Best Dilates Poems
MEMORY OF NOTHING
Listen:
Drag branches comeback
Across the forest floor:
Knowledge of the rough¡
At water’s edge
I gather some things up:
“Happy Ending Story”.
We’ve the time to give the Babel Tower
A close reading.
Awful good, Tú
As Roy A. Rappaport’s
Ritual... as Communication and as State.
Our preferences might be
Toward more emphasis
On species places:
Smooth textures of dead wood
Knowledge of our hands on arms
The body-art of ********
Drinking cocoa
And tend to the faith
With a Vampire’s short stick
That smells of infinite urine
As Madonna.
History reveals itself to us
In this way:
Poetry, Tales, Essays are pamphlets
Of impossible interest
Multiplying voices-human, voices-animal
Voices-plant
Voice-life of Earth
As Dan O’Neill’s
Holiday for Cynics.
Look, little one
Courtney Love
We live this close to disaster
There is no turning back
From the tops of the trees
Which are so dense
Almost no sky is visible
Only the odor dilates the nostril
And quickens the heart
On a marijuana tortilla.
The buddhists have been tellig us
That the Self (Ego)
As we conceive of it
Is an illusion.
A good tip
Thinking about Gurney Norman’s
Jack and His Ego.
Is it?
It is that we are of a Time-Sexual
Wherein all species has been joined
To the Wo/Man
Of *****Sapiens
And Life is a single exercise of Cannibals
In constantly elevating towers
Of Bureaucracy.
Nothing in Somethingg
Something in our Nothingness.
Some days poetry flows
sometimes it is just words.
In the final spring - a poet
yearned for an immaculate blossom,
for his fingertips to bring a painting into life - to
meticulously cultivate and craft a masterpiece.
I recall an opal oasis full of pearl petals,
glittering with rows of diamond orchids,
citrine marigolds, moonstone lotuses,
and garnet roses surrounded by
amethyst lavender and sapphire bluebells.
craving for his mastery.
In a distant meadow,
consumed with faithless flock
grazing dead leaves -
there you bloomed from bronze roots,
an enchanting flower held by an emerald sepal.
In your flattery,
he became a willing devotee,
seduced by the scent of your paradisiacal petals.
But in your admiration he neglected
his selfless blooms,
unaware of wicked weeds
wandering in eidolic fields.
At sunset he would mirror the stars
and follow you like fireflies at midnight,
Serenade you with mystical lullabies,
evoking a sense of serenity,
but in the deception of dawn
you prioritised the sun,
over his soothing moonlight,
so you wilted, withering,
dripping in dewdrops.
In your servitude,
he placed you in the
greenhouse of his heart,
to protect you from the arrival of autumn,
but gaslighting gardeners,
sliced all of his intimate stems,
allowing satanic rain
to poison your spirit.
In the darkness, which dilates his eyes,
the pain still penetrates like a bitter blade
and he has become a forgotten gardener,
with dead seeds of scepticism
sowed into his soul.
Oh you know the type—
the orchid woman
a cosmopolitan who cosmo sips
between snips of gist
her charisma a starship —collides
with your star-full eyes
supernova for Casanova
her pouty lips knit a glamour-mag smile
rows of sugar-white pearls
strung shiny straight
behind wet-red slicks of a Revlon stick
—cherry-juice bait dilates your want to taste
orchid woman’s glamorized mouth
for the masses to idolize
for many to fantasize
for her to tantalize
and advertise
there’s no need to compromise
with you
or your penny-candy conversation—
when beauty is legal tender
why invest in a waste of words?
ooh, orchid woman is w-i-l-d
an exotic sun-tanned narcotic
erotic her despotic bloom
quixotic your contemplation;
your entangled-limbs-expectation
that this frilly filly blooms just for you
and oh! just look how the honey makers buzz
watch the money-makers spend their sums—
worker bees blinded by her blonde neon
fall in her wake…
or maybe ‘diamond pro’s’ bling
stings and wrings their eyes
…who cares who falls..
when mere red rose adorations
and sticky sap Hallmark incantations
bear not the fruits of 24-karat donations—
Mmm! Mmm!
her traipse does shake like mango jelly sweet
orchid woman’s long-stemmed catwalk walk
full-rounded bouncy-buoyant racy-lacy-ecstasy
yup.. a thoroughbred— she’ll have you ridin’ high
to your credit and blame
you won’t feel her stiletto tips
when she diva-gold-digs ya
as nothing more than a runway-ramp
all slinky-strut-hips
and stay-the-night-vamp
till fly girl wields her strappy high-heels
in a rhythmical click-clack
all over the next middle-age stage
indeed! orchid woman
a hot-house hottie
fussy stuffy lil hussy—
...too much water?
….not enough water?!
oh no! she’s wilted—
sniffle.. snivel.. “where did I go wrong?!!”
mm-hmm.. high maintenance is s-u-c-h a turn on…
yeah… orchid woman is w-i-l-d (eye roll..)
wheezed lungs of bare trees
panting against tight winds---
breath of moon dilates
Today, the sun shone brightly over our shores.
Peering over the forest and meeting the cores
We share fundamental truths across the waterways.
across the grasslands, then onto the Himalayas.
Past somatic feelings are cognitively preserved.
Spirit is the natural extension of cognition.
Spirit and mind foresee the body, the spirit swerved.
Together, the mind and body create resolution.
The universe's sound is centered around silence.
A quiet that gives rise to that sound—its essence
Silence increases, dilates, expands, and evolves.
It's able to watch the blooming of other carves.
It is as copernican as the light we pass through.
Pedagogical schools have the same faint glow.
Solving math, questioning the past, or visual atom.
"I have a dream," I was told, to be in a ruling stratum.
Our lives connect us to grains and corncobs.
warmed by miners and dry wind turbine jobs.
Sugarcane is used to acquire paper and rubber.
My father's hands were swollen from scrubber.
Our biggest mistake was playing the drama alone.
as if life were a subtle crime without atone.
Denying respect is feeling neglected in a cage.
Shouts were buried by choruses, width, and rage.
Let the beat off your loneliness and start talking.
Your warmth tends to compile the kettle singing.
The world's fauna and birds are plainly unique.
Your life is ready and waiting for its peak.
Written: December 29, 2022
First blush fountain azimuth of hued rays
wet patio shrub basket in the haze
zealous heartland tower cry as life force
celebrate and savour August rare days
Magenta skylines cluster silken clouds
blue ocean colour eyes that worship shrouds
a fancy surreal canvass so divine
it mesmerises jubilant bright crowds
Summer fun arcades stoke our dream world mind
gasps of red tint bliss a peak season find
earthbound poise dilates refulgent cascade
rocking beach tune fare blurs dark strain purblind
Sapphire plinths that anchor stoic ambit
vision on parade my high rise gambit
traipse amid the dahlia euphoric
seventh heaven rapture’s cloud nine orbit
Light ribbons in one eye we fear
Precede headache pain that's severe
Drug firms clearly bribe
Physicians to prescribe
Migraine meds but I'll imbibe beer
Authors Note: If you are in a safe place (not driving or operating machinery), this home remedy could be better than what the doctor ordered. I keep a few medicinal bottles ready in the fridge for just such an emergency. Lime is optional.
The clinical trial: An authentic "migraine" headache is accompanied by blood vessel constriction. There can be 15 to 30 minutes of shimmering lights in one eye followed by a headache from hell. Having learned that alcohol dilates blood vessels, one day I tried chugging a beer just after the shimmering started. The lights subsided and there was no headache. Beer just may be the second best medicine ever created.
Sparse lashes span aged lids,
framing an eye that catches light
like the clearest glass.
The softest liquid sheen - of tears?
But the eye stares blankly
without expression.
No crinkle of joy, no distention of fear,
yet the pupil dilates, eclipsing the iris.
Snuffing out the moon.
And there, the faintest reflection...
watching, waiting.
He stares down Death itself
with no sign of fear.
*Inspired by Escher's "Eye"
A labor of love
Frequent contractions
Bloody show appears
Belly and back pain
Her water breaks now
The baby drops
Loosened-up joints
Cervix dilates
Cramps are intense
Nauseous mom
Start the drugs
Feeling great
Bear down
Push out
Birth
May 18, 2022
**Side note: John Gondolf read my first Diminished Hexaverse poem about the end of life (Finis Vitae) and suggested that I write one about the beginning of life. Thank you for the wonderful tip John. I'm always up for an intriguing challenge.
Beyond the time I bethought thy ambiguity
With you I aspire the longanimity
Beyond the prophecy there crests thy conceivability
With you I cognize the viability.
Beyond thy persuasion I bechanced your propinquity
With you I behold the emotionality
Beyond the state of elated bliss there prehends thy fidelity
With you I summon the reality.
Beyond the beauty I got hold of your integrity
With you I propel morality
Beyond the smile there hazes over thy timidity
With you the shyness broke to chastity.
Beyond the journey I conformed to serenity
With you I got word that there exist eternality
Beyond the nature there fragrances a virtuality
With you I revered ideality.
Beyond a relation there dilates a compilation of esoteric affinity
With you I got hold thy spirituality
Beyond the secrecy there exists enshrouded duality
With You, me makes us evermore infallibility.
AS thy noble corona dilates,
Shucks back its great circle, let
Thy golden mean drip power
Onto the beast whose blameless flesh
Screams humped over,
Lathered like the Levin cracked sky
From whose seed was born
An infant God
Remind me Oh! Sultana
Whose spirit lifts my brow, and
Whose bright milk chisels
My livered throat, bloated
and waiting to yield to yet
Another salute.
I cry for Avalon, and those
Ancient borders I once possessed
Oh! Avalon, a composition for the carillon,
Let your chronicles forget me not.
Let your long drawn spell
Whisper me awash, gilded
Only by the mighty Griffon
fluent in the air, lord of sky,
Address my reproach my gentle God
Gift me unremitting paradise.
she sits on a toilet seat
slitting her stomach
making small lines
that sent mental messages
to her head
bleeding out the anger
that dilates her perspective
of this world
In the dark
she wrote mantras
on her ankles and sat
in a tub of warm water
watching her blood diffuse
cell by cell
denting the back of her head
that she kept banging
against conscience
She craved a little helping
from his hormones
Them and her
twirling at warp speed
rounding the world in a heart beat
he leveled tiffs they had
about their dark closet
boundaries drawn
binding them a strip
above the belt line
of the goddess
and from underneath there
was lurking truth that
dripped down her thighs
caressing his thoughts
making him wish
life wasn't so much of
a cut throat female dog sometimes
It was her pale,dry
cheeks that haunted him
the chirpy lips she kept licking
in rhythm with each turn life took
in her head
He sat across her
hoping to offer anything
for her thoughts
Two beings feel like they are divine pairs..
Met each other...so very compatible in every way...
Feeling never expressed...
It was all said by the unheard music from universe...
Their union was more than merging into the absolute...
Such immense pleasure...adrenalin is not known about ..
It's all love potion...
Then ...sorry...the next one standing there on the other side ...
Seems to be God chosen one...
Ohh must be fate...
Suddenly poor loved one is discarded like a rotting banana peel...
Lies and coverage know no bound to possess the other...
Hunger for the flesh was never so raw...
Passion is alight...anything for that.
No dignity, no common sense, no values, no scrupules...
The former is the most wicked, most undesirable and can even be bartered with another man to be eliminated...
Just look into this poor soul eyes, disbelief dilates its eyes more than hurt...all the magic...gone
Suddenly the cherished ones as the just enemies...
To protect the newcomer, the apple of the eyes is called names...
Humiliation is as if not enough...
Stories are cooked for justifications...
Anything is fair to achieve this new bloom of love..
Is it love after all,
Where's that first love gone...soulmate looks just garbage now.
Weird change of heart if it changes like garment on the body.
hand cups a breast
fingertips trace lips and thighs
learning curves of love
crescent lid of light
In frozen glass marbled eyes
penetrates
Yoke, spills, dilates sun
Noble thick mourning tears
Drop, slip off a dome sky
What is the reason for thoughts coming to mind;
most if which foment the feeling of being left behind
on an island of bewilderment,longing for the extrinsic
things in life that leave the heart to beseech God in
such a humble manner as to:are these the facets that my
soul needs to thrive? Is it so true that all sustaining
here is purely conceived to die? Dear Lord what is
the true meaning of all this packing and tucking of
good deeds and loving into a vessel that is ill-equipped to fly.
One can only catechize oneself as to:will all of this be recognized?
And so we imbibe the doctrine of blind faith while roaming
the land blind to beliefs because of all that is advertized.
We expand the soul,stretching it for a love to embrace the aura
of that which is serene and warm,pure to the soul's
force within the moment it dilates to become as one
with all that once thrived;clinging to its mass within
the unaware waiting of God's final breath to drift an
aglutinated force into the abyss of eternity and perhaps
arriving to the halidom where universes and time coalesce to elapse.