"transposition" poems
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineation
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural's metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineations
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC
The Supreme Reacher
was a watcher of dreams.
The Supreme Reacher
was an inclination.
The Supreme Reacher
was the instantaneous
and the forgettable.
The Supreme Reacher
could recede into the shadows of a thought,
only to emerge from its triangles
clean as a remembrance.
The Supreme Reacher
had veins for hands
and could reach across the mind
like lightning.
The Supreme Reacher is not
a person,
place,
thing,
or God.
The Supreme Reacher
had thighs black with feathers
and shoulderblades
hairy with time.
The Supreme Reacher
could talk and talk for days.
Lazing on dreamt-up
park benches,
green in their concrete holes
with algae,
and become green
as well.
The Supreme Reacher
could lay her heart on your
heart
and
place her lungs
in your palms.
The Supreme Reacher
could never be reached,
but only dreamt of and felt
like heavy fog on a tongue.
If ever there was a time for the Supreme Reacher,
to be Supreme,
this was the time,
the time of limes
and wicker minds,
of transposition
and aberration,
the time of larks
and loons
and goons,
of thugs in power suits
and kings in jumpers
and dreads,
of revolutions gone stale
in their infancy,
crunchy and pale
even to their cores.
The Supreme Reacher,
could not be reached,
but it could reach out itself
with lightning hands
firing up the whole earth of minds.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
for every choice we make in life
there could be a different way
for every word we utter
there's twice as many we don't say
for every word that makes the page
theres plenty cast aside
and for every door we close
there's others left open wide
its an unbalanced equation
where x is joy and y is strife
its how you do the transposition
that sets your quality of life
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 11:26 AM UTC
and yet
I need you
a leaf a flower the wind
bring me back to you
you appear
you rise in my mind
suddenly
inevitably
unavoidably
and yet
the sun has risen and set
the flowers have faded and blossomed
without our voices
could recognize themselves
without our eyes
could fascinate themselves
symbiotically
united in another place
and yet
you were there
you are there
you'll be there
our lines confused and indivisible
oblivion
hopeless fight against myself
it is a perpetual magic
transposition of reality
and yet
I wait
I wait for you
in our secret garden
where only you can go in
just you have the key
where
silently
I love you
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
Each and every day
its almost the same
locked away for hours with
no one there to blame
secluded isolation
escape to cyber space
retiring from reality
with no one in my face
running on, no time frame
every evening, every morn
the ridicule of others
harassment, even scorn
despondent transposition
the endless, constant pain
each day, another challenge
sun streaked sky without rain
the dogs are major comfort
the cats are here and there
the rabbit loves his clover
the birds, they just don't care
writing for no reason
except to pass the time
elusive comprehension
for those without a rhyme
single, tranquil moment
illusionary thought
Angel on my shoulder
things that cant be bought
retiring from the world
full of stress and hate
paying tax to those, with
too much on their plate
imagination wandering
country, city, slums
counting up the hours
until the reaper comes
time, it does escape me
I really must admit
If you want opinion
no one gives a ****
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
Canavero says he can
Make of me a better man
It only will require, he said,
Smooth transposition of my head
Although success has not yet been
For those they've chopped beneath the chin
Yet in Japan it seems that that's
Not the case for a study with rats
And Doctor Canavero thinks,
That after I've met with my shrinks,
And signed the legal paper mess
My transplant'll be a big success
My head and neck?
Or just my head?
It'll be a cool trick
...If I'm not dead
Will I have a different voice?
Or will my larynx here be kept
Intact as skull is ferried forth
To donor body, where there slept...
A suicide victim in his prime
No damage done below the neck,
That pliant supple platform, I'm
Soon to inhabit...we have the tech!
For thirty some years I have been trapped
In this nonfunctional wreched form
And now a doctor, young and apt
Will attempt to weather the media storm
And try with all his godlike might
At giving me a second chance
And he believes that after the fight,
And long recovery, I'll jump and dance!
And if the plan fails miserably
And I just never ever wake
We still will have made history
I'll finally buy the farm and slake
The thirst I've had - to end it all
And leave this cursed,wretched plane
And nevermore will I forestall
For never shall I wake again!
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 7:27 AM UTC
Never truly forgettable
You were a memory I could put in a box
And let the dust build over the cardboard *****
The kind of importance
That could be left behind
Like a stuffed animal on the playground
The sight lingers behind the eyes
And is drawn forth by water
Sentimental values petrified into stone
And held tightly by the heart
Occasionally it squirms up the throat
And is cast back down with a shallow laugh
Everyday transposition brought forth onto daily life
Not quite convinced it was ever forgotten in the first place
Still waiting for the voice to melt away the rock
Dripping from the center it flows through my fingers
And I curse as I try to remember
Why I put it there in the first place
Aug 6, 2011
Aug 6, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
I remember very little
of the last time I saw you.
Your drink tasted of anger and tears,
mine of things left unspoken
(I think
we were both a little bit drunk,
though neither of us cared to admit it).
You fed me silence,
and I fed you words—
we agreed that we would prefer not to repeat the experience,
though privately we each decided
it was the best meal we had ever had.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural's metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectics' conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineations
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
Teach me to read
the script of the earth.
Teach me to hear
the voice of soil.
Teach me to feel
my place in the vast empty,
without superposition,
to be in one place at once,
not stretched thin,
not placeless.
Sep 18, 2022
Sep 18, 2022 at 8:17 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural's metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectics' conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineations
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideations
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 9:05 AM UTC
*a few loose jingling coins
a mind that is confused
a wind contrarily blowing
a set of clothes for spoiling
a clock that's fast or slow
a friend that comes and goes
a lover that's hot and cold
a pace slowed right down
a transposition to minor chord
a gear shift up an incline
a better or a worse scenario, but
change stubbornly won't change*
●○
°
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC