"teleporting" poems
The theater's empty and I can't seem to figure why,
The ground feels like a sticky, but hard lie,
It's plain with drapes to a darkened heaven,
With movie posters that make me nostalgic for when I was 7,
Or was it 11?
The projector starts to warm up,
And the ghosts in the machine show who they wanted to be,
This popcorn reminds me of a love that was wearing her favorite leather jacket,
Holy **** how did I get popcorn?
The screen shows ads for ****** ****
But its in Spanish with Czech subtitles ,
And a weird sense of accomplishment,
Seems to give way with the images, now gone,
Apparently I have a soda that I have never noticed nor engaged or enraged,
Blue stills of ****** knees and beaches unbeknownst to any future,
With the credits rolling of names I'll remember, forget and lie remembering
A calming anxiety seems to fill in where the smoke creeping oot the vents does not,
The teleporting popcorn comes with me,
And choose to leave, with the seat,
I seem to forget to ask myself,
meow so clear,
How did I get here?
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC
Quirky is one way to
say it
without bringing to mind all
these insects, teleporting wings
you bring for me
fireflies wavering in
dreamland river silence
ladybugs to fuel fires
violent light and diminish
to reality in the morning
this hall feels solid, but I see you
and it starts all over again
the most wonderful feeling
I wish you could
you do?
brilliant.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 11:34 PM UTC
Trying to spread the word?
Reach as many as possible?
Get your point across?
The twentieth century
Has provided the means
With
Telecommunications
Telstar
Telegraph (really the 19thc)
Telegram
Telephone
Television
Telethons
And coming soon,
Teleporting.
And yet,
With all our tele-technology,
If you really want world-wide attention,
Tell-a-friend
A secret.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
Chasing a shadow
Creeping among flooded words
Teleporting, gone.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
Here’s to the poets;
Here’s to the lives
That started and ended
In short sentences,
Hiding behind the words and the commas,
In between the lines
There is a space;
There is a space for poets
To dream and dissect dreams,to
Examine the heights of their rationale
And the depth of their emotions,
Like teleporting from the tops of Adonis
To the bottom of dark alleys in Hamra.
Here’s to the artists,
Here’s to the works of art
Forgotten on sharp corners
Between the margins in a copybook
And light emerging from their classroom windows;
Here’s to the scribbles
That created life, when living
Seemed impossible.
Here’s to the outcasts,
Here’s to the girls
Who read comics
About super heroes
Hiding behind
Kashmir scarfs and ripped jeans,
Reading 6 words at a time
Because the area of a flashlight
Covers just enough to get her wondering,
To get her to forget how
Her tight jeans left scars on her untouched thighs,
And how her feet were painted red
Before and after
She had to wear twin towers to walk in.
Here’s to the jokers,
Here’s to the unappreciated laughter
To whatever happens after
Here’s to the grand stages you formed
Out of two desks put together
And a pencil/eraser microphone;
Here’s to us,
To our shattered talents and lost souls
Here’s to our oppressed minds
And distorted comprehension of ourselves
Here’s to us
And who ever falls in love with us.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
The only thing I like
about nights like this
is that it gets so dark
and the skies are so clear
that they look like
the little boy who trapped us all here
decided to have mercy
and pin-prick little tiny airholes
in the lid of our mason jar
but there aren’t enough
to make a difference
Her lit cigarette burns
so brightly from the porch
against the darkness
it reminds me of a lighthouse
...or a bug zapper.
I don’t see how anyone
can smoke at a time like this
when the air is so heavy
it’s like breathing cement.
The campfire is whispering
something about...memories?
I can't hear it very well
and I don't speak it's language.
The fireflies are out tonight.
I watch the children chasing them
they blink in and out of existence
like little teleporting fairies -
Proof that the little boy who trapped us all here
has not yet succeeded
in snuffing out all of the magic.
One child is sitting away from the group.
swinging alone
carving imperfect circles
with her toes
into the dirt below.
She is staring up at the stars
she looks - concerned.
I cannot help but
wonder what she's thinking.
The campfire is dying.
I watch it gasp for air a few last times
before putting it out of it's misery.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
Poets are assassins
Words wound and ****
Cut open arteries
Spilling life blood
Sharpening and refining words
Honing them to a killing edge
Poets are sorcerers
Words; their incantation
Grammar; their arcane ritual
Sentences turn into spells
Transforming you into someone else
Teleporting you to a distant place
Few poets are prophets
Gifted and cursed with visions
Vessels to be filled
Conduits waiting for lightning to strike
Poets are codebreakers
Deciphering life's enigmas
Translating experiences into words
Skilled technicians
Finding the right words
For exactly the right moments
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 10:48 PM UTC
Your body is the temple I worship at,
your soul is the river in which I bathe, uncovering of your flowering mind of wondering that delicately hide away. Glistening in it's cave,
your eyes are the windows
that open for me.
