Best Dilation Poems
My past already lived,
my unknown future is the only place to travel-
beyond paradoxes or predictions,
I could stand in a world beyond a human life span,
There to begin again, a quest for knowing.
New languages, new laws, new temptations
or delights.
I cannot say how I will travel there,
whether I step blindly into a parallel universe
or use velocity- based time dilation.
My imagination seems willing
but I feel stuck- in theories and Presentism.
How could there be any greater mysteries
or beauty to be discovered?
I think then of being childless.
Somehow dreams for some new Utopia
are cancelled and I
awake and sleeping
hold hands with solitude.
Suzanne Delaney
May 17th.
For Dave's Imagination Contest.
The era of catatonic self-destruction has risen yet again from boulder-blocked caves,
Whose cavernous stalactite incisors drip with the blood of thorny crowns,
Worn in punitive irony for the subversion of fertile inferiority,
Which, like rabbits, duplicates and hops about in trouncing contentment.
Yet despite the grin stretched beneath empty eyes,
Which are eclipsed by dilation of cimmerian shades poured from tipped inkwells,
Darkness ripened by age has inflated its penumbral grasp upon the solar plexus.
Hearts beat now to the false circadian rhythm of telemetry.
Screens fueled by waves polluting the air scramble for attention;
Screaming as if the spotlight has slithered away from their thespian heads.
But even so we watch as if waiting for a nothingness we know.
Petulant performances pretending to perfect the perception of reality persevere,
Despite their lack of empirical validity.
Our bodies and the space around they occupy have become irrelevant.
Experience and physical stimulation have been replaced by mirror neurons,
Firing incessantly at the sight of electromagnetic facsimiles,
Which are vomited in projected disproportion into our unwitting faces,
From nauseating mouths of those whose disease has spread to lower echelons.
And so we sit and stare upon the square on walls and in our hands,
As the prefrontal cortex and its dehydrated lobes succumb to the reptilians.
Another era of lack of mind borne from the fruitlessness of parasitic seeds,
Planted by the pretenders who swim in the wealth of our applause.
Clap away, we will, until we collapse in the arthritic solidification of redundant repetition.
Welcome to the show; a televised apocalypse of thought.
Where worlds were once created in cognition,
They're now created in the lenses of cameras.
When worlds were once refracted light coruscating from the eye,
They're now flickered in slides reflected from the television.
Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery,
where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery,
but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history
Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces
once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces,
may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places
Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring
yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring -
magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring
Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation
while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation
that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration
Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter
like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter,
with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter
Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter
that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter:
a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter
Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer,
though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer;
but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer
Submitted 21 Aug. 2016
Incandescent illusions of massive transfusions
For we are all trapped in tautological time
There is no escape for when you awake
A punitive prisoner that has committed no crime
Silent components dictate progressive opponents
Any resistance is pointless regardless of pace
Metaphysical complication an intellect's dilation
Enthusiastic ecclesiastics question the race
For if time is an arrow through the nefarious narrow
A paradoxical passenger in the line of thought
We travel through seasons without any reasons
Our vanquishable views left to rapaciously rot
Time is no adversary, each breath is temporary
It has no value for destiny, no respect for fate
What use are monetary needs in a mortuary
All is lost when the heart is in a motionless state
Then time swallows whole our collective soul
Radiolucent ruins amidst residual ravenous rust
Tumultuous time carries on to a new distant dawn
For we return to the earth as decompositional dust.
July/26/2017
Collaboration...Silent One/Winged Warrior
Not for any contest...
...welcoming back an old friend from the Soup...
Introducing... MysticMist™ Eye Drops!
See the unseen. Blink into the beyond.
Are your regular eye drops leaving you… underwhelmed?
Do you yearn to gaze into the fabric of reality itself?
Well, squirt no more tears of boredom--MysticMist™ is here!
Just one drop per eye and suddenly:
You can read the thoughts of your houseplants.
Your cat’s side-eye finally makes sense (spoiler: it's judgment).
You’ll witness the ghost of your great-aunt Mabel doing the Charleston in your hallway.
And best of all? Your local barista’s aura glows depending on how strong the coffee is.
Side effects may include:
Time dilation
Spontaneous truth-seeing
Involuntary interdimensional travel
A sudden craving for kale (we’re still researching that one)
MysticMist™ -- because boring vision is so last realm.
Available wherever enchanted ointments are questionably sold.
MysticMisfits Product Line™
Coming soon to a dimension near you...
Lean into me Luv,
abandon the logic of romance,
be naked in the nature of my need,
pant openly as weightlessness prickles your pink parts,
Tonight I do not want your love,
I don't deserve it anyway, a villian in exhuberance,
I just want the secrets of your sex, without plead,
to suck the salt of your secretion, feed on the spray of your darts,
Slaking my savagery with the skin of your submission,
unlocking the vault with nimble pick, to teach with a spanking stick,
having that naughty nook spilling a confession of capitulation, dizzy dilation,
an Angel of excess, I place your safety on a shelf of disarray, caution on delay,
I want to ravage the basement of your beauty, finding hot boxes of remission,
rummaging the attic of your aggressions with the precision of a magic trick,
I don't need you to be my nurse, a Nightengale of negligent rehabilitation,
I don't want the chill of charity, just the alarm of your domination in dismay,
Melt upon the mercy of my meat,
let me take the wet wisdom of your woman's weapon
smear it along the dagger of my undiagnosed demolition,
under a Blood Moon your body will flex without rest, hesitation does retreat,
I gently grip your throat, as I feel your moan in the soft palm of my hand's vindication -
J.A.B.
Her heart is located in every part of her being
and bones, calcified with the vitamins of meekness.
Peace begins and ends her collection of any intention
and her reaction, irrespective of situation
always avoids its rights of being thorough.
Softer than a hot dough, and more flexible than a rubber band
even in the midst of hungry chewers
and the threat from playful band stretchers
she holds strong to the emblem of her personality
putting the eyes of calm in a shock dilation
to the awe of her tolerance and irritability.
If nations were like her, humanity would have no scar
her deeds incarcerate pride and incriminate greed
with an intuition structured by static trees
beside a slow moving river
enveloped by the faint whistling of happy resting birds.
The healthy mystery of such an existence
adds royalty to the privilege of being human
because she gets hurts
only when the devil himself directly strikes
with the mercenaries of hell yet unknown to possible actuality.
Moving through the pulse and the flow
A timetable of fixed dilation
A given
And measured
Ellipse
To the people it trips
As they ride the crest
Of the waves
Of emotions
Just prisoners of
Perpetual motion
Never ceasing
Never pretending to be
Anything more
Born into the days
Of a future long past
Spying its records
From the start to the last
We are all
Just second hand news
In a land of ne’re to be
Nonsensical devotion
The prisoners of perpetual motion
Elate
And repress
The We
The US three
The Me
Myself
and I
Come to share in a life such as these
Checking out the view
I’m just second hand news
In the land of Ne’re do we
Strolling on by and
Pressing on through
Tasked with its provisions
And it’s riddled revisions
Nonsense and fiction
Have found their new diction
Of solar progression
As they encapsulate
The US Three
Strolling on by
Pressing ahead
The RIGHT
And the TRUE
It’s textured and layered deception
Held a managed intervention
Holding within its folio
The signatures of digression
Devoid of emotion
As it’s pendulum swings to and fro
Never able to leave
Or break its grasp
Transcending all in its path
Nonsense and fiction
Wear a guise of suspicion
Take on a new face
A perplexing division
With its sweeping broad strokes
To embrace and replace the US Three
Brushing on past
Just a page before
You knocked on the door
Of the garden where flowers once grew
These steps you’ve taken
Left to the tender mercies
Of fiscal conservancy’s
Hyperbolic uncertainty
Common knowledge
Given breathe
As stolen
A thief
Of the Inspector in chief
His notes plainly written
A solider in part
Has taken my enemies heart
In a fruitless pursuit
Of passion and pain
Here
I remain
In its orbital dance
The great mechanic has cast
His players
The WE
The US Three
Cry the home
On this ellipse
As we roam
The WE
The US Three
The black crow
Watches unfaltering
With his stalwart gaze
As your counterfeit lies
Sought in other men’s eyes
With a forbodance
Which can not be denied
In the wink of an eye
Like the pearls on a string
That glow
And
That shine
As it squares with the facts
In the drivers seat of circumstance
And at length in perpetuity
YOU hold the charter to men’s hearts.
Day one of our first conversation
My mind in mentation
Of your flirtation
Your pupils in dilation
Day fifty your smile
Has my heart racing miles
You were beguile
I hope my number you dial
Day seventy two your blush
Made my heart rush
You spout sentimental mush
My heartbreaking crush
Day ninety nine my heart cries
My eyes set for the prize
To tell the words that make me die
No longer able to hide behind lies
Day one hundred my confession
My heart crushed like compression
Passing by his transgression
You not my possession
Day one hundred and ninety four
My heart still broke forevermore
My pieces I cannot restore
Forever stuck in love's war
I want
intellectual stimulation
panorama and dilation
conversation with less trivia
mind food as criteria
discuss problems with reality
the fellowship of humanity
withering delusions
peeling paint illusions
unstifled liberality
fantasy and reality
decline of spirituality
semblances of sanity
birth of science and reason
solar accretion
the rocks beneath my feet
calcium in my teeth
brave and the meek
origins of my conceit
quantum and constants
unconscious nonsense
A beep!! Message inbox queued
Bring around his sleepy-eyes
The night prowler came alive.
Last night’s morning sayonara smack
Later left with unrequited calls.
Message through network by amorist, said,
‘Hoped if u were here beside,
I wud have rest my arms upon u
N wud slp t8 until U wake me up
4m my woolgathering’.
A morning tea and breakfast
First lecture bunked and second lecturer’s incomplete task
Noon show lunch break and evening CCD on the way.
McD snacks together
Only left with dinner, back to home.
Clock ticked dinner time
Her cell beeped, ‘ honey calling you at midn8’.
FM on, light music quenched the dimmed room
A gentle breeze left with thoughtful blossom.
A miss call alert, so called a reminder –
Afresh mood and respond back
Two rings for that awaited hands to answer
A muted ‘Hello’, and both felt back.
Retrieved day dilation and few imaginary soul kisses in between
Blurred with further topic, exchanged dally romance
Yet sounded reality.
Eyes closed and more audible muted talks
Aleatory future plans,
Queried by an unthought-of waiting call.
A new topic now, ‘ who was it?’
Unknown number so whether is that to be left aside??
Tentative soul mate yet in a dedicated tone
Questions rained and situation falsified
Might be a secret that to be hide.
Coped modishly and eyes left with few drops of water
A penitent kiss followed.
Things now became thicker,
The soft music echoed through the network
Snap up pillow and twisted moves
Extend of imagination seemed
Fetched them more closely.
Awaken dad knocked
Cell phone averted and her hammy sleepy-eyes
Fooled begetter proved not to be a dictator.
Excused candidly and led off with next day’s plan
The good night dawn and jaded eyes
An argument who would cut the line…..
Lastly a fanciful tight hug and a sayonara kiss
Left again with another, beep!!
___________X_____________
I hear their idle chatter and wish that sound was optional.
A box checked in a menu, a simple click and forget.
The rapid dilation of my pupils brings me back.
Back to hypnotic aisles of temptation and necessity. A selection of the finest they say.
Right there see, on the cardboard, next to charts and columns of calories and strange
numbers I’d sooner forget.
But buy one get one free still gets me every time.
I stare intently at the dancing numbers until the man with the tie moves away.
Glossy pages shine brighter than the fruit racks they mirror,
Competing for importance in my wallet and my life
The magpie wins and the bananas will wait.
Half the magazines hawk five a day in rounded sans serif, bold against the background of a
chef’s haircut.
Maxims of bizarre cosmopolitan playboys and hustlers marked up at 3.99. Landscapes of
polished flesh glow beneath the loving airbrush of the paycheck. Competing for nuts at the
zoo.
A vanity fair for the hollow, shining in the fading light of a red top sunset.
Paraphrased blogs and condensed morsels of crude celebrity nudes for the I-Generation and
the remnants of New Labour and Thatcher’s Britain.
Anglers, caravans and 50 cent, half the demographic, half the price. Count me out.
I finger a few and find no real desire. The Internet offers this bilge up for free.
They’d all be nude and crapping on each other.
The great silicon toilet of humanity
Past freezers of long dead prisoners, pulped to perfection. Pigs in tubes and flat cow
concoctions.
Pancakes of vomit and fish dishes I won’t ever try. No time for it.
Frankenstein's monster behind glass slides.
Packets of sugar in various disguises. Cereal and chocolate, soft drinks and sauce dips.
Lattes and ladles, loofahs and loaves. The prattle returns through the shelving
I turn around the curries and there is the tie. Talking sport and hard drinking, women and
the weather. Looks me in the eye.
I turn before any interaction and feign interest in something, a scouring pad. Intricately
woven metal coils waste major concentration and he’s gone. Box checked, minimize and move on.
Everything shines in this weird three-quarter light, hypnotic. Confusing. Conscious of the
bottles ahead that I can’t ever touch. Seedy and appealing, puerile and appalling.
Something for everyone.
And nothing for me.
Cashed out, spun out, strung out
Ate up.... Malnourished, monkey riding piggyback
You fear you wont get your nickelbag
I fear you might get your children back
Numbing emotion swept up in crushed pill cyclones
Searching for elation through pupil dilation
who's that girl in the mirror?
You're behind the wheel...but who's gonna steer?
Second chances, interventions, and heartbreaks
we part ways...you wave bye---pipe in hand
Set sail on the fumes you inhale,
into an inebriated sunset, hell-bent
Scarred up, trail marks, trailer parks
Alleyway transactions, disease contractions...
Hand shake deals...see how this smack feels
SMACK! Down in a spiral of C.O.D. O.D.
pricetag on a fatality.........you payed for this reality
My eyes well up...stand in rainfall, no fear
no one will see the tears here.
No mourning your self-wrought slaughter...
Im here for your motherless daughter
I led her by the hand...away from a misery you called life
Gazing eyes, cannot belie
a triumph. The unexpected signs,
combined with waves of energy,
soft blue rings, flaming dilation,
swollen from the inside out,
winding rivers that flood and flow
through dried out lands of wrinkled souls.
The summer sun has begun to climb
back into our coming autumn sky,
in a relapse of retrograde motion.
No, gazing eyes (like yours and mine)
are unafraid, to see through,
to be present and always true,
and go beyond the world we knew.
I recall my first touch, but barely the next,
Life after that is a just black & white mess,
Crisp romance and desire is a climatic blast,
Lust-filled longing to grapple with Goddess’s clasp.
.
Toes thrust through the sand as surf spills over feet,
Emotionless shadows resign and copulate in defeat,
Transfixed entanglement with tightening embrace,
Heavenly scented mist of Venus in my face.
.
The pink surge commences from bosom to torso,
Rush of engorged blood. Palms, cheeks, & neck also,
Burst of pupil dilation as we gaze eye to eye,
Blurt of your submission seeps across thigh.
.
Vigorously working resolute solution away,
Silently screaming and beckoning to flay,
Amphitrite’s wash breaks loose and soaks deep,
Mournful crying of climax as together we peak.
.
Subdued we release with shuddering spasm,
As I fully explore depths of your sacred chasm,
A glimmer of passion as we silently suspend,
Adorning a look of love I wish will never end.
(c) 2015 PJ Bayliss