Under influences

Because we are

Self Aware Beings

we wonder like amnesiacs,

how we got here

and desperate for colors

we believe almost anything fantastic

as though we are all diamond fragments

of stars or angels displaced

from heaven or space.

I mean, magic is making new matter from nothing,

magic means we matter, we made this matter.

If we make-this-matter is magic made, elementary

with rock and metal.

This is simply us discovering

alchemy and fire and calling out surges, reactions,

such as desire and emulsify

concluding for every x

there is a why.

Of course, we are all-chemical beings

and we play with this, naturally

moving letters about

being creators and more concoctors,

self-prescribing physicians by our own

curious volition to flux of powers,

that make New (again).

We often curse our many selves for attempting

escape, a wait-less trip would be idyll...

on Holiday from everyday...

This must be common.

What is pressure but awareness of mortality,

destiny maybe an attempt to fly

is a stab at free will

that gets too thick and close

to the heart and mouth

for sobriety to say-

How many times must Death come knocking

before you hand him the key?

Painting by Andrei Ryabushkin [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

For what it is worth

Those words mean everything to me.

And although I may chose

to never see them again,

I must put them somewhere

gently, like here.

Because they held more than my meaning

for someone one time, someplace besides

in me. I’m sure of it.

Yes,

we get attached to material things

like they really matter.

Why not ethereal things

like they don't matter…

I wish.

Moved or Be Moved,

the wind suggests.

Besides, some key

words will point the way

in arrow-point-narrowly be

led out and in sides of times

whereby those grammatical

laws have all broken English.

These poems that I carry with me

have no cash value.

None may not be heard

aloud, but my change rattles as I walk

through this word-ridden

Life and I donate sense, liberally.

I am never broke

for long

but lighter

without the words.

Artwork by Giovanni Battista Naldini [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Dark Matters

While spinning there inherent and centripetal,

quintessentially beautiful by its own conception,

Nothing was said. These are not empty theories.

The vapor, this quintessence, the aether, ether way,

dark matter mingled with dark energy

is not easy to pin down.

It is obvious we do not know what we are talking about

when we say All things considered

when we notice meteors demagnetized

space is growing, betweens are stretching out,

and strings were taut, meaning and knowing

never further apart, intent and entropy

inversely spinning its wheels. It feels like cold fusion,

almost serendipitous to say this is the way

We Science. And opine and profess

Super-precedence and Divine

Conception.

There is no immaculate prophecy here,

this time through.

Image By NASA/JPL-Caltech [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Water rocks

It is that time

and I feel us

spinning in nearer

the Aquariids,

perhaps none will

notice this but me

but I get vertigo,

and have learned

to plan accordingly

I wait outside under

grape skies with an

empty cup,

one thinks of sparks

and electricity often

aquaeous,

currently this is the rush

I feel, dangerous

for some of us

passing down waterfalls

and fixating

on a spot

to the sea of tranquility

stars stay

just out of reach.

 Image credit By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Harmonic Anthropic Principality

Obviously,

the world around us demonstrates consistency so beautifully,

at least, that is what we prefer to see.

Moderation, enough and contentment and some

conservation of raw necessities and bare dirigibles.

This perfect white light can be too bright to look upon directly,

as when the sunlight dives too deep in

behind your eyes.

You may see empty spots being eaten by black holes bouncing

off magenta frazzled strings-maybe...

some hear C, some do not see (not heresy),

some say this in synesthesia,

most are cured from this disorder

by adulthood through normal amnesia.

Not to worry, what is out of sight does not mind.

What is behind is aftermath,

Insistent remainders which prove

expansion is true and mostly

more lies, well

beyond our view-There is more.

Listen does not change the sound that comes out.

It is answer. It is not your answer. It is hidden in harmony.

We can only

Here

what is most touching (outside).

Painting by Willem Cornelisz Duyster [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Grainy Drops

The rain makes it better.

   The rain is falling.

The hour disperses into sky.

Does it?

Save your words-

The rain makes it better.

Smell space freeing itself...

You will see

          when the mist

                     settles   lifts

                  when the fog

it will be too bright to see directly

-until-

Due West             when the sunsets

            Pacific.

The tide takes it all in, licking and swallowing the shore

like an ice cream with crunch.

They taste the same. Put your tongue in the rain

drops.

Nothing is the matter,

only salt                    remains.

Painting by James Abbott McNeill Whistler, 'Sea and Rain' (1865) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sense ability

It went away

and now it's black.

It will fill in all white

again.

You still must choose

to adjust your vision

&

focus wisely.

When you hear the motion light

on the side of the garage

click off-

you are listening near enough

to know

nothing has moved but you

momentarily

feeling trapped.

This is the only way to know

How

you or I can be

almost wild again.

Not in fight or flight mode.

Always scanning our environment.

Back to animal dreams

feeling the body's symbiosis

with a man-made mind,

distinguished

from its Nature.

The cat screams.

Painting by Ivan Nikolaevich Kramskoi (1878) in[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.