Minced words atop static

Static carried on air
clings to its own non-being
i'm-potential
like white
white of poltergeists
or the white whir
i'm-between
towers

Interference splits
with pixel holders
i'm place
Spliced volumes
inaudible water
falls

These were always empty buckets

As a book is a chalice fore-
thought
Media makes masks
with hollow eyes
re
perceptive
think for me-tell me-show me
Empty
w/out your feedback
reciprocating back feed
in mixed media-the medium
is largely the message
fully charged.




Image By Darjac (Scanned by Darjac) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Chit for chat

You can keep your cloudless days
              I prefer the truth.
Don't tell me about the clear blues
              when I've been hazy grey.
Why waste our time-
why show me natural beauty-
when I am more of a metaphor...

You can take your warm sunshine
                I was already too hot.
Leave me alone in the cold
                where my heart feels homey.
Why talk to me about exotic places-
why try to fantasize about far away-
when I will always dwell in self-fulfilled...

You can give it up
                holding others happy.
Don't tell me it was yours
                when you've never had it.
Why keep saving everything for later-
why not save yourself-
when there's nothing left-now.

You can say you would
                  I will not say.
Don't think I might change my mind
                  when it's on too tight.
Why not convince
why not debate your own issues
while I'm sitting pretty writing poetry
not seeking what may be-
                                         outside of me.




Image of painting by Laurits Andersen Ring (1908) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

It fits perfect (Haiku)

Sacrifice is not
a gift
        everyone can have
-Some wear it better.




Image of painting by Frederic Leighton [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Legend of They (Hi-Q)

What if the story
was not about us and them
would we still listen?















Image of painting by Elizabeth Forbes [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Ego-tryst

They say scientists can measure the size
of your ego, subjectively-
no, those are psychologists.
And any ists must
be a man on a strand of islands,
native sons, volcano-goddesses,
and elders.
I landed on
a nerve when I said-
Big Head-
Foot in Mouth-
Elephantitists
carry the heaviest
chips on shoulders.
Boulders become,
snowballs.
After consulting
the geologists who insists
on layers, and pressure, and ex-
traneous circumplants, inoculants,
and evidently
seeking likeness in narcissists,

all is sorted out.
This is when florists are best.





Image of painting by Hieronymus Bosch, 1485. 

Little big things add up

You count the ants,
I will count the stars
The sheeple will graze in between.

The sun will highlight
optical illusions,
as color-wheel real.
The moon casts shadows
on our little delusions,
fear reigns supreme
in dream.

Our being
Here
while pointing to a view
too minute to see audibly
too vast for me
to grasp without the imaginary,
makes dreams with my reality.




Image credit Popular Science Monthly V. 29 (1886), thru telescope image via Wikimedia Commons.

DaVinci DeCoded

My mind froze-muscle stuck
on the sleek he-lo cruising low
along the coast-line,
just over my head
instead
of interrupting-
cutting in
with bladed arms,
it was a welcome drum-roll.

And I could clearly see in-
side, which is precisely when
you can begin
to see its very ideas-drive
thoughts and
over-all direction-
lob-(oto)-bing
(me) atop up there
as I stare at it

With every intention
of taking me a-long...
Suspended, I was,
with my head
up in the clouds,
thinking a sinking feeling-
the theory is as true
as the sky is blue-
and we are all
just weighting.



Image via Wikimedia Commons, Leonardo Da Vinci-Helicopter.