"sublimation" poems
Incineration
Decapitation
Mutilation
The Veneration
And Sublimation
Of a Freethinking nation
The Devastation
Of Liberty
Comes with the
Consuming identity
Of Religious
Indoctrination
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Ever wonder what someone's sadness feels like?
Ever really see that there's a huge difference between theirs and your own?
What you understand as depression, may only be a blue day for another.
I suppose that's why we can't relate to all poetry,
Or truly understand much of it,
To its cold point.
How can we be predispositioned in good,
While surrounded by so much evil?
Call it human nature;
No such thing as corruption,
Instead it's all about purification.
Daily struggles, testing our patience and ability to remain on a steady path.
Each successful decision resulting in a step closer to personal sublimation.
So what if dreams are reality,
And reality is just the dream?
Who's to say life is what it seems,
And that dreams are only mental representations of our inner desires?
Life's a withdrawal and dreams are the drugs that stop it,
Yet equally prolong it.
Then you wake up again.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
She is spontaneous poetry, no need to be written,
a dam burst of emotions subtle,on what I float along,
a whirlwind at an unpredictable time of the season
looking for an intimate space to churn and churn and churn.
By now, I know this without her even hinting,
all her dark clouds will rain in torrents nonstop
in to my landscape, sultry, broad and tranquil
I am an open sky, a stage ready for changing realities
a cloudless calm now in meditative expansiveness,
ready to change from dark, cloudy turgidity
to it's contrast, white feathery fluff that's dreamy.
This time round, when she visited,she did lie naked
on my bed supine, looking at me wistfully for a while
in my mind's sky beams of morning sun criss- crossed
all the nine openings of my body tightly shut, I sat meditating.
But I felt her chaotic presence in the energy field spreading,
she hurriedly removed her clothes one by one,smiling
in the buff she alights on my lap,a butterfly on a flower was her,
by and by a sweet heaviness enveloped my ***** in union with hers
I hear the primordial boom of the big bang, refining as an "Om"
travelling sans any medium it goes outwards to expanding universe.
to the 1"Chidakasha" where everything begins and go beyond.
Her storm energy, Tantric, seeks alleviation of existential pain,
I hear my glowing inner eye whispering in light to the far galaxies,
In one form she is so much, past present and future converged,
She is 2"Mahatripurasundari", great enchantress of the three worlds.
Shakthi, the feminine energy that moves earth, heaven and hell,
Kali, the dark energy, seeking sublimation through catharsis.
On me she moves like a tortoise deliberately,my nervous system reads,
She would defeat the hare and win the laurel, in yogic, trance I discern.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
To hide behind a solid barrier,
to fade into the shadows.
To seek the comfort of the covers,
to crawl through comforting meadows
of stability and repetition-
possessing, overpowering.
A dictator of Life's daily manner-
frightening and towering.
An endless gasp for liberation,
freedom from the rusty shackles-
worn are they from endless grappling,
heartless mirth and hearty cackles.
The words that cluster in the throat
when fear is puppeteer-
the doll that finds no choice at all
but to appease the commandeer
and fade into the dark, ashamed,
of wretched weakening fear.
When will the shackles fall away
their screams,deafening, subside-
the shadows black, so dim, dissolve
and leave no place to hide?
Dictatorship of every move
and word and step and sound,
when will the final song be sang
of Liberty unbound?
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 1:50 PM UTC
The tendrils of smoke,
they drift on the slightest zephyr
and find their way to you
they will find any crack and break you
the smoke from a fire, the sublimation of dry ice
they don't agree but the goal is the same.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
Small town ignorance is buried deep within the skull
Generational behavior passed on from father to son
To daughter from mom
Weak willed sublimation of their identity
Stealing the unlimited possibilities
With beer, *** and stupidity parading as the news
Rich people using the confusion to abuse
Factions united under bland statements of false unity
Corporate art dulled down to distract me
The facts you see aren’t reality
But society selling insanity
Vanity instead of depths
Sheep instead of blazing suns
This is where I came from
But I know they are more than that
Under that John Deer cap
Is a potential surpassing their current fashion
Worse than a scarlet letter
Yes passion perceived the secrets we see
Cut close to the essence of our being
Humanity enlightened not frightened
By our blazing dreams
I can see what is and what might be
And though the now and past pain me deeply
That possibility for a better future sustains
What remains of my waning sanity
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
everyone is posting videos
forgetting science
and trying to burn snow
well *** holes it’s called sublimation and
**** you for not liking my picture I posted 26 minutes ago
where else is my poor narcissistic soul going to get my ego boost from
I have 34 likes and I need at least 50 to feel like I can be deemed fuckable by the general public
please help me
and you posted a picture
and I liked it and so did your ex-girlfriend
and I ******* hate her and how she can relate to you
and she knows what an IV to the heart feels like and I don’t
but you make me wish I was ill or near death just so I can feel like maybe just maybe we can lay in opposite hospital beds
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
When I am most confused,
I can feel a profound sense of happiness,
Within debilitating sadness.
It is the sublimation of emotions.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Burn so brightly elements of yesterday
Locked in a peculiar orbit, they say
The largest star in any sky
Burning the hottest before it dies
The intense blue of sublimation
Black holes envy his degradation
Far past when molecular oxidation occurs
Into great fires smoldering for her
Countless planets revolving over
Hopelessly caught in his supernova
The atomic incineration of time
All through ionized helium lines
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
I've been going right on, page by page,
since we last kissed, two long dolls in a cage,
two hunger-mongers throwing a myth in and out,
double-crossing out lives with doubt,
leaving us separate now, fogy with rage.
But then I've told my readers what I think
and scrubbed out the remainder with my shrink,
have placed my bones in a jar as if possessed,
have pasted a black wing over my left breast,
have washed the white out of the moon at my sink,
have eaten The Cross, have digested its lore,
indeed, have loved that eggless man once more,
have placed my own head in the kettle because
in the end death won't settle for my hypochondrias,
because this errand we're on goes to one store.
That shopkeeper may put up barricades,
and he may advertise cognac and razor blades,
he may let you dally at Nice or the Tuileries,
he may let the state of our bowels have ascendancy,
he may let such as we flaunt our escapades,
swallow down our portion of whisky and dex,
salvage the day with some soup or some ***
juggle our teabags as we inch down the hall,
let the blood out of our fires with phenobarbital,
lick the headlines for Starkweathers and Specks,
let us be folk of the literary set,
let us deceive with words the critics regret,
let us dog down the streets for each invitation,
typing out our lives like a Singer sewing sublimation,
letting our delicate bottoms settle and yet
they were spanked alive by some doctor of folly,
given a horn or a dish to get by with, by golly,
exploding with blood in this errand called life,
dumb with snow and elbows, rubber man, a mother wife,
tongues to waggle out of the words, mistletoe and holly,
tables to place our stones on, decades of disguises,
wntil the shopkeeper plants his boot in our eyes,
and unties our bone and is finished with the case,
and turns to the next customer, forgetting our face
or how we knelt at the yellow bulb with sighs
like moth wings for a short while in a small place.
2k
~
*Prelude of light
The sublimation hour
In this ruined house
Before meaning comes
(The world is full of
Abandoned meanings)
A slight grip, a gentle hold
And the trembling of glass
Circles of privacy
To shine, to hide, to cross
From the only window
Burning sanctuary
Heaven come crashing
The thicket is no sacred grove:
A chronicle of early failures
But within reach
Of future mistakes
Even the darkness has arms*
~
Oct 2, 2022
Oct 2, 2022 at 3:06 PM UTC
The walls cry-out as they burn.
A tumult of roars wreathed in the crackle of blazing matter.
Which is louder?
Perspective will tell.
The one who assaults,
Or the one assaulted?
The roar, or the crackle?
The giver, or the receiver?
Pleasure in two forms, two-faced gratification.
One hand for dispensation,
One mouth for sublimation.
And do we not all sublimate?
Base impulses, rank ideas,
On the surface, vindicate?
The residue of consequence
Brusquely scrub and expiate?
Perspective will tell.
We espy hedonism, unbridled delight,
And may envy those who bathe in these muddied pools,
Focusing our most ephemeral sense on dazzling cacophony,
Ignoring the estranged husband of hedonism,
Shunning the divorcée of delight.
Which is truly louder?
Perspective will tell.
In Oscar Wilde’s Salome the moon is thus described:
“She is like a woman who is dead. She moves very slowly.”
Pandemonium in the hall, the howling of wild beasts,
But she remains “a woman who is dead,”
And “she moves very slowly.”
The divorcée of delight,
A pitiful coming-down.
The remnant of misuse,
The scarring of abuse.
One reads on a stone:
The hardly-lovéd daughter of overuse.
And the one who gazes overlong is warned:
“You look at her too much.
It is dangerous to look at people in such fashion.
Something terrible may happen.”
The walls cry-out as they burn,
And they cry in desperation.
What we see is conflagration.
The light: A brilliant exultation.
The crackle: A herald of termination.
But when ash is blown in silence,
It is dangerous to look at what remains:
Scar tissue.
Slow death.
Residue.
The head of John.
The bones of Salome.
Broken glass.
Wilted flowers.
Cracked foundation on hollow cheeks.
Red lips the stain of blood on ivory cloth.
Festering flies.
The beating of vultures’ wings.
The snoring of satiated beasts.
The stumbling home.
Apologies.
Sublimation.
Conflation.
Expiation.
…
One’s well-mannered pause until the other’s end,
So that the one may pause…
And begin again.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC
Through a wet night,
And beside an ancient moon,
Came the wolfs howling croon,
Sacred trees breath,
And fire exhausts the soft air,
True Leopards lair.
Lying with eyes of beauty,
And the quiet stillness of perfection,
Silent and soothing,
The velvet wind,
As she licks and teases,
Flicks and breezes under my skin,
And again I'm within her secret layer,
Easing, breathing,
United duelation,
The birth of a nation swims silently in the dark,
Probing sublimation,
Soft and smooth,
To the end of the groove,
And still no more to move,
For sweat speaks exhausted talk,
And pleasure retires to reincarnate,
We've breached the gate,
Coupled warmth smothers,
The light fades,
Woven bodies beneath the moon,
Sleep now for we will awake soon.
....................................................
Oct 8, 2009
Oct 8, 2009 at 8:59 AM UTC
On the riveting tiger skin,
intricate tantric motifs
nature has deftly sewn,
indicative of the mystery
of communion predicted
by the stars, the fish in
intergalactic oceans
that dream beyond time,
her lush, **** body spreads
in anticipation of the union
foretold,in palm leaf scrolls of yore
the ancients wrote, as revealed to them,
defying all human logic.
Shiva, merges with Shakthi
Lingam, the ******* plough of creation
seeks Yoni, the fertile awakened
feminine soil that awaits sowing.
The churning of the milky sea begins
in excited, repitative, motions
till nectar secretes, bringing sublimation.
Then begins transformation,
she becomes the devine lust
of the universe, the receiver of pollen,
to create, proliferate, sustain and spread,
the circle of mystery widens every moment.
The tiger skin on which she lies
before him assumes its grand version now,
it's the sky, without a beginning or end,
she now is the drawing of the universe
reduced to the symbolism of female body,
a pure white piece of cloud, taken by wild wind
above hills, dales, that in course of circumnavigation
gets pregnant, then, rains in torrents over the earth.
the union, an energy in waves, spreads
creating fertile imagination, in all beings
earth in green pulsates, with the universe,
the rhapsody resulted is in all colors.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Tricky tom took a time bomb and tucked it between tracey's ****
And it blew my mind.
What does it take to preserve a life form in line 'em up and **** 'em town?
Answers...
I know two things,
And I have eaten an otter from sublimation.
And I still am not sure who she really is.
Now if the ushers will direct eceryune to there seets...
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 4:00 PM UTC
My mind has been on a roller coaster of sublimation.
Turning to mush as I get called crazy.
Not doing any thing about it because I'm, quote, lazy.
Wishing I could turn back time.
Wishing they weren't so sublime.
Now I'm all alone in the nation.
Nothing left but sublimation.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
Subconscious vapors of lucidity whisper into the depths of my soul. Pleading Pleiades, daughters of Atlas, exhale mythical wisps that wander in the constellations of my mind anointing me and by their
decree I am Divine.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
I blew a kiss and you smiled
Your heart shook in tremor
Won't you admit the vacancy?
It's like a field of football
Ball bouncing from sides
For whoever holds it wins
A repressive defence chains
Diseased denial cog wheels
Mind played, tongue slated
Sublimation of eager emotions
Compassed in all directions
Comprehended ridiculoupsity
Sinking stilettos drills deeper
Barbed wire erected to fence
A barricade of a no wait zone
Hedges cut, trimmed to invisible
No allegations stains to appease
Peace to transmute,a game changer
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
I salute my sublimation.
tackle my monsters
with pen and paper,
Die in my art, you beasts.
all my characters are myself.
different shades
textures of my complexity
a palette of my entity
Im the protaganist
the underdog
idealistic dreamer
with a happy ending
I'm the antagonist
the enemy
cynical pessimist
with doom impending.
I scrape down on paper
these pages of me.
Sublimating aching
intermission from tragedy.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
Luminous fallen child,
Your star exploded.
The sublimation of youth
Discarded in the dizzy geometry,
Like fireflies in a city
Against the anonymous streets.
Home is where the heart is,
Blood of cement and gravel.
Child, phosphorescent angel,
Your light is a poor full moon.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
You were thirsty.
So I said I will meet you in a dream
and pour you a glass of sparkling pink
lemonade over dry
ice. As it sublimates
a shroud of frothy mist
will form and travel past
the brim into the air
between us.
And you will
trace silvery incantations
onto the glass with your
fingertip. The mist will linger, but then
it will thin,
eventually it will evaporate so
all that is left at the bottom
of the cup is a shallow pool
of sparkling lemonade.
Your etchings, dissolved.
At this point in the dream, I will leave
for a few years. When I come back
the cup will still be in the same place
you left it and I will breathe close to it
the fog of my breath will cling
to the glass and like a ghost
it will reappear: All that
disappeared; All that
you wrote, years ago.
Then I will wake up
and forget this dream.
Years are only seconds
combined. The evidence
will remain, my tongue
quaking from the burn
of dry ice. My head
wavering with confusion,
as though what it contains
is not opaque, but foggy,
pink and citrus. From
this point on, I can't say
what will happen to you.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 11:14 AM UTC
Are we profligate,
Disillusioned by fearlessness?
Running unkempt
Cut loose from Nature’s design,
We rest, only to rise
And seek restlessly
Fruits of a victory ripped from obscurity.
Past the grip of physicality, we speak
Sermons of profundity:
Inclined to faction,
Built upon acuity
of inclination.
An autumn glow
As I run my hand through sun-kissed hair,
Coursing though stalwart gazes,
She tells me I am he.
We kiss.
I shutter,
For I feel unfulfilled.
A causality of
The perceived:
Salience of difference no one sees
Stolen by wonder,
Palpitations of her heart
Slight the silence of her lips as we kissed
And I realized that there’s nothing more
Than to indemnify true sublimation,
Where hearts truly rest,
And rest together.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 1:06 AM UTC
drop through my veins
like sap honey dew
sweetness and blue
green sublimation
cerebellum vacation
mental exploration
brain decoration
this is dedication.
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 3:32 PM UTC
Believing you're in love
does not excuse all the
stupid, ******** **** you do
to punish her for not
loving you. You're
not entitled to
romantic reciprocity, no matter
what a lifetime of
bad movies and TV may
have taught you, and
your love was ******** to
begin with, as evidenced by
its sublimation into hate
at the moment she
- as gently as possible -
rejects you.
Believing you're in love
does not justify
any of your
stupid, ******** behaviour:
a **** move
is still a
**** move.
The sick part is, for the
longest time, you'll be the one
who'll feel wounded, and
she'll be the one who'll
feel guilty. She'll
eventually learn better.
You probably never will.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 1:59 PM UTC
Bound in darkness
Tethered by restraints unseen
Constrained by ideology
Control is illusory
Received in freedom
Freedom to perceive the truth
Or believe what's easy
Twisted minds revolt
Logic vs passion vs need vs want
Exercises in futility
Frustration abounds
Follow commands
Command desires
Twisting logic
Abandoning sense
Embracing concupiscence
Truth = justification
Justify and make it so
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC