"transitions" poems
I sit in solitude, surrounded by trees
That have been standing for ages untold.
I feel the coolness of an Autumn breeze
That grants a leaf to fall that I hold.
With the leaf transfixed in my careful stare,
I examine its transparent tone.
Searching for answers that could be there,
As if the answers are known.
I wish I might show as much grace
Falling to my demise.
I wish another may take my place
And make Mother Gaia nice.
I wish for transitions
That leave me better than before.
It may be intermittent,
But there might be more in store.
I wish my whispers were as sweet
As rustling, falling, tumbling leaves
That make the world complete--
And without them, the forest obsolete.
Someday this forest may be replaced
With a cattle field a mile long.
Gone with a whimper, without a trace
Will be the leaves I once wished on.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in books of fiction
Of life in fiction
Of pain from fiction
A fragment of my being
I am nothing without a book
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in comic books
Whose mind comes alive in their pages
Of heroes and their sidekicks
Of villains and their lovely vile
I am nothing without a book
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in rock as a religion
It's transitions and it's leads
Metal as a denomination
So electric; I come
Alive over and again
I am nothing without my music
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in Mangas
Their Naive heroes and their half clad villains
Their pervasions and their strengths
Their one-on-one battles and defeats
Their awesome storytelling and the twists
I am nothing without my Manga
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in video games
The difficulty levels and their walkthroughs
The vibrations and the boss fights
The sleepless nights and the highs
The shouts of victory and the barrage of curses
I am nothing without my Video games
I am a nerd
Who finds pleasure in surfing
The endless chasm of the world wide
Web, of knowledge and terrifying ignorance
Of horrors and uplifting humor
From one end to the never ending
I am nothing without the Internet
I am proud to be all of these and more
I Am Nerd.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Nothing can influence
A Man
Stronger
Than a Woman
It's a difference
Through yin
That causes
Yang to become
Whole
It's like the beast
Crawling towards
The beauty
She need not
Use force
Or violence
To get the animal
To draw closer
Her prescence -
A flower
So sweet
Anything with a nose
Wants to inhale
The influence of
A woman
Is a journey inward
Where the flow
Comes in
I could show you where
You begin
Where it begins -
In the formation
Of a wave curling
To form
An infuriating
Break
Soaring through
the wind
She gets him
Contemplative
Her words
Sound like Sanskrit
She knows what he needs
Beyond what his ego
Believes
And maybe gentle
Or crying
Should not be forbidden
The influence of women
A females touch delicious
A Man's counterpart
And producer of souls
The answer to family
The true love gaze
An access to divinity
The missing ingredient
Of the recipe
A Woman's influence
On a man
Is the way the world
Transitions
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
1602
Pursuing you in your transitions,
In other Motes—
Of other Myths
Your requisition be.
The Prism never held the Hues,
It only heard them play—
5.8k
**I urge that we make ourselves proud… of us
I urge that we go into and come out of these polls sober minded, responsible, uncorrupted, without ‘fight’ or ‘fuss’
Uncorrupted
I urge that a joyous feeling of an evolving nation moving forward be the only thing we can, in hindsight, say erupted… this upcoming Monday, the following Tuesday
I would like to state that a people gunning for peace in these coming days is the only topic I would like to be following in the news today
We should see what’s coming as the change of guard it is… and not as a dreaded doomsday
You may be black… I may be white, or vice versa… and that’s alright
We shouldn't even be asking ourselves “Who’s grey?”
I will vote with one heart for one country… my country
A country in which I’m confident can keep the peace, you see, we’re kind of good at this
I know this because we've had quite a bit of practice
I know this because deep down we all want to make peaceful transitions be the Kenyan way
I know, I hope… and whenever necessary, I pray
Happy voting.**
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
This world has me in transitions
From good to bad
But deep in my roots
I'll always be good
This image is just a shield
Protecting me from unnecessary pain
You say you know who I am
You say you're reading me
Yet you haven't opened a page
My hardcover may be misleading
But what it contains
Is nothing but a blank
Undecided in a society of pressure
With no identity I roam free
Of becoming anything I want to be
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
“Completely under the impression she would resume her status outside” he thought..
maybe my own words betrayed me as the knife entered Brutus
Unhinged,
could the mind play a game, it saw the movies but did it Saw 5?
Animals huddled around the man made entry salivating at the idea of another chance,
ravenous they paced hungry for a sole sight
What could be for dinner?
If an appearance not made would both beings have to consider drastic measures. A voyage? A continental trip to parts unknown? Meeting ghosts are not my style but Anthony Bourdain was surely welcome.
Was that a twitch from the ****
all beings in the area stood at attention awaiting a response from the opening. Informal gestures and gazing eyes they dampen any doubts of their desires.
“How dare they keep us waiting”
the impatient thoughts arose out of the sandy concrete mixture. Those who knew of the situation stood steadfast and steady — this might be it
No “read” stamp,
hope has begun to dwindle.
I too wished of a different outcome but life demands transitions.
Aug 11, 2022
Aug 11, 2022 at 11:44 PM UTC
how we dress up the imperfect parts of ourselves
presentable flowered smile. lies
cracked porcelain good morning
in a broken jaw breakfast line
barefoot pipeline running the secret underfoot
the railroad's coming and ain't nobody talking
no, ain't nobody telling a soul
sell off the parts of you that you have no use for
but where does it stop sticking to you?
memories, residual dew of choices and transitions
clarity of the third person, but who is that?
wandering the sleeping shores of Sunday
on cracked feet and torn sails flowing strong
in the strange wind blowing through the trees.
sail my ship to shore by candlelight
reflected endlessly across the water
cavernous echoes echoes in the depth
don't lose your heart in the caves of tomorrow
searching for sunshine again
with a lingering song in my heart
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
My voice is nestled within a river
of transitions, positioned
in endless sets of pre- and post-
parentheses. Pre-revolutionary,
post-Missing Link. Post-postmodern,
pre-postmodern revival.
I sit in a somersaulting purgatory
sandwiched between evocation
and paralysis.
My hatred is exhausted, shoulders
hunched over a guillotine,
cursing with its tongue sprawled
dead and dry at an imaginary hunter,
a mass of bones clumped
under the rug I keep pulling
from my own two feet.
Will you hack through this cocoon?
Have you got the muscle
and the patience?
Nevermind that bedtime story.
There must be some wounds
of yours, those placed beyond
the verbal tanline, that need
immediate bandaging.
Can I get you anything?
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
On this inclement day,
Night sheathes light.
Seamless transitions,
Wake my dreams.
It's neither nor now.
Just one moment before.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Long in the night, when darkness is deepest
I find you, faint in the clearing among the trees
playing with the silver hues of new-moon light.
When fog fills the air moist with rains, you
hurry into the pond on a trail of stalks bringing
lotuses to bloom and spreading in ripples.
Every lonely morning, you pour crimson ink
to awaken the drooping leaves and sing in the
tiny voices of a hundred swallows welcoming
the slow winds of dawn: you, Senora, fill all
transitions; Early nights, I see, your smiles light
the room in the faint shadows of the dim lamps
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
**We’re Gonna Need Some Sunglasses For This Mushroom Cloud
Gonna need some sunglasses for this one,
it’s 6AM I’m in LA it’s been a long night for sure,
just gotta get into that cafe get that cappuccino,
then get safely unnoticed and back to the idling car,
Jar,
of Flies,
sorry I’m not sorry,
that’s a bad reference to 1995,
bad because Jar of Flies was a different year,
different year different name,
’95 was self-titled,
‘Alice In Chains’,
remind me again,
what the heck we’re talking about,
this poem has no parameters,
it’s off course but still going along,
gonna need some sunglasses for this one,
like my glasses like I like my roast,
with my Valentino’s and dark cappuccino,
and you with your mimosa my dear Yoda let us toast,
“To the Next Episode!” let’s go,
No Dre though it’s more of a Good Day,
not to be rude to Ice Cube but I got ice cubes in my flute,
in perpetual motion from chronic transitions of change,
and when I say Change I’m not talking about Rock The Vote,
because we all see where voting got us,
now we got ‘ Donald Duck Mr. Talk A lot of Nonsense’,
we got that stone cold soviet ****** Kim Jong-un launching stunner missiles like Steve Austin,
dropping finishing moves ’Cold Stunning’ but instead of a drop kick he’s bomb launching,
we can’t even stop him as in Kim Jong-un with bad movies and meetings with Dennis Rodman,
Oh My God Son!
We’re really gonna need some sunglasses for this one,
have you ever seen the magnificence of an Atom Bomb,
a mushroom clouds of the most beautiful hues,
a moment of infinite Light just before the moment we’re all eternally gone…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆**
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC
I stood over the sink
Scrubbing our negroni glasses
Wishing the ginger-scented soap
Would wash away the cancer
Because the chemo didn’t work
I was wearing eyeliner
When I first met you
We’d laugh about that later
Over a bottle of wine
And patatas bravas
We always had our weekends
Movie dates and inside jokes
We would guffaw at the
Fuckery of it all
My god your laugh
How it filled a room
I remember when you said
“I love you, Christopher…
because you just GET ME”
You expressed appreciation
For how I carved out time
For our friendship
I reminded you,
“I don’t carve out time for you,
I shove everything away while
screaming ‘I NEED MY HEIDI TIME!’”
*********
I need my Heidi time
For years you were
The most consistent thing in my life
Always there for one another
We were each other’s touchstones
I realize this now more than ever
During my weekends spent alone
Wine tastes different now
Something’s missing
Going to the movies feels strange
It’s like the hero has
Left the frame
Remember when I smoked cigarettes?
You’d *** a drag as we crept
Through early evening traffic
On our way to get gelato
Or if we were feeling sassy
Maybe an affogato
I switched to vaping
When you went into hospice
Then back to menthols
When your spirit left this world
I’m addicted to our memories
More than the nicotine
They bang around my head
Like a song or a scent
Nostalgic
And
Lingering
You tattooed
“CEDENDO VINCES”
On your wrists
“By yielding, you will win”
My finger traced those words
While I held your hand
Last breaths
But what are deaths?
Transitions
Energy
Shifting
A spark
Returning
/ / /
Those letters live
On my wrists now
A reminder of her
The sister I never had
And sometimes
I still hear her laugh
Sep 25, 2022
Sep 25, 2022 at 3:47 PM UTC
All things must end in time
Regardless of who when where or why
I am absolved by the setting sun
In this absence of light the darkness is All, the shadow is One
The Ray of intellect pulls pieces from the vast darkness
Attached by fear, chased by longing
We run in circles, burying Truth beneath flecks of meaningless illumination
Frustation, anger, the illusion of danger.
I am a fool.
I sit, surrounded by water in a rowboat without oars demanding control or salvation.
There is no alternative, no freedom of suffering from pain nor dehydration.
My body, my boat, my ocean are destined to fall to dust
The wise man knows this and worries not.
Just as the sun sets, the rays that illuminate are impermanent
All that ever was transitions to all that can never be
Beyond suffering, beyond pain
Beyond illusory words orchestrated on this page
It is held by a fabric that cannot be named
It resonates in our being as love
It’s the deepest darkness that holds the brightest light.
You may heed my words or continue the Material spin
It’s up to you where it ends or when you begin
But know this truly and deeply my friend,
When your travels are over
Lessons learned and suffering done
We will be made One
Destined to recuperate in the womb of the Sun.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 9:07 AM UTC
Journeys rendered dateless,
Unending,
Wayward and extending out,
Round the compass points --
Dizzying aspiration to cease this race,
To slow my sprinting soul,
This pace splintering, in exhaustion.
Expiring breath of hope or of home
Evaporated in a distance
Vanishing and
Disconnected.
Drifting
On trackless tides, across
Labyrinthine depths,
Within the vast heart
Of the world
I cannot run from.
Yet, I moved to and between
The center or its peripherals, in
Singular or collectives,
Seeking pattern and
Drawing connectives –-
Brushing by and
Bustling among
People
Entranced In their own
Objectives.
I watched their movements
And their exchanges,
I heard their rituals and
Invocations.
In all these transitions,
They have no inkling
That their seemingly trite
Lives merely manifest
The epic motifs of the heavens!
Our imaginations mirror
The vitality of the gods!
We are as immortal as they!
Our simple, sensual stories
Are also enduring legends
Unfolding,
As our pages turn,
Our flags are unfurling!
Just as our fellow
Olympians of old
Engaged in a marathon of
Endeavor to heights
Unimagined!
From those mystic days
Since Orpheus’ ardent lyre
Sang notes
Of Nature’s divinity, Her
Eternal sweetness.
We need only sense that
It is in Nature’s essence
We are sharing.
With her, we are joined in
An undying marriage,
A unified pairing –
Our human heritage,
Our dignified bearing.
We share in that song,
We share in that sweetness,
We share in that race,
We share in Her immanence.
This journey is our own.
It goes on, unending!
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
A leaf spirals downward,
Over covered heads and uncovered cars,
Children sleeping in grass
Drool dripping from their gums,
A football field seeing practice
Where someone's leg
Was recently snapped in half,
Overflowing sewer grates,
Dilapidated septic tanks,
Wastewater disposal facilities
With a runoff into
A river filled with needles and rocks
And bodies,
And it hits the ground with a silent explosion,
Until the wind sends it off and sets it somewhere out of sight.
Like when a glass bottle
Shatters on a bar top and
Sends shards soaring
Into the eyes
Of onlookers,
Everybody knows what's next.
Did you hear?
Fall is here.
The boy who starves so that he may be warm
And the girl who freezes so she may not starve
Have a chance encounter
And bask in mutual despondency.
They share their warmth,
And they share their food,
And neither has enough of either.
But even at their demise,
The sun still goes up and down
On the horizon,
Painting a scene of ignorance
Or apathy,
And lying.
The heat will dissipate soon,
What with Winter coming,
But it does not matter:
Everything is already frozen.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 6:49 PM UTC
The cluster of ice in my glass
looks like a milky fist.
I shake my cup and ask
about the weather.
He says, 'Hasn't rained in
one thousand or so years.'
I say how that's unfortunate;
he says how **** happens.
This party transitions into
something out of an art-house film;
the Cali-tens are dancing to some
80's song you would vaguely recognize.
They bump into one another
like bees in an electric hive.
A Russian drinking a Russian
asks about drugs.
I say into my drink that I
don't have that many friends.
Looking for a bathroom,
I am bumped by hips and lips
into the former eggshell/cigarette stain wall,
where I find my partial reflection
looking back at me in that familiar
transparent parent way.
I find myself apologizing.
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 12:39 AM UTC
Honeysuckle running deep in nostril's recollection
Wafting nectar dripping in air, please stop
Must stay present, no time for memory swap
Sneaking in, yellowed dreams, desirous confection
O purgatory, keep me still, deviate no such inflection
Causeway flash backing egg yolk, and lemon spectrum
Road lined in runners, speckling scintillation
This loose maddening of honeysuckle titillation
Reverse your tendril's twist, quivers an ungated septum
Covers, green to yellow transitions, honeysuckle bedlam
I cannot dance down this lane for fear of you
Your ringlets curl, clasp, coil me
On such road of alluvial soil I see
How can I? Must I, escape steer of dew?
You're honeysuckle memory of all I knew
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
I know you, yet you don't really know me.
I am always here , whenever you need me.
Deep down, I am, a part of you.
Connected; to a twin soul.
Want to take you away with me.
just us; alone.
To a secret place inside my heart.
Deep down close to my soul.
Want to spend an endless day getting back to knowing you.
Please hush now...
everything will work out fine.
Peaceful Transitions----
is all we have now.
Great to learn how to see in different aspects.
Sep 22, 2009
Sep 22, 2009 at 8:31 AM UTC
I spent three days in a daze two years ago, and three days lost again this year. I woke up and forgot what it was like to have a heart; all around was silence and silence and silence. The type of silence that shoots straight into the very core of all you know, as if you are noise and the silence is life.
In those moments I wasn't a soul, but an ocean.
This is what happens when a human body transitions into the sea, you see. It is drowning and suffocation, and no amount of screaming produces sound. There are no cries, only the murky crash of waves and the gurgling of sea foam. It is breathless crying, sorrow and endless emptiness, as if the entirety of the universe condensed itself into the tiny space between your rib-cage, and the stars burnt out. It is as if all the stars burnt out and their deaths caused the same death in you. The same sorrow, the same pain, the same loss - only magnified.
The coral reefs are stained black, and the sand is ash. The spaces where your lungs once were are now monuments to things you have lost. There are relics in places where there should be blood, and there is death in places where life once was. And as you feel this, you know it is inescapable. You cannot swim, only sink. Your heart is tar, an anchor sinking into the depths, until you become the sea floor.
-
"Is he really worth loving with all this pain?"
"Always."
(A.H.Z)
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 5:51 AM UTC
We miss the differences.
Not because we don't notice,
more because we become too accustomed to them.
We don't notice the nights getting darker till we feel the chill of Autumn.
We notice spring when the low morning sun blinds us, not when flowers bud.
We see our childs first steps, yet fail to notice a grandparents last.
It is as though the important things trade places with the essentials as life overwhelms us, we miss transitions as we age.
We so often don't see when someone who was simply **** becomes beautiful, when we should scream it out loud before love becomes lost.
What we once admired we often despise and yet have no measure of when one emotion became the other, it probably didn't have too, we missed the change.
We loose touch, make new friends, we age but also become younger in so many ways. Lovers hearts, our hearts have the ability to do that, if we notice, yet we seldom do until we loose a friend and the news hits us hard.
For we simply miss the differences.
We just get eroded by lifes daily chores, Work eat sleep repeat.
So step back and look at the differences.
Look at what you have or what it is you need or need to change before it's to late to say it.
But don't miss a moment of it wondering what if? Should I have or I wish I had. Because even if you're wrong, it's right.
Hug your kids, your parents too and show someone how you feel. Even if it's just with a warm smile or just being there. Or something daft
It may be the only smile they see today, or the difference in their life that keeps them going today.
I once bought a welshman a little dragon in an egg. He collected dragons. He was so excited by it, it was like he was a little child for a few minuites. That's how I will remember him. The child like smile. Those are the memories we make.
So be the difference not the differences. No matter how small, to someone it could be all
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
I like to walk the bridge at sunset.
I like the feeling of the
Light autumn breeze on my face
As my calves burn,
Pacing myself for the
Two-mile-long journey.
I like the colors the skyline makes,
The soft periwinkle that fades
To turquoise, that
Transitions to a pastel yellow
And drips down into a warm
Scarlett.
I like the art
The city buildings paint against
The sunset.
I like the peacefulness,
Steadiness,
Tranquility in the river,
Its current rippling
Gently in rhythm
With the steady beating of
My half-broken heart.
I like the way my heart has begun
To mend itself,
Once shattered to a million
Itty bitty
Pieces,
It strings itself back together
With every walk,
Every step
Across the bridge,
Across state lines.
Sometimes I'm surrounded
By crowds,
Other times
It's rather calm;
But the faces, regardless of bounty,
Are lost on me
As I lose myself
Deep in thought,
In reflection,
In an attempt to
Forget you
And remember me
As only myself,
Before you and
After.
Day by day,
Step by step,
Sunset after sunset,
Ripple after ripple,
Autumn breeze by autumn breeze,
My senses are heightened,
One by one,
My pain is relinquished,
Little by little,
And my broken heart is mended,
Bit by bit.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
Green apples at lunchtime,
You were the only friend of mine.
We played in sand and built castles from our growing imaginations while we hoped our bodies would grow just like our minds so our hands could reach the monkey bars and… maybe one day the stars.
Back then I’d wish on those and hope you’d pinky-swear right back to always have an ear out in case I called for help.
Those were the days I’d spend making cards to send to you just because you might need to know that you were worth every glued-on sequin.
We stayed outside catching fireflies until the sun escaped and those jars were the only lights to guide our way.
Those summer breaks spent chasing salamanders, our fingers, our toes, warm river mud pressed between every one of them like an unofficial glue promising to keep us together.
All our thoughts concentrated on an everlasting summer,
No more school because we felt educated enough if we could be together all day.
I guess the river washed it all away, like the current wiping the mud out from between our toes, off our fingertips, off our minds your words turned cold,
Conversations dwindled and the best thing I could hope to come out of your mouth was hello.
And now you walk the way you used to walk when you made fun of girls on pageant shows.
Your lips are stained a perfect color of rose,
But you grow thorns when you speak.
Some say you flourished.
A blossom under fluorescence but I always liked things to be under incandescence. A phenomenon of light produced from our warm bodies under a shared blanket watching the stars, sharing our hopes our fears and our scars.
But now when the temperature rises it’s because you’re not looking at me anymore.
I’m a just another flower budding on your wall,
But, please watch me blossom before I fall.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
the marmalade sun will set just before
the blanket of stars pull through the night sky
the clock will strike twelve whilst everyone's dozing off
and to the previous day we'd wave goodbye
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
this is the first time I've been able to write about you in a year, and hurts more with every character that I type.
you used to bring me joy and happiness, and now you bring me feelings of sorrow, pain, anxiety and depression. i'm still trying to figure out how that is possible, especially coming from you.
when we were still together, I used to lie awake at 4AM thinking about how much I love you, and how much it would hurt to lose you. i used to dream of owning a beautiful home on the lake with you, and every morning, I could roll over either way and see a beautiful sight.
on my left; a glistening lake
on my right; the love of my life
now, I lie awake at 2AM wondering what went wrong and how much I miss you. quite a transition, isn't it?
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC