Tag Archives: #thoughts

Luminous Reverie

whirling—how
darksome light
whispers(beyond
grasp)but
still more than
twinkling
a sudden flurry of
nights(licking
flames of stars
with
tongues

bitter). a tremble-quick
twilight
hands (a)cross
(a)cross the
howling—
fulgent.
more than
yesterday’s forgotten
dream(a
chase(ing)—glow(ing)
now.

 —tumble, tumble,
        sing! for 
more than nothing, less
than everything—the heart

p o u n d s echo(ing)
soft- hard
grace- rage
it is(was)(is)
only(echo)time
(quivering
pulse-twitch)
reverie.
abrupt.

:: 08.08.2024 ::


SO YOU’VE TOUCHED MY HEART

Upon this path, clear as the sun’s own flower,
I tread the lanes, through day and dusky hour.
Eyes wide, I wander, gaze cast left and right,
And oftentimes I glance back, at the sight
Of what lies there—each moment’s new reveal,
A marvel yet unseen, a truth I feel.
This constant birth of wonder, this delight,
Grants me the joy of childhood’s pure insight,
As if a babe, whose birth is just begun,
Aware that life’s first breath has truly come.

In every instant, I am newly born,
To greet the world, afresh with each new morn.
For in the world’s eternal novelty,
I find a source of ceaseless gaiety.

I trust the world as does a marigold,
For what I see is true, and pure, and bold.
But thoughts, they cloud, and burden weary eyes,
The world was not for musing, nor for sighs.
To think is to invite a subtle pain,
But gazing, we find solace, not disdain.

No grand philosophy do I possess,
But senses keen, to nature I confess.
Not for the knowing do I speak her name,
But for the love she grants, without acclaim.
For love, in truth, knows not the reasons why,
Nor understands the wherefore of its sigh.

Love is a child, innocent and pure,
And innocence, in thought, can scarce endure.

:: 08.08.2024 ::


The Voice of A Poet

The poet is a man who feigns,
And feigns so deep, with artful guise,
That he, at length, with ease attains
To feign the pain he truly sighs.

Those who read what he did pen
Perceive, within his plaintive strain,
Not the pains he felt back then,
But a distant, unknown pain.

Thus, around its constant track,
There runs, to keep our minds in part,
The circling, ceaseless clockwork’s clack,
Which men have named the human heart.

:: 08.05.2024 ::


RIVER OF LIQUID GLASS

In the garden of flickering neon trees,
where shadows dance with marionette leaves,
I met a man with a clockwork heart
and eyes like prisms, tearing time apart.

He whispered secrets in a language of static,
his voice a symphony of glitches and clicks,
telling tales of constellations uncharted,
and love letters written in binary scripts.

We wandered through a labyrinth of velvet mist,
where fish flew by on currents of twilight,
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars,
cradled in the arms of endless night.

I found a river of liquid glass,
where thoughts flowed like mercury streams,
reflecting the dreams of forgotten gods,
and the echoes of interstellar dreams.

A carousel spun in an abandoned carnival,
each horse a phantom of forgotten lore,
and as I rode, the world unraveled,
a tapestry of surrealist decor.

In the distance, a cathedral of crystal,
its spires piercing the fabric of reality,
and inside, a choir of silent voices,
harmonizing in spectral duality.

When dawn broke, the mirage faded,
leaving only a trace of whispered winds,
and I awoke, clutching fragments of visions,
in the realm where the surreal begins.

:: 05.17.2024 ::


The World of Roses

In the world of Floris, a planet where every being was a fusion of human and flower, roses reigned supreme. The inhabitants, known as Rosalians, were characterized by their delicate rose-petal skin, leafy hair, and a subtle fragrance that filled the air wherever they went. In this unique world, the only flower that existed was the rose, and it was the foundation of their culture, economy, and identity.

Dr. Alaric Thorn, a prominent scientist and a respected teacher, stood before his class in the grand botanical amphitheater. His students, all young Rosalians eager to learn, sat in rows of petal-shaped seats, their eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Today,” Dr. Thorn began, his voice carrying the gentle authority of a seasoned educator, “we will discuss a revolutionary idea: the existence of other flowers beyond our beloved rose.”

A murmur of excitement and disbelief rippled through the room. The concept was as alien to them as the stars beyond their sky.

Dr. Thorn activated a holographic display, projecting an image of their planet, Floris, from space. “For centuries, we have believed that the rose is the only flower, the pinnacle of botanical evolution. But what if I told you there might be other worlds, other planets where different flowers flourish?”

One student, a bright young Rosalian named Lysara, raised her hand. “Dr. Thorn, how can we be sure? We’ve never seen these other flowers. What makes you think they exist?”

Dr. Thorn smiled, pleased by her inquisitiveness. “Excellent question, Lysara. Our recent advancements in interstellar observation have revealed traces of botanical structures on distant planets. These structures differ from our roses, suggesting diverse floral life forms.”

He switched the hologram to display various shapes and forms, each representing a possible alien flower. “Imagine a world where flowers bloom in countless shapes and colors, each with unique properties and characteristics. A world where the flora is as varied as the stars themselves.”

The students leaned forward, captivated by the images. Another student, a quiet boy named Thorne, spoke up. “If these other flowers exist, what does that mean for us? How would it change our understanding of life and our place in the universe?”

Dr. Thorn’s expression grew thoughtful. “It would challenge our perception of uniqueness and inspire us to explore beyond our known boundaries. It would mean that life, in its infinite diversity, has found countless ways to flourish. It would teach us humility and expand our horizons.”

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “We must prepare ourselves for the possibility of encountering these new forms of life. As scientists and scholars, our duty is to seek knowledge and embrace the unknown. Perhaps one day, we will embark on a journey to these distant worlds and witness the beauty of other flowers with our own eyes.”

The amphitheater buzzed with a renewed sense of wonder and anticipation. Dr. Thorn knew that this was only the beginning of their exploration. The Rosalians were on the cusp of a great adventure, one that would take them beyond the petals of their familiar roses and into the vast, blossoming garden of the cosmos.

:: 07.07.2024 ::

Notes:

This poem conveys a message about the endless possibilities of life and the importance of remaining open to new ideas. It suggests that understanding and accepting diversity, even in forms of life, can lead to greater knowledge and a more profound sense of humility.

Conclusion

“The World of Roses” is a crafted poem that I sought to use as a fictional setting and characters to explore deep themes related to knowledge, diversity, and the human (or Rosalian) spirit of exploration. It invites readers to consider the beauty and complexity of life beyond their immediate understanding, encouraging a sense of wonder and a desire to explore the unknown.


Not The Love We Dreamed

Not the Love We Dreamed
We cross our grievances,
Speak of our sorrow,
Utter solemn prayers

To live another day.

We speak of laughter,
Share our private tales,
Make our promises

To live another day.

Life plans another week,
Each day a challenge,

To live another day.

We shed our tears,
Sometimes it’s blood
From a broken heart,

To live another day.

When the sky bleeds,
He comes, that Day,
Comforting the lonely

As we live in despair.

It is the spice of hearts—
My heart embraces
Crying inside your tears

For the rest of my life.

And alone, I weep,
Measure your absence,
Adore you in solitude,
All my life, needing you,

But it’s not the love
We dreamed of, my darling love.

:: 07.05.2024 ::


THE WORLD MOVES

THE WORLD moves and does in mysterious ways
as the thighs of a lover moving closer
breathing and touching, both awakening
the senses of the other.

How the quiet
night speaks, with low voice and rich
with leaves and moss and soil. The scents
of nature is between thighs. Both man
and woman. At all times whether in a bus,
or sidewalk, or riding a bicycle we exude
the scent of our animal nature. We are
the city of our Nature, the Empire. A tall
building of soft scaffolding mylon-foam
caught deeply within our throat and heart.

Appear as Mother, sweet and kind
On pasta, butter, and potatoes dine
The bee lady swims, unconfined
For those with wit not yet refined

Soup and cream, your frame bestow
The final word, you proclaim
Though plump, in splendor you will glow
Sublime and grand, you’ll earn your name.

:: 06.25.2024 ::


Alpha Bet Lesson

Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)
Hop across a ‘t’ or even ‘y’ inside
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

Alphabet needs, in language’s pull,
Something in the way, I cannot hide,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?

In a deep dark well of mostly nights dull,
I kissed ‘m’ and ‘e’, where secrets reside,
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

Words touch all I hide, their whispers mull,
Cries feeling how I am, though much denied,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?

All of me cried feeling how I might lull,
Am SO “m” “T”, emotions collide,
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

Something in the way, how words just cull,
All I hide away from me, thoughts untried,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

(rev) 06.20.2024


While Humanity Sleeps

WHILE humanity sleeps (half of the world to you and me)
We, birds whom nature adores charm from atop lookouts
shut eyes and dream
dream of mind and feels
As each night branches out into a single, flowering thought
from wings to the beak of your beloved wheelbarrow
who flies away after pecking food from Earth’s Soul
We, the bronze sighs of a statue that raises itself
upon an elbow while institutions sleep
And the dreamer, may his glowing gaps open up with shut eyes
dreamer with tears and laughs ; the horror of things
through it all i can hear you cry
beyond white sand shores into coral antlers of pain
So stretch your eyes and heart
So just say the heart is fractured
(i’m saved) so shut your mind and sing/just say
“Your heart is right — just go on and dream”

:: 06.20.2024 ::


Fitfull Sleep

Into you I dive, finding comfort,
It’s good to be here, but I stop short.
I rush around in my own bubble,
In this hotel, a place of rubble.

Connected to wires, fed by tech,
But waiting here makes me a wreck.
Break me, danger, call for help,
I need to go, can’t do it myself.

Whoa, whoa, the sounds surround,
But the peace in the air is profound.
Burst out, bathed in new light,
Disconnected, I cry out at night.

A brain, useless, fed by sleep,
Angels of rest, my soul to keep.
Whoa, whoa, the echoes fade,
In this modern life, my heart is swayed.

:: 06.09.2024 ::