Best Formulations Poems
The relativity of wealth and poverty
Amazing.
Einstein’s formulations pale
In juxtaposition to universal carnage.
Obese pigs of a glam,
filled holes of cultural blacktop.
“Get your plump white asses off the necks
of the weak!”
“Who the hell do you think you are anyway?”
The cyclic nature of problem and solution;
“Ahhhhhh,” Eldritch Cleaver where are you?
“Thump, thump, thump,”
The arterial pulse of a puss infected
gangrenous limb
“YES,” whiteness
Raw, heedless, mercenary killers of diversity
Pristine sinks
Seek purity
GOD!
Unifying Theories of Chemistry
Plants react in synthesis
Stimulations sunlight
Breathing the winds causes
Through fluid chains
Reproducing flowering responses
And systematically chemistries
Drive in attractions of curiosity
Stranger love crushes
To your ignition sexual A-symmetry
Produces adrenaline's certain heat
And senses blood pounding
So photosynthetic initiates
The A.T.P. of chemical currency
Splits living links furthering
More simple to more complex
Colour element changing
Leaf green to red Anthocyanin
As well as a suntan
Skins concourse in molecules
Precipitates and reverberates
The bonded genome of D.N.A.
Creating myriad form
Tangent on thoughts
Even dreams
Evolve chemical reactions
While sun by sea explodes
Atomically
The light amino manifestation
Walks among trees
Respiring in cycles
Of exchanging formulations
Alchemy of oxygen’s infusing
And well with emotion
Binds its stanza’s of interpretation
Given word then
Another descriptions connection
To connection
Connected
By a star lights birth
Indivisible this “All” travels
Forth and back to a
Higher or lower osmotic pressure
And back and forth
Between lovers
As waves drawn to beaches
By the gentle pull
Of sands moon distracted
Infatuated affair
With the Earth
This chemistry of love
The chemical of life
Patterns intricate mazes
In a micro-cosmos
Of eternal meaning
And a baby
Is born
While the boundless eternity
Moves and collects
Responsive concurring
Dust mote intercepts
From wide eyes stares
Which interpret
A scene
Of its own manifest beauty
Even in tears of sadness
The ceretonine balances
To intercede with memories
Moments of happiness
The infinite qualification
Of chemical reaction
Clues us in
Yet again
To this fundamental
Unity
still the sad site for sad censored people I see
still a site for mindless and glib poetry
still the formulations of J Rhyme numb and co
still the fatuous minds without a dictionary
or a thesaurus for that matter
still the same awkward attempts at self entertainment
and the unequaled, lets pat each other on the back
still the sad and sorry farcical face of poetry
with the glib lip service you pay
still the oh so premium membership
still your tweadle de and twoddle dumb
you wonder why
all the good poets
left
I look upon your remarkable frame
and marvel that you started out
of no acclaim,
a tiny clump of cells en route
to where you are, ignited by life’s flame.
In truth, a mystery to contemplate
how all the parts get sorted out,
without a doubt,
the most amazing aspect of this little game.
For surely God must find delight
in works performed well out of sight
of eye of mortal man,
dividing sinew, marrow, bone
in full accordance with the plan,
the outcome known to Him and Him alone.
And who am I, a fault to find,
or declare right
the formulations of this great and wondrous mind?
No, I will fall upon my knees and praise
your gentle shepherd, baby goat,
for He who plays
at such a game is not remote,
but has drawn near and given us a name
by which to call upon,
for ever on,
creator of us two, alike but not the same.
Thinking about Sigmund Freud and his psychoanalysis theories
Albert Einstein, and his formulations upon the relativities
Playtos pupil, Aristotle.... Michelangelo-the sculptor, painter, architect and poet
An endless list written and rewritten, of lives within the pages of time....
Thinking of the human mind, with its boundless spectrums of possibilities
All the why's, the what's, and, the what ifs? A universe, yet to be discovered!
This amazing realm that we are in; at least to myself, of abstract truth....
For who can know beyond a doubt, the very core of any matter, the absolute!?
What mind can hold the ultimate essence, within infinities hands?!
Science itself is not even truth-but merely a shadow, at its very best....
And where does this leave me, as I return to this sphere of contemplation?
Grasping at particles, as if I could collect them all, while standing...."Amid a dream"
Gathering them into a manifestation, of concrete realities?
Reality it seems is a futile endeavor-more negative than positive, in the terms of
Mathematical economical equation-out of the black and into the red....
John Nash would know more about that-the structures of content, tranquillity and sanity
More to be lost it seems, than to be found....to complicate, to overwhelm!
It is true that we do need knowledge though, if ever we are to hope
To expand, to extend, to be better, to cure and to grow....But therein lies
"A dividing line," between knowledge and wisdom-a perspective of ones view!?
The big picture so to speak, of the here and now, and the forever to come....
Which leads me back again, to the beginning of this contemplative thought
For we must 'all' choose, what ground, we would most want to stand upon!?
An old Biblical verse, "We are in this world, but we are not of this world....". {Cont}
a walnut waltzing with a willow tree
A molecule is neither a destitute mop without a bucket house. Nor is it a seven acre field that is very cold due to having no grass. Even the most prepared of ground is a haven for a gloved concrete whose acidic greedy greyness freezes the earth allowing for no breath from the ground. It is located between the purple mountain and hawks head valley. Where the hypotenuse causes a massive erosion and lesion in the wild vibrant landscape. Birds sigh at the chaos. Trees cry for their home. And the dark eyed mystics shaking rattles speak of prophesy that was spoken and handed through time through pictorial evidence, speech, story and song. Moving a large display of teapots in a shop is imperative to create a nice display for consumers. They might buy one so always make sure spouts are facing an easterly direction for this will ensure sales and sales are salivating selfish sea lions with suits. When placing the money. When digging for liquid gold. When leaning on graves. When balancing on a breadstick over a precipice. Exert no power. Exert no pollen. Exert no excretion. And always move to the sounds omitting from a nine mile moon in a cereal packet. Harnessed by wire but untamed. Pockets picketing players. And a nice big soup causing chaos at a roadside. Yachtsman yawning yay. And the gang members are swimming in tutus. Up the mountain down the mountain. Peeling the spoken steely grey suits. Lucid suits. Sinkhole weapons of underworld. Chat chat chat. And an operatic gold star warbling on a shelf or a door. Put into a cake tin then and bake at 800 degrees. Thus ensuring leverage is even. Events equalling extraction. Then boom boom boom. All gone fishing. Xxxxx formulations Z Z Z Z
What does it look like?
What does it sound like?
How does it read?
Is there beauty in mathematics? Are physics formulations beautiful? Is artistic beauty in all its forms discovered or created?
Did Isaac Newton invent his mathematics or did he discover it, like one discovers a planet?
Where did the Mona Lisa come from? From some ethereal realm? A dream perhaps?
What did Leonardo tap into to create such a work of art? Would it be appreciated by beings on the other side of the Universe?
Is mathematics universal? Are computer codes? Genetic codes?
Beethoven’s music discovered or created? William Shakespeare, what was he on? Where does the mind’s eye wander to obtain such things?
Will earthly beauty translate elsewhere? Is beauty in all its forms universal, or unique to its origins?
Is simplicity beautiful? Complexity? Are we all beautiful?
Or, Is all beauty simply in the eyes of the beholder?
Displacement, transfer's exchanges, formations words formed formulated, landscapes, the citys like a safari, No Escape! I FEEL completely motivated, I notice, no need to make explanations , upheld reinforced by the depth of thought and comteplation, it’s an Honor I’m Blessed beyond phrases, destined , I leave the truth undressed and bare naked, I cherish every precious second, becuz I just might perish in the very next second, And the best one's and the Biggest, And the lessest man is the Greatest one in Heaven, we understand, we suffer set-backs, we rise and raise those that fall down, The Potter's Perfectin is a vessal of Honor, And I send my Praise straight to The Father
I just came straight from the slaughter, you can still smell the blood coming off me
yes thats hell, yes thats where the devil dwells,
And since we're on different kinds of mail, I whisper those messages quiet well
I don't give a damn what a Anne might spell, or what a Poet Destroyer might kill
I’m no god nor beast
I can’t live alone
can’t sail with the stream
even if foolish
seeking chimeras
imploring in vain
finished relations
link pigs, snakes, monkeys
crowd the pretences
in my head suspend
all formulations
now no more cleansing
spirit viruses
and false oracles
FORMULATIONS
slender
slight
in
fragile
personality
indicative
of
the
swift
quick
&
silent
immersed
in
startlng
ephemera
in
image
succinct
thought
&
oblivion
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Small Ramada vacation time
Unutterable sundowns
Mid-solar dawns early sun rise
Many moderate new moons
Ethereal dawns
Respective solid solstices
Thermally heated topical formulations
Idle pastimes individual heated
Many bright days
Early cool daylight heated evening nights
7/13/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.© 2020
I stand upon a miracles plain
the very essence of its beauty
perfection everywhere surrounding me
this feeling burgeons close to ecstasy
I the witness
peruse eternity
in the return of love
ever in a life time happily
living this
being this
is how all these formulations of sweetest creations
came to me
and in the elated heart of joyous life
I rose upon the steps of temples unity
and with all my companions
did thankfully celebrate
the honour of the love bequeathed us
This is how it was meant to be
this feeling burgeoning close to ecstasy
I remember
Grey the billowed clouds surround me
a fog in clamors daub
shatters the sun
to follow me at every turn
lays its irksome shadow upon all my smiles
just to tell me it’s only momentary
between I the fog designs unhappily
the demands of economical uncertainty
the ever present hate crime
attacking me
stabs their twisted focus
to placate those glimpses of something I knew
before this bitter shroud
haunted me
yes I remember in some wistful childhood memory
and stolen from the light
I staggered bemused into this mire
and lost all sense to life
and now I live in the fog of unhappily
I remember
the way it was meant to be
this burgeoning feeling so close, so close to ecstasy
ever in a life time spent happily
Secrets were made for the past
Formulations were made for the future
Endeavours were made for yesterday
Promises were made for me
History made was to be learned
Footprints made was to be followed
Mystery made was to be solved
Racism made was to be anguished
Thoughts were made to be analysed
Hearts were made to be appreciated
Decisions were made to be distinguished
Dreams were made to be dreams
silence in a
force of colour
magnified into
morals
of sensuous turmoil
formulations
of figures energised
fusions of circles
rippling
bubbling
indivisible
whirlpools sieved
of
essentials
perspectives
in
fleeting moments
circulating
in anticipation
in prolific
but
condensed meanins
saturated
with anxieties
an authentic scrutiny
of
beauty
fused
with prejudice
in the eye
of the beholder
("Dreaming Gaia", 2017, original encaustic)
The Dreaming Mind
Every night we all dream
Projecting the habits of a reifying mind
Onto the fabric of an energized neural net
Creating a world within a world
Just as amazing, just as solidly real.
And every day we perceive, sense objects and mental formulations
Projecting the habit of a reifying mind
Onto the fabric of an energized phenomenal world
Each creation the same
Habitual activity of a creative projecting mind.
Almost everyone acknowledges the creative projective
Habitual function of the night-dreaming mind
While few notice the very same mind
Must be doing the very same thing
At all times: asleep or awake!
It’s easy to assign causal agency
To ourselves when we’re all alone
Harder when we are but a small part
Of a much greater whole, and yet,
The common denominator remains the dreaming mind.
Waking or sleeping
The dreaming mind incessantly does its thing
Dreaming of subjects experiencing objects
Dreaming of worlds within and out
Dreaming that its dreaming makes it separate from the dream.
(10/29/23)