Best Chaotically Poems
O hearth of hypnotic language,
my moon in warm alphabets,
if to love you, I must drown,
and to move you, soul must listen,
let the heart trust the luminous
craft of compelling art,
where every stroke summons
liquid petals of ink to scribble
across cosmic walls
of constellations,
as this craving curates the essence
of timeless touch,
whilst jealousy becomes the flame,
burning ~ aching ~ wanting
to breathe poetic palpitations
in the fingertips of your addictive alchemy,
turning graphic graffiti
into a passionate storm
of alienated butterflies,
with abstractions of trembling textures
outlining the truth of temptation…
Yet I sleep with black dahlias
beneath my pillow, embroidered
with erased notes of metaphors,
dreaming of you and I,
catching polaroids of sunrise,
for every frozen blossom,
bathes in scarlet streaks
of awakening light,
as we remain more than just
a rhyme wrapped in dusks of darkness ~
we are the cascading colors
dancing as secrets I still bleed.
I am the crystal quartz,
chaotically calligraphing
charismatic thoughts
around the glass frames of your galaxies,
exhaling vivid visions,
inhaling what could be,
for I am a stargazer
romanticizing lilac thunder,
chasing cloudscapes of sparks,
lost in the afterglow of a dawn ~
draped in the gravity
of neon-silk verses…
Ambiguously the two exist as one,
Sustaining each other in harmony.
Fortuitously they come and they go,
Lost and found, they’re wrapped around.
Light with darkness; darkness with light,
The balance seen by the naked eye.
All things moving within their own orbit,
No directions are known in time and space.
Chaotically they dance in rhythm and rhyme,
Energetically they burst through all universes.
Cosmetically appealing from their first dimension,
Spreading their wings over all things.
Filling the void with a voice of reason,
The dragon breath that once gave life,
To the eggs of creation, the twins alike,
Carries forth the knowledge and wisdom.
A cousin named Chaos have I (he’s not actually my cousin. He’s like my aunt’s stepson, but I guess I can still call him a cousin, right?)
There’s nothing that he will not try (like the day he let all the chickens loose from the coop and they were running like chickens with their heads cut off. Isn’t that an expression or something? Chaos is crazy like those chickens were)
Since he follows no rule (He laughs at me because I try to write perfectly metered limericks and he thinks everyone should just write free and BE free in all they do.)
He got kicked out of school (it was so funny. He set off the fire alarm and all the kids were running every which way, much like those chickens he let loose in his barnyard. Now he is saying he wants to become an anarchist.)
So to anarchy school he’ll apply!
Gosh, he’s right. This limerick sucks. It’s much more fun having no restrictions, just letting my thoughts go anywhere I want them to take me, kind of like stream of consciousness writing or something. Too bad I can’t be all surreal-like, then I might make it into the newfangled modern poetry magazines. Most people don’t even consider limericks to be real poems. DANG it, I feel another one coming on.
Cousin Chaos, I now do hear tell
That you’ve found a new school, so learn well
Your anarchy ways.
In limerick phase
I’ll be stuck while you give people hell.
Crap. Even trying to write like Chaos, I just can’t do it. I just keep conforming to rules of poetry forms like limerick. I just know my cousin will be laughing his chicken head off when he reads this. Yeah, the old chicken motif again. Always relating things together. So much for Chaos! I’m outta here.
Written chaotically last week sometime for contest of same name
Written: December 15, 2023
_____________________________________________
It is undeniable that anguish prevails
It hovers close to a lilting voice
There are no strains to rejoice
Once the beat soars, its genesis tweaks.
Giving alms is obvious
Beyond the ethics of the tithing ritual
Coins jingle, evoking a sound
A decrease in the supply of food.
Newborns lack hearing and verbal ability
The elderly sage dresses chaotically
Elfin babies desire soft touch and warmth
Akin to their late mother's calming palm.
Completely lacking in decency
Deep, the ears were concealed
Whilst untamed jaws sow turmoil
It sinks as a modest, rusted nail.
The crowd heartily jeered
Tears fell over their faces relentlessly
Failure was diligently earned
Mass disgust reached high levels.
The whips roared with mirth
Frames grudgingly bore this duty
Correct ideals will be reinstated
Inept debt must be repaid in full.
known-unknown
seen-unseen
imaginable-unimaginable
everything
everything
waiting
patiently-chaotically
for Your judgment day
to see You
at one wink, O' GOD
-January 03, 2019 Chattogram
Shells
Unique, beautiful
Laying chaotically scattered
Silently shining in exquisiteness
Jewels
Such strange fat fireflies so early in the month of Beltane, pondered Angela, as she watched their ephemeral light brighten then fade. Was she ken to a mutation from some radioactive mist or super acidic rain? Or, more simply, a mischievous neuron in her prodigal imagination played.
It was kind of scary, she thought, for how unspeakable would they become by summer? Angela waved her arms chaotically, hoping to obfuscate their sense of direction. Running home, she collapsed on the toilet and performed a thorough lavation to refresh and calm herself -- whilst a single, stealthy flyer wangled and buried it's exoskeleton deep within her shorts, without suspect or detection.
There it waited, nestled in her warmth like some grotesque, undefinable blur. Her sleep was a nightmarish kaleidoscope of aerial motion over meadows and fields of variegated flora and shambling human/insect hybrids that feasted and festered upon her. Angela's brainiac intellect lay suspended in the grip of a changeling's aura.
She woke in warm light, instantly relieved that the interminable night had ended. Her eyes appeared befuddled, for the sun was now setting in the pastel-painted west. Angela proceeded to crawl on the bed in vermicular circles, and then she ascended into her final epitaph ... in the digestive fluids of a companion lightning pest.
Will no one or nothing
Relieve us of these pseudomen, these shadows
Who suck away prosperity
As leaves draw sunlight,
Leaving all the rest of us
Ashiver in the shade of their ill-gotten millions?
They roam their aerumnous way among us,
The tendrils of their green
Winding chaotically around everything
Until finally they strangle off themselves.
Then it's a cry to the overworked groundskeepers,
Of "Save Us! For we are too Great to be allowed to perish!"
Well, were it up to me,
There'd be some serious weeding going on,
Come Spring.
#JWME
Joyous, generous, kindhearted, marvelous, musically talented, and handsome with self-esteem issues - placing my feet in other people's shoes to experience and feel their hues of blues
Wonderful, crazy cool, chaotically peaceful, mellowly untamed, lost, but found...God's chosen child to fulfill His word somehow...someday, prosperity, fame, and fortune will surround me...success at my finger tips, getting my man grips as I mend friendships with God's advice, corrections and tips in mind...letting time unwind, wishing that my daydreaming come true by actions and interactions
Essence of faith fibers...good and bad traits shape my inner and outer being...meeting new zealous horizons that embrace change, which is a challenging chore and oh so much more
Awesome good apple of the bunch and God's mild, wild child...a poet and lyricist that had his verses erased online or misplaced in who-knows-where
Rapt up in rue, yet a light to this world of woe...my mission is to fulfill God's Word - His tranquil truth is not sugarcoated by deceptive lies
Not afraid to speak my mind through verses and lyrics
Introvert and extrovert...shy in person at first, then I open up confidently and jabber on and on 24/7...I do listen to others' point of view, but I have a lot to say about a lot of things that has to do with writing, singing, music, etc. - anything goes as long as I go my own flow and His flow, not anyone else's flows that are in unison in rows to and fro...I make friends and foes, but I love all - fat or skinny, small or tall
Nostalgic nights and delightful days inspire me to engage in writing and singing day in and day out without a smear of doubt...no sleep placed in eyelids tonight, so I'm fighting the mighty fight
Gracious and glorious...kinda lazy, yet so busy all the time in all aspects of life - bipolar is the condition I have...and an indecisive, yet creative-logical Gemini
So picky, yet forgiving and eccentric elegantly...a handsome soul that's full of humility and modesty in all honesty...I have a young heart that is of bliss, XO and art
Flashing colors applied with many stokes,
Creating movement like musical notes.
Brilliant Blues prevalent throughout,
Within the shadows and reflecting light.
Creates a mood of morning mist,
And a feeling of absolute bliss.
How could one create such beauty?
In a world that seems so ugly,
For he sees what others dream,
Creates a gift, like a flowing stream
To a starving village without water,
Turns black and white into brilliant color.
Up close, colors applied chaotically release
An image from afar: a masterpiece.
By: Greg Stanley
The soul shatters upon death. Sentience fractures into a million variables that swirl chaotically into piercing eyes that melt into the color sadness, spinning into galaxies that shrink to the size of ants and you twirl in a blender of being for eternities until finally, at long last, something sticks. Perhaps it may be as simple as a strand of hair, nonetheless all possibility spins around it, flashing contradictions of rainbow transparencies, empty solids and polka dotted space, continuing until a second hair joins the first, clutching to the nothingness and refusing to move. Soon thousands of hairs arrive and synchronize above a scalp unto a face, torso, limbs… materializing ever faster… and at once you are born. And just as the memory of your trial and error experimentation and prior life evaporate, you embrace the arms of a stranger, gazing into her eyes, hung between this world and the next… sobbing in a fit of omniscience, in awe of your hard earned shape.
Jacob Reinhardt
10/15/2013
Matching pj's, rainbow colored tinsel with LED lights,
Gazing, disbelief as the pine slowly declines onto the floor,
We all laugh with silliness while grammy has fallen beneath it,
There the tree lies while the naughty kitty chaotically explores.
Written By: Laura Urbaniak
Date: November 20, 2015
For the contest, A Christmas Memory, sponsor, Broken Wings
With a brush of creation and a hammer of the gods
The Titans climatically clash against the will of all odds
Creating creativity that hits at the corrosive core
Chaotically colliding to settle the submissive score
Perpetual paintings and seductive seditious statues
The world is greatly gifted as they acrimoniously amuse
They bring down the heavens with a brush and chisel
As one stares at a rock and the other does scribble
Euphoric eruptions that calculably come out
Majestic Masters in a beguiling battling bout.
July.03.2016
Historical rivalry-Part 1- Leonardo vs Michaelangelo - Poetry Contest
By Marugu Mo
C's
Clumsy chubby chimpanzee counts cherry cheesecake cases covering corner combined clear ceramic counters.
Canny cat catches canary
Cunning cat chases crazy chattering chipmunk clumsily can't close chubby cheeks 'cause chaotically cramming chocolate covered cordial cherries
Fellow poets, when you write, you put down words, of fact or fiction.
With conscious thought you select letters to make words in diction
Words strung together in rhyme, pearls of wisdom, marking the time
You create the thought, the flow,you're painting pictures as you go.
What would you say if I told you, it's all a lie, Shakespeare never existed
His works arrived by chance, perfectly phrased, not tongue tied, or twisted
Letters assembled themselves into words, then words in perfect succession
Formed themselves into rhyming sentences eloquently said in progression.
DaVinci too didn't exist, he's just a figment of some wild imagination
Mona Lisa was only a chance meeting of paint and canvas in congregation
There was no artist, with stylized strokes of brushes and pens in harmony
Ink and paint just flowing freely, creating their own masterpieces randomly.
You wouldn't believe it if I told you, because you know it's just not true
But when they tell you God doesn't exist, what do you think, or do?
Some say that life evolved by a chance meeting of cells and molecules
Natural selection, started chaotically forming an organic cosmic soup.
Does that make sense when you see the beauty and artistry all around
In the sunsets, oceans, lands and seas, where life teems and abounds
The universe with a complexity of it's own, a cosmic timepiece of majesty
Saying order comes from chaos, is a disgrace to the Artist, a real travesty.
When an artist paints a sunset he is just copying what he sees with his eyes
It's not an original work, but he signs it anyway, maybe he doesn't realize.
The complexity and order in life should tell you we were fashioned by design
Faith in the Designer comes not by chance, but by choice, read the signs.
John Derek Hamilton November 20, 2015