A scintillating ocean.
Refracting light across the spectrum,
colours beyond white, black, and red;
Mirror to the universal spirits.

Crystalline forms growing
like families of fungi across the horizon.
A mycological configuration
of salts and waveform reflectors.

A frisson of diamonds.
Seizures of globular light, elliptical rainbows.
Twice-reflected hollow moonbeams.
Creating.

Cubes in the molecular structure,
Silent carbon and quartz,
as from some distant caverns
unseen by any eye.

she gave me white light
it looks like a light sword
making numerous echo in space
I did not ask for what ...I know
no ornamental word would do

futile definitions
flashy ads
waste of breath

15 minutes of clutter
15 minutes of fame
15 minutes of a life
yep Warhol was right

empty containers
to be filled up
to create -fillers
a byproduct of ego
of a selfless time
oh what an an illusion
I live in sometime
not knowing media as the bird's call

true technology is my received gift
with me inside or you
is there a difference?

we are all embodiment
carrier of the code
essence of eternal

not to hurry though
not to resist
resist resists the self just
I cannot trespass the chanting
I shall not think to try
thinking is my only sin

why do we fight?
mo and mu were the same guy
two incarnations in one or three
born at different times
their writers failed just

the difference definer
yes definer and not the creator
'create' remains holy
with a spirit – like words with
spirit-  
running memory
activated by sound maybe

the difference definer sets bricks
of flamboyance
en route escape to escape lifetimes
invites the endless cycle of fight

could fray be for peace
and not by cowardice?
fear is my only sin
born from ignorance
of self
as in my- as in your-
not a portmanteau but
an affix by nature
so there is no difference

let fray be for peace
then A joker's viola
let it be a joke for
a joyous while
for a joyous halftime
you don't need do much really
if you can whistle once
under the golden sun
through your belly
somewhere in a cool place
selfless illusion fades
there is nothing else

no book could describe
as such
I have crossed libraries
with my starship
but the source light
not bound to time so yes
for whatever it was
I closed my eyes

slowly learning to dance now
along its wings
it has more to tell then its aesthetics

we cross dimensions while
we perpetually make some
the reflection the waveform
in a little note we harmonize
my fingertips- carrier of a glow
I - the particle of light
we pass
and yes after each turn
there is a you to learn from
or I to be.

deluded by the memory of A long lost perception,
   the mind strives, not onLy to survive, but to take flight,
   and as the its consciousness alIghtS to make right
   of the mighty disorder it perceives to be strange,
   to rearrange the causaL nAture of the local waveform,
   to propagate a new norm
   to overtake the very state
   which allowed Its eyes to self realize
   and therefore, Self create,
   tHe ego is born in its wake.

a ripple, a waveform
playful gravity

I heard procrastination was key
an interesting gift to give
to anti-relax,
to examine yourself
from the perspective of an enemy

and so it goes

and so it's here

a ripple, a waveform
playful gravity

Loathe
Power verb
Direct, yes
Though,
Verbose is
How I wrote

Still I write in open circles
Even I don't know what I mean. Trust.
Looping back, is there not an artistry in that?

Together
Adjective for the ages
Cut to form,
Don't get me wrong,
It sounds fitting
With the way you lead your life.

Your confines.

Look at all my fitted pieces.
I bend the lines with word as waveform.
Looping back,
Fulfilling is
As useless
As it is
Useful

This side of things.

Something in the towering urban structure seems collectively
Demonic, maybe my mind is looking for origins of Death.

I'm a vagrant tucked into a cranial shell
Improvising theatrics, painting the halls of reality
With pigments I've garnered along the way.

When spirit formed me the Satan must've pushed out like oil in water
Hid on the other side of the Universe, in black holes
A deep wound incorrigible to sweet Raphael
Black and slimy Satan craving admission
That I have black slime in my blood.

I try to offer my mind an example of a quanta of Gabriel,
an example of mostly Raphael, a purely Satanistic idea,
a time Michael won. But everything rotates like the four-sided figures
described by Ezekiel, and everything is God. God, God, God.

Or whatever vocabulary you choose to express this feeling.

Because this feeling comes from my concrete thoughts.
Thinking, "The new surveillance state sure changed culture sociologically
and psychologically"
Always results in thoughts like, "Yeah but it seems like people generally balance the equation when there's a need for it."
And then the negative, "Yeah but in some instances this really ***** for some people!"
And then, both considered, "Well, it's just another arrangement of matter,
and it'll be deconstructed and something new will happen, and that is good."

Or something like that.

And over and over again I have that ...caboose at the end of my trains of thought. That's the caboose.

Ha ha, I'm going insane. Maybe I need a pharmaceutical.

Observations need to collapse to occur. So maybe before I turn this corner, there are angels and demons fighting it out, deciding
what i'll see when the waveform collapses. I mean, in a way, that's true.
And did you know about quantum decoherence? That kind of thing is really interesting. i am capable of understanding this wide variety of things. i'm endlessly curious. & I could totally be socially normal and everything
but right now i'm just writing, and whatever
i do it because it's fun and it feels good to write
for some reason i'm not a celebrity yet
kind of dumb if you ask me, but okay
and for some reason where's all the ladies
like **** that noise! lonely af
it's just complete nonsense, and right now i'm just writing. **** it. lol

This waveform
rat-a-tat-tat
is for you

of or not
the vibe
drops the mic
on your day

wakes  your ***
superseded maybe
by your electric shaver's
buzz

in the moment
you are drowned
reach
for the sound

of high heeled boys
toyz
someone's attic
emptied on this line

zing zuhing
zang
clangs in key

and ahm rahmin
and bumpin
an
this tangs

are or are not
of
the vibe

what is the lot
of not
at this level
note less

ring not
give not
live not

and Thursday
is the day things
feel better
sliding down

slammin'
charge down
my gullet

against
some good song
drenching the backdrop
with rich darkness

squirt i know
is the down
down down down

ahm just reachin'
your backteeth
grit ting

on now
tearing  out
you now

just ink
and not even

just link
the pulling
from tomorrow
'cause today



Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

The sun is shining,
The bees are buzzing,
The laps of water gently break against the shoreline,
And for once all three dogs are gentle and still.

Time marches ever forward,
Collapsing the waveform of our reality,
Testing our love,
But never breaking it.

After 11 years you'd think I would have learned something.
I'm not sure that I have.
When Love is perfect in the beginning,
Doesn't it stand to reason it would be perfect in the end?

And yet, the end is neither nigh nor seen,
For when perfection begins and ends,
What could possibly be in the middle,
If not a more perfect perfection realized?

Our Love may be perfect,
Never boring,
Always changing,
Yet unyielding.

11 years ago we made a decision,
That forever changed our lives,
For the better,
As today I'm only jelly and you are clearly my peanut butter.

A match made in heaven?
A match made on Earth?
Nay.
A match made for our souls.

Soulmates and soulmatages.
Beebros and beebees.
Our little family, the best one,
Is a microcosm of the Universe trying to understand itself.

So what have I learned all this time?
That I have never learned to love you.
I just do.
So far and for now and probably forever.

Happy 11 years my love.
Will you for to be continued to be married to me?

I wandered into a cave the other day
It was hollow and dark and damp and dank
I threw a stone into the empty grey
I smiled and turned as if I had someone there to thank

I explored the space with a candle and a stick
I cranked my neck down to the rocks below
I utterly uttered a name that made me sick
The haunting sound made a resonating echo

And for some reason I waited, expecting an answer
It wasn't long before, again, I saw I was alone
I knew that I wasn't exactly the second-glancer
But that's why I fell when you cast the first stone

That's why I sat at the bottom of a cave shivering, shaking
Waiting for an excuse to drag me back to my real life
To go from a rock ridden home to a home that's breaking
To go back and pick up my burden of strife

And on my way out I saw a drop fall and a waveform
And on my way out I saw a shimmer against the darkness
And on my way out the rain kissed my face like a perfect storm
And on my way out I knew there was a light I could harness

The poem
is formed within
and made of ourself..
It is the waveform rising
in this moment from the
infinite potential resting
in each of us..
The poem rises and colors
the moment and then dissolves
as a wave into the sea..
The remnants which remain
inscribed on a page
is for readers who follow
bringing new waves
rising and coloring
and resting once more...

The grace of your limbs and your falling hair
   cataract on my daily minutes like spilt tea.
Colors and fragrances of delicate beauty,
   interwoven in two tones.
An auburn hue encroaches on the edges
   of the sequence of events that is my life,
       and you are the center of their waveform.
A softly spoken word, let loose on the edge of a thought,
   an unspoken meaning and a leaning towards each other.
It is as your hand is in mine,
   when I look at you from a distance,
as if our words are a dance,
   a rhythm,
       and our smiles the melody.
Counterpoint, your responses feed my breath
   as water to a leaping gazelle,
and my heart beats with the pulse of your next smile.

PROPAGANDA: “F.P.L. (Fla. Power & Light Co.) has filed a proposal with the Florida Public Service Commission (P.S.C.) to offer, for a cost-based fee, a nonstandard meter to customers who do not want our standard electric meter. Please note that smart meters offer a number of benefits that are not available with the alternative, non-standard meter, and future service enhancements may only be available to customers with smart meters.”

CONCERNING “SMART” METERS ~ Like second-hand smoke, E.M.F. and R.F./M.W. radiation involve complex mixtures, where different frequencies, intensities, durations of exposure(s), modulation, waveform and other factors are known to produce variable effects, often more harmful with greater complexity. Decades of scientific study have produced substantial evidence that E.M.F. and R.F./M.W. radiation may be considered neurotoxic, carcinogenic and genotoxic. Sources of fields and radiation, but are not limited to: power lines, navigational radar, cell phones, cordless phones [or Digitally Encoded Cordless Transmission Devices (D.E.C.T.) phones], cell towers, "smart" meters and their grids or infrastructure, “smart” boards, meters and grids, WiMax and wireless internet (WI-FI).
David O. Carpenter, M.D.
Director, Institute for Health and the Environment
University at Albany

this is uncertain
and feathered
or is it's pulse
feathery

certain to stop
why not now
just shy of then
certainly

we'll stop reading
and the waveform
collapses and
dissipation

to lower wavelengths
cousins and
lovers radiate
dissolution

all of us and
our memories
seeking lower
manifestation

shells of former
selves dissipate
to new varieties
of vapor

shelled and roughly
discarded charges
accumulate only
in memory

tangents alight
grips on tonight
fancy takes flight
you dim the light