knows how it will take place in humanity, but every man feels it clearly in himself. And yet in our world everybody thinks of changing humanity, and nobody thinks of changing himself."
Tolstoy
”To perform evil deeds a person must discover “a justification for his actions,” so that he can regard stealing, humiliating and killing as good. “Macbeth’s self-justifications were feeble,” and so conscience restrained him. He had no ideology, Solzhenitsyn observes, nothing like “anti-imperialism” or “decolonization” to allay pangs of guilt. Solzhenitsyn concludes: “Ideology—that is what gives evil-doing its long-sought justification and gives the evil-doer the necessary steadfastness and determination . . . so that he won’t hear reproaches and curses but receive praise and honors.”
Solzhenitsyn
Oct 20, 2023
Oct 20, 2023 at 3:08 PM UTC
Contain the wind and darken the Sun
Dim the stars and let Havoc run.
Let Havoc run the world once glad
And thieve the joy that we once had.
Let Summers scorch the dying soot
And Autumns grow darker than the dirt under foot.
Let Winters cover the dead with fierce cold
And let Spring's regeneration never be told.
Harken pain and mourn the slain.
Let cries fill the skies and drive thee insane.
Never smile lest it be brightly seen
And thou be known as Evil's Unforeseen.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Carcass of an old
Self
Death paves way for
Regeneration - a service gifted
Within one generation
Without alienation
Dips and follies only culminate in the diamond from coal
My heart sits where he sits
Now, I'm the same wounded healer
No night time dealers beware
We know survival skills -
We are soft but we could ****
Touch the hummingbirds wing
Send fear running
We quick , we cunning
Evade the fortress walls
Tumble the towers with rose petal showers
Weapon of choice - a smile
Business card states that I spread love and he spreads laughter
You know we ain't after cash
But that's the whiplash
Anyway
We were born to play , so we play it well , better than I'd care to tell
Stay humble leave no room to grumble
Keep the tune light , till we ignite the daytime night
My soul is his soul and his soul is mine
It's not essential so we ignore space and time
No way to express the words that don't flow when the energy exchange is enough to know , my child's father
My lover is harmonies peals and sweet serenading appeals
I , gift , me unto you , the wrapping is golden but the present is still hidden
A surprise for the patient wounded healers healed in each other- ready to heal anew
Both of us - asleep in our parallel worlds under the umbrella of ambient lighting
A shameless copy of the pure sunlight
That emanates from their bodies
When they collide on the material
Plane .
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC
The rule of the self is exalted above
any adherence to any thing/feeling.
Their notions of doubt ruling over existence and
is in the supreme station of reason and power.
It sheds the former existence of yesterday
inasmuch as we are always recreated.
The philosopher's stone which
can conceive of no other thought
except the originality of the self.
It drinks the seven seas as if a drop and
asks, "Is there yet any more?"
No authority save the intimate friend
can find its way here.
Every stranger is betrayed and
its chariot becomes outworn for the rider.
And when they look at themselves
they behold their powerlessness in
the face of every nation, which
simply makes them embark on
the conquest of their own heart.
Every listener is as a bullet to their
enemy.
Every truth is as a fallen warrior
for their Cause.
No wind is sufficient to curtail their
sense of direction.
Every human acknowledged is as a piece
of sand supporting their path.
There is no end to their perturbing of the skies.
The poem is unfinished as the scribe of
their tale is astounded by the
regeneration of their march.
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 1:45 PM UTC
And I wish your smile
was meant for me.
I wish
that we'd stare
into each others
eyes,
knowing that
the reason they
light up,
was because of me;
because of my effort,
the effort that I
try so hard
to hide.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
By wolf & Arcassin
AB: ..it was you,
All along,
I differ from others that find the strength to move on
Even spiritually,
hurt me bad,
It almost killed me,
Even in death I would still love you,
There's noone in your frame of mind,
change of heart,
Took me back,
Filled with joy,
Don't know long it will Last,
As long as you last,
WS: it's still only you
have you figured out the rift?
many will come, many may go
but this is and always will be
you and i
me and you
only we own that
back from death you bring me
with a tender kiss
like mouth to mouth regeneration
and soul to soul
like no others
maybe, just maybe
you and me
is all we ever really needed to be
let it last, let it stay
one kiss, i pray....
never go astray.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
How would their lives be? Would new houses be like newly weds? Maybe there is a history, like a new house on old ground is just a new regeneration of that house, even if it looks nothing like the old one. What if houses you seen in the “sketchy” neighborhoods are houses just like the owners? Maybe they looked beautiful and their surroundings blinded them and slowly let the paint rot away. What would it feel to be demolished? What if old beautiful houses were so wise? Or would they be false like the botox seen today? Would you remember it in your new form? What if the footprints of every person who ever walked upon the floor stayed there? Imprinted deep into the wood, always to be hidden? Man, what if houses could remember everyone who ever lived there? I wounder if houses loved or hated their families, like pets do with owners? Would the New York apartments have the personalities of the poor families, struggling art students, and free lance actors? Would the houses in L.A. always be singing a song? Would boarded houses just sit, projecting it’s past lives. Living it in order over and over cause it is better than being alone? You wait for those kids down the street to meddle in your backyard; losing their virginities in your dusty attic. What would houses think about right before wrecking ball?
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
In bareness life sheds
Melting our essences
To fear our termination
In caskets it all ends
In excess life mends
A regeneration read
Generations transpired
For eons we existed
In neutral life tends
Unscripted to rest
Reassessed to subsist
Repressed to matter
Thou shan't fear death
Embraceth thine destiny
Immortalised in shrines
Till the universe climaxes
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
A woman’s sin
Can cause earthquakes,
Mudslides and hurricanes
Woman is subservient
To these tornados,
Tsunamis and storms
It’s in her nature
For chaos to reign
Trying so hard to be good
Fighting what’s innate
Woman is a *****
A Madonna
A crying mother
Shifting like a chameleon
Woman yearns to be filled
Woman clings to despair
That unravels like a favorite worn shirt
Woman has devil in her genes
But is powerless to change
Fighting a losing battle
Woman needs attention,
Unbreakable pact of trust
Cause man is not tied nor bound by
Monthly bleeding, ovulation
Man destroys pain with reason
Man’s undivided mind leaves
No room for guilt
Man is ego in the moment
Yearning to stay hungry
Man grieves until the moment disappears
Loving the anonymous body
Lacking the ability to understand the mind
Man wants to expose what needs hiding
Man treks the land but fears the sound
Of acorns falling on a roof
Man recognizes there’s more to Eden
Than the garden
Man seeks to tame nature
But regeneration and rebirth rule
An only woman can assist this
As our toes spread out like tree roots
And ghosts sway in the branches
We’re reminded by the deer, the fox, the raven-
Chaos reigns
And nature blooms as it corrupts
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 12:38 AM UTC
I love the number three
In all its numerology.
The universe,
Yes, every atom
Builds paragons,
With protons and
ons and ons...
Three illustrates our progression
As the sum of all before.
Our music finds accord
When three notes
Blend to chord.
Love and all we deem
Of worth,
Is here,
Third planet,
Earth,
Where life gives birth
To you and I and us,
Dependant on
Animal, ore and vegetation
To ensure regeneration.
We grew, grow and nurture
In past, present and future.
Our words, thoughts and deeds
Are civilization's seeds
For a wholesome, safe and peaceful life
With Faith, Hope and Charity.
My favourite three priorities:
Andrea, Maggie and Kathleen.
Now,
With the birth of Aine,
I'm in love with four.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
We know the importance of sleep for our health and appearance. But when it comes to getting at least eight hours of quality sleep, this is easier said than done. You could be tempted to watch that late night movie, or read one last chapter in that book.
For many of us, the goal of sleeping at 9 or 10pm may appear elusive. Many sleep at a decent hour but suffer from bouts of insomnia.
It pays to learn how to sleep. Ever wondered why babies and children have such beautiful skin? Research shows skin cell regeneration doubles at night and peaks between 11pm and 4am. Sleep deprivation leads to inflammation and oxidative stress which contributes to aging.
Here are some tips on how to sleep better:
1. Control your exposure to light
To maintain a good sleep-wake cycle, expose yourself to natural light during the day, and complete darkness when you go to sleep. If you work indoors, try to get at least half an hour of sunlight during the day. Let as much natural light into your workspace or home as possible.
At night, avoid bright screens within two hours of your bedtime. Switch off all lights, wifi, and electronics in your bedroom. Rather than using the television to wind down, read a book or listen to an audio recording.
Invest in dark-out curtains to ensure the room is completely dark. If you wake up during the night and need to move around, use a dim light.
2. Maintain a regular sleep schedule
Sleeping and waking up at the same time each day, helps to optimise the quality of your sleep. If you need to make up for a sleep debt, take a nap during the day, rather than sleeping in past your usual wake-up time. Once you’re getting enough sleep, you won’t need an alarm clock to wake you in the morning.
3. Watch what you eat and drink
Caffeine can cause sleep problems therefore try to avoid coffee, chocolate, and tea after lunch. A nightcap may help you fall asleep. However, it interferes with your sleep cycle by waking you up in the middle of the night.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
The hair on my head has never been touched by you.
Every couple years we gain new cells and skin too.
One day I will never have been touched by you.
One day you won't know me.
I'll only be a distant memory.
Let me fade into the background of your mind.
You don't need me in your life.
Please move on.
I'm not the girl you used to know,
I'm a woman now.
Full grown.
You were always full of lies.
Your butterflies have morphed into nothing more but flies.
I wish you would leave.
My eyes are dry can't you see?
When I see your face or the back of your head,
My heart starts to pound.
Not in love or excitement.
But in a nervous, anxious, fright.
Your memories are lost in the depths of my mind.
But when anyone mentions your name...
They crash forward like a tidal wave.
All the laughs and smiles...
All the lies and cries...
The hurt.
The betrayal.
One day...
You will have never touched me.
Let me fade in your memories.
I'm new.
Reborn.
I'm not the girl you used to know.
I'm a woman now.
Full grown.
No longer naive.
Or filled with silly dreams.
My hair you once touched...
Long chopped off.
And in another couple of years,
My cells and skin will be new too.
One day I will have a body you have never touched.
So let me fade in your memory.
I'm not the girl you used to know.
I'm a woman now.
Full grown.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC