"wavelengths" poems
Well then I've lost it again.
It's all gone,
nothings left to find.
There are no reasons
for time,
to unwind,
to be blind
to anything you find
that's helpful.
Doubtful,
you see everything in me.
From my malice
to my chi.
You feel it quick
and it resonates your soul.
Like the sound you get,
when sliding wet flesh
on a glass of water.
Your energy fluxuates,
in such wavelengths,
that my heart must beat along.
To a song of your love.
Of which
i have never felt
anything above.
You can tell,
whether I'm
quivering
or quaking,
shivering,
shaking.
Your what I want most
but whats hardest to keep.
You're in reach of the stars
but won't let yourself see.
I've been waiting for you,
and I'll wait for eternity.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
claude: battles tabletop.
reaches for maple syrup, into breakfast,
& breaks down puking.
the girlfriend/abortion situation.
the cash
& cream corn.
smells of deeper spring.
grandma & her bible.
to pray.
to eat lunch.
to television &
honey blunt the relief of a sunday night.
lily: into decay.
into dark days of her america.
detox: she breathes on vapor. sweet leaf.
sweats the heat & dead-dreams off. off on wavelengths &
resonance::: sound therapeutics,
at 528.111 hz,
enhanced dream frequency. she falls
into bliss. into
unopened codons & the rigor
of vibrational analog.
love cassette.
achilles: wheelchair-bound & boning
still. gripping ***
the girl & couch.
the couch & modern warfare.
old warfare: harvest of limbs.
he crawls across the lawn to pick strawberries.
thumbs the dirt for entrance
to another world. smokes a jar
of roaches, as monument
to his second generation revival.
cool.
wallace: & the zebra jeep.
red rock monkeywrenched billboards & the ****** of flame upon milk factory.
chemical factory.
fertilizer bomb///return/
to town & grotto.
porch-light wood & breath of bong-rotation.
the babylon journeyman,
embroiled in plots against the order.
to simply disappear.
to portal away.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
My mom
Tells me I'm a gift.
She says love
Is what keeps the atoms
In you and I
Is the moment
She caught my
Father's eye
Is the day
My grandfather died
With a candy kiss on his cheek
She had never tasted something so sweet.
When we were little
We played kickball,
The ground is lava
And hide-and-go-seek.
As I grew I knew most days,
It was harder to find myself;
Let alone somebody else.
And I have been around
Enough center city playgrounds
To see the rich
Pump every bit of spare change
In their veins fighting
A cancer that they
Never learned to put in their past.
To see the poor
Wage wars with themselves
Trying to pick up
Way too much,
Way too fast;
Nobody really knows how to make love last.
So put your prism your heart
Beneath the moonlight.
Refract the wavelengths
Of your wonders
Into ROYGB-eautiful like the sea,
It took a lot of jellyfish to let
people see through me.
And even more mirrors
To find a place I was comfortable
Praying in.
Fraying in doorways
Where I learned hope,
Is looking both ways
On a one way street
Cause it can be so easy to thank God
While you still have bread to eat.
I have never prayed
So hard for a healthy meal
Than the days I remember
The heart is a muscle;
And sometimes the only
Thing we need
Is to "work it out."
And I know that some days,
My doubt hangs my
Smile like Jesus Christ
I never quite learned
How to bleed right.
But if there's one thing
I found from cleaning
The crosses out of the
Empty hallway of my character
Is that you haven't experienced loss
Until you've held two outstretched arms
For years waiting for your innocence to come back.
Nothing, weighs more than the guilt of your past
And nothing throws punches
Faster than the ghost of who you used to be.
And I know it's hard
To stop looking for yourself
Under every bed you
Left nightmares in
And I know it's hard
To be comfortable
In your own skin
But sometimes bars
Aren’t the only thing
That builds a cage
And sometimes
The only way to live
With yourself
Is to stop digging
Your own grave.
You can spend years
Listening to morticians
And never get grounded.
Surrounded by the
Square roots we all share,
By the same air,
We've all got to learn to let go.
To learn that
Holding your breath
Has never been how
Living things
Learn to
Grow
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
tricks of molecules
wavelengths caress and scatter
the sky shaded blue
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
*drawn to windows of silent blue
wooed by rays of genuine warmth
wavelengths of eternal promise
a clear gaze to tranquility
basking in a youthful sunlight
framed in crystalline emotion
purity of frozen concerns
azure passport to forever
trees reaching to one another
exposed in their frosted beauty
cornflower hues on snowy white
shadows of druid ritual
dreams arising from cups of tea
reflecting cerulean bliss
nourishment for ravenous hearts
fertile steeping for spring roses*
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
born underwater a ****** to the birth of creation
complacent verses bathing in lakes wasted her patience
ocean poems emotive prose the notions grow
breast strokes sowed in silly string civilized sovereignty
divinity’s reliance divided by Earth’s dire needs
fires breathe regardless of the rain she breeds
seeds beneath the sand hold no reason to lie in wake
so we speak in foreign tongues with dominance a mistake
to take her language for another world
visions died with imminence and grandiosity
a coliseum’s misconstruction catalyzed combustion’s coldest counterculture
living within the wind sinning stings it’s singularity
glaring stares impaired all sages of their clarity
careful conscious turned rotten swimming in the toxins
glossy water robs apostles of oxygen
filtered riddles fiddled this conviction’s symmetry
& now the god’s live in ignorance and misery
crimson skies abysmal cries they’re looking at the ground
astounded to the loud doubts that overpower clouds
powdered optometry devoured flowers of their solitude
another rotten petal for every sentiment left misunderstood
confused prisoners gifted with the write to think
proles sentenced to wonder why the caged bird sings
a paradox of broken thoughts to question it’s intentions
matter undermined the undefined enlightenment
spirals in the light comprise a present tense
evanescent destination sensei keep I humble
so many stripes up in my wavelengths
widowed endorphins scrape the pain away
balanced chemically an efficacy of electricity
many marvel but the master’s prophecy is destiny
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
I've been told to write what I feel
But what I feel about you is everything I hate about myself
I used to remember your words with fondness reading them off like love letters as if this was a Jane Austin novel
And now my stomach churns at the thought of you ever speaking to me again
Your silence struck me far more than words ever could and I'm terrified by this thought
So I close my ears to the incoming noise and pick a god to pray to
Because unlike you it doesn't matter if they wake up and decide I'm not worth any more of their time
They're not real but you didn't feel real either
We connected over four hours of traffic and wavelengths
Throughout our lives we seemed destined to cross but never touch
Just two parallel lines running alongside one another
And one of us tried desperately to travel a different path
Leading them to where they ought not go
Yet fate is fragile
It doesn't bend to yearning and wishful thinking
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
August 10th, you seemed so distant
Not quite as distant as the barrel of one gun
The gun that fired the shot that would stun
The scientific world, from Rutherford to Niels Bohr
To find out esteemed fellow scientist Moseley was no more
But before that, in 1913
X-ray spectra was naught more than a dream
Before diffraction through crystals became the truth
The wavelengths needed a meaning, and there was proof
You developed a mathematical system without flaw
One so great, it was named "Moseley's law"
Mendeleev had the right idea, but not a plan
Could not arrange the elements the way that you now can
Without you, my sir, we would not have had this premium
To enjoy the elements technetium, hafnium, promethium, and rhenium
These gaps that like stars littered the periodic table
Were filled with ease, and the cosmos became stable
You had set the foundation for crystallography of x-rays
A method of determining arrangement that is still used in modern days
The first machines in use were those for which you had the design
But their widespread use you could not see as there simply was no time
For during a battle, as you made the phone set run
A bullet took your grace away, a scientist dying young
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
Dressed-up words
misguide our naked thoughts
far more than naked thoughts
influence the use of dressed-up words.
Words can be a narcissistic cover-up
or
masks expressing secondary emotions,
even if the wordsmith
is begging to be
needed.
If one desires to communicate
with a purer intent,
to cut through language's sinew
of misinterpretation,
and into truth's marrow,
such communication can happen
within wordless silence
where blooms
touch
waves
salt
sweat
true north,
pantings
in the cold;
the swelling heat
of iron ignition.
When my tongue dissolves the words,
laps up innuendos
and syntax errors of reality
from in-between
the honeyed surface
of language,
over-stimulation
spins me deliriously.
If
this
needs a pause,
a breath to breathe,
to feel the distance,
our wavelengths
will never cease
to communicate.
September 12th, 2015
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
On the other side
of perfect
between the golden
silky lines
is the mirrored world
we live in
where ties
don't always
fully bind
they unravel
at the seams
get frayed
so rough and broken
as the blood and sweat
and screams
replace the words
of love unspoken
and we all have
a place for fake
for presentation,
a kind of lie
but the truth
snaps us awake
as we choose to live
or perhaps to die
Yes, some of us
might disintegrate
in the wake of
destruction's wrath
not seeing for the
blindness
that pain causes
on the path
for we forget
that light
inside us
in our darkest
stings of wounds
we forget how
high voltage wavelengths
reside within
the numbness
that consumes
and once reflection
melts the glass
and throws self-hate
into the fire
this is the hour
of miracles
of faintest stains
that take us higher
our deepest inner
whispers
that roll discreetly
through our veins
rumbling humbly
between heartbeats
that push the
bloodflow pumping,
igniting sparks
inside our brains
and whilst my heart
is battle-shattered
it quickens up in pace
as I electrify myself
and to the heavens
turn my face
let the wild sunset
bathe my soul in
shades of shocking blue
for after every
combat encounter
I rise again
anew
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
Desired to be more attuned with idols
Their private lives gleaned from
Stills and moving images cutting swaths across
Skyscraping billboards, TV screens
The sides of passing buses
Subway cars headed deeper in,
Further in, beneath
Magazine spreads pulled out for
ad-hoc posters taped and tacked across
the plaster-sputtering suburban drywall paths
Like screams in arctic winds
Many, the young mean-spirited things
Wanting kinship with these enemies
Trying to plot a course to
**** diagonally-up across
their strident wildlife scenes
Attuned with idols riding their
phantom wavelengths with the
maverick assistance of Reds and
water-cut pints of irish whiskey
Then Father comes in proclaiming
to have saved our democracy on
the whim of a lever-pull upon
a municipal voting machine
No interruptions now please
I will direct the favors of my unborn
I am honed in on what really matters:
Hemingway hedonism.
Getting dead with generations
slinking in and out of frame
from before and after
me
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
Echos expand the ice crystals in my mind
Coronas of galactic dust feed into my pupils
My eyes are moons leaking white fire
My heart explodes into a supernova for it cannot bear the things I did to you
The guilt kills the sun inside my chest
The guilt is Jupiter and my vision is a slave, for auspicious moons have not gravity to compete with astronomical planets
Here my limbs are constellations that drift from one another
Here my fingers bend into uncomprehendable wavelengths
Here I float, empty, into space.
When I saw what could have been
what would have been
and what is now
I became an Earthen Absense.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 6:25 PM UTC
Sometimes I dare to fantasize about how your eyes would feel in my gut once they meet mine.
A clawing perhaps, an agonizing gnawing like starvation or butterflies before public speaking I imagine.
Would I get used to it? Probably never.
Regardless of space-time your soul gazes at mine when the clock strikes dream-time.
I wake up to myself and try to forget your place in this *****
In this safe house of memories that lie naked and dormant.
Potential energy that begs in wavelengths to please draw closer.
Maybe these punches will soften as I get older.
The memory of love lost left to die in a box rotting images of a parallel reality
sweeter than Radha and Krishna.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
She keeps tempo
the back and forth.
Tantilizing conversation.
********** each others psyche.
A dance of words and minds,
thoughts and passions,
sharing wavelengths.
Shes mystifying
logical,
rational,
but emotionally so.
The sapoisexual in me
could never say no.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
The Garden Boy has eyes greener than the grass that will sometimes be the color of the dirt too
The Garden Boy reminds me of a distant galaxy because he is so close yet unreachable
The Garden Boy spends his time learning about the world and dreams of changing it
The Garden Boy met my eyes under the full moon and his parted lips were saying words that he never would
I wish The Garden Boys’ hands were welcoming to mine
The Garden Boy has a love he can’t admit
The Garden Boy is the garden boy because he reminds me of all the different flowers and the sunshine that blesses them and the sky that changes paintings every evening and he reminds me of the storms that he hates and the sunshine that he loves and the rain dripping from my eyes as I thought about how beautiful he was
The Garden Boy loves the world but I don’t think he loves me
The Garden Boy probably doesn’t have a garden
The Garden Boy is a poem of leaves turning orange as fall descends from the heavens
The Garden Boy told me he likes my hair but maybe he’s receiving wavelengths from a different star and my hair is red
But Garden Boy, I want us to be purple
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC
Long distance calls,
scratchy images,
Invisible walls,
created.
Wavelengths afar,
crests and troughs,
moving stars,
seated.
Put out fires,
burning embers,
all the desires,
heated.
All these wars,
through thick and thin,
and life was,
fated!
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
Lost the key
I dance in desperate movements,
stepping on toes as I go
Spinning out of control as faces grimace in my wake,
changing scenery like mirrored ball illusions,
tiny reflective squares blinding as they move
Still you stare, questioning gazes,
not making eye contact
but sensing my heart through the song…
playing in steady repetition
Fingers in your ears for fear
that it might touch you
in rhythmic hypnosis, shining pendulums
swinging in reverse tempo, challenging these feelings
you hold but still can not admit the lyrics
Prideful walls of bricked fortitude
built around your emotions sing of
locked entryways and barred windows
and it seems I have lost the key
Misplaced along out of tune wavelengths
while pitchy corridors of doubt
fill in the shadows of this that I desire
Still I extend a hand, “would you care to dance?”
Dark eyes squint as you focus, looking beyond the bandstand,
finding mistakes of the past playing in three quarter time,
heading towards the stage door exit,
tapping your toe in cadence with the drummer
who now stops…along with the beat of my heart
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
I feel this inhuman suffocation
when I step out into
that officially sponsored
fog machine artificial haze
to start the music blaring from
speakers that don't say a thing
Spitting throat lumps and grinds
lurching like scary monsters
controlled by raving mad super creeps
hiding behind walls of
electronic lies
and vinyl appropriations
committed to automation
in
beats making stage cages swing like
stray lanterns filled with
questionable electrocuties -
wild tarts that can't be broken
but you can stare all you want
at
Black-light-blemish-broken-razor-testimony
obscured with slashed fishnet and
splashed neon body paint
Move to the wavelengths
going to grave lengths
as
my dead beats facilitate this
Deja Vu machine world
of
backdoor audition submission
courtesy of half massed scrubstep poser pseudo-players
and maneaters planted on dance floors
Wearing short skirts low cut shirts
high heels long hair and plenty of
emotional baggage
and
I find myself feeling somewhat sorry
and guiltily enticed by the decadent
conspicuous consumption and sinister
seduction I cannot escape
until
The song crescendos and I slam an invisible hand
into the wreck chords
from now until the end of rhyme
I want to stop the whole thing
but this is what I signed up for
this is my punishment
so
with reluctant crossfader switchblade hands
I scratch the noise back into the air
and out of my head
because
the
beatings
must
go
on
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
I was sitting in the middle of crooked roads
and singing to the passersby about us
and our love
a lie
the bridges were slowly thinning in to
nothing
but old DVDs we used to watch when our minds were marinated with
empty vow books
and
your memory was seeping away with every note
dissected
in to atom-sized pieces of photo paper that was
impossible
to mend
I saw the sand particles of hourglasses run out
and almost forgot you
but then
whispers of your voice reverberated
swinging recorded words like tongue twisters
I covered my ears before your wavelengths could clash with
mine
and we would be
whole
once again
We are out of time.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
A red bird has flown soaring in the great height of the
purple sky. The thrilling scream was as a shrill cry on
the soundtrack. The bird has disappeared into the sky,
and all it could be heard was the sound. That cold sound
became fluid in the ears. A forked green lightning following
a zigzagging pattern appeared from an antimatter space.
The eyes fixed wide-open up, and the mouths kept silent.
A ship has left the dock to disappear in the mobile horizon.
It seemingly disappeared and reappeared based on where
the eyes were looking; the eyes were not able to leave the dock.
When the ship could not be seen, a prolonged blast could be
heard. Finally, the ship disappeared in an antimatter space,
where cold could illuminate and beat the heat to burn everything
as we beat the heat with icy cold neck wraps. The eyes fixed
wide-open toward, and red screams grew from open mouths.
The sun lost its strength to become redder than it was before.
In the twilight, its disk disappeared below the mobile horizon.
Its power was in the spirit and the matter of the freezing cold.
The eyes were unable to see where the sun was going. In the
soft and purple mist, they looked like little amethyst stones.
The violet light slowed down in the water much more than the
red light refracted. The waves of alternating strength in electric and
magnetic fields moved around the Earth in the tick of a clock.
The mouths murmured, but the anti-sound made them all be quiet.
From an airplane in the sky, the eyes could see two rainbows with
colors in opposite order forming a complete circle. The eyes could
move up and down to see the red light that refracted out of
the droplets at steeper angles than the blue light. The mind could
imagine another rainbow made of complementary light wavelengths
such as green, blue, violet, red, orange, yellow-orange and yellow. The
sea shone brightly as a sky full of red and bluish comets having
tails like trains carrying hydrogen cyanide. Strange, sharp and
cutting words wounded the mouths stopping the thoughts to breathe.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
Wired like a loaded gun
Waiting for the morning sun
Hello! How are you today
And I wonder
My love
Should I take the sun from you
Put it in a box of darkness
Like setting
I spread the ashes of a love never in love
just a circle venn diagram make believe but not Peter Pan
And love
I love you so
I am the sun
And I shine for no one
So box of darkness
Here I come
Speckled star dust farm eggs
Fresh renewed self conviction
Moon born
Phasing through to a life
Without you
Hedonism blood pulse
Still sentimental soul
Selling out to the lone wolf
Sneaky fox
Flowers tainting memories
Hand holding cheek kissing nostalgia bliss
Don't think
Of the one you will miss
Just kiss
Supernova
Little sunhat at nighttime party
Don't don't listen to the lies you whisper to yourself
You are the one you'll miss
If you don't help yourself
Feast on sin and self-righteousness
Reincarnation is second chance
Listen to the hands with the carnations outstretched
Fellow stranger with star burnt eyes
caring for those self told lies
You cheat
yourself
with handholding cypress knees bending towards
neurons collapsing
into the one who
Binary stars you
Binary stares at you
Holds you in your sleep from far away
Dream meeting past life fleeting into the now
You answer to this highschool crush pop quiz invader of reality
Who questions what color to paint the moon
Never almost drowning
But who has only ever taken a life
that belonged to them alone
relating in fictional patterns of physics
Undeniable wavelengths
colliding crashing consoling
You knew from the first eyes
that seeds of doubt would sprout in what you mislead as love
And you ask
Why not?
Hello,
today is not tomorrow.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
You heard all the things I never said in the empty silence between us.
It's funny, when I say nothing at all I'm telling you everything.
But when everything is nothing and nothing means everything,
the words you don't hear can't exactly feel empty anymore.
And it's not empty space surrounded between us,
there are ghosts of the past flying by
whispering chills down our spines.
Our weak, foolish spines....
We are a throng of bones and blood that we tried putting together
yet standing here in front of you I find I am only falling apart.
The dissonance of our energies is weakening us,
as are the futile attempts at mending something
that was always broken.
And what broke gave us scars that burned
brighter than what we once had.
Like the air between us, we are hesitant to move.
Moving past and moving forward is as hard
as two pedals on a bike going in opposite directions;
we are broken but stuck chasing after one another in circles.
We can get so close but never touch.
I feel the swollen heartbreak from these missing puzzle pieces to our masterpiece
We merely have pain and incomprehension of what we know but can't say
To console the absence of space that will nevermore be complete.
Wavelengths slow, saddened by our disconnection.
Fighting no longer, all that is left to say does not need to be spoken
And so we stand here in silence.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
Star-speckled cheeks,
eyes deep as space,
smile bright like the moon,
waves like the sun,
shimmer ethereally in the light—
but I’ll always be eclipsed.
You’re Saturn,
and I’m stuck in your orbit,
just another stupid moon.
I’ll stretch to infinity to reach you,
but we’ll never touch,
’cause we’re on
completely different wavelengths—
always been fated
never to align
and always will be.
You’ll never tell me,
“Love you to the moon and back,”
yet every night I fall asleep
thinking of a star-speckled sky.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC
They have tried to conceal our love,
they've thrown up roadblocks, and smokescreens
to keep us from finding each other again,
but yet we always do. Our love has its own radar.
I can sense your heart beating, like an angelic drum
through the haze, and I know you can always hear the love
in my voice, even through the harsh foul static.
Even when you cannot respond, I know you know
my love is always glowing, like a lighthouse in the night.
Guiding you back to my harbor of eternal affection,
where my lips never tire of sounding the horn of our happiness.
I have stumbled for women before, like a blind man descending stairs.
But I never fell, until I tumbled head first into the bottomless pool
of your beauty. The only waters in which I would gladly drown,
have drowned, only to be rescued and resuscitated by your kisses.
Those who do not speak the language of our love, point their antennas our way,
they intercept our transmissions, but their code books are missing the pages
that explain how such emotion can be decoded. They only catch the grand communique,
always missing the short, but ever so loving messages, that come in daily
over the teletype of passion. Feverishly at this very moment, they wrack their brains
wondering at the deeper context of our words, but their is no hidden meaning,
behind the expression of affection. Love is its own context, and if they cannot translate it
then they are the ones at fault, not us. We have our own frequencies, and wavelengths.
Our Love shall always ring out in the darkness, even if we have to switch channels,
It will be there, to comfort us, and relieve the ache of our longing. I already have enough
in this world. Let them have the rest. All I need is our tiny daily broadcast, all I need is...
Our love.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC