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Dondaycee Jul 2018
I once heard of name,
Am I death?
Because I never heard of it twice,
I never played the game,
I left it to the rest,
I don’t think it’s right that even the dead lose their life,
What is a legacy, if summarized,
Where’s the integrity if gun aside,
Hearing the melodies of summer nights,
Hennessey and jealousy mixing; some will die,
Memory was therapy, now it is Cherokee,
Longevity became cellularity, no longer a friend to prosperity because the scars attached reiterated a son cry,
This all started with a name,
If I’m escaping parliament, how is it logical to feel obligated to my last?
I tried to explain this to my class,
But I wasn’t named “teacher”,
Instead; a preacher,
And I Practiced what I expressed so that part of me; in the past,
Pardon me for showing class,
I did it because of past,
They taught me to see trash,
I taught me to see the math,
They measured success with material, to validate time,
I expressed choice, I measured it by what constituted the spiritual to validate mind,
These structures are constituted by thoughts that no longer serves a purpose,
With all this baggage, it’s inevitable to replace our self,
I feel innovative because I express what we forgot, they act like they never heard of this,
All this action and acting… it’s inevitable to mistake ourselves, un-appreciate, and deviate to a state in which we hate our self,
Personally speaking, I don’t take advice from people less successful to me,
Your thoughts aren’t medicinal if the archetypes that are habitual aren’t transmuting from distressful to a state in which you are happy to be,
That advice just isn’t attractive to me,
It’s more like I’m back tracking to find the root cause of what’s blinding your perception so that I can heal your expression by removing the thought of neglection and oppression so that you are able to think free,
And I don’t mind…
In the process, I’m judged and crucified,
I’ll reiterate; my intentions are to love and unify,
We’re stagnant because of choice,
If there’s silence in the voice, I throw a nudge to refine, that’s freedom for define, I’m bringing the awareness of choice so that it’s possible to decide on what we personally do with life,
I was stabbed in the back and forgave that,
I was stabbed again and almost resorted to my decision making tactics from way back,
Then came another stabbing that had me lying on the floor,
I got up, but couldn’t find my way back,
Then came a love, she needed an eye,
She took that and saw her way out, I let her go,
Leaning on a wall, I bumped into another,
I gave her my other because she’s a passenger; hetero,
Love comes in trinities; currently dependent on sound,
It was all I had to give; then debt arose,
The next love that came just wanted to hear her name,
I chanted Satchitanada, and that became a death note,
In trials and tribulations I resorted to love and nurturement,
I call this an understanding,
I created this path, there was no one to follow in this century,
If you can’t comprehend that then there’s no possible way for you to understand me,
I never had a plan B, I was dependent on faith,
Independent from wave, I road the waves,
I had to experience what others had experienced, and had to remember myself along the way if I ever wanted to see some type of change,
I played the game and had to retain the focus of me, when I attained the focus to see, all this weight pilling, I was losing my ability to breathe; I was getting hostile,  frustrated, thinking about choosing to lose my ability to breathe,
And it’s because I solidified the W to attract enough attention to reiterate me, if I died I’d be apart of the past with the others; they’d appreciate me, saying my name, expressing a memory lane that would bring change the moment you speak…my name and that’s change,
My arrogance seeks credit, convincing ourselves that we’re victims is easy to me,  
It was difficult for me to exist in this world,
That’s why I decided to live,
That’s how I kept my lid,
That’s why I continue to give,
If I’m bringing truth and love, then this awareness becomes easy to see,
I don’t care about no dollar *****,
I don’t care about your opinions on Donald Trump and Obama; Mister,
I care about our species and our galaxies picture,
I care about the success in reaching the state of nirvana and the help from seven sister’s ,
The Pleiades,
Believe in me,
I heard of a name once,
Does this make me dead?
If so, then my rebirth was captured in everything you just read…
Notice the name.
jane taylor Sep 2016
awakening with the gradual rise
of the subdued heather hued sun
a palpable spectral silence permeated the air

the anticipation of celebration intercepted
by an enveloping phantom black malaise
hiding in obscure shadows

the terror of the twin towers final doom
elucidated quivers of melancholic nuances
rippling through the greying vicinity

my birthday september 11th a tuesday
my night to sing at abravanel hall
with the utah symphony

unable to serenade death
our voices remained indubitably silenced
in hushed wistful reverence

ensuing 9/11s channel somber sentiments
cloaked with annihilation while
dark visions occupy smudged iphone screens

this anniversary i will dissipate despair
transmuting dark despondency
splashing all with lucent petals of delight

i’ll live this day with passionate intensity
and those subsequent with equal ardor
ferociously painting back the light

i will raise my voice with effervescence
and sing in wild abandon
for my precious brothers that were lost

demonstrating devotion through a refusal
to be silenced by fear bestowing honor
with a conspicuous message that love wins

©2016janetaylor
i place many of my poems over my photography
to see the poem/pic combo go to
http://www.janetaylorhardy.com/single-post/2015/09/13/911-birthday
jim fry Nov 2010
the shadow works, 2005-2006

might as well keep them all together ...
a journey through the shadowz ...
through the possessions ...
through the hell ...
through me ...
through!
whew!

during this time, i sought support from an indian medicine man, a shaman, past life regression therapist, and a variety of other spiritual healers ... some of those, narrated in depth, elsewhere ...

the enclosed is probably not of interest to many,
understood, yet offered up,
as a journey,
narrated through times,
via rhymes


Heavy

May 6, 2005

I feel knee deep in a bog
Tackling responsibility for emotions
Are these weights a lesson
Projections reflected

I want things smooth
Light and carefree
I don’t seek control
But expect absence of impact

I can’t buy, reason or work
My way out of this challenge
Each time faced head on
I give up ground and accommodate
To point of compromise
No side is right here
What is, just is

I have my perceptions
And filters
And the weight intensifies
I want to dissolve it
Haven’t figured out how
Depression, heavy
Rooted inside

How do I break free
I feel alone
Even within myself
I don’t know
The reflection
In the mirror

There is a longing to be free
Unchained
Unbound
To live
To sleep
To find balance
Chasm

I want to be
What I feel I’m not
I don’t celebrate
What I perceive
Myself to be

I seek void
Death
Rebirth
Ha
Do this again
Easier
To take flight
Black
Grey
White

Tears
Rip across my chest
Seeking
To release my heart
Bound and chained
I want them to flow
Pent emotions
Seek exorcism

I haven’t surrendered
I don’t accept
Open I bleed
Closed I store pain

I want to feel flow

Nothing aligned
Empty I know
Torn
Shredded
Fragments and shards
Differentially
Scattered

Ungrounded
Not whole
I want to go home
Here come the tears
Smiles


Dark Envelop

July 9, 2005

Feeling my way through the illusion
Finding no solace in delusion
Have my angels found another to watch over
Are my whispers no longer heard and contemplated

As I believe I do my best
I don’t convince even myself
So much struggle and challenge
Why do I even travel
Away from my bed

Prodded along
Voices and dialogs
In my head

I could start again tomorrow
Wait, I have done that before
Somewhere within, my shadow sneers
Chaotic and off balance, I’m fodder
Material for my shadow’s jeers
******, ***** and stripped bare
Seeking a single reason to care
Am I victim to want it all fair

Now

I recognize this place
Hell etched in my face
I could so easily quit
Leave the game’s race
Always another will replace
Scripts each written on ****** mace

Not yet ready

Lessons to learn
Though I yearn
Tis not my time to rest
Not until this unconscious
With which I wrest
Is balanced and addressed
Then, only, will it be my turn
I’ll find some sun
Seek beauty and joy
Transcend this marathon run

I’m not the universe’s toy


Reflections from the Void

August 21, 2005

So, this is death!
all distractions departed
leaving emptiness, not loneliness
gnawing absence of purpose, manifests in tears

Purgatory,
between somethings that felt to have mattered
without logical linkage
between then, now and the next then

Transitions require momentum
energy is here, but failing direction
what pursuit of new experience calls
none … these moments

Sleep comes easy, frequently
no dreams revealed in the aftermode
void … passionless … lethargic … empty … void
emotionless?

Looking for some elixir
to heal, to know, to feel …
the game continues / with tears of the void
the potential unknown
I guess I do feel alone …

why … what the **** is the point … anyways …
does this rub … offend … ????

this, my creation, my expression of infinite potential, capacity, too bad that
I have no TV to distract …
guess I need to process through …

ps …
if you receive this – love you …
for what it is worth ...

I guess I am ‘OK’, just feeling my way through ………..


Heart of Sadness

November 6, 2005

Incredible, my heart screams of sadness
as I accept and surrender
Surrender to what I have wrought,
what I did from my state of pain

Our pain breeds more pain, often,
and feeds back upon itself
Amplifying toward a crescendo
of intensity felt viscerally

As our hearts ache
In deepening depression,
I feel spoiled that I want more
than I have
I feel I should harden up
and move forward,
towards, what …

If I harden up, I harden my heart
and it feels now is the moment
to dive into this pain,
to learn from this pain,
to grow from this pain,
to understand from this pain,
to rebuild my heart in an open way

Experience the pain in full color
experience the loneliness,
experience the emptiness,
experience my void,
experience my sorrow,
experience my defeat,
experience yet another death,
experience my drama,
experience my immaturity,
experience my dysfunctional self,
experience the consequences,
experience the responsibility,
experience the resentment of myself,
experience the anger at myself,
experience the pain,
experience the bleeding,
experience the desolation,
experience the emotions raw,
experience the tears,
experience the shredding in my heart

grow in compassion,
grow in empathy,
grow in unconditional love,
grow in reverence,
grow in acceptance,
grow in maturity,
grow in awareness

I don’t need to sacrifice,
I need to celebrate

I don’t need to enable,
I need to empower

I don’t need to think,
I need to feel

I don’t need to protect,
I need to love

I don’t need to speak,
I need to listen

I don’t need to hurt or project,
I need to heal


Returning Home, Changed

November 8, 2005

a lover scampered off
then returned past time
after everything shifted
in another’s heart
and mind

old windows shuttered
no quarter taken or given
thus tears held reign
from processed pain

now at an advanced arc
on the circle of love
lessons in alchemy
seem sent from above

this journey now vectored
with independent trajectories
finding different connection
within renewed reflection

the cat broke the home
the archer wandered on
now on new paths
each does roam

the cat is changing
experiencing nature anew
with life rearranging
deeply ranging

in love with you


Shadow Teachings

November 14, 2005

We have known all along
yet didn’t trust those feelings
As our subconscious takes charge
when we fall asleep at the wheel

Just as we continue to breathe
within each moment of slumber
Some segment within us
will always surface
to chart our courses

With each emotion left
unexpressed in the moment
another is drawn forth and purged

Cycling
Withhold, Withdraw, Project
The truth will set us free
If we have courage to reveal
And the truth clears out
emotions, two by two
one new, one buried
Creating space
allowing

Love,

Courage,

Creativity,

Understanding,

Joy­,

Celebration,

Illumination,

Growth,

LIFE

Express or Suppress

a Choice

of Voice

Opportunity found
in stormy weather
repairing the roof
in the rain

We may heal together
With whomever
NOW, then or never

It commences
via
loving thy self

Reinforced in experience
beyond words from
books on the shelf

WE WRITE OUR SCRIPTS

WE CREATE OUR EXPERIENCE

WE ARE RESPONSIBLE

WE ARE CREATORS CREATING

HOLD REVERENCE IN OUR POWER

FOR TRANSMUTING ENERGY

WITH LOVE


Be Impeccable of Word
(seasons of silence and truth to be expressed),

Don’t Take It Personal
(while observing the internal CHARGE!),

Don’t Make Assumptions
(they are mostly our projections!),

Do Your Best
(while ready for universal fireworks!)


Reflections Forward

November 30, 2005

Where am I going
with what I feel today
finding pure simplicity
laughter, being, love and play

Wisdom’s foundation built
on wisps of reflections past
absorbed experience
never allowed to wilt

My soul
has been heard
that incessant screaming
now
finally ceased
still raw
yet healing
moment
by moment
with each regression
new levels encountered
it was always
my lessons
cycling
for conclusion
the tool is divine
yet a challenge
to master
wanting
to be there
faster
just where
right here
presence
in now

Tao

honor in flow
faith in it all
no withdraw
from my call


Crumbles

Whelp, that was intense
Wrong words
Wrong tone
Wrong subject

How fast creation
changes
dissolves
and begins
Anew

Suddenly
all the discussion
all the plans
all the harmony
evaporated
reminding me
to look back within

I didn’t know
we were that fragile
without enough
foundation
relation

What does this circumstance
reflect about me
never independent
at least I remained calm
and found compassion
without projection

I honored the four agreements
as I watched you cry
as I absorbed the barbs flung
and chose not to deflect
mostly
silent
as I elected
to simply reflect
on your pain
your sorrow
that I couldn’t
prevent
heal
or soften

The dream has faded
the future now foggy
I know depression
I know sadness
I know empathy
and love

I choose life
I choose growth
I choose to heal
I choose to love

Paths feel divergent
with new adventure
just around the corner

I gave my love
my attention
affection
and soul

Angels!!!!!
support me now
as I shed these tears
listen as I call

I won’t stagger
much
I won’t fall
but face
unknown years
unknown fears

Nobody Knew Me

2006.01.31

No other soul
Experienced me
Fully authentic
As I lay hiding
From myself
Doubting
I could survive
Naked

When my Mother
Declared
My friend
And Lover
Was EVIL
My delusion
Fractured

Within moments
Over days
Illusions crumbled
Imploded
In fragments
Then shards
Of recognition
Crept
Then flooded in

I found myself
In darkness
Exposed and bare
I had strove
With my unique intensity

To be
Validated
Nurtured
Wanted
Touched
And Loved

To obtain these desires
I Compromised
I Manipulated
I Projected
I Overwhelmed

I would then Withdraw
I closed my eyes
Then my ears
Then my touch
Then my mind
And finally my heart

I wove stories
And swam, immersed
In my lies

My truth and core
Thus illuminated
In both peace
And tears of sorrow
I have been alone
I belong alone
I shall be alone
While I meet
Myself, now
Innocent
Again

I release Mom’s rejection
Transmuting her reflection
And transfiguring
Her projection

Thank you, Mother
You missed just one aspect

The EVIL was MINE
I created my experience
To break my own chains
Script complete
Curtain falls
No applause
No audience
Now
Silence

Nobody knew me
Not
Even
Me

Tears
Joy to follow


Unwelcome Back
2006.03.17

The dark visitors have arrived
and tears stream down my checks
are these demons
another component of ‘me’?

I call, sincerely
on angels and help
yet remain feeling
disconnected

Tonight was supposed to be
about sharing, growth
and healing
yet why, again
am I left reeling

Am I paying
for karmic bonds
both instant and past
is it time,
yet again,
to merely fast
to turn off these emotions
suppress yet another round

I have again
found the deep pain
why is it so hard
to love
and transcend my pain

There are keys
I haven’t yet found
there are messages
silent in sound

I don’t know myself
though I look with intensity
I apologize
here and now
for exposing myself
projecting myself
dragging anyone down
to my despair
felt beyond repair

Harr!

this IS the trap
feeling alone
feeling the sorrow
missing the balance
reveling in another tomorrow

This game is ****** up
get over it now
bring forth the light
shine in true essence
become
in presence
it is easy to quit
resign and give up

Hail beyond!!!!!!!!!
Creators transcend
right up
from the muck
Adam Struble Apr 2014
city in the shadow of a mountain
like denver on vacation
shady and deep
flowing down like the river
seeking centre
houses cling to the crags like barnacles
inverted ship cavity
jutting out of the rainforest

paradise of truants and travellers
eternally in transit to islands and misfit fringes, cold floors and warm couches
and displaced ***** enthusiasts
sailors without floatation
treading land and bills and PTA meetings
cast off travellers on their way to golden gates or northern lights
rivers under troubled bridges
fish suffocating underwater
living on the refuse of the nuclear generation
transmuting the lead into sustainable energy
recycling the atmosphere into breathable air
apathetic anarchists return from extremity
living on the dole
or working for the man
we are building something greater than this
Tony Luxton Sep 2015
Some say you can't read someone's thoughts.
Some claim to read them like a book.
It's phantom pages may engage
but I move on from thought to thought.

Those readings choke like a bindweed cloak,
coiling, twining, transmuting brutes.
Stereotypes shape many folk,
stifling, stunting valuable fruit.
Moonbeam May 2018
This time I'm going to do the hermit thing right
Inner-work and self-love from morning to night  
Awareness of all my woes and insecurities  
Connecting with universal flows and obscurities
Going into my depths, no human interference
Focusing on my soul, not my appearance
Transmuting all my deep pain into sweet pleasure
While turning these dark coals into beautiful treasure
This focus and expansion is serving me well
Returning to my inner heaven, away from this hell
Moonbeam May 2016
If we feel depressed
Let's build a nest
So we don't regress
Into a deep, dark mess
Souls should be free and not obsess
Clear our minds and give it a rest
Don't live life like there's always a test
Remember everyday that we are blessed
Remember our quest
We're not like the rest
Our souls aren't pressed
Our home is not the southwest
We can go somewhere green somewhere with zest
Don't let your soul die because of a pest
It's may be hot here and it may not be best
But we're here right now lets live in the yes
Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through
Under the Andes to the Cape,
Suffer no savor of the earth to scape.

Let its grapes the morn salute
From a nocturnal root,
Which feels the acrid juice
Of Styx and Erebus;
And turns the woe of Night,
By its own craft, to a more rich delight.

We buy ashes for bread;
We buy diluted wine;
Give me of the true,
Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled
Among the silver hills of heaven
Draw everlasting dew;
Wine of wine,
Blood of the world,
Form of forms, and mold of statures,
That I intoxicated,
And by the draught assimilated,
May float at pleasure through all natures;
The bird-language rightly spell,
And that which roses say so well.

Wine that is shed
Like the torrents of the sun
Up the horizon walls,
Or like the Atlantic streams, which run
When the South Sea calls.

Water and bread,
Food which needs no transmuting,
Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting,
Wine which is already man,  
Food which teach and reason can.

Wine which Music is,
Music and wine are one,
That I, drinking this,
Shall hear far Chaos talk with me;
Kings unborn shall walk with me;
And the poor grass shall plot and plan
What it will do when it is man.
Quickened so, will I unlock
Every crypt of every rock.
I thank the joyful juice
For all I know;
Winds of remembering
Of the ancient being blow,
And seeming-solid walls of use
Open and flow.

Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine;
Retrieve the loss of men and mine!
Vine for vine be antidote,
And the grape requite the lote!
Haste to cure the old despair,
Reason in Nature's lotus drenched,
The memory of ages quenched;
Give them again to shine;
A dazzling memory revive;
Refresh the faded tints,
Recut the aged prints,
And write my old adventures with the pen
Which on the first day drew,
Upon the tablets blue,
The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.
Debbie Lydon Jun 2022
Living on with a smile,
Transmuting in unknowing,
Swimsuit ready for more suffering,
What a chance! What a circus!
At an end, I say thanks.

I, who have blinked,
And glad to have felt
bed sheets and petals and melancholy moods,
And my god! The blossom and the sadness of falling,
Wretched cold,
Pain of poverty
And power too.
What a life! What a moment!
To it all, I say thank you.

And birds, many times my soul knew you,
And dirt, on my hands grounding my mind,
Dear trees, in my solitude you were always so kind,
What a world! What a time!
I'd live again, rewind.
If one considers the tesseract  as a worm hole that gets stronger as it traverses the distance traveled time spent to become the clairaudience clairvoyance of astral projection’s existential extremity……..I mean like what is the nature of  exigence exodus’s exponentially extemporaneous.  I mean given that  infinite possibility is the nature of omnipresence’s omniscience and we are but a refractively reflective embodiment  of its integrable form’s extant:   the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy’s trajectory.  
        
So I ask again “Is intellectual sentience the catalyst for the evolution of God?”  Perhaps if we all practice zoomorphic zoolatry on the social contiguities of demagoguery the vicarious recalcitrance of its objectified manifest's dimensional delineations will raise us all to new heights of enigmatism.  
       
 But no, we are but relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity.  We’re not capable of transmuting  our environment with the imbue in the exude of our emote, despite the concoctions we xenobiotic prosthesis.  We are incapable of interceding en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit.  We don’t amount to the seven five six-y on it to eight.  We are more the four-ness of three given the two-y-ness of one.  The 3D macro of the fecundity of micro’s induction's fertility.  

I submit:  
  
“Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to its progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to its innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of its conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of its relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.”  

And

“As the relative complexity of its interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of its conjunction yet the totality of its ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .”

And

Given the theory of ultimate entropy and the probable cyclic nature of existence……and given that there probably was no beginning so therefore an eternity has already passed, ”I have a theory: This spatiotemporal fecundity, this creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.”

       Yes, it seems that basic gravity has extent on the extremity.  Huge sections of it slowly implode until the compression causes a singularity, or so it would seem.  Who knows, perhaps some of these big bangs have different periodic tables than ours.  I mean why would they all be the same, given that infinite possibility is the nature of omnipresence’s ubiquity.  
      
I like to think I cerebral cortex ****** matrix resemble but there’s a vast difference between relative rationality and rational relativity.  Noumenal sentience’s semantic regalia is incorporeity ideology’s platonic proxy incarnate for after all what is the nature of problematic prosthesis to mystic symbiotics?  
      
Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation are in order.  The basic fecundity of spatiotemporal telemetry’s virility had an exogamy with the infinite vastness and the inky blackness.  It’s some pretty inimitable stuff, trajectory extant and all.  
      
So, back to the tesseract perhaps the creativities of imagination’s immaturities are teleportational  translucence to transcendency  verve.  Then again perhaps we are corporeally preternatural finites and adjunctly  juxtapositional is beyond our metaphysical mystique………I like to think not!!!  Tesseract.
Orthogenesis overtures to ornithology horse feathers! !  Retrospectively retroactive!  The ultimate universally inapplicable weather yankee tools to mule kit blue deally romp's resembla blur.  The Martian Warlord's universally acceptable id conclusion on the enigma's entity.
kenye Aug 2013
Woke up from the American Dream
     Hungover
     Hellbent on reality

After I saw the worst minds of my generation
      Destroy with their madness
      Rather than exploit their demons

They shot them in the heart with anti-depressants
     and let them wake up
     dead to ambition

They prescribed me like you
     Withdrawal made me like me
    
GOD MODE ON

Just reach for the sun we're touched by
      Fire in the mind.
      Controlled flame

I am American Madness
     Mommy's little monster gone manic
     Mood swinging from the right intentions

I am American Madness
     Jumping this shark with the high horse I rode in on
     Saving my country from soapbox to soapbox

I am American Madness
     The revolution in our minds manifested
     standing up for something un-televised

The psychos in sheep clothing
     Lycanthropy at the right time
     Letting out our own Howl

Standing present
       Our hands are red white and blue in guilt.
       With the ghosts that we're dragging from past lives

Tearing the throat out of
        the things we can run
                but can't hide

Fighting off our demons
      Transmuting the nightmares
      Caught in the American dream catcher.

We could be the champions of the oppressed
      Crossing the first threshold
     We all come back around together

© kenHeike, 2k13
This is part of a hero story/prose I'm writing. I wrote an anti-heroine piece a few months ago called "Konfusion" (http://hellopoetry.com/poem/konfusion-brokenfree-anti-heroine-origin-pt-i/). I plan to cross the stories over and end them both together.

p.s. I know that I sampled Ginsberg. This piece was heavily inspired by Ginsberg and Palahniuk with my own touch.
Dondaycee Nov 2018
You love hearing.
You love seeing.
You love smelling.
You love feeling.
You even love the taste of life,
Bold statements arise: pentagon built pyramids; hexagram built light…

I’m speaking subtlety’s; the space between five and six,
Like that star David from CSI;
Eleven mirror, twelve depicts,

If they’re in prison, it was because of common sense,
If you’re successful, universe says you were dependent on the sixth…

We’ll acknowledge foundations as Gravity, Although they reflect;
Time as tragedy,
Too low to connect;
Space to one; a division within;
I’m thinking maybe this trinity could project a web,

Gravity is the outcome of manifestations existing;
Creativity transmuting energy that’s coexisting in a space in which polarities consisting,
Space is the frame that’s assisting;
A geometrical web full of light that infinitely splits simultaneously while it’s energy is shifting,
Time is the perception of distance between manifestations, it’s the same as predicting,
It doesn’t exist until it exists,
That’s a matter of apathetic wishing,

“He’s an oxymoron…”

We fear the unusual,
But we can’t possibly be normal,
That’s actually abnormal,
When we conform to others idealism, our realities become harmful,

Earlier I advocated that space is full,
If you’re pushing space in your own gravity, displacement will leave your mind full; time-poor,

Love yourself, because you love your five senses,
No need for senseless for it is why we sense-less before more,
That doesn’t mean closed door,
It means your time is poor;
How can you be of wealth if you’re missing idealism,
In such a situation you’re obligated to war;
Be informed, be young, belong life,
Disconform, keep ***** on your side,
Obliterate, reiterate, polarize,

You must know thyself before you know the sky.
epictails Jan 2015
You are your heartache
You are your mistake
You are your destiny
You are your catastrophe

Your thoughts are your poison
Transmuting to mindless action
Your words your dagger
That yourself can only conquer

You are the world you create
You are the answers you await
Be your own mentor, hero and friend
For the one who makes your life is you
In the end.
And I know it's worth fighting
worth fighting for

Show my reason
reason for change

Nightmare disguised as a dream
Should I be waking soon
Or is this as it seems to be?

It's time to uncover the truth
I'm sick of waiting
tell me how about you?

Oh it could be the weather
acting a little weird
But I don't see the pleasure
In knowing that it's here
We've got to get it together
Harmony is clear
though much is here to heal
the power can be real
transmuting lead to gold
you cannot have the soul to steal

I can see the demon's eyes are rising up at me
I can recognize the ego's guise is no surprise
I have my moments when it seems like I'm just circling
I gotta get out of here
I gotta get out of here!
Doing nothing after thinking life just needs an edge
In contradiction we collapse and finally see the end
A choice your making when you desensitize
Open up your eyes
Wake up your mind
**FadedFate**
Teo Mar 2015
There's a man in my head
He speaks to me in silence and in dreams
What he is, I do not know
But it doesn’t really matter

In the silence, he asks me
“What do you hear?”
I hear the hissing of the sand
Falling through the proverbial hourglass
Like a vaporous snake sifting through the silt
On the banks of an endless river
Like snowflake after snowflake
Caressing the ground with winter’s edifice of ice
Until everything is locked away, buried and frozen
I hear the ringing vibrations of subatomic particles
Ascending to crescendos and sinking
Into gentle diminuendos as electrons are exchanged
I hear the Earth trading momentum with the moon
As they rotate and revolve through the vacuum of the Universe
In a continuous gift before forever falling away
And leaving nothing behind but an empty ecliptic

“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“It hurts like hell.”
“How do you deal with it?”
“Sometimes I cant. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep.”

And in my dreams he asks
“What do you see?”
I see a cell growing and dividing
Into all the people that I know
I see their blood vessels transmuting into trees
And their arms folding into wings that
Carry them to heaven while stone shifts like water
Beneath them and the seas go dark
I see the Earth condensing out of asteroids
And being swallowed by the Sun
I watch inertia carry light and color along the tail of a comet
And into clouds of gas and dust that swirl in the vacuum
Of the Universe, like the stars of a galaxy
Crumbling into a black hole, down the drain of gravity
That bends superclusters into the blood vessels
Of a human eye, I see nothing and everything
I see life and death and the profound mystery of existence
Most of all, I see myself

“Does it scare you?”
“It’s ******* terrifying.”
“How do you cope?”
“Sometimes I cant. Sometimes all I want to do is die.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Because sometimes it’s so beautiful.”

And in my nightmares he asks me
“Why don’t you just end it all?”
“Because I’m afraid.”
“Don’t you want the suffering to be over?”
“I’m not so sure it will be.”

The only thing I know of death is the absence of life
Just like darkness is the absence of light
And I can’t fathom what that nothingness is
I can’t comprehend the absence of life

“Well, do you have a soul?”

