"supra" poems
Oh! Rama you are the most virtuous
You are the eldest son of king Dasaratha’s
You always stood by your word
You are the greatest man in the world
Your wife Sita is the most pious woman
Your step mother kaika asked your father for a boon
She asked you to go to the forest
She refused your father’s request
You obliged your father’s promise
He grieved to lose your loving kiss
Along with your chaste wife
In forest you spent fourteen years’ strenuous life
Brother Lakshmana shared your strife
He cut demon shurphanaka’s nose with a knife
The demon Ravana came in disguise
Sita fell a prey to his vice
He abducted her to his kingdom
Sita was deprived of her freedom
You wept for Sita like a man
Trials and tribulations are very common
You made friends with Lord Hanuman
He was undoubtedly a super man
He flew to Ravana”s kingdom
And relieved Sita”s boredom
He assured her Rama would **** the demon
Because He was supra human
In the fierce fight
You were too great for his sight
Ravana fell down in the battle field
Sita was freed from his yield
You were crowned king
Many songs did the people sing
We celebrate your birth day with religious zeal
All our troubles you will seal
By JVL NARASIMHA RAO
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
/ although i'd love to go back to the cinema of, bell, book & candle from the 1950s in early technicolour... can i? don't think so... trapped the rekindled narrative of myth... i wish i could, do the supra-capitalist, drunk at 5 in the afternoon, and still pulling the strings... early nostalgia of what was late nostalgia of what was 19th century german concerning ancient greece... i chose 17th century france... because? because... why could it ever be england as primo optio?! am i either that daft, or as much stiff for waiting for eddie zee theerd?! well? well done, you guessed my thinking: write a fictive narrative, it'll last longer, like a photograph.
immigrant song, led zeppelin -
probably the only grand theatre
plus,
of thor: rangarok;
i still don't know where those
M16s came from...
and?
given they used
a led zeppelin's song?
i honestly, don't want to know.
i was honestly going to favour
a black sabbath oeuvre,
using only solitude
by the witches' congregation
ask, aspect,
or subsequent, marketing ponce
scheme.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
Caesar Has No Authority Over The Grammarians
(Caesar non supra grammaticos)
I am licensed to drive.
I am licensed to broke.
I am licensed to be birthed.
I am licensed to marry, divorce and someday I will be
coroner-permission"end" to die.
If I so choose, I can be state approved to cut your hair,
have my own business, weld, own a dog, panhandle, play tennis in Central Park, dance in my own cabaret, even commit suicide legally.
These United States were a refuge for my foreign born parents,
Bless you both for privileging me such,
you gifted me a country where my voice, clear and unashamedly,
unguarded can speak here unafraid, for our
Caesar has no authority over the grammarians.
Tho the IRS gonna come after me, and king phony Barack,
Gonna eavesdrop on my privacy,
As long as I can write my poetry free and clear, untaxed,
won't ever mortgage my soul to any government hack
I will carry my U.S. passport in my left pocket over my heart,
Till they take my freedom to speak away.
Then I will get a gun for free speech is worth dying for...
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
Some may consider you a pagan god
But you are the most handsome lord
You are blue in colour
And are invincible in valour
You reared the cattle
But led a pierce battle
You are the darling of shepherd women
And you are undoubtedly supra human
You play the flute with divine melody
No poet can extol your musical prosody
You are a thief of butter
No one can describe you better
Like Jesus you were born in a cattle shed
Your divine word the whole world spread
You are most romantic and highly philosophic
You are beyond the purview of any religious critic
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 6:45 AM UTC
Through the darkness I part the Veil,
And walk the hidden paths,
In the brightness beyond the pale,
I see what none have seen.
There's danger here in the world beyond,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
And all my days it waits for me,
The calling in my blood,
And through the years I walk the paths,
That very few have seen,
The Veil grows thin as years go by,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
Through the darkness I return again,
From those fair hidden paths,
And as I walk I learn to talk,
Like I once knew I could,
For few have been beyond the veil,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.
~In the Gleam Beyond the Gloom by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, March 5, 2015
My attempt at translating it into Latin:
Velum parte post umbram,
Et ambulate per semitae occultae,
In splendóribus supra pallidus,
Non video quid viderim.
Non est hic mundus extra periculum,
In splendóribus post umbram.
Et omnibus diebus meis memet maneat
Vocatio in sanguine meo,
Et per annos ambulate semitae,
Valde pauci, quas vidi,
Velum crescit tenuis quod eunt anni,
In splendóribus post umbram.
Per tenebras revertentur
Ex his latet semitas occultae,
Et ego ambulo illis loquela,
Scientes semel ego potui,
Pauci abierunt trans velum,
In splendóribus post umbram.
And a translation of that Latin from an academic translation site:
And the hanging for the part after the shadow,
And walk by the ways of the hidden God,
In the brightness of beyond the pale,
I do not see what I saw,
He is not here the world is out of danger,
In the brightness after the shadow.
The call waits for me,
In my blood, and all my days,
And I will walk you through the years, the highways,
Very few men, that I have seen,
As the years go by the thin veil of the increases,
In the brightness after the shadow.
From these things it is hidden by the darkness,
They shall come again the paths of the hidden God,
And I, I walk the angels have speech,
Yet knowing that once I was able to,
They went to the other side of the veil of the few,
In the brightness after the shadow.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
Don't "take" action...it doesn't belong to you.
Don't "take" action..."make" it instead.
Radioactive Reaction...I, Radio Re-Active
We make, Radioaction.
Iconoclashing against a faction Hell bent on Heaven sentiment.
Fictional filament tethered to the Town Hall Square Circular non-secular content.
Stitching Supra-stitious suspicion.
Weaving away, in the name of good faith.
Imperial pillows to suffocate un-resting heads
blankets of banners-it's story time to go to bed.
Yet here i sit...reaction-ing in script.
Creating activity...through creativity.
Cre-activity.
Recreational reaction.
Revolutionary open-caption inking passion with a digital pen.
"Make me"...such a passive statement with such a threatening proposal...a posing promise...a convenient conviction to tend.
A submissive request to influence choice over chance.
Change over circumstance...situational aggressive targets
subjectively objectifying a marketable stance.
"Make" action...don't just take it
Only then will it be yours to keep.
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 9:08 AM UTC
*I well recall encouraging
in the early days,
sending messages to and from,
what was beyond and in between,
what lay between a woman's
wind tossed
heart
and her
breathless, winded,
words
these spaces,
so wonderfully human
and fine,
that we better
recognize
their existence
in ourselves,
through her words
motives purely
selfish, then, I guess,
words pearly,
gifted and given,
how we find the same language,
forges all
our contexts,
with a binding grace,
that elevates us all
beyond and un-between,
above
life's grays
I well recall the
rare, early days here,
when communitas was the
only guiding principle,
seldom was heard
a discouraging word,
how sharing each other's
innermost,
was
the most,
the finest,
expression of the ultimate humanity
inner,
that we choose to accept,
when wearing the
poetry cloak,
a notional emotional
grace
supra-national
in a shared world heritage site,
that no one poet could ever hope to obtain alone
I thank you
once more,
one more,
time and time again,
for the bloom
of your rose,
gifted to all we
itinerant dabblers,
in a world where
words and will,
literary and love,
transforms and re-forms
each other
with the constancy-frequency
glowing alliteration of
an early morn Florida sunrise
you are among the best of us,
we will brook
no,
this denying,
keep us together,
be the poetic glue,
the ganglia connecting us,
this ragtag band
of brothers
and
sisters,
after all this
are we,
not the lucky ones
who read, observe, feel,
and love the special aura of
the poetess*
Ketoma Rose
~~
with affection
nat
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUkwcPOXzqcInside
Within this beating heart of mine
my love for you is true consigned
beneath my skin a flowing rhyme
is tattooed on my soul, enshrined
Above us only stars and moon
are privy to our lovers croon
We are Zosma we are Supra
desired songs of Kamasutra
You can count on me my dear
my love for you is quite sublime
we are orbits of golden times
always close and always near;
To each other we will cling,
as two Celestials Stars unhinge.
Nov 21, 2021
Nov 21, 2021 at 7:22 AM UTC
Um medíocre seixo formado por um aglomerado espalhafato de pulgas flutua e veleja por oceanos saturados de desaproveitas lágrimas amarelo-chumbo nas mais desoladas camadas de sua privativa órbita, em uma intersecção de múltiplos limbos supra-reais, bem entre dois muros de um corredor estreito, escuro e corroborado pelo lodo - sobre o qual, cabe-se dizer, resta imóvel uma pequena patrola laranja de brinquedo, esquecida.
Inevitável e também incoerente,
Continuar a ser (peleja)
"Um equívoco desmistificado; uma perturbação"
Os ideais se contrapõem aos já extintos/
Sedimentos navegam eternamente sem rumo/
Inexprimível Sensível/
O oculto que assim permanece/
Pedregulho pulguento perpetuamente a protuberar-se na imensidão dos mares de um ópio por si próprio proferido, ofendendo e perseguindo leis individuais de universo, causando o óbito comum a todos os parciais ínfimos pares de não-instantes, parados.
Estarrece-se o lógico pela busca do externo consenso, indiferente a todo gotejar de pia:
fundir-se pela semelhança!
tornar-se pela simples analogia!
Homo-Sutra; Homo-Isso.
Homo-Tundra; Homo-Aquilo.
**** Sapiens
**** Gênio
Entrementes,
através de seus poros abertos pela alta temperatura,
sente por seu corpo, de muitos corpos,
a circulação efervescente do mais intenso calor,
o sopro de vida hebraico de um cosmos também filisteu,
(de tudo aquilo que pode até não estar de todo vivo - ou de todo morto);
contradição de um todo-devir também carrasco, mas, em essência, todo-devir de um sorrateiro espaço de tempo do bater de asas de um besouro não mais vivo e nunca catalogado, capturado somente por um pequenino ponteiro vermelho de segundos de um relógio velho, possuído, em circunstâncias afortunas, por uma avó - ainda hoje vivente - de um tempo atormentado pela tirania e propositalmente esquecido, a proferir não só eternidades-nascedouros e cede ansiada, como, de igual infinita intensidade, a inferir a sublimidade em poderios majestáticos estruturados na mais esplendorosa magia humana, a sua despropria linguagem;
...se apercebe o amontoado, tudo, menos genérico, mesmo não sendo, agora, inseto, nem humano, apenas animal,
Que
Mantêm-se
em correnteza,
Metamorfose lavareda.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 7:55 AM UTC
Tell me please
does the grey granite faced
northern heather scarp
or the smooth enchanting
Carrara marble cherub
move you to awe?
Does nature only
wintered weathered
sheer and simple
eclipse the man made
man handled
alabaster angel?
Bleak beauty
Tell me my friend
does your head turn
as the high cheek-boned
short haired
practical passes
a flash of scarlet
lipped?
Or do you arrest
as a foundation creation
glosses across your horizon
loping on heels and too knowing?
Bleak Beauty
I must ask you
my brother
When you cause to sleep
does your angel
appear
and does
the gentle
perfection of her
supra-sternal notch
ever stay with you
til morning?
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
Empty
Inward
Outside the inside takes the over the top
Keep up the up work
Out the kinks
Livin' the dream above ground
More abover than above
Supra-above
Über-above
Hyper-everoverabove
Concrete creeks with side-winder dreams
Above cracks to keep the windows' hollows
Not open.
Never open.
Above open
‖Again‖
Lysergic acid rhythms
Circadia, Dustin (where is that? Here. what time is it? Now.)
I emptied this and that and found the Atlantic ******* Ocean
But only the ephemeral waves
Upon waves of æther
---necro-above---
Ecstasy of the senses
Only after all
The nothingness opens like a wrapper
From whence it came
(What is the "us"?)
Can the we join the us and still get along with them.
Where does the Earth and the water come from
And why does it sojourn here?
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 3:38 PM UTC
Mrs. Mulch is trying to get up to speed with all the goings-ons
"Penny for your thoughts?" she heard some one say
"After all, that's all they're worth"
"Here's ten cents, got buy a personality" somebody replies
She can't get used to the permutations of people's supra-mundane lives
She's dropped her defense mechanism
"When I say you I mean me"
She pokes holes in their logic
"When push comes to shove the going gets tough but push never showed up and the tough have gone to shove off"
She returns home to water her Venus flytraps
"Things have changed"
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:37 AM UTC
A poet is an ordinary human being
But he always thinks of others’ well being
He often grapples with the problem of rhyming
And aims to post his poem with great timing
A poet usually writes with great passion
And he is a person of great emotion
He may have certain personal blemishes
But he tries to write with beautiful flourishes
A poet promptly responds to what happens around
Her knowledge of the world is very sound
She lives with the quite common man
But thinks like a superman and supra human
A poet has great social responsibility
He tries to present the reality
He may suffer from vanity
But he is never devoid of humanity
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 4:37 AM UTC
*then you walk into the same forest,
and patiently sit,
until three owls congregate in
a trinity of call to a unison of a bell-ring
chime for the ear,
before the one-headed Cerberus appears
of the north of Gaelic folklore
chasing a rabbit into deeper shadow;
then you alone will challenge death's
sabbath each and every sabbath after
for years to come.*
but indeed we move with shadow
as body in the fathom of night,
in darkening of an opened eye
peering, to an illumination of
a closed eye darting...
but indeed we move as grey
between slacked dissection of white
into spectrum of rose, daffodil or sky...
we move as the grey
as the white equivalent in the dark:
the moonlit aluminium of faked ageing...
ascribe then a poem to an epic
of literature... care to dwarf origins? consent then,
and conscription to vox supra omni,
if not *vox *** ultra*;
the last time i heard of a psychiatrist
i spoke of drinking in Bower Wood...
at night... and spoke of reading Kierkegaard,
as speaking of a rebirth of Cnut...
there it ended, the modern inquisition
of desirable fact... in the lit safety of
unused scissors or syringes...
there was talk of drinking and the dark wood,
which drove away all hopes of exercising medication:
for the dark woods were the required medicament,
and the spawn of all congregating shadows
into a single headed Cerberus chasing a hare
from the many congregating, to parallel my nervy
silence of sight and such subsequent record.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
the **** euthanasia scheme would
suit people like me with
a dermatology problem, wouldn't it?
i'm up for it to be re-introduced with
those nappy-soaked tears of motor-neuron-disease
wheelchair bandits...
**** you not i'm all up for the hospital beds
to be serving Panzer brigades...
they can claim the god of warring for all i care...
just get me off this aquatic asteroid pronto!
**** your little excuses for slip-ups,
get, me, off, this, ******* asteroid!
i've seen women begging for a curb on their
reproductive capabilities after Chernobyl,
don't entice me with *** changes you ******
entitled: supra-feminism... eat your foetuses
after they passed capital punishment against
my life in the bedroom of some egyptian peasant...
as i'll say only once: if you're going
to **** me... **** me properly, so, that, i'm, dead!
i don't have time for living it out as a *******
what now? no ***** yep... the man is
gonna sing an opera à la castrato to the tunes of Michael Jackson.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC
*in english slang: you're a bit of a ***
hence not holy water in russian orthodox,
but holy fool.*
and as david bowie according to w.h. auden saying
'he became his admirers,' i too, but i don't care for admirers,
i have this strange affinity with alcohol,
i'm morose dirge clipping in the night,
but during the day, i speak variations
of peacock onomatopoeias to cats
and laugh a dry fox's laugh
that insists on operatic regurgitated phlegm
for ointment for a vehement approach
to the sung piece of work:
much of our cognitive faculties are
based upon translating optically phonetic
symbols into action, unlike gob-gagging-droop
of seeing the creases (kreskówki, crayon drawings)
of colour upon colour, supra-colours of fantasy
that leave us speaking very little,
much is designated for the ah, within the framework
of dentistry's 'say ah...' aaaaah... good, not the filing
and implants. i lied, there are actually two
aesthetic phonetic units among actual diacritical
units in the polish alphabet: ó (u) and ż (rz, e.g. rzeka / river)
ę and ą are imitable by crouching with the knee bend
of the vowels - still the russians choke the joke:
'polish is all sh sh sz sh sh sz sh sz,' no tak, i szczepta soli /
a pinch of salt.
and when i die, and die i shall, i want the shamanic winds
to turn me into deer and foxes, my greatest patrons
of the senses - and if i die in my sleep, i will never rest
for having the opportunity of looking death in the face
stolen from me; how many painful blinks it might take,
death conscious than death in my sleep.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
ONCE is less than MORE but if you go off
allow something to grab you if you fall
inside pollen-eye bites when you
taste blue and smell summer zeros hiding
inside
a hookah vision ,,__,, defies logic
bends the Divine Proportion of smAll
a supra sutra deluxe rule fights cRhyme
sends the devils running
higher fly these angels
so heavy to consider this;
once is less than more
is less than
less
|
V
than zero
0
02.28.2020
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC
where there's that eg'on'the'go
alternatively selbst
with prefix automation...
namely i...
no to Freud yes to Faust
no to Stein no to Schtein
frankly - all yes, yes: McBeth...
supra or super
any
ing and oming
inter or intra egg: gauge: rot
o' grub... id est: you &
"me"...
as for the last third
of the trinity:
less a chair less a sq.
less and less
a herr n. n. denkglaub & altogether
it, its it: it's point that & this...
but if any preferences
are to be minded:
in 3rd a person: notably
within a reality of a he.
Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 5:38 AM UTC
Take a word and mix the letters and the result can be absurd
But an anagram is a word mixed-up that makes another word
Or if you blend a couple words it can be quite satisfying
If the spin-off words are helpful and the result is clarifying
A ‘Sycophant’ ‘acts phony’, which is something ‘The eyes’ ‘They see’
While the ‘Snooze alarms’ too early says wake up ‘Alas no more Z’s’
‘A decimal point’? - ‘I’m a dot in place’ and there are other spots
Would you believe ‘The morse code’ reorders to ‘Here comes dots’
Be cautious when you marry, not of your wife who has no flaw
Don’t forget the ‘Woman ****** who will be your ‘Mother-in-law’
That one was rather damming the next one’s better I’ll admit
When I become a ‘Father-in-law’ I will be a ‘Near halfwit’
Who would have thought ‘Astronomer’ readjusts to say ‘Moon Starer’
But Knox the ‘Presbyterian’ would have thought he’s ‘Best in Prayer’
The huddled masses may revere New York’s ‘Statue of Liberty’
And shuffled letters also state she was ‘Built to stay free’
Oh ‘I bet the wound's lethal’ the junior policeman will have said
Of course, replied the coroner it was ‘Two bullets in the head’
December comes I ‘Search, Set, Trim’ for the perfect ‘Christmas Tree’,
Kids hiding in a ***** room’ which is like a ‘Dormitory’
In ‘The countryside’ ‘No city dust here’ if I’m ‘Silent’ I can ‘Listen’
And ponder my ‘Indomitableness’ or is it my ‘Endless ambition’?
‘I am not active’ in ‘Vacation time’ I will rest and heave a sigh
With joy I watch a ‘Butterfly’, and see it gently ‘Flutter by’
A minor risk? A ‘Slot Machine’, the result is ‘Cash lost in me’
A lethal risk? Revealed too late, ‘Radium came’ for ‘Madam Curie’
The last “surprising anagram” in this poem that I hope was fun
If ever asked what’s ‘Eleven plus two’ reply it’s ‘Twelve plus one’
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 12:22 PM UTC
RaCee+RayyeeS
COUCH ALLENS
Jan 4
to imnetbks
GodSent Speaks Observant
Diversity Entries Rephrase”RaCe-Rays”
Evangelical leave behind close weirdness
Shame lucre pusher countless on-air living audiences
Grown miracle generics in generational churches of
Several hundred baptismal “Parade-Preaching” renewal
Fire often HyperIllustrations proven the
HyperAddict-Adds Of God….; Recycling providence subtle
Sustain millions notion influences agreed soulserves service
Technology…; Breakthrough stamina drilling comforts member
Western Europe And- itch growing substantial environ inspired
Reconcillers…’ Potential passionate praying home blueprints
Sharing up…’Advance the believed networth recovery
Peacebrow flurry prevails…’ The supra-additional guides message
Goodness…’ Transfer dynamics weighing solemnly…’ Breastplate
Hail wake up Creative-enrichPower Career…’ Eyesfeeding indepth
Gospel running acres’ happened…’ Volunteering brings –Loyalty
Reality^Verity*Proof ! Reaffirming#Fountains+Stalk Strength Reigns$ Etiquette breathe fiesta…’ Echo essence QuestQuestions…’
THE PUNCHNOMIUM ILLUMINATION…’PARACHUTES PATTERN
OATH ASSIDUOSNESS…’
QUADRANT GOOSE-' AU TUM QUIVER
ESSENCE: ARRAYING RAINBOW ZOOM INTENSE_ELEVENTH YONDER / NEXT TIE ARTHOLOGY HOGARTH GIRAFFE 'HEAD-MYTHS' REALISM LIAISON DYNAMISM'S.....''
VALVOLINE GRASPING TRUMPETER :
IMAGINARY LION GAPS....''
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC