Best Fourth Dimension Poems
I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
The Curve of Time
This curve is the truest magic of space and time,
With one finite, the other infinite but not in kind.
Einstein’s vision gave us this new fourth dimension,
Inspiring mankind’s depth of a true infinite intention.
The infinite extension of this mystical curve of time,
Gives our poets much to ponder and to set in rhyme.
Piercing the veil of time travel exceeds finite space,
Whilst allowing man his place in this noblest grace.
Man’s primitive view of our Earth as being only flat,
Gave way now to an infinite future view to arrive at.
This infinite future view bespeaks a constancy of motion,
Descriptive of time, people, events, passion, and emotion.
Let us all dream of the enchantment of this curve of time;
For this shall give our poets the chance to set all in rhyme!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
July 22, 2017 (Couplet)
The creation of dimensions
by the Dimension of Creations
happened in this wise:
The Fifth Dimension
created the Fourth Dimension,
which then created
the three dimensions
in which we live.
I live in middle land between fuzzy bottom
and the high hazy skies
I peer down quantum wishing-wells, waves entangle
observed as they collapse
I scan beyond forever where dark matter lurks
in unforeseen disguise
I think I am, I blink, ... something is shifting there
reality perhaps
I count the zeroes descending beneath my eyes
to out of sight below
I sum tens of noughts piling to the very brink
of distant space and time
I ask why half-way along this fourth dimension
our knowledge seems to grow
I ponder my vantage, asymmetric centre
position so sublime
I play with grateful gods gathering me in close
where when can be no more
I move by osmosis, membrane passing on through
the other side of hope
I absorb persona essence, no hereafter
no self was here before
I am continuous love, joy and pain caressed
I am the learning-scope
I seem potent but feel a much greater power
the birth of potential
I flow with constant change, buoyed up by warm current
rising through the ocean
I feel procession from the dizzy atomic
to cosmic sequential
I record the dancing rim of life, strange song soothed
holographic lotion
I stir prime numbers, multiple integer broth
then fractions of the whole
I greet the old ones, memories morph and cuddle
sprinkling their magic hue
I mingle many species, their varied voices
shape the galactic goal
I embrace fallen youngsters, stricken babies scream
all pleading to renew
I swing with orchestral relatives, out of time
off-beating ticking clock
I watch minds simplify, beguiled by certainty
discordant chords strumming
I am blown by the erratic winds of zeitgeist
zig-zagging round the block
I pause to query, am I this zany creature
half-way to becoming?
Illuminatus
I don't know how a prisoner fits in a cell
how the matrix of justice gives energy
to the inner thoughts using mitochondria
the dentist never seems to smile
the chemist does not like fire wax
and politician does like logic
like the mathematician
I don't know how many planes a pilot flies
over the Atlantic
aligned to the meridian
to the upper half of the hemisphere
at the top..a nipple
it was the hand of the child
and suckling of love
So we meet the lawyer
perusing the journal of a psychiatrist
who argues the existence of psychic energy
yet it seems the mist misses spirituality
and the ghostly scenes are unjust to conformity
so help him God
he has already lost the case
Here I am a feeble poet
playing with mind of logistic
creating planes and vertices
graphs of time in the fourth dimension
I fell in love yesterday but I feel it now
its time against matters
what matters against reality
as I write creativity rules logic
So here I am
applying ohms law on the smartphone
as long as electrons have kinetic energy
concentrated to diffuse for potential difference
it will light
this love that diffuses from this heart
if you re creative..create an electromagnetic spectrum
illuminate love
magnetise the unlike poles
choose the path of least resistance like electricity
and shine the sky
for NASA to study
for you re a universe
science dreams as fiction
©Riddle Code
Everyone, from children to grownups,
carry the world in their hands, they see the past
and the future simply by the move of their thumbs and fingers;
from their very spot they fly in the air hanging onto the mixture of
illusion and reality.
The little glass plate they are staring at is,
though, a two dimensional world, they go
beyond the fourth dimension and reach the world of infinity,
the time of conception to death, while creating a totally anew concept
of time that is a mixture of kairos and chronos.
Because you see everything at the same time
in this little glass plate, layer after layer of thickened image
starts to fall to cause the chaos, the distorted image crumbles.
When a child finds Hydra in the little flat glass plate he held,
he challenges Hydra, and after a long difficult fight, though
he cuts a head off from this great serpent, a drop of blood
numbs the child, with venom spitting out from the mouths
of the remaining heads it deadens the child. Then, after all,
the Hydra’s blood and venom overtake the child’s shrunken brain,
the child becomes a fierce monster himself.
For a grownup,
while watching Laokoon and his two children locked in the coils of
hissing snakes, agonizing. He undergoes unbearable torment himself,
as if Laokoon was tortured by the snakes, stretching his arms in the air
to grab something that may lessen the intensity of horror.
From the touch of smooth
but cold skin of the snake,
he shudders, he frightens, he feels death.
The child, comes and goes from here to yonder world in no time,
led by the move of his fingertip, he came and sat with the devil
face to face, tries to trade junk the devil offers with his soul, though
immature, he is therefore reckless, but innocent.
The grownup who haunted by anguish,
walks on the path of life and death, because
he is unable to shake off the bad-omen he carries;
is now sitting in front of a poker table and through
the little flat glass plate in his palm, gazing at the numbers
on the playing cards; he irons his ragged soul with steaming-hot-iron
for external appearance, the soul that even the devil won’t take in
pledge for filthy lucre.
It’s outrageous but,
all generations alive today, seem to be confined
in the little flat glass plate, they live as the slave of the fingertip.
The smiling loch gives a welcome
Along with the vigorous pine,
Time to recharge the soul
And smell the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
Misty mountains of mystery
Are a drug with a natural high,
And offer more to discover
Sipping coffee on the Isle of Skye.
The landscape changes each minute
As clouds give way to the shine,
As the sun whispers the invite
Smell the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
White washed homes contrast colour
Of illuminous mountain sides,
That greet the Cali ferries,
And bring life to the Isle of Skye.
You can almost touch the mountains
As you're touched by the Western Isles,
Three dimensions experienced, while
Sipping coffee on the Isle of Skye.
But the likeness of God in nature
Stirs the fourth dimension inside,
Marries the natural and spiritual, while
Smelling the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
Chaos theory must answer
To the Western Island design,
A place too wonderful for me
While smelling coffee on the Isle of Skye.
The Gaelic heart of Scotland
Melts into the core of mine,
As the wide-eyed little boy
Smells the coffee on the Isle of Sky.
Anacreontic Verse
Forgotten
love has faded
forever now lost
in the lips of ice
What once was
is no more
Her body revolts
she heaves heavily
Get thee away
Deliver me Lord
back to sanity
Let her feel my eyes
let her see my needs
a soft bed for two
now scorned by my touch
Let me give my might
pray show me the way
I will not lose her
I cannot go on
My life is over
11/13/15
length width height form space
and the fourth dimension of
past present future
A few nights before Christmas
all was quiet in the apartment
except for a few ghosts milling about in it
Before I went to bed
to rest my head
I thought of the words of a friend
who once said
You are not out of your mind
dreaming you are wide awake
not in your body but another fourth dimension
to your self please be kind
In the middle of the night
came a demanding knock
like Ebenezer Scrooge I was in a fright
Could it be just the wind
or a piece of undigested fruitcake
Could it be just my imagination
or could it be my very end
Not knowing what to do in the situation
I find myself walking in my living room
furniture was missing and the feeling was ghostly white
dead Aunt singing like Ella Fitzgerald in syncopation
The dead are here
The dead are real
Do not be afraid
The dead are on the other side-there
To the front door I went
with much anticipation
to the front portal I went
with much exasperation
But next an orange- red morning sky
the sun has risen to my surprise
in the same living room now bathe in light adorn
like a Christmas greeting card
was left on the floor a picture of me
which was not there the night before
Time came as the fourth dimension
It wiped away all allusion
Transition from special to general relativity
increased the universe's accessibility
Time travel once a hyperbole
is now possible through wormhole
The geometry of space-time
made gravity an age old mime
For high precision came the strontium clock
which made cesium an uninhabited block
A nocturnal phenomenon
When the sun falls from the heavens
And we begin the recitation of the constellations
And chart your wisdom in the fourth dimension
To a constant navigation of hearts that burn brighter
Yearning for the truth, for love and romance
The reason why diamonds even matter
An eternal patience to watch man’s evil deeds and not utter a word
And witness in a profound silence, his hunt and insatiable greed
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****
The stars only exist for stars to exist - to shine with all their might
Man is a sickness, and unintended by-product of the star dust
Our freewill seeks to impose itself on their brilliance
Through astronomy and astrology seeking the stars' guidance
Their light into our lives like a multitude of eyes gives us significance
Twinkling like a blinking eye, winking to give us reassurance
The sphere of the night sky like a wide open eye
Watching over us like the Gods by name we forever praise
The faith to someday also our souls raise
Holograms and hieroglyphs
The whole weighs heavily
touched caressed lightly
brushed on feather canvass
granite marble marvellous papyrus
innocence rejuvenated
partial and impartial
Chiselled in and out
of comprehension angled
layered facets facts
subjective trueness
ciphered and deciphered
Snow flakes teardrops
ink on paper hailing crystals
pastel rainbows thunderbolts
and blind pitch black darkness
tell the story weathered lives
Freedom torrent lightening
anxious reproduction
wholesome holes concatenations
metaphoric mosaic translates
picturesque ‘holos’ trying to emerge
Vertex vortex on horizons
told untold forgotten
and beyond beheld
diagonal a-synchronicity
discovered spoken written
felt and never once complete
Lyric lasers beaming densely
condensation compromised
at the cutting edge of aural light
lacking graphic clarity
eluding synthesized illusion
Once we decipher unconventional
primal prismatic re-reflections
meanings life calligraphy
inscriptions narrative conceptions
we enclose and liberate
the hologram that seems to be
Infinite eternity of scripts
encrypted systems
webs of life’s distortions
fragmentation truth reality
paint the picture of
conflicting contradictions
making sense constructions
lithographic mystery
moulded into understanding
Holograms are limited to
the scope of three dimensions
tending mind and body soul
complementing contrasts
hollow narrow depth untold
Burrowed in words rational
irrational emotions rationale
defence deflections oppressed
repression incarceration
loose out transitional
transcriptions miss the point by far
the bigger picture yet emerging
uncertain clarity sculpted
in hieroglyphic excavation
Carving holy boundless beauty
with the fourth dimension
of subjective sense perception
and the changing timeless
flowing circuit circus artwork
in the making reading writing
on the imaginary wall of life
over and above the hologram
engraved in fallacies
arrests of real unreal reality and
strikes the balance never known
of what is and only seems to be
22th May 2016-05-22
Contest entered: Holograms and Hieroglyphs
My colleagues have doubt about my ability.
The fourth dimension can be traversed quite easily.
I sit inside my time traveling machine on New Year’s Day.
Pushing the throttle forward to the future, I’m on my way.
Snow and ice are on the branches of the apple tree.
Just a lifeless winter is what I now see.
Toward the future, I advance a few months into the spring.
On the branches of the apple tree, I see renewal of everything.
Leaf buds and white blossoms suddenly appear.
I hear the song of the birds as they return back here.
Forward into the future I go to satisfy my curiosity.
Bright red apples on the branches are what I now see.
I noticed a fluttering butterfly and a buzzing bee.
I behold the summer in all its beauty.
The leaves on the trees die as I sit in my place.
I am steadily passing through time and space.
I can see autumn moving by at a rapid pace.
The speed of the machine increases, and years are left behind.
I am now inundated with curiosity to see what I will find.
Inspired by the novel “The Time Machine” by H. G. Wells
Today, as I languish in intense intellection,
Recalling the former assigned to my course.
Questioning why this versified collection,
But knowing they arrived by a vital force.
Each imparted entities to my well being,
perhaps, on occasion, an unbiased voice.
Embedding ideas when not clearly seeing,
Then leaving me to contemplate my choice.
Some tracks were left profoundly inscribed,
That the fourth dimension stole not away.
This retention came as a tonic prescribed,
Propelling me toward a more opportune day;