Best Cusps Poems
She lies, tan gentle lines and curves so sharp
she pairs her heart horizontal to zero
Her body falling from great cusps above
Then deriving great pleasure from the angle
Skirting the limits, fleecing the boundaries
She breaks the surface of space
Then her shell is unfolding, unraveling
Wildly spinning out of control on her axis
The ground giving us no differential treatment
Then her inflections begin to fluctuate
Now she can’t ignore the signs anymore
For a symptom hopes a cure will appear
Strum soft sweet chords on wire lyre strings
A convergence we’ll hold, integrate, we’ll come
Together to throw arc shadows on walls
------------------
Expanded on my older poem "Tan Gentle Lines"
Categories:
cusps, love, lust,
Form:
Free verse
Earth health-love resonance
is bird song
contrasted to dissonance
of non-ecologos
decaying cars
and non-theomythic truck technologies
of terror
and mismanaged motorcycles
flowing incessantly by.
Optimal resonance lives inside an eco-forested bird sanctuary
before and after a WestWind storming toward East
contrasted to challenged resonance
of living every WinLose day
next to a bird-nested tree
and a State HighWay.
These influence our polycultural health-love outcome potential
hearing Either-Or deductive contrast
as Left-oppositional and Right-appositional,
bipolar egocentric and dipolar eco-harmonic,
and see Both-And induced comparisons
polypathic wonder of ego-health potential
with polyphonic awe for eco-wealth integrity,
And not so monoculturing mundane much
as simply and always Win-Lose fundamentalism,
Either deductively successful
Or reductively impossible;
anti-inductive mistrust.
Future Search of a newborn child,
Both-And Elder RightBrained,
regardless of species
or multicultural seasoning,
is boundaried by DNA-RNA's historical
holonic iconic meaning
folding-unfolding fractals
in emerging-submerging bilateral Time.
In this same way,
Future Search of post-millennial Real 4Dimensional Time
regeneration
is double-boundaried
by WinWin PositivEnergy
historical and ecological confluent memories
and LoseLose NegativEntropic
dissonant
absence of Future WinWin ReSearchers,
whistling birdsong favorites
after climatic WesternDominant storms.
BeLoved Resonant
mythic mystery
lies within wu-wei cusps
Tipping Points of Left-nature with Right-spirit,
secular experience of and for sacred iconic memory,
ecologos and theomythos
reweaving
reconnecting Left with Right,
Yang with Yin,
EgoPatriarchs in healthy love with WiseElder EcoMatriarchs
inside as outside,
within as without,
below as above
Zero Health-Articulating Zones
for Win-Win love.
Categories:
cusps, community, happiness, health, identity,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I combed cool waters of your baby blue
crystalline Jewel as you waded waterfall
waves washing my stellar rainbow rays
arching it melted into the warm womb
of transducing tangoing Earth
Her Violet Flame devoured us both
as nectared dewdrops to fuel the fire
our soma swirling into ecstatic orange
oxytocined crane flowers whispering
wisdoms to a hundred yellow butterflies
fluttering and flirting
They circled a sunken Atlantean apex
atop where you ruled anew with Baconian
brown locks surrounded by sirens serving
savoury silver sardines, oolite oyster shells
sang solos as dolphins dived, oceanic mouthed
In Ancient Egypt you followed my runcinate
rulings or indigo sorrow siglums, sighing
becoming slimmed seeker who served
Thoth well whilst wreathing my wounded
worthiness and fallow fallopian tubes
at pyramidal plumed midnight hour
In our Grecian lifetime you draped alabaster
urns lighting my marble mantelpiece
I watched breath enter your nebulae nostrils
as you crafted provincial proverbs instructing
slaves to whiten your garb with lemons from
our sculpted garden
On lavender Celtic hills we exchanged kilts
not knowing whose waist was whose
barefoot we flaunted sleek sharp sapphire
studded swords dancing necessary wild wars
Who remembered and who forgot
where in ether our nestling niche napped
as games of betrayal, fear or doubt
doubled into involuting circles and spirals
each tried to neck THE VOID as naked
excuse for not excavating heaving Heart
How much escaping, escapades, evolutionary
clocks cloak our cusps or cues or custard
synchronicities
how many summer summit starlings must
seek to sing of sorrow or of wolves, withering
willows, watermelons on this Planet of
coloured curriculums
holding dear our distinctive designs where
lacy lament is but another aperture into Space
I seek not to know !
Categories:
cusps, allegory, blue, color, deep,
Form:
Free verse
When I am one in two
I hesitate
To let my thoughts withdraw,
For in the safety of that zone
I trust my friend who hears my voice alone.
She may not finish my unsaid words,
Though sometimes she does,
She may not understand where I was going,
But she always faithfully tries.
The art of being two is a garden,
Where one hand sows, the other grows.
When birth takes place in the womb of the earth,
The hands fold together as one,
Dignified with grace,
Thankful for the blessing.
A trace of the everlasting
Seen in the unquestioned root
Of how devotion
A good life fulfills.
In my heart there is a chamber
I share with no more then one.
There is but a single key,
Whose power is to open a world
Where a dolphin lies anchored
To an unbound universe.
Who is in possession of this key,
Is responsible.
To fear, flee and drop the chance to enter
Is a choice the unworthy can make.
To jump,
To leap into that island room,
Where seas,
Stormy, serene, salty and fresh
Blind the senses and reshape thoughts,
Is to fall into an ocean where a great dolphin
Lies in shackles. Time and action
In slow motion
Must move.
The setting free of divine spirits an art
Beholden
Only to she
The right one.
She who enters this space,
Where private thoughts wordlessly are spoken,
Where flowers grow on the cusps of waves,
Where faith is more then trying,
Where roots grow from a seafloor miles below,
Where stars in the sky whisper secrets,
Laughing with affectionate wonder
At the two below
Whose only prison
Is the freedom
To say yes or no
To a risky life
Both bonded and unbounded,
Is she whose nimble fingers will by love alone,
Sink the chains and set the dolphin free.
Oh so long has he waited for she his chosen one
So long has he dreamt of the journey to come.
Upon his back she wept and held,
And into the open world they ever went
And never ceased to be.
Categories:
cusps, devotion, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Ellipse, evolute, vertex and curve,
Humdrum circle or ricochet swerve
Astroids or cusps, arcs or sectors;
What have those got to do with vectors?
Curvature, cone, Cartesian plane…
Oval, deltoid… what’s in a name?
Geoid oscillation, pedal, radial, rose…
What on earth do I know of those?
Hypocycloid, cruciform, Sierpinski carpet…
Inverse tangent or Apollonian gasket?
Snowflake, hypercube, space-time dimension
Pressured, gauged, or under tension?
Trammel of Archimedes, planes, rotations –
Congruence, right angles, equivalence relation;
Conchoid curve, Orthoptic, Lemoine hexagon,
Triangle, star or good old pentagon.
Crescent, rhombus, magatama, square,
Caustic curves, salinon, ying-yang or sphere!
About whichever’s the shape that you talk,
Basically, it’s taking a line for a walk!
Categories:
cusps, assonance, class, confusion, extended
Form:
Free verse
Rear view mirror
Objects, objectively put, are closer
than they appear. But it doesn’t say it all.
With the fair signs that spewed forth once turning to
a slew of pre-twitter pseudo- tweets since.
I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
In rhyme scheme: aab, bb, ccc .
(“ At the wheel
At night. Uneasy feel.
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.
Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist,
Comforting coolness and sultry night coexist .
Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)
A row of earthy images it failed
rather than showed ,images with eerie
librations and weary nutations .Which
was not Physics, but physiognomy of life.
Like when bashed by kiddy badasses and
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but math a behemoth
all the same, and guided perfunctorily
often, and rarely with the right intent.
In the peccadilloes- round, the Tintern
Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans
creativity , but the three trees on
the low sky made sense , and then on to
T.ds. equations and tedious times
soured by sleep and steep sloth.
Ingenious in fair measure , now turning
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after,
in the space of a couple of cusps of
light and sound mom was no more and we
whimpered and simpered under a dad who cared
but did not seem to, in his straight-faced mode
Then came falsely flashing , faintly fuming ,
slapdash years of machines and mega hertz,
eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.
Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);
preferring palm-frond’s loftiness cum
deprivation to urban up-for-grabs
benefaction; and the mess of docs, deaths
and a mossy crock of living pain since.
And all the dicey way , never patted
but p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed;
banked on , debunked ; short-changed, sort-of-changed ;
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering
and if anything wondering if it’s
not all the mirror’s prim fault
which never once showed my face.
Categories:
cusps, life,
Form:
Free verse
Still holding onto
the remnant remains,
the promise of love unforgotten,
as they unfurl untold in her heart,
within her soul,
she holds it tightly as if sewn between her longing cusps,
the slowly un-aging embers of yester-years,
the pains left forlorn, forgone
she cherishes him, misses him, her prince, who chose his demise
she wilts, sheds her solitude, bleeds
and unites them with the tears of the rain,
she reminisces while seeking for nature’s embrace,
she searches and wonders whether her story will ever be saved
or forever lost and heard
just
like
any
other
fairy tale
told
yesterday….
Categories:
cusps, lost love, longing,
Form:
Free verse
I stand on the precipice
the edge of nowhere, nothing
screaming
Screaming into the void
all that I am and, all that I will be
or ever was
I am at the edge of the earth
the rim of reality
the cusps of creation
the point of oblivion
the destination of all
nothing nevermore
the only thing never seen
the deep depth of the abyss
I feel the things never dreamt of
an unnamed, unloved oblation
I stand on the edge nothing
nonetheless screaming
into the void the space
in between and unseen
the void
the realm
of what was and what will be
all of creation in the heartbeat of atoms
The birth of an infinitival star
At the start of all, there is
& ever was or will be
the first last and all ways
screaming into the void
I stand on the precipice
the edge of nowhere, nothing
screaming an unnamed
unloved oblation
a fragment of a god
Categories:
cusps, allegory, allusion, analogy, anger,
Form:
Free verse
You in focus, world a blur
My eyes trapped in deep allure
Racing heart and soul endure
Caging love in self demure
You are a king as you appear
Hair cusps at your ears;
Hanging crowns.
As shooting stars drag my dreams
Over and across the blue marine
To the next world of hopeless gleams
An hoard of wishes and obscene
For your voice to caress my face;
Lullabies.
Across my eyes you skim
you step, you dance, you spin,
Smiling with your sideways grin
You give me goosebumps, out and in
Read the braille on my skin
An alphabet of three repeated words;
I love you.
Categories:
cusps, love, sad, world, love,
Form:
Free verse
only things grown in the ground remain
but mismatched without the hand of man
see that they dodge beautiful
their languishing longitudinal vegetable bodies
never suffer fracture the stems with fruits
and their armor and weapons, bark and branches
trees
no, I didn't think our past was decent
humans
if you ask me about those days of debauchery
we were building ourselves up like the men we now are
with wars and ironworks asps vertices vortices cusps
and it was discovered that it is easy to be reborn another
improvement is advisable
there is only one exit after a wall called brain
then the field we learned to cultivate
now this is what we are having mastered cultivation
homunculi like scattered tares sprouting without end
the power of some being the downfall of others
history built with annihilations
and then the progress
the home appliances
microwave TV freezer wire and electricity
then bytes and bits
now nanoeverything
tomorrow AI and nothing more.
Categories:
cusps, analogy, future,
Form:
Free verse
the green leaf of oaks
cusps water in gentle hold
for the flying bird
Categories:
cusps, animals
Form:
Haiku
And so I wake from the sleep of a thousand years
Clawing out from my eyes a desert of dried tears.
And so I scream with a voice that is harsh broken
Repeating the words of the last lie spoken
Everything will be alright
Trust me
I will guide you to the right
Trust me
I am the light, the light
Trust me
Tonight, tonight
Ashes fell from armageddon sky line
Dark the eyes see when everyone is blind
Twisted bones and bible verses laid
On the sewing needle beds we have made.
Innocence grazed like sluggish sheep
Unprotected in the final cusps of sleep
Fighters few and soldiers weary
Even the smell of daffodils seemed scary
Save of us all... we were screaming
There rose a leader made of scars of spirit
Preaching loud so that everyone could hear it
Everything will be alright
Trust me
I will guide you to the right
Trust me
I am the light, the light
Trust me
Tonight, tonight
Pitch black, blood red
Rains from the heavens dead
Repeating the last lie spoken
Faith is broken
Right is the wrong direction
What was left was protection.
Categories:
cusps, conflict, death, faith, judgement,
Form:
Lyric
Delicate love, on the tips of ice cycles
Dripping down on the earth of spring
Delicate green sprouts on the edge of life
The beginning of something so true
Beyond the simple minds of men
There is a place we all wish to show
Our hearts for those to see what we are
So fragile on the cusps of lost time
Tomorrow is the rest of this world
And “I” is nothing but dust
The dust of stars and breath of angels
Youth and pleasure find their jars
But true love is in the meadows
In the grass beneath our feet
And in the clouds in the sky
In the warm hands of others
A mirror of ourselves, on the water
A soul’s embrace can last a lifetime
But a block of promise is eternal
In the hands of sunshine;
I have never been so true
Categories:
cusps, happiness, inspirational, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
In blanket shades of ash and grey, while the lights are out
she stands sensually to stir the night in a strip tease
with her hands readily caressing
arousing her inflamed cusps as her hips twist unready for remorse
emotions surge with whispers of tingling vibrations running down my spine
as she strokes her silky skin while descending her silver line
she massages the rose of romance and affection lusciously below her navel
igniting the fire burning between our hips
as I am demurely poised and lost in an attempt to save the moment and time
for the next step
we proceed descending into our realm of fantasy and inspiration
ready for the inevitably anticipated final release ............
Categories:
cusps, on writing and words
Form:
A rag-a-muffin
girl glides uneasy
across the ice,
That Little sprite
child was not there
to play nice.
Frusterated there's
no one there pulling
for her win,
Her competition
as brutal as it's
always been.
Determined if
anything she'll
bring her trophy home,
Discouraged as she
feels though she'd
settle for the chrome.
Time to Line up
toe to toe, one by one
assume the position,
She cusps the sun from
her eyes scans the crowd
for her family's admission.
They're not here sport
so cowgirl up steadyily
tip-toeing the line,
With a deep breath
and a silent prayer
in this race she'll be defined.
The crowd was hushed
no sound for miles
could be heard,
Awaiting the crackle
from the gun from
the man with the beard.
Just as quickly
as it began it
was over in a flash,
Her balance failed her
no second chances
face tattooed with a gash.
Then she spied her
family way back
among the crowd,
With a tear in their
eyes it was clear
they were proud.
That Little sprig
of a child that
I once knew,
Well she went on
to win herself
that ribbon blue.
She took a silver
here and there,
A bronze just the one,
Practiced her balance
until she could no
Longer be outdone.
Her goal though every
time she Laced up
those old skates,
To capture that gold
while spinning her
favorite figure eights...
Categories:
cusps, childhood,
Form:
Bio