I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
This Haiku is for:
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
*WITHOUT THE SOUP.......
> * * *
> * * *
* < haiku's
< moon >>>>> planet
planet < * >
free < > *
verse < ##### * >
# # SOUP ## > lyric
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < # # SUN # #
##### * >>>
< * monoku's >>> senryu
* planet moon satellite
>>>> planet >>>> planet
* tanka rhyme
.... MY POETRY,
She, Of The Cosmic Essence
Aware Of A Power
Aware Of A Presence
And Aware Of The Need For Our
Desire To Rise Higher
… and Higher
To Our Optimum Height
Patricia … You Are Like The Alaskan Lights
Those Northern Flares and Colors In Cold Night
Floating Dreams, So Mesmerizing
Patricia, Brings It To Her Poetic Themes
Such Are The Verses She Shares To View
And Reading Them, She's Showing You
Her Cosmic Essence Insight
Oh Patricia, You’re An Alaskan Light …
So, Keep Reaching, Keep Speaking … and Write !
For The Girl, Who Shared A Comfy, Snug Book Read
On One Of Her Snowy Days … (Via Her Poem- ‘Autumn’s Passing’
Also - Your Poem ‘Journey’ is One)
See … It Brought Back Some Wonderful Memories To Me …
‘ A Metaphysical Moment ’
A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much
… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea
… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …
A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …
(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:
Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things
words fit together
is kind of a ritualistic measure,
to the cerebral cortex
to cause a response of choice.
You can't think about
how they go,
it's all in
the way that they roll
out if the mind
and on to paper.
it's kind of like
a mathematical equation,
this blissful creation,
but they're not all about
I write with destructive potency.
I can create
a morbid dreamscape
that can flow into the mind
and reek havoc,
when its strong enough
I'll make your brain spastic,
turning in it's own juices,
squirming to end the atrocities
that your not reading,
Enlighten days have past
He comes excel in all, so he thinks
"I am greater than man,
I know what ignorant man does not.
Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!".
He points to the blue heaven,
"Where is thy wisdom? For I know all.
Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake
And brings forth water that lives?"
At the great gatherings,
He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf
He answers to the multitude of questions
He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?",
“I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what is a dream?
What is life?” asked the young herdsman.
"I know not what you speak of", said the Man.
"I only know what i can feel, touch and see"
"A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring.
Life holds all things mystery and doubts.
Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams".
"The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman
"The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear".
"Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on.
"If the blind could see you,
They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind
For they can see what others cannot,
If the mute could speak, they would humble you!
And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom".
"Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman?
Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's?
What could you learn from such simpleton life?"
"Life I live is simple indeed,
No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak"
"Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David
And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies".
Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman
"Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies?
How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who?
Song of David the Shepherd who became the king?
What flies would harm the young flocks?"
The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man,
Left without a word
The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man.
An unyielding shame kept the man humbled
He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about.
He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads
On the hill top he stood
And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.
I do not know?
It's a grand thing, yes, it is.
That you sense my vibes and moves by it,
Doesn't make all my maze the masterpiece,
And doesn't judge loyalty and modesty.
That you sense my vibes and moves by it
Doesn't guarantee pounds and majesty.
Call me back when I err. Therefore,
That you sense my vibes and moves by it,
Doesn't make all my maze the masterpiece.
I plurm and glorp with every breath
My existence defies and deifies death
I splurp and glomph amongst your days
Indistinguishable from mud and haze
I slig and slorg, a dark breamy blaze
with unctuous vim I sleam through your days
and go about my large gorptious ways
Slimy, I slawl in shades of grey
leaving glossful drippings to mark my way
and make your life gang aft agley
as I spream and slorl in spurious ways
and glurm and gleep with hideous gaze
I sleam and glort in vorptious dark ways
‘Til you come undone
And my sporphing’s won!
My job’s complete – I’ve sprunked your flaze
My job is done, I’ve gronked your days!
Today Now now
wicked wicked wicked
Sex Sex Sex
Sex Sex Sex SEx
hey hey hey
Level Of Intention
eye had to pay for internet by the hour the word the line
eye ran out of money in 1995
the Computor had a dollar slot and a coin changer on the side
the people eye worked for had all the consoles set up to lock me out
the internet worked for my anyway if eye fed them enough coins online they let
me out of the dungeon chamber long enough to smurf someone gave me coins
for blood eye dripped enough to make the online hound sit up and beg inn
Eiderdown the motel stray the bed is bound and wet just toss it out the bed
cannot be found to dry it takes a never day just burn all of the buildings down In
2003, lecturers and students from the UP Media Lab Arts course used a £2,000
grant from the Artistic Console to study the literary output of real monkeys. They
left a computer keyboard in the enclosure of six monkeys in a ZOO in Briton for a
month, with a radio link to broadcast the results on a website. One researcher,
Mike Phillips, defended the expenditure as being cheaper than reality TV and
still "very stimulating and fascinating viewing". Not only did the monkeys produce
nothing but five pages consisting largely of the letter S, the lead male began by
bashing the keyboard with a stone, and the monkeys continued by urinating and
defecating on it. The zoo's scientific officer remarked that the experiment
had "little scientific value, except to show that the 'infinite monkey' theory is
flawed". Phillips said that the artist-funded project was primarily performance art,
and they had learned "an awful lot" from it. He concluded that monkeys "are not
random generators. They're more complex than that. … They were quite
interested in the screen, and they saw that when they typed a letter, something
happened. There was a level of intention there."
Given enough time, a hypothetical Monkey typing at random would, as part of its
output produce one of Shakespeare's plays (or any other text) when the eye was
a boy they were saying it was the Gettysburg Address. Placing 100 monkeys
inside the computer room and letting them type the sound of the keyboards is
deafening making a poor noise of institutionalistical importance. They did not
type the Gettysburg address they typed and typed and this is what they typed they
made it gibberish there is nothing much a monkey types that a poet can ever
cracks reminding us
a calender hangs silence
by all irony.
Practice for the blind
circulation shutting down
shall twist towards plot
Running for their skin,
civilised sugar paper ,
for response alone.
Los Angeles California dateline Wed. April 9, 2008
“Just in over the wire”
Flash: Yahoo.com just unveiled the newest discovery
made in the laboratory the Emailsplitter.
Due to secrecy the news just leaked out of the California offices
the Head of Yahoo Constance Dean was talking to the press only moments ago.
IN a very nasally voice this is Dean talking “We have to credit CharlaX for this
discovery he sent us an emale to ask us to split the infinitive email to make them
become two three or four copies at the same time so that when you folder email
you can put one email into several different folders at the same time”. There is no
need to be so excited we have been working on very similar things for a very long
boredom so when that brilliant fabulist sent to us his wants we only filled them”.
The product report is filed in the Government Documents and hidden from the
public eye. Eye went to the yahoo email and signed in the thing is there the link is
all it was so strange a thing to see just above the inbox beside compose it just
says splitme on the button when you have a message to be foldered into more
than one folder just hit the purple button. Then go down and click on the folders
to enable them the boxes look just like the ones on contacts it must have been
hard to add the software good job yahoo for a job well done. “Hats off to ewe” and
waving my middle finger as well that's a gesture of respected glee the yahoo
company keep making our free email better. Thank you YAHOO for the
emailsplitter. Just go now mye gentle reader ewe to YahooEmailsplitter.com to
get the updated version.
everywhere but the nape of my neck fills with goosebumps
his deathly kiss is cold, but Intense
i know what is soon to come, but I cannot feel Afraid
that would only hasten My emanate bloody death
my skin is pierced and my spine has a surge of electricity shocking my system
i collapse into his Viscous grasp
the world has never been this Auroral
My heart has never felt darker
is an eternity in hell worth an almost infinite life of extraordinary feats to be overcome?
i know my Power is great
but now I weaken with thirst
i am not better
i am simply a slave to blood now
i could write for infinity, but i'd Rather Earn my way into hell
starting with the death of my maker
Please whole kit'n'kaboodle me
how rude I'll be
I demand at least
you doodle me
Then how sweet
Now don't you try
to foodle me
You really can't
'cuz I'm smarter
than my poodle be!
Oh constant Things! By Newton’s law of universal gravitation,
everything in the universe is attracted to
every other thing. If only the human heart
would obey this simple principle, there would be no need
for heartbreak, for pain, for mortal strife,
for impotent words that fall on no ears that matter.
Eye the fabulist fabelist maker of dreams for ewe still remember the poem eye
wrote where eye mentioned the fact that eye think they are liners for birdcages
the most that people have been to me is nice there was a few Christians who
liked some of my poetry for JESUS. This is not a fable in the puerile sense of the
word. BUT this ewe is a giant dandylion poem eye make them bleed eye scritch
and scratch them and twist the ending oblong into infinity. Eye feel a need to
defend myself to my detractors after all even CharlaX had a mother. It was more
than that a family eye had a place to eat a room to sleep. An important man is
never needed until the end too late to make the needed differences. Pomp and
pestle pistle listed they sent my picture eye won a contest all they wanted was for
me to buy a lot of plaque. FlaX and cotton homespun medley lay upon the
CharlaX belly nice long drinks in the afternoon writing a poem making a fabel
swan it leans this way and that way falling to pieces and parts of words become
gentle rain long dripping drops of waterial motion lapping at shadows of love.
Fancy markings of worded pleasures for years of estranger in the wooded glen
fords and glen glens. The caterpillar tracks in the proper syntax is a Diatribe.
Nominal feeds paid out and lost in space with gasses let loose that rival skunks
in size and areal width the size of that thing just look Ethel the size of that thing in
centimeters all alone would equal the lower belt of corn in the Midwestern state
of Iowa they called CharlaX to come he wielded his Hermann Maurice axe phone
and refused to budget a car rental he does not hitch hike anymore he walks back
and forth from one glorious day into the next of time come forth thou CharlaX from
the grave concerns of formidable returns on investments given in earnest
anticipations of reaped rewarded inclinations please come to Kansas and chop
the wheat down with your western ax make bread for all the millions of the crew.
The penny tossed in air so heated by debated frenzy of the sharkless few was
tails a lucky brake for yew.
The Seventh Fable
The Seventh Fable
People have preconceived ideas from Religion and Television
combine these two ideas and no wonder everyone is mental.
The Eye is just now thankful that the computer was not mine at age 14. The TV
was enough to ruin me for life. It is no wonder that eye still don't have a life.
Falling into cracks made just for me. Living in the NEW AGE causes so much
uncertainty and problems we avoided in our past come back as daily necessities
of the mass of useless protoplasmic mice eye once saw a man on the highway
with a sign he was begging for more money to get some more useless wine so
the people went zigging past avoiding him until he fell down on the ground it
seemed to me he was passed out perhaps he died and no one buried him
sounds like an episode of Twilight Zone. There was episodes eye will never
forget the NOSE throbbing on the stairs inside the house the girl tried to leave the
shelter of the fence once out she turned to dust the man with the wires in his arm
seeing the oven where he was born the little airforce people in the GIANT
woman's kitchen getting swept.
It just occurred to me the ins and outs of celebrity imagine all the casting calls to
make the episodes. AND the fact that Charlax was never chosen for even one of
them seems sort of some kind of twisted justice the actors used were just the
best of all the crème de le crème of all the hollywooded jest. Webseries Pilot
The Charlax would be excellent at this OH wait look at that ethnic face. Male,
open ethnicity, early to mid 30's - JG. Federal Agency Detective. Good at his job,
but fresh enough to still want to make a difference. Oh if eye were only Twenty
Years different. A Twilight Zoned Detecative with the name Rick Roll selected and
elected to be the actor of the myllineum.
How some students grew up on the Computor?
and can't function in the real world right click the bus mommy and place it at the
stop it is taking much too long to come around the horn. form method="post"
This paragraphic is free to be a space bar for mee and ewe.
option>Sometimes in my fables there is parts and pieces of mye poems this is
not yellow journalism or nepotism or even bad form eye can copy and paste and
then add text eye can translate pictures into banners and banners into love eye
can relate a page to GOD and find a way to enter clouds formed and someday
eye will make it rain inside this idiot Computor box and it will fry all the electronic
components of every Computor in the world then we will all go outside again and
inhale the fresher air.
Just now eye went to a Bravenet website to make me a new website and its free
but of course the upgrades would cost me but the free sights is challenging and
it gave me a code for a welcome type box and it did NOT work as it is in the form
of a a href not a url. The idea is the webpage would bring me people they would
sign my little guestbook too bad it does not even relate to the page it won't
translate at all the code is wrong its backwards to a forum type webpage the url
is too long. The HEY REF only works on websites the URL IMG thing only works
on FORUMS how many people have followed links to there destruction. When
eye got the thing on my FIRST PAGE of HOME the thing took off with me when eye
clicked it open we went for an internet ride and eye lost the page eye was on NO
fun. Eye would not want a HOME Computor user to become lost in navigation
when he was just trying to let me knoe that he had viewed my poems. The thing
is done the web page that they gave me is very green and nice looking but does
not do a real function oh well in this Brave New World does anything rally have to
have a function and so mye gentle reader ewe it seems to mee the eye the poet
fable maker fabulist like Aesop that eye am just the new proud owner of another
big white elephant so they will always benefit from instruction of this knowledge
from someone please open windows as many as yew want and let them learn
Main Entry: relieved Function: adjective Date: 1850: experiencing
or showing relief especially from anxiety or pent-up emotions
— re•liev•ed•ly \-ˈlē-vəd-lē\ adverb Relive One entry found.
Main Entry: re•live
Pronunciation: \(ˌ)rē-ˈliv\ Function: verb
Date: 1548 intransitive verb
: to live againtransitive verb: to live over again; especially : to experience
again in the imagination Releave must be an adjective or mabe just a noun eye
frown as some of my flock of followers must do at some of the spellings eye
make of words that have been spelled this way for at least six years. Main Entry:
reweave Reweave can be found at Merriam-WebsterUnabridged.com. Reweave
is the way ELMER GLUEALL says RELEAVE. OH FUDD. WAIT. Releave looks
just like a real word does it not class. This is the reason we have school idint it
so fun. Some professors get a case of nerves when something like this typo
occurs but eye as a Lewis type teacher make inroads of nuances the words
flowing in the desert places like oasis of stasis static ornaments near Colorado
Boulder. There was this episode of Mork and Mindy where the EGG went flying
and OH my it landed hard. The memory gets better when you stop. Just give it
some more time to regenerate the Christ is GOD. People are idiots in there
dealings with other people. Scientific evident escaped the masses when they
chose to witness to the escaping gases of the sublime whiskey beer farts given
time they may recover the couches with upholsters from the hang over guns of
the cowboy trudges. TO: the eviloushonist life is just a reactored accidental
inflated accident. The worthless people who run the behind the scenes at the
internet places aer too blame they aer too flaming strang. There is a
misconcepting theorem that people do what other people think the truth is that
people do the impossible things that no one does or even thinks of like getting
up from a day of boredom and going on to see what finding means to see what
living does. Please do not feel let down or depressed or put upon eye tired to
make this fabel work without an idea of any kind without a premises without a
forum places without much hope of even rhyme this thing is done this is quite
enought for now please stay tuned and keep me ici and come back its
SATURDAY the next one will be formed on SUNDAY when the author has more
It's easy to write a dark saga
of midnight and wolfbain and you
It follows to throw in a campfire
in the winter, the cold and we two
Forsaken this landscape I'm painting
twisted like limbs of the trees,
Haunted ,the mansion is waiting
the trembling begins in our knees,
Tell us to head for the highway,
tell us to hitch hike to town,
Ah, but we will have it my way,
I'm writing this horror all down.
I'm sending you straight to the castle,
You're knocking right now on the door
It's answered by some lowly vassal
who says we may call him Igor.
He pulls us in out of the weather,
he lurches away to the right,
we huddle for safety together,
afraid of what may come in sight.
Insanely the laughter surrounds us,
but you're getting tired of the game,
I shriek that the vampire has found us,
but you knock him down with your cane.
"Now stop this and write our vacation!
Away to that new Pirate Bay.
Get us out of this bad situation,
or I'll have the Count make you stay."
So I pencil plans for Orlando,
while erasing the fiend and the slave,
Why must you go so Commando?..........
(Watch your step over Dracula's grave.)
Framed the worlds by faithful words
For visible proof.
Dedicated to my son Caleb.
You want to do that
But I want to do this
You want to become somebody
But I want to pull my hair
Drag myself and change myself
You don’t panic
But I deserve to do something special
I want to change all the things
The tree into a mountain
And the water into milk
The sugar into salt
And the teeth into all different alphabets
And whenever I chew something
The teeth will produce a poem
I do not know?
She swims the salty seas
Crashing into the surface through leaves
Taking Captain Ahab down with her as he heaves
Destroying her predators ships along the way
He will no longer be found in Norway
She’s moving on to a less crowded bay
‘ Uni-Verse ’ Haiku # 11
Oh, What Universe
What Grand Word, Did God Speak First
... Gave Beginning – Birth !
I do not know?
I gaze a stalky single-helix cradle,
Squished so in seemingly hydrous blue cover,
Attracts square substantial planes in a bundle.
I embrace now feather's mass helve to ladle
Psychic portraits siphon to it in wander.
My fist fiddles as it scribbles on oodles.
Cuts of a suckling tree, soil, river fondle
Paper, pen, poet in cahoots as lovers
Rupture of a skeptic smug gnostic noodle
Is there a purpose for struggling,
enduring trails that could be been avoided?
What motivates an individual to surpass
any conceivable limit...to build a concept?
A normal person has less cares than a genius;
no passion for art or interest in science,
so aimless is that existence...
resembling a shadow passing.
A philosopher once said that
legends are made by dreams,
by each stage as they are woven,
but their inner voices are as faint
and distant as raging waterfalls
descending steeply, to splash in rivers below;
and to hear them, you must get closer enough,
until their loud sound can deafen
the ears and astonish the eyes...
Oh, I have contemplated them in sheer surprise!
Nobody ever sees a thinker's curved back
posing on the water-splashed, cracked rock;
if civilization has betrayed his idealistic thoughts,
accusing him of insanity and prejudice...
how can dark minds be lucid enough to discern
what he sees in images of true perfection?
And he will be another outcast detested by society...
for having demonstrated a superior mentality?
Go to the highest hill, amid the rugged mountains of the South,
and find him in the same spot meditating
over a glorious view that the very learned once admired;
go and comfort him with a friendly hand-shake,
and amply confirm that his action wasn't a mistake,
but a challenge and a cause worth-taking!
And his testimony, that all legends are made by dreams,
is found in his prophetic and exquisite writings.
I am drenched
In a solemn, endless rain of tears
Over the drifting of my sole spring—
Its grace and ethereal splendour
Now lost in the tangled darkness of cosmic riddle
To the crest of your sublime ripple
In a murderous mob
Hunting down intolerant voices
Let me flourish
Efface that vestigial wilderness
Of towering forest between
So I can hear …
Lavish on me the wealth of your melodic inventions
Closing that desert of distance
That long seems across trillion miles
I, the latest flame in your rising fire
Pull me near your rapid river
Where groves laden with mangoes quiver
I do not know?
Letting thoughts run, fun
happily eager to meet one another in a clash of ideas
each as unique as the last they mingle, and greet as individuals in a mind of mentality, a
party pulling out poetry in an attempt to define definition of self, indefinite.
interesting to see thoughts of wisdom, timeless and now
advise thoughts of hopelessness in a sea of certainty
washing up possibilities washing away concerns
cleaning the soul of poisonous thoughts with purity.
Pure is energy
Pure is light from the sun
Pure is compassion and empathy
Pure is initial
Pure is without thought
Thoughts live one at a time
Thoughts travel in a single line
You can only hold one thought at any moment
so make it a good one, a positive one
one that makes you smile
Good thoughts bring about good things
bad thoughts bring you trouble
Manifestation of thoughts into the physical.
The thought of thoughts being materialized, in a vessel
in itself shapes these very thoughts.
Creation is consciousness.
Thoughts are free until you put them on paper, or
type them, now imprisoned behind digital bars
these words will never be the same
as the moment they were created in my brain.
spontaneous words can be, here there everywhere at once
with no real connection or responsibility except to the writer writing them
and the reader.