"transmutes" poems
All that you perceive is impermanence
No thing is begot by Nothing
All that can ever be known is but
a cap
upon a crest
upon a wave
upon an ocean
upon a sphere
upon nothing
within a sphere
within an ocean
within a wave
within a crest
within a cap
All that recedes is increasing
Nothing transmutes to No thing
All is externally breathing
w
a
v
e
s
into your perception
You are but a w
a
v
e
But you already knew that
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
there is something good
and some light
in this desire
enraging my cells
with divination chanting
sculpting my shape
in violent curves
I don't recongnize the hues
of mornings
because of frenzy:
the new definition of gravity
along the lines
mesmerizing visions of
softness and caring
love is a whirlwind
in any language
a clear water
so you can see
how translucent
nakedness can be
hers is
the bending of space
to smaller and smaller
atoms of delight,
fusion, diffusion, infusion
it holds you tight
from the very centre
(heart&lungs)
when it breaks you
and then these traces
the swarming of photons
in the fabric of skin
sweet radiance,
energetic warmness
an arch, a cohort of waves
crushing everything
like cherries' sense
reality sense
roads' sense
a scarring refusing
to scream/bleed
defiance of stillness
music of laughter
sun raising in your hands
there is something beautiful
for the poetess in me
it just describes herself well
for the never-day
it transmutes
anything:
beauty into horror
horror into despair
despair into words
even thought into
singing birds
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 4:44 AM UTC
It’s morning and there’s an incoming,
your receptors sense a spark of sadness
so they take it
and mash it
and all of a sudden It’s here:
nothingness.
Staring into the perpetual vastness
of a mind that you have
and there are no signs of life
no remnants of emotion that could indicate
something once lived and breathed and laughed
in this abyss
in this blackness
so until Doc bumps up the milligram
for the fifth time around
I can distract myself
with people, places and plants
and listen to his South African accent
while imagining a planet rational to my mind
devoid of even the most microscopic of organisms.
Not a patio brick
or a single tumble bug of my childhood remains,
only these deep lacerations
veiling the beauty of the land which it scars.
Now it’s noon
and the scuffs on my shoes remind me of you
My mind is racing
while Zoloft takes my sadness
and transmutes it into emptiness;
I’m currently still trying to ascertain
which of them is worse.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
I sip my beer, the relief of foam
the last remnant of civilisation
like a porcupine shawl
alcohol is the spine slice
beneath the skin
welcoming me in.
Electric lights shining bright
eels wriggling in a pool of light
like Frankenstein reborn
the monster within
the feathers of a passing dove give flight.
Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus
the breathlessness of sentiments
wrapped in tin foil
the coil of perfection at gas mark 7.
Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit
electric toaster bubble and squeak
and fidgety machete at the ready
the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!'
the institute transmutes its underplay
I opt to not execute on this occasion
instead soak up the libation of liberation.
Safe in the knowledge;
tomorrow is another day.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
The strumming of lonely guitars
Transmitting the frequency of stars
Emotion coming off in waves
Flowing from the nexus of graves
Music blasting
Hope everlasting
Clouds marching across the sky
I watch them as they drift by
Sweet chords
Bitter words
Such feeling
Defenses peeling
My voice pierces the air
If people hear, I don't care
I close my eyes to the world
In my head the music is unfurled
All flowing in my head
It transmutes my thoughts from lead
And into gold
Its clear, and its bold
Its the obvious solution
It was just clouded by thought pollution
I leave, i know it in my heart
I've memorized my part
No clue what you're going to say
But at the end of the day
That's what makes it entertaining
I meet you, there is no explaining
The words fly out of my mouth
My eyes venture south
Toward your feet
Dead silence, about to admit defeat
She says yes
No more stress
Pure elation
Feelings that have no translation
I look you in the eyes and smile
Then, i hold you for a good long while
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
What is this breath of life
that cools me with every exhale?
The breath that sways in between every leaf,
and provides the earth with much avail.
What is this breath of life
that gives movement to those without vitality?
That enables the inanimate to travel,
giving means to their universality.
What is this breath of life
that brushes the hair from my face?
That gives resistance to my motion,
challenging the runner's pace.
What is this breath of life
that in the absence of such, beings would also be without?
Allowing existence to continue,
contributing to the circle of life throughout.
What is this breath of life
that is constantly taken for granted?
As mother nature's sigh
tests the trees she implanted.
What is this breath of life
that rocks the wooden chimes?
Creating an orchestra with the forest
playing a different song than those of past times.
What is this breath of life
that embraces us with whispers?
That calls to us with the rest of the land
to wake up and read the divine scriptures.
What is this breath of life
that I can count on to relinquish the past?
Providing a state I can dwell in,
knowing that now is the only thing that lasts.
What is this breath of life
that is fully indifferent to good or bad?
A spirit that knows no evils,
who cannot tell between a murderer or a lily pad.
What is this breath of life
that spreads bliss every time the spirit is blown?
Who's inspiration can help you realize peace,
once you grasp that you are never alone.
What is this breath of life
that transmutes silence into song?
Giving lightness to reality,
causing your feet to dance along.
What is this breath of life
that endows me with so many reasons to smile?
The simplicity of nature's air conditioning
that makes the sun-heated day worthwhile.
What is this breath of life
that spreads seeds to propagate plants?
Helping to sustain life upon this earth,
from the humans to the ants.
What is this breath of life
that sends a message from far away?
A prior knowledge of the situations beyond,
so one can be wary of the upcoming purvey.
What is this breath of life,
that is another link in the interconnected subsistence?
Where the presence of one leads to the actuality of another,
in which the universe is a timeless coexistence.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 5:19 PM UTC
I am one
Among the many.
Undivided and safe
Within the body of our Lord; Love.
Unsure, I call to Him.
My Mother’s hand rests on my shoulder
And in timeless wisdom answers
Before the words rise from my lips.
They whisper…
“I AM and We are One.
The battles lost
Have just yet to be won.
Because we are alone
Within My breath.
The spiraled steps
Led to this
Conspicuous revelation
Of isolation
And the wholeness
Of this sort of unity.”
Truly explicit All-ness
Radiates from me.
Transmutes me.
And dissolves the
Only thing left between
These dreams and reality.
As I see
The beauty of meeting
A perfectly familiar stranger.
Reflected in them
as they are within me.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Oh life,
sweet smile of tenderness dancing freestyle across my being/
you are sweeping me up in arms that carry me to those who will
heal me,
be healed by me and provide me with perspective like I couldn't ever organize for myself
falling in love with this existence
real life is mystical
real life is jaded and transmutes to discovery and renewal
real life is open
real life is ecstatic
real life is jealous and transmutes to praise and generosity
real life is challenging but
oh life,
you catch me in your arms giggling
cloud fluff in my hair
softly
softly
softly
we relax into these wings.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
*Through Prismatic Stairways & Monochromatic Sways,
Under Cinematic Rays,
She Twinkles In Ecstatic Daze,
In Her Promiscuous Silence,
With Spatial Violence,
She Enlivens My Sins In Her Aphrodisiac Vehemence,
Her Fake Plastic Smiles,
Under The Vienna Skies,
In Blank Reflections Under Disguise,
With Her Wings Of Destiny, She Sensationalizes,
With Her Spectral Prayers & Kryptonite Searchlights,
She Rains Her Ethereal Affairs, Painting Satellite Twilights,
Her Effervescent Fantasies,
Orchestrating Crescent Intimacies,
Verses Perpetuating Into Iridescent Complexities,
A Stellar Starlight Dazzling In Stardust,
Like An Astral Butterfly She Flounces In Lusts,
On Her Audiotronic Escapades,
Serenading Under The Symphonic Shades,
She Transmutes Into An Iconic Mermaid.
- 02:32AM*
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC
***** beats, kids barefoot in the street
Running up & down across two yellow lines
In little parks with iron fences, dead grass
Surrounded by broken fences & empty houses
Rotting off their own foundations
Slowly the foundation crumbles,
after the frame is long gone.
Slowly the grass reclaims concrete,
transmutes into soil.
With roots as deep as oily puddles,
runoff after the downpour.
Waste your life in four cornered rooms
Contain your life in ceilings & floors
End your life under cheap sheets
There is a garden out back, full of weeds
Strangling out sunlight with noxious yellow flowers
I've turned over that soil so many times
But only weeds grow
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 5:10 AM UTC
*With Wings Of Mayhem Covered In September Dew,
She Flies Under The Autumn Sun On An Holiday Overdue,
Through Holographic Designs & Trumpeting Ecstasy,
She Transmutes Her Photographic Lusts Into Riveting Intimacy,
Lightning Visions In Her Empyrean Eyes,
Dreamscaping She Drifts Through Ethereal Skies,
Of Toxic Sanctums & Pulsating Screams,
She Titillates The Trance Up In Her ****** Schemes,
Myriad Stories Of Her Sonnets Divine,
Constructing Fluidic Reveries In Her Comic Design,
Like Chemical Dispersals Veiled In Her Digital Stains,
She Formulates Aphrodisiacal Elixir In Her Lyrical Rain,
Through Dimensional Shifts Of The Fractal Waves,
Her Cosmic Prophecies Actualize Into Sacramental Raves,
A Genomic Felony Concealed Inside Her Superficial Caves,
With Acoustic Muteness In Her Green Shaded Eyes,
As She Gleams Through The Millennial Skies,
In Melodious Echoes, She Whispers Of Arcane Lies.
- 05:28 AM*
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Dawn
breaks on an unforgiving world
as night takes flight
in leathery wings transformed to feathers
sonar becoming sonic boom
as ****** reigns
upon the carrions mournful cries
flames burn blurred horizons
as trailing smoke
transmutes
into a flock of fowl tempered crows
seeking to pluck out the eyes of the blind
that cannot see
that the end of man is not if and when
but simply
HOW
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC
These are the days
When the ichor in my veins
Transmutes from ethereal to acrid
When the fire in my stride
Burns too hot for human skin
When the tangle of all I am
Becomes unbearable asphyxia
But I find
I cannot
Cast myself away
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
Look closer...
the winding trail
is baked to perfection,
bearing the scars
of a caesarean section.
Only the snakes
dare travel along I-8,
one-by-one the seasons lie prone,
in heat this sun will castrate.
The burnt aspects on faces
don’t smile or frown,
they peer out as residue
to places perished in the wake of
a cityscape’s head trauma,
calling out to the heaven’s above
as they await her to rise
with wings from these ashes,
in anticipation for a day ne’er to draw nigh,
even the steady fall of acid rain
will fail to wash away such genocide.
A favorite haunt transmutes
into a ghost town,
burning into the ground
the heat seeps into the soul,
and the procession begins again
for whom the bell tolls.
Towers of steel melt
as popsicles on the pavement,
the sun’s punishment
is constantly transcendent,
the noise of sparks and hums
rattle the spine,
today’s forecast is a good chance
of saturnine.
Eerie colors at dawn
make for a spectral scenic view,
picnic lunch in the park
is categorically taboo,
the hunters of men
swoon in subjugation to this tyranny,
weather’s wrath was everyone’s destiny.
Live a little, die a little,
pretend it cannot happen,
but in the end we all windup
as peanut brittle...
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 7:09 PM UTC
Eyes downcast
I wander from the fields.
Grass and earth
–Still damp from the morning’s quenching-
Ooze between bare feet and penetrate every crevice between the toes,
But I do not notice as my mind wanders farther still:
Over the flat fields of waving corn, tiny towns and shapeless forests.
Finding only broken limits and infinite flight:
Past the open path through which I trod
Past the present to where shadows still play:
The ruse of memories guiding me away…
But at that moment all thoughts align:
The light that bubbles up from green blades
Awakens me from the ground.
I step into this new world
Leaving all those careless thoughts behind
As the tiny twinkling lights illuminate the grass
Soft between my feet as I catch sight of you now.
I’ve opened my eyes today:
Falling into the sea of luminescent orbs
Crawling up the trees and vines
Showing me the soft angles of your face
As you step gingerly down the path
Smiling.
Though these perfect moments seem fleeting,
I know that only now we glimpse eternity.
So come live with me in this reality.
Come join me in this dream.
To live forever in your presence
Transmutes existence like the fireflies’ dance.
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 5:59 PM UTC
I have a tendency to distrust
anyone who has their **** together.
How the peaceful sleep at night
through wars on the television
and skeletons in their dreams.
I have a tendency to avoid
those who are whole;
those who possess a truth,
a faith that transmutes
all intention into each moment of chaos
that no human heart could understand-
those that stand on the hill
and work up their throats,
without saying anything much at all.
I have a tendency to fall in love
with the passing stranger,
clutching their phone
and all alone in the concrete streets.
Those who freeze in fear,
those who can barely eat;
those who still find the strength
to tap their feet
to music, and its restoring beat.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
I.
On the surface easily gliding,
are my hands. I keep on the table
an ajar carton of cigarettes. Then slowly
becoming in my pocket, taking form of a hand,
a crumpled cinema ticket when straightened,
ironed by plainsight, walks with lines, the end credits roll lasciviously like an estranged lover
whose face I can almost touch.
When let go of closure, air thins and I move
secretly with fluency. This is how objects
escape my grip.
II.
In front of the eatery, a transit.
I had a dream once in a depthless sleep,
a figure in stilts studded with guilt.
The face next to me, disquieting the music
of currencies, naked in sound as the truth shaved
like a beast. The nearby tarmac resounds with
another throng of absence. As a substitute
for beings shackled to duty,
the oncoming woman assumes theirs,
borrows their faces of dreariness and ***** a thousand times like white sheets harassed by
the wind through opened windows.
III.
Define space as a venue for collision.
Say when a red-haired woman straddling
a duffel bag and myself confused as a peripatetic.
She ascribes her presence to my footing
and from where she left off, I take form
of her expired movement.
Found strangeness is that space
is what happens when remembered. But hold no
bearing and rear contrivance,
trying to be bold by definition -- space solicits
the in-betweenness and then transmutes
an occurence,
say the volatile shape of a hand when
clutching and releasing, the fugitive manner of
feet when avoiding puddles, the unsolicited
reticence of a troubling question.
IV.
A man carries a take away and is now
amongst the populace, waiting under a shed,
housing a familiar language. Home.
But first, trivialized. Haggles with the cab driver,
trying to transact a being angled towards home.
They agree to a fault, money's perfume clinches the fingers and is given to a calloused hand.
Air once stale, is now succulent with the
resonating memory of a child's excited laughter,
and is now presumably waiting behind a gated
home. Like the palm of the hand, the number
of times the vehicle trundles within
the nearby avenue is the force it enkindles
with rest. He is home,
unloosens his clothing. Like a fine specimen
freed from a vitrine.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
We are at the mercy of blood alchemists. They turn lead into gold and war into paper. Their sacrifice based sorcery transmutes our possessions into theirs. They just need death in the equation as well as our placation.
The blood alchemists defeated the defensive zealots to establish a new leader. Their new leader had devised a formula for turning bigotry into power at the expense of sanity. He crafted a potion to control the minds of the malleable that poisoned his brain with paranoid fantasies.
In the fascist alchemist's perception, all protesters become demons in need of exorcism. Transformers and electromagnetic waves carry his insane demands to Ukraine. He demands the death of a statesman expressing contention. This is the formula for turning dissent into fear. This is the concoction that turns power into silence, he seeks to suffocate his enemies in dirt.
Followers of the fascist alchemist believe he's a god who can do no wrong. Townspeople see through this facade trying to explain he's flawed to mind controlled dogs. His spell is stubborn so citizens start sticking to strife after he obfuscates what's wrong and right while a politician's life hangs in the balance.
Conflict is conformed into cover as he uses fear of the other so subjects won't see his gunners killing our Yemeni brothers. He buries our problems in dust, that once unsettled, erupts into a noise so loud we can't call him corrupt. Ignoring the will of man he'll even **** his clan if they still his plans. His henchmen drenched in blood are as expendable as the foes he shoves. Summoning a power vacuum, a portal to autonomy, all the cronies crammed in his chaos cabinet are ****** out one by one.
So this attempted assassination is the final straw once the magistrate catches wind of his shockwave sins. The blood alchemist must attend a hearing where enemies and allies alike adjudicate his egregious actions. The hearing will be dictated by what seers see for our future. The verdict will be determined by the brain washed judging the brain washer. Before dissent could materialize into resistance, the blood alchemists slowly eroded justice until a force field formed to protect the trickster's horns.
May 21, 2021
May 21, 2021 at 2:58 PM UTC
I believe in true Love,
there is no doubt of its eternal exuberant existence amongst the field in which I feel.
I acknowledge it through its fibers that intertwine with every aspect of the divine.
I see true Love,
for every connection of the violet fire that I breathe,
transforms transmutes transcends me.
The love is true,
there’s no denying such a thing.
The only illusion would be pretending..
That it’s existence is ending.
Never blinded by Love,
Love allowed me to See.
Only blinded by the attachment of what could be.
It already is, Infinity.
Why when a connection is in the cycle of completion, do we try and tell ourselves that the Love was never True?
I feel it in this now,
it’s as true as anything.
But my truth is ever changing,
and I am acknowledging my source of love of life updating.
I thank the eternal presence, that killed me, and awakened me.
For Love is shape shifting me.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
It’s already on the way out that’s how I see letting go, all that is required of me is to make space for whatever it is to leave. Something else is coming anyway, that’s nature. Nothing ever dies it transmutes. Everything is evolving through transmutation anyway. It’s harmony ya’know?
It’s the harmony to the melody
same same but different
interconnected but all of it’s own.
That’s how exploration lives
jumping from one harmony to another
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
I came to the creek to talk to God,
But I'm not sure God is listening.
I used to see the world through rose-colored glasses,
But now my heart just aches.
I let my tears flow down my cheeks
Like the leaves flowing down the stream.
I release my anger and anguish to the wind
And as I look up and to my left, there a blue heron stands.
Deep breath in.
I watch a chipmunk scurry behind the blue heron
I watch the blue heron watch the chipmunk.
My dog sitting next to me is full of curiosity.
Grief and despair, sadness and rage
And all I can do is sit on this rock
Listening to the flowing waters song
And write some **** poetry.
I feel sick in the depths of my stomach
For my nation, for my neighbors
For so many loved ones.
For my own body and the choices I may no longer be able to make.
The warm sun beating down
Reminds me that it's too warm for November
Our Earth is crying out
And so are we.
I'm not sure what hope feels like in this moment.
I will give my body and mind time and space to grieve.
Grief turned into forward motion
Transmutes into Love.
I came to the creek to talk to God.
But I'm not sure God is listening.
So instead of talking, I will sit in silence
To watch the blue heron, to feel the breeze, and weep.
©KSS 11/6/2024
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 7:58 PM UTC
OH PAIN,
*it grips conscious mind
and body often to extremes.
It gives opportunity to scribe,
feel, merge with its shadow.
To move into fire of dancing flames
that transmutes toward better time.*
OH THE PAIN,
*it travels spiraling with it’s agenda.
Chilling to heart and senses.
Holding power for what feels like forever.
It gives opportunity to tackle demons
fly in dreams,
scribe a new path in light.*
PAIN OH PAIN,
*dissipates inside new thoughts.
It opens doors grand
that brings winds of change
divine.
It metamorphoses into light
to anchor Freedom.
For another road to wander in*
TO feel, dance, and write.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC
What is a moment,
that transmutes behind the silence?
It is but the breath of life that unravels with every step.
It is an intention to dance and make use of the rhythms invisible.
How do we grasp a flitting moment,
that comes and goes just like the sunrise?
It is to open heart and carry the beating melody gracefully.
It is to be home in the self to feel peaceful and celebrate.
How does one understand a flitting soul,
who holds love inside oneness?
It is to move in gratitude that transmutes into steps divine.
It is to honor a moment while here for off earth there is no time.
StarBG © 2017
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC