Signal

Blue screen drama fiend

what have you become?

Turn it off or someone will,

you won't remember

but you won't remember

given enough space.

The smell doesn't count, the color couldn't care to stay

it was "This-ness" and by the feebleness of narrow hands,

grasping

Did we ever listen while thinking of something

better we could say...

This was not electric; magnetism is not magical.

Sparks happen. Predictably we promised.

Revolution and Industry-

you'll forget what these did to we.

Don't look up, what is done is done, thy will

and guilt gone!

(on Sunday)

See? Forgotten verboten. Fuzzy. Atonement.

The power we ceased to possess,

Eternally, not youth but

goes by Memory,

like calories and ergs,

also

measured by the byte.

Painting by Ilya Repin [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Talking myself out of any and all steadfast beliefs

And the shadows became emboldened

tossing themselves, whole bodies

against the stuccoed wall of the house

like a lunatic whose waxing drips onto

the serenade night.

Appendages out of lines, 
sinew slung haphazardly, 
do not move, it will heal.

A straightjacket all white and tight

would pacify this wicked waving,

haunting in its accidental tempo.

It was stirring.

The stale air, intent on suffocating this

common moment, tries to circulate.

Still, under such serious moonlight,

all stars let out a slit of light and with
pity.

Keep going.
Solidified, all recast and quartered

for symbiotic division of belief by
schisms and seizures.
See there,

old ways of seeing arthritic or systemic.

Unrelated to shrinking white matter,
this time indivisible from the prism
have been here again
breaking light from black wholes
made it all night once any again. 



Painting by Frits Thaulow [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

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.