"spatially" poems
Mahatma gnaws at World War hungers
Reincarnated forms of Wild West lungers
Spatially realigning to a kosher and beloved state
Krishna stands ignored, can’t help feeling irate
Walrus tusks dig into the carpenter’s brow
As an eight armed saint is revealed as a cow
Scriptures packed and rolled, exhaled in suspicion
Prophets praised for violence incurred, act of sedition
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
My bones never got upset when they fractured, when they shattered. They only proceeded to heal.
It is the serenity found after the storm that keeps my faith alive.
Choices all around, and more importantly within.
My bones never got to decide if they wanted to rehabilitate themselves or not.
They only proceeded to heal.
It is the acceptance of all that is, and that which is not
that keeps my faith alive.
Choices all around, and more importantly within.
My mind is not spatially located, but my thoughts prove it’s existence.
I see a smile, I hold back tears;
Frightened when I know the truth can no longer be held captive.
My mind is not spatially located, but my thoughts prove it’s existence.
I choose to smile, I choose to cry.
Truth so often believed that it will set us free,
But I have come to understand that it is the truth that binds us.
Leaving no room to escape,
unless concealed and disguised under lies--
Lies that are known, even when they become a placebo.
“I shall please.”
Now that I have buried the one recurring thought in the earth,
I have learned to survive with mouthfuls of dirt.
Dirt as dry as the bones I will leave,
the bones that did not have a choice.
Dirt as filthy as the mind that chooses the gutter.
Dirt as impure as the deceit I can transform into honesty.
I will not be frightened any longer, For the truth is no longer my prisoner.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:37 PM UTC
step right in
where commodity and fiction
are deliberately blurred,
electrostatic dust collector,
after-shower body air-driers,
a spatially disconnected
from the world roll-on wife
complete with a dining table
that sinks into the floor;
don't tell her she's an android;
just don't.
she is captured
and ever ready,
she was a stenographer
but quite unsteady,
her mouth a spark of vowels
when her far off places
are aroused.
repeat this soothing motto — space, place, memory.
outside is scenographic sensation:
lightology. unbreathed air. porcelain skin.
she's the soft electric assurance
of a better life — the life which rests on device alone — a strong, sweet poison which infects the blood.
she is "the light of any home"...
Mar 31, 2023
Mar 31, 2023 at 10:41 AM UTC
reconnected images
toes in rich soil
toiling under the yoke
spatially
fleeting fancy of freedom
fades
pages turn
returning me to the ground
I roamed as a child –
forgotten foothills
beacon
as property brokering
binds me to the earth
monetarily
owning my homeland
by the acreage –
white privilege escapist
seeking grid-less domain
sustainability with a suntan
in the cool Oregon rain
draining the infrastructure
through government backed loans
forever indebted
as the backs of my fellow countrymen
are buying my dream in America –
wrecked inspectors trek Tibet
for the almighty dolla dolla bill ya’ll
signing off on trash
commission driven misgivings
serving up dry rot and mold spots
on a flooded lot
I shield myself against the tide of ********
seeking information
in the age
namesake
heartbroken realtors
dot the horizon
holding contractual obligation
waving it frantically
begging –
seeking perfection
sneaking suspect-tion
any direction
needing contraception
fleeting misconception
leading to direct loans
hearing the same groans
as she is reading the next home
listing……..
throwing fists into the air
I swear
if I didn’t care so much
to handle the deed
I would rent
for
life –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
To concretize my theorized love,
I could play the accidental odds and strew
slippery tongues of spotted petals
onto thickly trafficked highways,
or use the best predictive modelling
to deduce when and where I can poke out
a well-heeled boot to trick unwary spills
and ****** a kiss from the unsuspecting
lips of any suitably compatible
passerby oft times inconvenienced and passed
on by.
These well-oiled and crudely experimental
methods do produce expected results,
but not the breakthrough nor the looked-for
satisfaction of appropriate reactions,
so I'll keep my dotted eyes tucked in
their pulpy stems and my shoddy toes curled back
while I beam my bits of invitation through
circuitous routes spatially arrayed along
parallel paths where one might search
with an extra-terrestrial inventiveness,
and wait.
I know the trials of these errant waves
won't add up to a guarantee
my burpy blips of a pulse can reach
the receptively comprehending and responsive
soils I seek, but it's the remoteness of a stead
to come stalking that appeals, and despite
the Hawking drone of unveiled warnings
I might regret such contact, I'll risk it all
on vaguely washed wishes this astronomical
anomaly with an alien sensibility has
one match.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 3:15 PM UTC
The odour of the dandelion spin
raves nonexistence as the train wheels brim:
with a speed as mesmerizing and encapsulating
as hollow tin.
The mind is temporarily frozen with pleasure,
spatially driven with west-headed pressure.
It is questionless; it is speechless...
It is only mildly, yet surely aware of its presence.
And so: ride is what it loves.
Ride is what I shall her give.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
I am aware when my hips ram into the corner of the desk when I walk down a row and I double over in pain.
I am aware when my **** knock over the glass of water that was in front of me when I lean over the table.
I am aware when my *** doesn't fit through a tight squeeze in a movie theater or party.
I am aware when my hair gets caught in the limbs that I walk underneath.
I am aware that my thighs have no choice but to take up the empty space that would otherwise be in my pants.
I am spatially aware.
I know that my shoulders are not the smallest, but **** are they strong.
I know that the space I take up when I dance makes the air feel full, and loves me for my caress.
Love me or love me not, I do not care.
I am spatially aware of air.
Jul 28, 2011
Jul 28, 2011 at 6:54 PM UTC
Omnipotent, audacious in power. A craving I hold, though intangible to my fingers. Able to bellow with ions of energetic magnificence and allow power and eternity to pass through. So strong. I am not.
Immortal, suffering throughout, inner galactic warfare wages on beneath my crackling skin and steams out my pores. Cursed to bleed eternally, withering into a shape made of dust that would but blow away if not that it were nailed to the ground. Undying, undamaged, eternally ****** to live. I am.
Omniscient, vastly knowing, swimming in the sea of a mind, aware of such actions that could overthrow a universe, but would falter in awareness that it need not act pointlessly. So full of self control. I am not.
Alone, wanting, hoping, reaching out to a father and a creator of whom I wish I could love. Clawing with infected stubs at a ghost. I pass through untouched by the divine and am left hallow. My emptiness providing my only company. Cast out amongst the endless decay of happiness, dark pain fills my hovel. I am.
Omnipresent, existing amongst all things. Spatially filling the gaps of the universe, existing thoroughly and throughout. Seeing and hearing and understanding. Procreating happiness in the minds of the hopeful. Bringing purity into the world with eternal hands, and spreading it throughout the cosmos. So present. I am not.
Banished, outcast to lead a sorrowful existence. Cursed by meaningless actions that could not prevail and see the light of anything. Walking an untraveled path that I alone must aimlessly stumble across. Blistering feet bleed and crack beneath a decimated body. Everlastingly succumbed to Hell. I am.
A God. A powerful being that could not but shine His holiness on the universe. An entity that could make the multiverse bow before his divinity. Who could spread his arms and cast a deafening roar of purity. His spirit, floating through the minds of his children. A deity, blessed with the power of creation and given the job of fulfilling such desires. I am not.
I am an outcast. An unwanted empathizer of evil. Master of the demons that crawl beneath your withering and faltering mind, finding sustenance in the sin of a world full of hatred and wrong. Bringing whole worlds to their knees and casting away any angel who dare spread his wings before me. Willing to rip off the feathers and burn them so that I may cook the pain and swallow it. Allowing the pain to seed itself into my system and metabolize into something I call a soul. I am no god.
I am not God.
I am the Devil.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
up here on the right,
no, no, you can stop here.
I don’t mind walking the extra twenty feet.
I had a nice time,
it was quite the evening,
especially when the moon descended overhead,
staring us both in the eye,
rough lover, sunday morning, and my chin’s all whisker scratched.
is some body you’ll never touch allowed to make you feel that way
centuries earlier,
people staggered their sleep,
dormant for three or four hours,
and around midnight, they’d wake,
swathed, international blue moon lit
while lovers were conquered,
and neighbors addressed as if it were morning,
fresh and jovial, short-lived land angels
connected to their bodies,
to our moon, to floors,
turning in them,
below them,
spatially, elsewhere,
never having left the gap between your forefinger and temple
under duress
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUTH THAT SPATIALLY EXIST;
THE TRUTH THAT DOESN'T HAVE THE CONTENT.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
ask yourself this...
while you become
the hypocritical that.
as always--to those
concerned, what power
drew your eyes to read
into these words?
what made them a doorway?
they mean something to you.
they want to show you some
kind of way, they're spatially
unchallenged when they look
dead in G*d's eyes
for your Self-sake.
the first and the last breed, breed
sons not of Man.
as women bear birth,
so they might feel for themselves.
these two hands wash the
blood out of water
to clarify nothing.
except...
the Word of their
mouth to dash across the
tongue of their drink,
ever parched.
only visions of water.
Jeshua too passed out and
in with the devil while
roaming.
~Aum Namah Shivaya~
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 2:00 AM UTC
N onsensical enigmas form a queue
O ntogenies where time is in reverse
T wo sides to everything but why so few?
H istoric catalogue of multiverse
I nfinity that's frozen on the spot
N o change of entropy if all were still
G reen engines which produce but don't get hot
P recise, deterministic style free-will
A spatially dimensionless time-zone
R eligions with the freedom to evolve
A lthough I have to own I have my own-
D ogmatic attitudes I'll not devolve
O ne hopes someday to hear someone propound
X marks the spot where everything is found.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
So you claim you're highly
"intelligent"
In which category would that be?
There's "cognitive" and "emotive" intelligents,
I'm sure your in the driver seat!
Or perhaps your
crystallise intel
is crystallised
Somewhere
Between heaven and hell
We can be
Influentials when fluency dwells
Surely
"Kinaesthetics" is poetical flow
This intelligence come and goes.
But obviously "linguistic"
is our intellectual clutch
Along with high "aesthetics"
But you may still be out to lunch!
Because
"Spiritual" intelligence
can leave us drunk!
"Interpersonally" where are you
That and "artistical" intelligence rules!
"Spatially" we navigate
this "mathematical" understanding
of our universe.
No one possess all
11 intelligents I have mention
So if you believe your above
You've pathologically decended!
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 6:45 AM UTC