Teleporting on a fresh flowing breeze,
one minute I'm earthly plane incarnate and in the next,
out of body celestial sea.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
They shot me full of dextrose,
god knows why
and now
it feels like I'm teleporting,
courting the sky,
kissing her blushes as
time passes by
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
I remember,
pedaling faster than my heartbeat could carry me,
wheels spinning on the axis,
flying up and down hills,
Tangled hair whipped, beaming 'til my eyes closed shut
...
and I was free.
Speeding through my imagination,
through grassy parks,
over and under galaxies,
teleporting from planet to planet,
jumping from street to street
...
Fears smeared behind me like blurry water colors,
my soul lifted my cheeks up into a smile,
as the wind pushed my worries away.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
Sweet, baby's
Breath,
Untainted,
And so pure.
A satin soft
Scent, that sounds
Sweetly
Reminiscent of
How then
Thoughts
Tumbled
Freely
Into the others.
Passively rummaging
Through my old
Collection of Sighs
For all the
Mutely, flickering
Instances in which
I
Catered
Poorly
to the
In between.
As much as I would
Like,
There's no
Teleporting
Through
Life,
There's no
Jumping
From this level
To that.
Instead,
I curl coyly
About,
In the
Slowly sweetening
Nuances
Of
Time
And sleep
Soundly
in
What's to
Come.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
Looking into your iris is like teleporting to space. There is no such thing as the concept time or gravity.
Everything is still, yet moving so fast.
There is nothing. Nothing but absolute beauty & mystery.
It kept pulling me in as I was floating across a map of lost stars & swimming in a lost sea of star dust, yet I wasn't lost.
I knew exactly where I was.
I was with you,
I was with your soul.
But yet no one exactly knows where we are because the universe is infinite & we are all just little specks of nothing.
But your eyes.. god **** those eyes.
Your eyes are not nothing.
Your eyes are everything.
They have the capability to make a human being discover galaxies that have never been found.
They have the beauty that no one has ever encountered.
Those eyes.. oh man those eyes have their own galaxies of their own.
They hold a world within them that still needs to be discovered.
They make you feel like you're lucid dreaming into
another dimension.
I cannot hold them in my hands, but yet I can feel your vibrations throughout my cold veins & my disordered skin.
Oh how ******* lovely it is to stare into your iris.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Reports of cannibalism, infected war victims, this poetic rhythm amplifies ever letter written. As I escape unharmed he looks at his arm, empty, he looks to the floor Jude's key but where is she? Fist grips key and chain, until blood comes out. The sun comes up another day, could it be, the possibility she is alive? Walking around, I hear distant sounds, I see people sprinting a man getting eaten alive by 5 children, I couldn't help em, and Jude is still missing. Where to start? The Season changes, it's starting to snow I'm under a bridge with a dog, discovering a book with some of it's pages burned off, I see pictures of the number 8, a nun ,an hour glass , shells from the past and a quote "sounds resonates from the mouth figure it out". It's the north to south spell to escape hell. I need to find the ingredients, what do you say Dimes you wit it ? Barking loud because you understand me. So I went on a search for a piece of chalk, three different types of clocks, florida water and a *** slash cauldron the spell worked teleporting him to a dimension with no hell..... ( To be continued)
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
Do you even know what I'm thinking?
It's not to be contested.
And yes I've been drinking.
Enough to be arrested.
In order for you to teleport.
And this you can't avoid.
Your consciousness we must import.
Your body gets destroyed.
Your character we'll scatter.
To places far and near.
For a moment you won't matter.
Until you reappear.
Though here I am to warn you.
Things may seem a little out of place.
See they have to reconstruct you.
And you're still carbon based.
They'll upload your very being.
Right up in this new you.
You won't believe what you are seeing.
When you step out on Timbuktu.
For it was but a moment when you were here by me.
Till you up and vanished across so many seas.
To hell with you you blasted ***** teleporting *****
I'm coming for your *** when I walk out that other door.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC
#*In silence I stood
Dazzled by
The beauty that was
And is
Faded, not lost
Of the ancient temples
The architecture, the carvings on the walls
The floral murals and the central lotus pond
Speaks of souls
Who stepped here before
Teleporting to the time
When the foundation stone was laid
The breeze
A sense of déjà vu
A silent spectator
A shelter
And has brought souls together in marriage
A witness to many wars
Coronations of kings
Kingdoms lost
Seers and ascetics
The alchemist
Under the roof
Rhythmic chants of sacred verses
The sound of the conch blowing and bell
Is it all
Of the worlds
The temple has seen
Wanting and waiting to show
Am I ready
I am yet to know*#
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC