"suffusing" poems
Time: 7:30 pm
Temp.: 68F
~~~
overlooking the runways,
festooned by
accidental heavenly whimsy,
or humanistic whimsical inten-sity,
all the the planes and trucks are flashing
electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced
red and green
it is not my holiday,
but no matter,
like every New Yorker this day,
I am happily celebrating its
double U,
unique, unusual
"record breaking warmth"
yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of
early eve~night,
the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde,
as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees,
on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of
December, two nought and fifteen
traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself,
the maddening crowds gone, now all are among
the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived
so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith,
(I mean my face),
the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart
city bustle and hustle,
the languid atmosphere at the gates,
(where seldom is heard an encouraging word)#
makes me reconsider the true meaning of
the au courant phraseology of this day
"record breaking warmth"
for there is indeed
a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite,
chests glowing from fireplaces within,
contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart,
and I am thinking
miracle,
about all the human warmth
on this celebrated evening,
holy night
indeed,
it is breaking records of
recorded human fusion,
the united commonality of millions warming
his and her stories world-over,
that your personal poet is
warming to record
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
There is a new fire
in my soul
its curves
wrap themselves
around me
sinuous
like a hot
slithery
sheath of flesh
snakes of pleasure
twirling in my deepest
womanflow
pumping inside
my veins of mesh
Those licks of flames
caress as they spew
they **** in my spirit
spit it out anew
undulating hips
matching my own
a middle east song
igniting my bones
suffusing my blood
with the raw, the bare
filling me up
with sparkling lava,
so rare
This combination
makes for a recipe hot
like a piquant ghost pepper
in my spiciest spot
Now let me weave words
Let me conjure your
liquids
let me drench colors
upon your eyelids,
my spirit's
proximity vivid
Let me drown you in
madness
in frothiest frequencies
of love
let this symphony play out
powers screeching above
and as this vivacity beckons
the soul in your eyes
our stormiest spirals
will spill out rainbow fire
and rise
for as we grow and reach out
there is a death of limitation
as freedom breaks out
in ocean-soaked
emancipation
Our mutual worlds
heal each other's hurts
as my tongue licks
your wounds
rejuvenation asserts
hot springs of
lifeflow
filling up cells
sensations of textures
a ringing of bells
So
as I weave this spell
around you
fear not that you
will disappear or
thine own self lose
for we have only to soar
as we
coax out
the muse
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
When his eyes first fell upon her
She was choosing avocados
In the fruit and vegetable aisle.
And he watched how her thumbs lingered
On the base of the alligator pear
And pressed, maternally.
He feigned interest in the cabbages
Whilst sensing her delicate architecture
Through his peripheral gaze.
He thought that somewhere,
In real or imaginary life,
They would soon bathe together.
And when they did,
They soaked for years in secrets,
Details suffusing through their lips and arms,
Water-hole satisfaction and moonlit deserts
To make them feel they might have transcended cabbages
And be pervading a rhapsodic realm
They forgot their friends watching in greenery,
Subsumed by each-other,
They felt no need
To live in a world of relativity and apples.
Their love-traced sphere tightened around them,
Until it ****** at the edges of their skin
And wailed when they parted.
Tighter it grew, elastic dug into their humid thighs
Contorting their once harmonic bodies
That used to fit like crosswords.
And they each became ugly to the other
As the seconds ingested their perfection
And they bickered like flailing urchins
In a deep sea soiled darkness.
Decisions were made and paroxysms detonated
And they were taken back by their
Fungal friends with tissue offerings
And ethanol.
Time passed, and memories were binned
Periodically on tuesdays
Until neither knew the other
And they would pass in the supermarket
With no more than a quickened gait
And a silent thud in each ribcage.
But neither could buy avocados.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 12:18 PM UTC
Golden shawls envelope
flushing, blending fabrics
which billow
under the waxen blackbird's
silky braided feathers.
Heaven's vault, a celestial sphere of blue yonder,
a swirling palette of oils
suffusing and dancing,
wrapping their ringlets
into one thousand spirals
which signet shadows onto the
slender impressions in the sog.
Illuminous, voluminous salmon
bleaches blushing black tissue
to pale primrose promising the cobalt then marrying to aquamarine.
Stained glass fingers barely protruding from aurelian pews.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
You are beautiful and faded
Like an old opera tune
Played upon a harpsichord;
Or like the sun-flooded silks
Of an eighteenth-century boudoir.
In your eyes
Smoulder the fallen roses of out-lived minutes,
And the perfume of your soul
Is vague and suffusing,
With the pungence of sealed spice-jars.
Your half-tones delight me,
And I grow mad with gazing
At your blent colours.
My vigour is a new-minted penny,
Which I cast at your feet.
Gather it up from the dust,
That its sparkle may amuse you.
3.3k
The fluorescent red
Suffusing the skies
Shall turn into a raging inferno
Mankind will
Incinerate into damnation
On the night of the blood moon.
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
*White river running
Delicately
Ethereal glow of
Twilight hues
Suffusing the atmosphere
Stark purple
Grass covered in aftermath
Of night's freezing cold
Miniature icicles
Tapering on mossy rocks
Melting with the sun's
Scattered rays
Unruffled indulgence
Bone-chilling splendour
In the arms of the mountain mist*
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
on this rumbling
stretch of tundra
no trees reach up
to soothe the sky
there is a pulling down
of wind tunnel vortex
like conifers in reverse
an icy howl
in the bonechill
of time
Translucent holes,
perfectly round, are dug
in glacial archeology
and in the sea below
gelid creatures lurk,
half-frozen
in the history of my
soul
Only moss and lichens
grow on the rock,
somehow softening the
rugged textures
of the wild landscapes
that seethe
just beneath my skin
and there, just
shy of the surface
is a quickening
a subtle pulse of veins
that pumps life
between the gales of
my heart's steppes
flushing out
the pain
somewhere
deep
within the private lotus
of my being
folioles unfurl
leafy shapes around
my organs
wrapping them like gifts
as they undulate in whorls
opening my petals
in renewed consciousness
and deliberation
as a new kind of
stamen
rises
dusty pollen
powdery
budding ripeness
bursting up
and out
of my deepest
centered
whirlpool pistil
nectar dripping
in viscous webs,
to be caught upon
the tongue of
a new dawning
My silky outer
wings of vegetation,
slender stalks of
filaments and anther
have been turned
into hot steel
They protect
the tender vulnerable
when burned
as poison words held up to my
watchful eyes,
are properly discerned
I give myself over
to this new power,
my back arched to fully embrace
what is to come,
a universe calling thunder,
the old patterns undone
I am ready
to reveal my all
as the goddess deep within
comes to release my gold
suffusing light through skin
conjured from me
a relentless strength,
ever-growing,
now tenfold
rising way past
soft-lit stratospheres
and orbiting
to
bold
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 6:05 PM UTC
’Tween hither and thither we wended our way
skipping, dancing through sand dunes, in seascape croquet.
While woven in waves watching dolphins at play
I first tasted her lips in the ocean’s wild spray.
Mystic moonbeams, suffusing clouds’ shimmering sails,
unleashed us and whisked us down sensuous trails,
soon evoking the trills of untamed nightingales
as our passions pervaded green valleys and dales.
Being spectres of splendour in wanton sashay
we mastered our meaning in love’s matinee –
the breezes, in passing, slowed down to survey
blazing bodies embraced in youth’s blooming bouquet.
With the wind as our wings, till the Never we flew,
two gypsies, on junkets through dusk’s residue
gently floating like pollen to everywhere new,
so eluding pearled teardrops that paint the past blue.
Yes, we gamboled and gambled, two waifs led astray,
with our shackles afire and anchors aweigh –
rising higher and higher, the sun lured our sleigh,
teasing time was our temptress, night’n day after day.
Having stars in our eyes and all time as our view,
we’ve drifted, like dreamers where sprites rendezvous
and feasted on laughter and sipped morning dew
while rambling forever as one made of two.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
*Aurora's resplendence aloft
Setting irises aglow
Ashen hazel
Erupting into stardust
Mirror of the soul drenched
In tenderness
Capturing the essence of perfection
Eyes like Jerusalem
Sublime in your bones
You bleed halcyon
Suffusing the bare with pigment
Transfixed in your delicate gaze
Fading in the kaleidoscope
Of your halo, anchored
A conduit replaying an echo
Of transient inhaled solace
A rapturous smile
Breaths life into corrupted lungs
Filling the darkest of dwellings
As though to lasso the moon
To present it at my feet*
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
foam floral caps, work of wet hydrangea,
or pulse of caucasian lilacs in a sky-relieved frieze.
cambric pennons swag reconsidering
margins of wimpling burn,
wherein the stars…twiring stars,
the declining stars, moon and planets
turned--
purchase light with morning-hands:
green-bedizened;
amber trammeling bud.
absolve qualm suffusing tyre,
violet’s violent leniency--
and feel, o’bask! in velvet
flume of veins,
as beams of conspiracy raise
to post and lintel,
crutching a young god’s legs--
and feel, o’supplicate! bathe in
day’s anatomies,
til greave deposit in lacunary sleeves,
and a genuflecting sun bow eternally--
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
We met over 40 years ago. Floating buttocky halves
spooned into pastel fruit bowls, even drowned in
Del Monte syrup, love at first taste. Your flesh
a luminous hue, hovering on the border of cream
and August skies; your flavor pure as dreamed pleasure
grazing my waking tongue, a melting sweetness
streaming down my throat; your name, a single syllable
promising delight: pear, barely sound, mere parting of lips,
and hint of breath, apple-green p, the sweetest
diphthong ea, all the air in the world, closed in rounded rr‘d
finality. A perfect word, reducing your rumpled, pinnacled
self, to one gorgeous, Old English syllable: per.
Right now, six of you sit ripening on my windowsill.
A sky-blue towel shields bottoms against further bruising
from the wood even at birth you instinctively flee, hanging
off trees in swelling green-gold tears, yearning for earth,
or growing to maturity in bottled, olive-green light, your dying
breath suffusing aging liqueurs like the oldest I ever drank,
the summer I was 19, a century-old brandy served in snifters
the likes of which this working-class boy had never seen.
I tilted the giant crystal bowl; the fragrant liquid elongated
in mimicry of its remembered self and seeped into my mouth: a pear’s
ghost enveloped in flame lay down to rest on my tongue. We both
were saved, at least for that night. Pear. Look of women I love
but don’t lust after, I want to conjugate you: I pear, you pear,
we pear. Like raspberries, Mozart and love, for me, sufficient proof
of God’s existence. I trust you. Lead me by the tongue to heaven.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
Sunlit water...angelic morse code--
non local, supercharged.
Where undulant ripple, at an angle,
sun at its angle, flashed sparks of
double exposure.
Frenetically shifting focal points,
suffusing an animated luminosity.
A one dimensional constellation
clustered en mass, optic tempo of
ebb and flow.
Sonogram of amorphous light,
whose: white, yellow, green, blue--
integrated auric stipple seemingly
pulled skyward.
Death neared whilst thee afoot...
at second attention the soul's
wrenched from the animal...
transmission complete.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Our nights of assessing God,
With our heads conjoined to the windowpanes,
Our thoughts permeating throughout the glass.
Two lukewarm coffees embellished the windowsill,
The synthesis of our cognition and entwined fingers,
The soft touch of shoulders leaning upon each other,
Brought forth beatific vision, we saw God;
His blemished flesh, the formation of his bones.
It began,
His vertebral column, intangible lights, the Aurora Borealis.
His archaic vertebrae, stained in ethereal fluorescence;
The curvature, swirling, as the Deity writhes in euphoria,
A childish game,
Our God, content in the night.
His hands, formed from the dust of Bethlehem,
Grains of sand corralling to form flesh upon the detritus of Rome.
His Holy land, The Vatican; Structures of marble and stone,
Merely his cupped hands,
As his disciples' feet caress his palms.
His organs; The planets in orbit;
His heart, our sun.
The rays of light that adorn our skin,
Merely the palpitations of a hidden pulsating heart.
his divinity, subject of uncertainty in the petulant eyes of his children
walking in Terra Incognita.
His skin, Lo, to the stars;
Our hands yearned to touch the celestial freckles,
outstretched to feel the fibres of God;
And like our limbs, so did God outstretch,
his flesh, but space; suffusing within the translucent contours of the cosmos.
To be told we were made in the image of God, is to be deceived;
Our childish conjecturing, truly a theorem to be displaced,
Our augmented minds, illuminated;
An aureole behind our heads,
We became biblical as we touched lips by the mantelpiece.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
1:38pm Sabbath Mar 25 2023
*it was in no vast eternal plan, no signed signal,
that this day, this moment, this infusion of
a hymn would I compose, lyrics praiseworthy,
to my god, my creator…my single life-long companion.*
*mine hymn of tribute, hymn of mystery,
words of uplift suffusing, abundant abide within,
music straightens my back, eyes tear-glisten,
how come this joy unconstrained, so affecting?*
*the wonder of this mystery, the wander of soul,
how be it all that troubles retreats, a waving-bye tide taken,
both emptied and fulfilled, in simultaneous simplicity,
I am confirmed, ascertained, relieved, even revived!*
*at the intersection of rising divinity, insistent human frailty,
at the crossroads of pure perfection, permanent imperfection,
the impermanence of this meeting quickens, gladdens, knowing
a glancing touch of god’s finger both enlivens and yet blankets.*
***my entire substance, composition, neath a comforter of good,
in a calming restfulness, with the knowing grace that this will pass,
my hymn marks my forehead permanent, that just once I moved in a place, not twixt, not tween, but a perfect firmament nearer my god***…
Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 3:26 PM UTC
Something in the wood took you
I try to find pieces
Of your very being
Tucked beneath some moss rock
Or underground
In burrows of the thick and tangled undergrowth
Amidst a stillness
Tainted by an eerie drone
Suffusing the atmosphere
Traversing a terrain
Devoid of landmarks
I follow faint footprints
A sullen scent
I can hardly recall
A dulled voice
Sifting through the pine
You are not there
All that remains of you is
An echo of an echo (of an echo).
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
this composition
(not this one)
but the p r o c e s s
a within discovery
so radicalizing
composing himself
this body, this breadth,
this work, of untangling,
slight light shapes,
enfusing, suffusing,
even parts defusing,
but all a
cold fusion,
of body,
of breadth
some, unguarded, tumbling,
some, guarded, jumbling,
all shockingly emergent,
most shocking
to himself, this
decomposing of
composing,
his body, his breadth,
t his process,
t his work,
t his hymn,
this of him,
body and breadth
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
an intrepid inheritance
predicated on delusion
processing profuse refuse an
iconoclastic self-absorption suffusing
each and every molecule
we’re confusing consumption
with an inane ideology
as we choke the atmosphere with
CO2 and pump toxins into
our food will we pause as
the doomsday clock tick-tocks
closer to midnight
and the terror alert
goes code red
to consider that we
are at once
this planet’s cancer
and its cure
if Jesus is truly the
reason for the season
do you suppose he’d
impose on those
who do not
share your faith
for the love of Christ
let’s depose the overlords
the Nazarene opposed
hell
that’s something even
i could get behind
Mary
did you know
that your baby boy
was an anarchist who
practiced non-violence
and met death on a cross
as a terrorist rebelling
against the unjust
to those who deign to
name themselves Christians in
homage to the divine
why profane the memory
of a socialistic hippie who
bred an insurrection and
bled for the cessation
of human conflict
the negation of
self-serving intentions
disguised in capitalism
in the spirit of Christmas
defy the death drive
propelling us towards mass extinction
abandon corporate bookstores
protest in front of city hall
the kingdom of god is within you
so go home
kiss the ones you love for
“if we are not the word of god
then god never spoke”
it’s up to us to recognize
that we ourselves
are progenitors of the divine
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
My Muse is fickle and thrifty with her Gifts,
She caresses my eyelids with a gentle touch,
And Kisses my forehead with Violet Lips
Suffusing my Dreams in Magical Hues
She visits me Nightly
To show me the trove
Of Her Myriad Treasures
Which I Dare not steal.
J Eduardo Ramos©
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
The wine on my lips recalls memories of this
Your love in the tincture of a grape
The flavor of the skin
The flesh, the pulp
My cup overflowing
Suffusing my tongue
Pervading my blood
Saturating all of me
A remembrance of a time I was drunk
The taste of red wine brings it all back to mind
The vineyards of sun and clusters grown
The tendrils of the plant
The trunk, the vine
The roots digging deep
The sprout of a seed
The flourishing leaves
The sweetest of fruits to me
A remembrance of a time I was drunk
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC
Warm summer twilights
bathing the rusty french windows
in gentle amber dye
from somewhere not so distant
a *** brews the stew
suffusing bittersweet familiarity
in every corner
mother just came back
tired yet refreshed
from outsmarting luck all day long
in the bed I lay like a log
disgruntled from several unturned slumbers,
though thoroughly pleased
everybody else was a mess outside
a commotion of playful shouting
unmeant scolding, light laughters
the affairs of the day drowned
by the sweet chorus of the mayas
evening news blares from the television,
stoic narration of the day's misfortunes
and the usual grub
neighbors fill in their houses
with their retiring presence
together, we all await
the vessel of darkness docking
in our own roofs,
blessing us with the grace of the stars,
the breeze of the unknown
under the eyes of the moon
for another day has concluded
quite wonderfully
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
I have loved the stars too fondly
To be fearful of the night
So with the sun I rise,
Awakened to the light
And though I sleep at sundown,
My precious strength to keep,
The stars are winking overhead
And tempting me from sleep.
They call me, laughing;
A quiet game of silver beams
Creeping oer my pillow
And suffusing all my dreams
With galaxies and novas,
And every thing between-
A milky way of inspiration
Flowing like a stream.
Unto these orbs of softened light
I call and whisper back,
A hopeful conversation
To pierce the midnight black
To sway the stars,
And keep them here-
These eternal companions
That change throughout the year-
Each day they fall with sunset,
Careful to return,
To vanquish the cruel sunrise
That pries and sneaks and burns;
To bring again a dreamland,
Such wondrous things to see-
Please stars, don't leave!
Stay here with me!
We'll dance
We'll play
We'll run through hill and Dale!
We'll laugh
We'll sing
We'll chase the comets tail!
Please don't leave, sweet stars
I'm not ready to wake up-
I have so much more to learn
And this taste is not enough.
But the sun is rising outside these silver halls,
And sometimes I forget
That dreams are never permanent -
At night, that's all we get-
A brief respite of sondrous wonder
While reaching for the stars
Before we wake,
And remember who we are.
But I am not afraid,
Night will come when the day does end-
For I have loved the stars too long
To be fearful of such friends.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC
Safe Harbor
The picture is gray and colourless.
Shades of black pervade the photograph;
We are left to ponder at the real colors hidden therein.
Can’t you imagine what it was though?
See that vast horizon stretching like some
Big blue tarpaulin providing shelter to the Earth’s surface.
White foamed caps blinking, disappearing near and far.
The rock in the foreground beneath them becoming baked in the late August fever.
Rays of melted sunshine barred only by
Lofty lackadaisical puffs of moisture meandering across their endless plains.
Their bodies warmed by rock and soft smooth skin alike,
Recovering from the liquid ice from whence they came minutes before.
Simple refractions and reflections of light from millions of miles away dancing across
Infinitely changing patterns of molecules, ultimately landing on light kissed exteriors.
Two forms interlocked with passion’s grip,
And the sound of a breeze drifting sweet nature song into their minds from the Invisible Shore.
The taste of another being suffusing their mouths, searing their fingers, and engulfing their lungs.
It smells like warm crushed leaves, crashing waves, and contentment.
The beginning of autumn and the beginning of the end.
Fall into this image and continue with us.
Can’t you see them that evening?
Their emotions viciously tearing at their muscles, motions motivated by coursing chemicals.
Feathery sheets envelop them in the irony of the burdens to come.
Cluelessly they explore their youth in
Perfect rhythm; Imperfect beings consumed in all the wrong parts of life.
Now can you not recognize them?
Their despondent expressions are not unlike your own.
Weary faces from broken hearts.
Crushed by the movement of time, the fleeting feelings
They once had the chance to caress are nothing;
Nothing but the relapses we relive in sparks of neurons,
Electrified like the moments once were, flashed back to our mind’s eye.
Step back out into reality. Pause. Reminisce.
Where is that Unseen Shore? That refuge for the rest of our existence?
Is it but a figment of our imagination?
The breeze of the trees, the whole continent behind you, is
Hidden yet holds everything real and true.
Without it would we not be left to drift through the blue expanses of the oceans of doubt?
Is our Safe Harbor not in those we love?
These questions threaten to drown us, but
Who are we to know the answers?
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC