Best Diastolic Poems
Dejected on my bed this morn, I lay while contemplating,
what seems to be a day to face, I’m really quite unwilling
The peaceful place that used to be for me was so inspiring,
has come to be now tainted with such hatred and despising.
I used to get up from my bed an hour early to see,
to share what’s new, to grow, to live, to love more perfectly.
Each new day that unfolds with friends who greet excitedly,
felt like I’ve touched the heaven’s gates where I wanted to be.
The special word that’s meant to love has come to be vitriolic,
what used to be a happy place has now been melancholic.
Why can’t we just forget our pride, a soul that’s embryonic?
An open heart and mind will help lower blood’s diastolic.
What good is it if we can talk to ad infinitum?
When all the others think an adder fills our heart and cranium.
Will wounded hearts be even healed with simply an erratum?
When people can no longer see which is our mouth or rectum!
Our love for self and things should not be so that it replaces
respect for him, regard for her, a love that recognizes
each one's unique, no one’s above, this love’s the one that reaches
out with sincere humility, forgiveness, it amazes.
SHOW ME YOUR SPIRIT CONTEST
SPONSOR: FJ THOMAS
02 May 2015
Categories:
diastolic, conflict, how i feel,
Form:
Quatrain
A miasma of memories… nights in solitude
Spiraling perdition… shadows intrude
Underlying trepidation… behind vacant eyes
A journey interrupted… by pathetic lies
Abysmal human flaw… egregiously depraved
Disguised in shining armor… sanity unsaved
A heart deeply damaged… no diastolic rhythm
A skeleton of tragedy… a diabolic victim
Psychopathic vengeance... brainwashed auras
Sinister and lurking… trapped in night horrors
Phantom turbulence … cause unknown
Screaming nightmares… voice is your own
Thuds of heavy footsteps… following behind
Dreadful premonitions… racing in your mind
Full body tremors… demons dance nearby
Destruction of a lost soul... surrender or die
Originally written as "Funeral of Self Will" July 18, 2016.
Edited and re-titled "Surrender or Die" April 14, 2018
Categories:
diastolic, addiction, angst, bereavement, betrayal,
Form:
Rhyme
I could be less positive of time's resolving karma
without not(not) as negative
binomially defining
what is not polynomial not
and what must be more positive
you see, or not.
This double negative binding positive
hurts my bicamerolling brain
intuiting what is not Right
deducing what could be Left
to permacultural imaginings
balancing economies with ecologic
synaptic sap reversing
not aptic snap
fusing neural patterns
of polynomial permaculturing positions
overwhelming this knot of double nots.
To be
is to belong meta-diastolic,
I hope a positive existential phenomenon,
whatever that might mean.
But, too long this longish longing
is not to not be,
it is simply a not
waiting for a second;
to not not long
incarnates belonging grace
and not not karmic knots
in negative implicating space
without a proper polynomial place
for knotish naughty
not not negative integrity.
Karma double-masks what grace uncovers
as incarnation reverses back
toward naked origin of well-wombed undouble-knotting fetus,
DNA enscribing nurture's primal covenant,
warm and fertile buddha-care.
Uncovered human nature
erupts through Janus-masked cocoon
discovering nature's
uncovering intuition of polyculturing unity;
and competitive not,
hidden within ego-defensive
cognitive dissonance,
immune instinct
repulsing tied-up distinctions.
Biting into life's positive oysters
risks gnashing knotty pearls.
Categories:
diastolic, confusion, culture, math, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
In my game of life
I play sometimes against,
and sometimes with,
Time as Other player
Playing against
seems to have bad odds of feeling like a winner,
while playing with time
feels like we both win,
at least some Time,
especially if we simultaneously stretch
our love for gaming
together
more than apart.
In my Evolution Game,
playing with and against Time as Other,
my rules emerge natural laws of healthy
and unwealthy
economic trends
and social order
and political balance
witnessed by elder spirit voices,
iconic memories of past plays
with diastatic/static
diastolic/purgative
evolving rules of vocational recreation with co-passion play.
Nutrient rules flowing through my veins
and out through rivers of arteries of positive/negative trees
deep fertile cuts and folds,
articulating primal neural streams with suboptimizing substreams,
swelling mainframe-economy with synaptic political revolutions
dispelling cooperative win-sufficiency contentment,
more sustainable midway rest from playing against
one
or more Other.
Now, in Time's anthro-game of evolving life
s/he plays sometimes against anger and fear memories,
and sometimes with love and peace future investment
with winwin outcome intent,
co-arising regeneratively healthy Anthro-Egos as EarthTribe players,
also running coincidental WinWin, WinLose, and LoseLose
comedic and strategic and tragicn
naturally emergent health functions and dis-easing pathology
with transitionally revolutionary co-incarnate bilateral form
as indigenous anthrocentric PlayNice frequencies
of EarthTribe Time.
In our love of healthy environment-winning games
we play sometimes against win/win
inside/outside communication stretching regenesis,
and sometimes with win/lose Othering
unnatural unloving death-wishes
The reverse of
strategic nutrient-nurture optimization players,
whenever and wherever we can hunt and haunt them up,
make them up as iconic gods and goddesses,
as necessary to harvest win-winnowing wealth
together
better than apart.
In this funny little evolution game,
it is wrong because impossible
to harvest winnings we have not seeded,
as individual ego players
and as a potentially EarthTribe
of team-life is for love players
and not lose/lose hate sayers.
Categories:
diastolic, environment, games, health, nature,
Form:
Political Verse
Front porch consciousness of organically rich freedom,
relief from language label boxes,
reifying,
static,
now giving way toward emerging diastolic flow,
abundance fills a fertile inside view of health-engorging grasses,
leaves,
entire trees and forested networks,
imagined river valleys,
oceans of coral reefs and underwater streams,
blue sky background to misty distant fog clouds
inside growing radiant heat of purging sunlight,
diastatic full-climax high-nooned and mooned Earth lights,
not too bright and hot for fertile climates,
and not too darkly cold
for healthy utopian dreams
within this yet evolving freedom of mindbody.
A green explicitly convex blade of grass
waving with soft autumn breeze
gaudily wearing one sparkling dew diamond brooch,
outsized for slender shoot of green,
appears this autonomous,
even competitive at mowing-down times,
way from analytical outside.
But also,
this same slender sleek string of nature
evolving from inside
implies a branching tree of nutrition
with a voraciously healthy root system understory
digesting Mother Earth's fertile manna ecopolitics.
This blade of grass and I,
each born of crushed rocks
dust
flowing rivers absorbing thirsty interdependent nurturing rootedness,
dynamically balancing
dancing with climate atmospheres of light and warm,
dark without so dark within hibernation,
purgation,
resting toward another radiant day
noticing, consuming and producing freedom
within and as part of nondual co-arising nutritional streams
with interior vibrant ecological dreams,
strong-rooted child of Mother Earth's sacred nature inside
embracing SunGod's grace from outside
LeftBrain's analytic WinWin ecopolitical exterior explicating lens
greeting RightBrain's co-empathic ecological trust in co-gravitating networks
of exquisitely intricate divine nutritional grace
shining through implicating inside fertile rooting eyes
noticing healthy cause-effect flow streams
and interdependent ecological climate integrity
as beauty landscapes of trusting active hope
in ubiquitously elational freedom
of fertile redundant resonant reiterating regenerate resolutions,
timelessly polypathic polycultural polynomial...
freedom from dissonant restraints of short-timed unbalancing consciousness.
Categories:
diastolic, blessing, culture, freedom, happiness,
Form:
Prose Poetry
p u l s e s
diastolic
systolic
tides
e l a s t i c
edge of ebb where water and salt and memories mix
steals the breath between my inhale and exhale
plovers chasing stretchy waves
tight-fisted oysters hoarding pearls
winds blowing our laughter this way that way
two kites flirtin’ and floatin’ in a sea of clouds
tin foil tongues with spindrift speech
breathes sea songs upon the shore's breast
sea-fingers strum beach skin glistening
sea-drums thrum seashell ears listening
yet I wince as hungry riptides swallow
my pebbles from the shore
nothing long-lost leaves nothing longed for
I yearn for riptides to swallow my sorrow
instead of small joys and unadorned dreams
swallow me in ragged state instead of smooth but
famished riptides can’t swallow my jagged stone whole
cyan dancers grow untamed and white maned
their crimes their confessions
s w a s h across expanse of dry seabed surging
I recall our cupid kites tUmBLinG in growing flow
wet sands a mirror for west-sky-fire reflections
an ancient temple of quartz-grit-sages sifts waves
confessors with silence-filled voices
just beyond and amid the t h r o b s of tides
Categories:
diastolic, joy, loss, nostalgia, sea,
Form:
Free verse
Around this precious pulse
there is a moat
It has a raised drawbridge
of desires denied —
Wouldn’t emotions,
they be crave carved from the
mahogany variety
Splintered thoughts lowers with romantic apprehension,
verily very slowly
Rampart words, passion unspoken
Telltale sigh sign, mood vulnerable ...
body language says
this breastplate castle can now be breached
An inner curtain wall of solitary allure
leads to the Keep
Buried in grief from past hurts,
these formaldehyde feelings die daily
Sitting on a jilted throne of loneliness;
virgin vows of untouched love,
believed to be out of reach,
is now irrevocably breached
The iron gatehouse of solitude,
with courting siege,
is reluctantly being moved
And the battlement beneath the watchtower
is tear-blasted with tactile longing
Amorous arrows which pierce the soul,
vanquish the spirit afraid of belonging
to a worthy someone else
Or could it be an unworthy sense of self?
Fanciful oriel motives stay hidden
behind the bretèche parapet
Portcullis instincts run counter-intuitive to the
innocent tunnel of dream secrets beneath
Emerging outside the stony walls of isolated comfort,
into the wilderness of time
these pulmonary impulses flee
For the bosom castle of chastity has been breached
The faithful systolic sentinels of hope
couldn't safeguard the castle from diastolic defeat
Looking back at the silhouette figure
in the balistraria,
I oasis see
the other half of me
Smiling with conquering ease
08-14-21
Categories:
diastolic, allusion, loneliness, metaphor, psychological,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Quasar pulse time moves
at the pause ratio of
radioactive query change
A long anticipated moment of attraction
did quicky supernova boom,
then it slowly did mushroom
into repellant cloudy, doubtful affection
Heartbeat fears
perceptually travel
on quantum tick-tock gears
of uncertainty
Unknown quality of years,
diastolic guessing
Vibratory standstill
only lament expand glacial regrets
Inert decisions
based on vein transverse concepts —
Kinetic permutations of a void, after-vow life
Nil short hand trust keep spinning backwards
Neutron clock halts bio-rhythm progress;
nuclear bond broken, uncoupling kismet
Goodbye waves of binary permanence fusion
create so many
proton teary Eves and electron frown Adams
Paradoxically, unsettled matter
coalesces at entropy speed
High density flow of severed devotion
be an anti-betta Fate phenomenon:
A dual retrograde stillness of eMotion
Bosom thoughts, so whisper sublime,
do travel faster-than-flight
How null was the shooting star time?
Premature departure coursed flatline
through a serrated wormhole
in the vacuum cardio
Shared space contract
slower than
a frozen common asset
Oscillating fidelity
bandwidth kilohurtz breathe
aorta flux impurity
In the stillness of passion entropy;
that vast, intimate static ocean of much less
Suspended dreams drifts silently —
Non-animated feelings, so full of emptiness
Oh, how the ventricular pain throbs,
feel how slow the time bleed
When the systolic ticking sobs stop,
where will that stillness lead?
Categories:
diastolic, heartbreak, imagery, science, symbolism,
Form:
Romanticism
Between Jordan and Israel lies the Dead Sea
biblically known as Sodom and Gomorrha,
salty waters where no living thing breathes
and no known fish in its currents frolicks.
Just how salty is the Dead Sea?
take a bucket and fill half of it with salt,
add an equal amount of water, then stir it;
that could not be sweet, would you agree?
I took a dip that burned my eyes red in the sea of the dead,
its density making this non-swimmer float like I was dead,
I just could not sink!
If you suffer from high blood pressure don't you swim there,
take heed from one that the doctor advised of salt to beware,
who did not listen to his medical advice and dived anyway
and what did I get? systolic and diastolic counts of 150/110
that meant more Tenormin pills to keep a heart attack away.
Salts form into solid rocks along the Dead Sea's shore
and just about everywhere are gigantic white crystals;
a harsh, non life-giving body of water, maybe?
Not exactly!
because the sediments of the Dead Sea is a cottage industry;
scoop up a mound of black mud, rub it on your face and body,
presto! you will get skin smoother than a baby's bottom!
due to dissolved chemicals with therapeutic properties
that smoothen, cleanse and purify a crocodile’s skin.
Wanna buy a bar of soap made out of Dead Sea mud?
Hurry, first come, first served, stock is limited!
Categories:
diastolic, funny, places, sea, sea,
Form:
Free verse
In his relationship he dealt with too much drama
It gave him chest trauma
In his right upper chamber
A squeezing feeling it felt danger
Causing the inborn electrical conduction system
It went haywire because of the diastolic was rising
She yelled and fussed him out, “no more romancing!”
All of a sudden he got electrolyte disturbances
His chest had so many aches and pain
Was this done in vain
He asked why and started to cry
She stood there saying “inside my heart there is no more left”
Ouch he felt this discomforting tingle he was losing his breath
She watched him breaking out in cold sweat
Suddenly grabbing the back of his neck
Look baby I’m so sorry that it did not work
It was to late he was crushed and hurt
He could not do anything but yell for help and grabbed his chest
Coldly she called 911 and left
Categories:
diastolic, friendship, life, lost love,
Form:
Rhyme