Is all that I am a murmur of electricity?
A chemical reaction inside of some adipose?
Is there nothing in the darkness of my pupil
Or is there only the absence of light?
Is all that I am just a sequence of nucleotides
Transcripted and translated, again and again
For no reason other than the absence of chaos?
If that’s all that life is then how can there be peace in death?
Or is there only nothing?
The only thing I understand
Is that there's something more
That I can't understand

"Well, do you?"
“I don’t know.”
“Then what am I?”
“Something that exists in dreams.”
“Then what’s in a dream?”
“I don’t know, please go away.”
“I can’t go away. I will never go away.”

There’s a man in my head
He speaks to me in hatred and in bliss
And I don’t know who he is
Or if he even is
But he lives in the pit of my stomach
He lives in between the wrinkles around my eyes
And he is oh so curious about things that we aren’t meant to know
And he will never go away
But it doesn’t really matter
I mostly write existential whining
Adam Mott Aug 2014
Would you have a cart?
So thin and sweet
Wheels which turn whilst hearts do beat
Will the rain fill it to the brim?
When emptied shall it not move like water?
Whom could claim such a form, but you
You the one whom moves like water
Weightless and pure
Ever transmuting
Water girl, water world
Andrew Rymill Jun 2014
On strange days
like these
baking cookies
is an arcane art.
For it is winter outside
how we transform
the inside
into mystic summer.

For i know the golden ratio.
i have surrounded
myself with graduated cylinders
that recall the lore
of  cups and ounces.

Retorts of  pots and pans
where i can observe
the powers of this world
returning and combining
into simmer.

Such smells
waft from the oven
as ginger swirls
and cinnamon sworls
like molten mountains jumble.

As the elements combine
eggs and butter
await their transformation.
Some believe that
transmuting baser  metals
into gold somehow proves their worth
but they have never
crafted cookies.

At my round
small wooden  table
my imaginary children enjoy
the coming holiday of doughy
spell-making.

They beam at me
with their gumdrop eyes
and jelly bean smiles
and write Latin script
with licorice and raisins
on their raiment.

As the homunculus
i have constructed
out of hen’s teeth
and oatmeal.
with a retro fish tank.
skips like calendar with
an extra leap year.
hiccupping time.
Mice in the wainscot
squeak as Saturn
rises auspicious
in their whiskers.

As my roller
impresses and passes
i fill the silver trays
the cuckoo clock strikes thirteen.

While i  in a black forest script  
write of spells
of life and  death
and of the perfect
distillation of a sugar cookie
in baker notation
Sprinkles on the flour
that has spilled upon my table
from the shifter….
Phosphorimental Jul 2015
I chanced to meet a ghostwriter at my door,
her transportation failed just down the road
A sojourning doppelgänger of sorts
…an elusive reflection in need of a tow

Transmuting words to wine,
We both sip time to time,
‘Til they foment catharsis
And melt to sublime.

Breathless in afterglow,
From insouciance and hubris,
Words weather to sediment
That we’ll climb to the precipice

And once at the summit
We’ll cast words adrift,
Toast our glasses to flying
And then leap from the cliff.

I read your words by day,
to skirt the wiles of your will
but I know your heart by night.
Leave me, charlatan, to my waking hours,
I know whose ghost you are
why haunt my spirit in its sanctum by the light.

I contravene with tears
in the corners of your eyes,
Guide them back, and kiss their lids
And send them off to hide.
In dark whispers,
calling you and calling you
To join them by their side.

Why must you take me with you,
is this protest not enough?
My importune to tender ears,
“I’ve things to do, I must!”

Still you wrap yourself around my world,
My overflowing chalice
And turn the wine to liquid gold,
oh, ever clever alchemist.
Lendon Partain Mar 2013
I need to go to the grave yard,
need to dig some dirt.
Make a nest for sleep.
Let the dirt infuse into me.

Infuse with me and the dead.
I want crosses on my forehead.
My forehead mounded upon with dust,
the soil of all this West Texas, impacted upon my chest,
and the sticks of skeletons shall ***** my flesh.
Make me parts of them.
Splinters, perfect spacing, spectral spines.
Barrow injecting me with creativity.

We all come from the particles left of,
by the demise of life.
We are leftovers of after thoughts,
left in attics, filled with soot in peoples minds.

Then I can make art.
Then I can cut out snow,
to shapes of stars.

Tin man in the ground, grows rust as he settles into moist dirt.
He wont grow any more like a plant.
But as sugar in the ground he rust and melts,
oxidates into nothing, then transmuting into,
crystals.
This is cemetery life.

I need to go to the grave yard.
So I can make a home.
Build me a little mistress,
make a family in her bones.

The cottage that we build there,
will have ivy, we'll have friends,
the gates of it will say welcome sir,
madam death waits to have you in.

Drinking milk thistle tea,
dancing waltzes in the fog light.
Diffusing in the spectral photons,
bowing down to afterlife.

Kissing the lips of the grave yard.
Opens the doors, hands extend.
I need to go to the grave yard.
So I can find a place, I fit in.
Ashish Gupta May 2014
If, all men are born equal, were true
No Songs would have ‘ere been written.
The difference between men shines through,
By their conduct when they are smitten.

Some adopt the use of pedestrian tools, like avarice,
Safely transmuting many a love to single edged blades.
Some few fools instead choose to believe their own lies
That a single story writ in blood and tears never fades.
Copyright © 2014 Ashish Gupta
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2014
Cream, water from tap,
Java swirls— transmuting mug,
Morning alchemy.
The spider’s eye glittered
from the bottom corner of the desk
She was a huge mamma jamma
hiding behind a silken web

I shrieked and David came running into
the room

I find spiders scary, their hairy black legs
and small monstrous form is enough
to send a series of shudders up
my spine

Nevertheless “Charlotte” plays a vital role
in Nature’s global ecosystem
without Araneae our world would be
overrun with insects devouring
crops and spreading disease

In fact, grandmother spider from
Native American culture created the world
spinning her alchemical web,
embroidered with dew she hurled
the dreamcatcher into the
heavens transmuting it into stars

How cool is that?

David carefully captured the little goddess
releasing her to the night winds and starry
firmament

As we turned to go back inside I caught a glimpse
of a willowy silhouette, grandmother spider
grinning broadly
giving us the thumbs ups
She's a rainbow

-- that rainbow in every
rock song about nothing,
a hidden hook that snares
a sucker's wallet

   *I'm so hot for her, I'm so hot for her


She
is the philosopher's stone transmuting
garbage lines into shiny trinkets
in desirous minds

   When you're old, nobody will know
   that you was a beauty


         What would pop culture be
         without woman to exploit?

   She's a gooooooood girl
   crazy 'bout Elvis


Obscured, behind
the Micks and Pettys
   the Kellys and Ushers
      the Pauls wailing MAMAAAAA
         the free spirit groupie cliché

is Woman fictionalized
by peacocking pimps
deceptive plumage splayed

is Woman
   sung about
   talked at
   reduced to an abstraction
   dispensed with
   forgotten
   and sold
   and the men
get rich.
Travis Dixon Jul 2010
there's a room inside me
whose warmth is unmatched,
no floor boards, just grass and soil
watered from a blue sky ceiling,
each drop reflecting the room inside itself
before splashing into tiny crowns.

in the soil dwell my bugs
whose bustling towns get the jobs done
so that night may pass peacefully
under the soft glow of stars.

in the corner dwells my tree, old and wise,
more than a million rings wide,
and it releases a sigh every time
i enter the room to sit beneath its arms.
its roots grow endlessly below,
silently nourishing itself & my room,
providing a sturdy balance for the structure.

in my room the walls are not solid,
they sway back and forth with the wind,
made of vegetables and vines,
plants and flowers of all kinds,
reaching up toward the sun just like me.

in my room there's a sheep dog
who sleeps near the tree, until i arrive;
his head pops up, tongue pops out,
and tail wags all around. his eyes offer
a gleam of companionship and understanding.
we both drink from the pond, where ripples spread,
slowly from side to side, always bouncing back
smaller ripples to cross once more.

in my room, i like to lay on the floor at night,
and watch the moon cross above me,
like an ancient alchemist transmuting
the sun's gold and pouring silver into my room.

this room inside of me, i want to share
with a girl who also watches the moon cross;
a girl who has a room inside as well,
so that a door may open between them
and someday form a home.

one day my room will perish, or perhaps
it will fuse with that ancient alchemist,
and a new room will emerge.
7.22.08
Do you feel it
Its the feeling
That you get
When there's nothing left

No distractions
No messages to check
No cigarettes
Real self is glaring back

Hi hey its me
Do you like what you see
If not change direction
Find what you need
The path can get rocky and dark
But every breath
Can be a fresh start
To begin again
Ego deleting
Humans, misleading,
Is there a way out of
Escaping
Waiting
Playing
Im Breaking
The soul is aching
Knowing i cant keep replacing

Delaying
ancestral healing
Generation after generation
Running from the University of
feeling.
But dna remembers
The embers
burned from those cold
Novembers


Flown away
from ash to dust
What's done is done
But do everything with love,
And dont forget the ones up abovee
As we are one

Blessed be the
Music makers
The creators
The soul achers
Shedding their layers,

bleed in
Bleed out
Returning the energy to origin
No doubt
Breathe in
Breathe out
No time to scream and shout

The Stagnant air can get left there,
On the page that i wrote,
Bc of the way that you spoke.
Its not the first bad note,
Here comes another ****.

the ones that can let go of their pain
The ones that can cry out their rain
Transmuting,
Not always soothing
It stings, its saddening
But beautifully shedding
From All that's been
embedded
And kept in my head

Bleed it out
Work it out

Soul healing
Will set you free from the shackles
Of your lineages chain.
Cycles
Will not repeat again.
The wise one,
Puts the stop here.
If not you,
Then who?
If not now,
When?
Waiting isnt wise,
Youll get left behind

A step essential to take,
To not have trauma stored in the skin
Embedded in the dna
Let go of the heartbreak
The envy, and the i wish it could bes.
Break the cycle of holding
You must heal all thats been shoved down
And replaced with a drug you found.

Choose you
Choose now
Write it
Yell it
Paint it
Feel it
And let it go.

Step into the clear air
You did it
You repaired

Breathe in the fresh air
Remember how you got here
---------- -- ---- -- ---- -- --- -- --
Ink bleeds and sets in,
but the paper can be burned by a candle lit fire

To hold treasure in boxes and bones in gold crates
Last long enough to melt or decay in another's hands

One tries to surface Soul by telling the tale on flesh
And yet it too can be burned, scarred, eliminated

My pen writes beautifully, and organic onto my paper sponge
The ink bleeds like a river streaming vowels and consonants  into a chest of  melting, transmuting,
pure gold made by process in Soul and journey

There is no limit to adventure or bounds on idea
We only need to know we're alive to know the rest

I will fly when I need to and so will you
Pain is a wake up call

Deserving an immortal impression on Earth is asking to be the stones, the rivers, all life within the cycle
After learning how it is to live as all and move as one, then your mark shall be made

During this time, in the middle of it all, our words must continue to grow inside and push out infections
Which deter progression in truth, life, love, justice and happiness in the home of freedom.

If ever we are without paper and without flesh to bear our words, we must know there's another like a manuscript.

I will mark my words first and foremost in my heart so that they will never die

For Spirit never dies
**Faded Fate**
Gary W Weasel Jr Feb 2010
And thus we probe a sphere of energy
Floating aloft in a void of darkness
Radiating a sepia-rayed life
Pulsating through the ravages of time

Yet in twain it reacts to synergy
Alongside an utter orb of rashness
And draining thine sphere through malice and strife
Down to destruction from all that sublime

Thine beauty then lost
A terrible cost
Absorbed by the void and lake of sulfur.

And now we probe a sphere of energy
Floating aloft in a void of darkness
Illuminating iridescent soul
Pulsating through the seen promises prime

Yet in twain it reacts to synergy
Alongside known substance unseen
Yet transmuting all parts into the whole
Purifying of moths and rust and grime

And ye grow so bright
Giving others sight
In due time to ascend in a whirlwind.
Written: April 24, 2008 @ 2:04 AM CDT
Gabriela Abalo Oct 2010
Whispers of the soul
Chanting of the heart
Tribulations of the mind
Guide my fingers to write
Open up, don’t be afraid
Everything will be OK

Transmuting feelings into words
Letting them go and be
Clearing the foliage of my being
Tenderly falling like autumn leaves
Landing on my fingertips
Who in trance, dance and type  
Without asking why

An open heart, bleeding feelings
An egocentric mind playing drama games
A juggling soul offering light
Writing poems is their thing
For they do it as a team  
Being fair to what each feels
© Gabriela Abalo
Desmond Lane Jan 2014
There is a simple light I move toward
As bright crystalline light on flesh.
Small and needful I dissolve ; rebuilding again
And again.
The fluid spreads me
Safe within that first emphatic embrace.

The flame of canopy air cannot lure me
I could not give her up
This fluid clean purity; this wholeness.
My soul lens -transparent , transmuting
As Fire, as Liquid, as Air, as Earth.
This is her exponent.
I am the first sound , the first breath – the cry.
Given grace only through her.
All my wayward spinning nuclei
Made placid
By the coolness of that,
Surface skin.
Which never breaks.

The attention of this opening scene, focuses on a voice of ripples.
Whirling, in a pool of heavy silver rings.
All at once The world becomes limitless .
And I howl.
She is alive in me
But she has gone
The new warmth of stone
The comfort of strangers.
Seán Mac Falls May 2015
Cream, water from tap
Java swirls— transmuting mug
Morning alchemy
TOD HOWARD HAWKS May 2022
LOVE AND LOVERS

by

TOD HOWARD HAWKS


Chapter 10


Jon was thinking about Minh Ly. Jon knew he was beyond genius, but more importantly, Ly made Jon think of what Jorge Luis Borges had once written, that every person’s most important task was to complete successfully the transmuting of her/his pain into compassion. Ly had been the youngest General ever appointed by ** Chi Minh, and, in short, General Ly had had to order North Vietnamese soldiers into battle. 1,100,000 of them had died during the long, ugly, brutal Vietnam War. Minh had spent many days in tears. That he had had the fortitude to persevere and ultimately transmute his unbearable pain into compassion is what Jon most respected about Minh Ly. Because he was so brilliant, Ly initially threw himself into the throes of worldwide business at war’s end, amassing, over a number of years, massive wealth:  billions and billions and billions of dollars. Concurrently, however, Ly, overtime, experienced a life-changing metamorphosis. He came to realize that wealth was not worth, as Jon had written in his commentary PEACE ON EARTH THROUGH LOVE, that compassion was humanity’s most important goal, that only love could save Earth. And that was why he ultimately decided to use wealth not to buy as much of Earth as he could, but to use it to save Earth, to eradicate all the vicious inequities that had ineluctably killed billions of human beings over many millennia. Moreover, he secretly went around the world and met with his mega-wealthy friends, asking them to join him in this lifelong endeavor that he titled SOCIETY FOR PEACE, and many of them did join him. Now Ly and his friends were warring against war, fighting every injustice that caused horrid hell into which all the poor, all who suffered from myriad forms of racism through torture and death, fell. Ly was hell-bent on saving Earth and all living creations upon it. Then he met Jon.  

Bian, thought Jon, was as incredibly intelligent as her father. Of course, she was soft-spoken, but that belied her brilliance. After all, Bian has just completed the most rigorous, as well as the best, undergraduate liberal arts education to be found on Earth, graduating Summa *** Laude, an incredible academic achievement. Jon knew how much she loved her father, and he believed as well that his wife yearned, probably unconsciously, to emulate him. That notion alone was enough to cause Jon to fall in love with Bian, then propose to and marry her. Now she was co-parthers with Jon and her father to realize her wish:  to heal Earth.

“I wrote a new poem yesterday, Bian. Would you like to her it?” said Jon.

“Of course,” said Bian.

“OK,” said Jon who then reached into his satchel and pulled out the new poem and began reading it.


SOLITUDE AND GRACE

I will wander
into wilderness
to find myself.
I will leave behind
my accoutrements,
memories of medals,
of past applause
and accolades,
accomplishments that
warranted degrees
and diplomas
portending future
successes. I like
who I am, who
I have become. No,
I love myself, and that
is my greatest achievement,
the acme most men
are blind to as they
mistake wealth for worth.
Most would say
I will be lonely,
but they are wrong,
because I will always be
with my best friend ever,
my real self. And I will
share my joy with
squirrels and rabbits
and deer, with bushes
and broken branches
and brush, with rills
and rivulets and rivers,
with rising and setting
suns and countless
stars coruscating in
night's sky. I will say
prayers to piles of pine
and sycamore limbs
that once were live,
but now make monuments
I worship. I am at one
with all I prize.  My eyes,
even when they are closed,
see their beauty. I know
I will be blessed forever.
I lie on my bed, Earth,
and wait to join all
in solitude and grace.


“That was beautiful, Jon,” said Bian as she sped toward Logan.

“Thank you, my dear,” replied Jon.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2013
Cream, water from tap,
Java swirls— transmuting mug,
Morning alchemy.
Tiberias Paulk Dec 2014
Coalesce in moonlight as the hour of the wolf passes, transcend it all at midnight her lithe body thrashes, transmuting daylight into fervent cries, and appropriating passion for the open skies, evoking the lover in hopes of knowing truth, though she's alone in a home with her dreams of youth

— The End —