Best Codes Poems
Can you read my lips?
My Sweet, keep it simple, still.
Can you read my arms?
To hold you, I’m going six feet under the ground.
Can you read my mind?
My girl- title is a lot for you,now the train is gone.
Can you read my hand?
So much for you are my tiniest finger, pointer and thumb.
Can you read and feel my heart?
From E to Y, for you it jumps and pumps.
Can you hear and feel me?
Satellite isn’t ahead of my fervor mental telepathy.
Can you really hear me?
If everything in me is mute on this Valentines Day?
If I’m mute and you’re blind,
Touch me, feel all my codes and you’ll find.
Sweetheart, have a Very Happy Valentines
I’m all yours today ‘til the end of time.
©2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Feb. 14, 2016 8.20pm
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“Colour Codes”
sky blue
clouds hide
truth,
and you said,
I know you.
end story
remains open;
truth,
rain ends
sky blue
with,
or without you.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Cornfield Chase” / happy.wind.turbine
https://youtu.be/durLXZ2tFL4
"Writing Poems"/Ludovico Einaudi
https://youtu.be/ZBZtSwoBsng
"The Poet Acts" / Philip Glass
https://youtu.be/lgbuS8F2_gM
...to my Mum
She was always in the kitchen,
kneading pastry with good humour,
blending garnishes and gossip
as she plied her magic wand
and it was dinner time.
Struggling with algebra
I'd agonize for hours, 'til frustration
got the best of me, she tucked me into bed.
In the morning she was ready with
a fried egg explanation and a hug.
Music was her gift to me, along with
many others, the sound of her soprano
voice still ringing in the air,
the wrath of God was nothing to
her tantrums at my misbehavior.
Sights and smells come bursting through
as if it were just yesterday,
gentle guidance and strict admonishments,
blending like her recipes
for cakes and moral codes.
When we love life so much
we hate to live,
she said,
nothing. And I was not about:
—to give in.
You drink death from a bottle
filled with nothing,
"Like" ashes that never left an ember.
And we had classes... on the river...
she said.
No need to wait...
I remember lotsa larfs; with you
too;
in pyramids deeper than a close
but not an older heart,
could swallow,
such a golden year that only two can render.
So I turn away from the costs;
and am sickened by the impersonal
bills paid by broken hearts made
by forgotten papers.
With you, she said, there's yet an interest.
Sharpened by knives that don't see each other everyday.
Put aside a few good years, and you will have
percentages based on broken seed encumbered.
Like the last word in a will of faith....
Left to pay the rent of sundered responsibility.
That was not love, if that's the taste of it,
she said, and read a poem of the 1920s.
We were left for more real things
than the truest love, betrayed, in its finest memories
could even pay a visit.
Glad you be in grace
Benumb, in disgrace
Hearty you be in giving
Broad you be in forgiving.
So much did I hear -
The buzz of moral quotes
Either sung by Gurus or coded in Scripture;
Either floating in the air of practitioners.
Virtue lives in the instincts.
I feel incapacitated in trials and errors,
Exhausted in files of books.
I am rather empty,
rather humble in the dearth of knowledge--
I know - not much;
But I follow - what comes from within --
Thus I mold my life's coding.
somewhere out there is a changing scheme you cant catch onto
the fixing of spelling mistakes
the continual changing of innocent lines written
the masterplan for world peace right here revolves around this fact
you might not see it coming
probably isnt me in all ohnesty
but what of the one word titles
what am i looking for
the fixing of spelling mistakes
or the changing names of locations
from the title wave paper chase goose maze
the masterplan for world peace
changing line by line
a peaceful man stands tall
lost in the family values of your church
of who and why i despise those who tortured me for 11 years
and the city of war pigs that didnt care
My turn is over
ready or not
change the names of your stores
and light up the road to salvation
bigger than broadway
the homeless shelter greenhouse
to find homes for flowers
buy my art supplies and sell my paintings as stamps
and redsign you convenience of drinking cups
the plan to keep society functioning
the main places in each city
the plan to protect your methods for salvation
lit up at night like a secret
"flowers"
"stamps"
mastermine this
and make it local knowledge to help your homeless shelter
buy dirt and pots to sell flowers
so the system can afford to send them to rehabilitation
why isnt that already a thing?
if the police won't lobby the one and only bill impeding this to happen
of a homeless shelter getting a liscence for these people to get back on their feet
to me its obvious a greenhouse art lodge of healing to buy a gym pass and bus pass
The endless confusion
that boils down to this one clarity
death to war pigs
i hate getting my blood on my clothes, especially from those who have borrowed it
i only wanted one of the billions of things that you have taken from me
i am the meaning of life for now
we go to war
you will know
i am GOD
and there will be reasons not to like me
...to My Mom
She was always in the kitchen,
kneading pastry with good humour,
blending garnishes and gossip
as she wove her magic wand
and it was dinner time.
Struggling with algebra
I'd agonize for hours, 'til frustration
got the best of me, she tucked me into bed.
In the morning she was ready with
two fried eggs, the answer, and a hug.
Music was her gift to me, along with
many others, the sound of her soprano
voice still mellow in the air,
the wrath of God was nothing to
her tantrums at my misbehaviour.
Sights and smells come bursting through
as if it were just yesterday,
gentle guidance, remonstrations,
blending like her recipes
for cakes and codes of conduct.
How difficult it is to pursue
A moral code that seems so trite
For a young son whose modes are new
Insisting his thoughts are alright
When a bold mind creates a fight.
But the choice to stand by my will
And show reason to discipline
With tough love, I claim and instill
That harmful friends are not life's win;
And praying our bond won't crack, as kin.
Hard Choices Contest by Dr. Ram Mehta
From J.Torrente
2/23/24
It's not in all the books we read
Souls put to sea
Continual butchery
They carry on crookedly
Trying to coat the truth with something sugary
Some know and don't care others never could agree
A never ending battle where evil is trying to make the good bleed
Nah no really look at me
I stirred the hornets nests and shook the trees
Among endless wood debris
To be an honest man, you've no idea what it took to be
Gone beyond lucid dreams
Please do believe it's about much more than you perceive
Hmm the conclusions seems
They never have our best interest at heart nor any future needs
While unscrupulous humans scheme
They left our bodies out to rot all through ravines
As well as areas where sewage seeps
The truth it seeks
A way out usually
Regardless of opportunity
My mom asked son why must you suffer so
Caught up in an undertow
There's just things a mother knows
My true colors shown
I called my brother's phone
He thought he knew how it does and doesn't go
Unlike other folks
Through centuries still much unknown
All across this bloody globe
Studies show
Most want the whole honeycomb
All to themselves like life's only about hitting the motherload
As they judge and drone
It's not all cut in stone
Told him what was once a home
Started from just a stone
Now it's a bunch of those
Amid piles of mud and bones
Nearby encrusted tomes
Beside dusty clothes
Sat an old toolbox that rusted close
Outside stood trees full of a dozen crows
By fields with buffaloes
Bumps arose
In clustered nodes
Turning it into a rugged road
Nearby water full of sunken boats
The destruction grows
Life comes with no instruction codes
For any sudden woes
You'd think eventually it struck a note
Many looking through a tunneled scope
Always fascinated by the puppet shows
Another day redundant and alone
A struggle to find love blows
Causing a loss of what was hope
Reaching the point of being ready to jump below
By the end of it my bro said I must atone
He said I chucked the stone
At what I thought was a toad
Then went back to work in the construction zone
Only to find out that it wasn't though
Said he began to suffer slow
Caught in a thunder dome
Until he discovered those
That suffered the same fate buried right under nose
With a new adjusted approach
Learned first hand and through several hundred notes
Health and human services of Ventura county
Labor dispute
Has refused key access to governor newsom
In orders legislated
Denied rights of homekey assignment
And resigned account
The total loss of life is significant
Occupation of excess in Union
Against better
Refuse bettered man
Consort of treason
Record in account held as quieted palms
Sacrifice
Order to report otherwise
Internal review
Of publicly provided access
interpretations end
As corrected
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Action begins and the scene is occupied by two living trays
succumbing to powerful activities much against dry cleaning services.
Nature once again proves its wonders
as water filled balloons and inverted cups
turn pressing pressures into pleasures
from two rakes with five long but rounded teeth.
Dialogue exists through sounds coming from a deep hollow without echo,
walking on a flat floor made of six tiles
and admiring anatomical pillars with well defined ridges.
Two opposing, headless snails without shells
come out from their holes to share fluids
so that horizontal rubbers so pink and flexible
dynamically interlock like the maneuvers of an octopus
causing the big headed firm spoon of one tray
to gently slide into the cylindrical funnel of the other
with nothing more to achieve after repeated sessions
leading to spillage for action to call it quit.
COMPUTERS AND BINARY CODES
Computers, computer science, and binary codes
Are a pain in the neck and other parts of the anatomy
They cause confusion and misery by the truckloads
In order to cope, one almost has to attend an academy
Computers have become a necessary evil today
They seem like a demon of sorts has been turned loose
I know less about a binary code than I do about ballet
And for the science part of it, I simply have no use
The only reason I tolerate computers is Poetry Soup
Without it my poems could never be read
And that would make my spirits droop
And my ego would never get fed
So I'll just sit in front of this one eyed monster
And keep writing poems that people hopefully enjoy
While at the same time I will ponder
Another method the world could employ
To simplify life, yet inform the world
Of the beauty that poetry can give
And computers, as well as smart phones be hurled
Into space to simplify the life we must live
5 October 2018
For the contest sponsored by Brahn Bailey
Mysterious codes
Natures womb delivering
Species so distinct
...to My Mum
She was always in the kitchen,
kneading pastry with good humour,
blending garnishes and gossip
as she plied her magic wand
and it was dinner time.
Struggling with algebra
I'd agonize for hours, 'til frustration
got the best of me, she tucked me into bed.
In the morning she was ready with
a fried egg explanation and a hug.
Music was her gift to me, along with
many others, the sound of her soprano
voice still ringing in the air,
the wrath of God was nothing to
her tantrums at my misbehaviour.
Sights and smells come bursting through
as if it were just yesterday,
gentle guidance, remonstrations
blending like her recipes
for cakes and moral codes.