Best Hertz 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
A little low-voltage humor in monoku form depicting a fictional day at the Watt home...
The electrical engineer's wife greets him: "WIRE you INSULATE?"
Husband: WATTS it to you? Don't go blowing your CIRCUITS at least I'm OHM!
Wife: "Don't you make LIGHT of this if this were our daughter, you'd be GROUNDED!"
Husband: "Let's leave her out of this she can CONDUCTOR own business"
Wife: "Don't revAMP your story you know it reVOLTS me when you do that"
Husband: "Honey, I'm sorry it HERTZ just trying to keep you CURRENT"
Wife: "Well, I apologize for my RESISTANCE I felt POWERless"
Husband: "I didn't mean to give you STATIC but I'm feeling the SPARK now
Let's go enjoy an ELO concert it will be a good OUTLET"
Wife: "JOULE be SHOCKed to hear this... that would really reCHARGE my BATTERIES
You sure know how to flip my SWITCH we should do this with more FREQUENCY"
Husband, now whispering to the viewer "I just can't RESISTOR charm"
*** Note: ELO = Electric Light Orchestra (70's rock band) ***
shhh. I want to hear you.
A noise in the air is true.
Voices I hear in the blue
say shhh. It's Me Sue...
Do I hear you? Is that me
singing through? How?
Many voices inner the side
Many lives onto past rides
Many many gone bye and
by and by I listened...
Passion and compassion,
Care and dare to hear it,
When and where to pair it,
Is a simple question.
I did and dared to ask it.
Pulled apart my life to live it.
shhh. Quiet is the beat
of elegant speak and beauty
yet to be known. The smell
is sweet the colors bright
and a light is always shown.
shhh. It's Me...
and I hear your tOne.
From a well of hertz, a love
is grown.
I could talk about anything
But not two of them at once
Too many thoughts and hertz
Muddled mental interference
I can pick through this all
To somehow try to sort them
No doubt becoming distorted
Confetti caught in the wind
I want to be frozen in mind
And burned into your screen
Have you known what I meant
You really knew what I mean
I am dreaming without sleep
You, the always sweet treat
If I could back us onto DVR
I would keep this on repeat
Ever-Upwards, I AM The Sun
I Am the Sum of One,
I Am the Total of the Light Force, Ever-So Bright
Ever So High, I Blaze in Kundalini Fire
Illuminating Ethers of Life Within
I Am Eternal, I Am Infinite
I Am Promethean, Fire Born is the motto
I wield Boons from the Astros,
Ever-Luminous, I Am Octillion Mega Hertz of pure energy
Vibing on these Holy Melodies,
Ever-Solar, I'm a Cosmo Soldier
Dropping Jewels out the Winepress, Ever-Forward
Blazing Hymns of Salvation, I Am Glorious
I Am Victorious,
One with the Stars I Illumine the Abyss
Dazzling in shades of Gold and Bliss,
Untethered, I Breach realms of Eternal Life
I Am The Sun, I Am the Sun So High
Only light can penetrate the
darkness
that resides in the default state
of mind
I descend from beta to delta
through
binaural beats; instantly caught
between frequencies beyond
time
I absorb amplitudes of acoustic
energy
and I learn to just be earth
Since I am the earth
and because I am of
the one that is the source of its
existence,
I've owned the power of
omnificence
I realize now that I AM because
HE is since I am from that, a
descendant
Created in the image of a
thought
and a feeling from the
Universal Mind
I tune in to this vibration from
rhythmic
pulse that manipulates
subconscious minds
Immersed between 4 and 7
hertz;
brainwaves halt to a conscious
sleep
All chakras are aligned shining
crown energy
and now my consciousness
begins to reap!
and light begins to penetrate
the harmonious beams
that were already there
constant and always there
is now flooded with sound
patterns
that force brainwaves to submit
to power
of omnipresent sound that
always was
and always will be connected to
the Source from which I came
so I extend exponentially
beyond;
physical time and space
I long to embrace the intensity
of gamma rays
I give way to the coded sounds
that resonate from the inner
core
and continue to connect
through the binaural beats that
-
remind me of before
Always familiar but ignored
until found by gaining
knowledge of self
I listen with the intent to excel
while reaping an abundance of
benefits and rewards
Listen!!
It's already yours
Just reach out and grab it
as long as intention and ego is
checked
the universe will correspond
accordingly
it will deliver a life to you divine
and orderly
Just listen to the sounds that
were there from before
They will guide to to the
vibration from the core
and it will guide you to connect
directly with the source
I: Sheep
(A poem about Covid)
next door to 19 chimneys
and 'the dark satanic mills'
a flock of sheep is grazing
oblivious in the hills.
II: Other Animals
(They do all exist!)
goblin sharks and pangolins
sea pigs, star-nosed moles
mata matas, sugar gliders
shoats and water voles.
aye-ayes, dik-diks, wobbegongs
chicken turtles, loons
shoebills, snipes and yeti crabs
and cozumel raccoons.
pink fairy armadillos
bilbys, 52-hertz whales
the red-lipped batfish, panda ants
and emperor helmet snails.
the pleasing fungus beetles, thrips
hellbenders, great potoos
lilac breasted rollers, bongos
glass frogs, kinkajous.
boobies, fried egg jellyfish
happy wrens and teals
sarcastic fringe heads, cock-tailed tyrants
shags, electric eels.
johnny cash tarantulas
slevin's emo skinks
hanging thieves, agra cadabras
turbo shrews and minks.
the mediterranean shame-faced crabs
dugongs, gangly lancers
jesus lizards, pistol shrimps
fossas, spanish dancers.
the rare long-wattled umbrellabirds
chubs and munchkin cats
satanic leaf-tailed geckos, shads
gars, nits and fancy rats.
A special little whale,
Born in the dark depths of the ocean.
An abnormality, random variable, first of its kind.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Warm ocean currents with the softness of spring
The blooming corals of youth
The merpeople proposing with blinding seashells
The pleasant brilliance of the ocean exploding
A bomb of colour.
The baby whale's heart was sky blue and free.
It wailed in happiness for its bright future - 52Hz.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Scorching fire from the equatorial waters
Taught it to survive in the harsh world.
It earnt its battle scars.
Yet, as always, it was alone.
The baby whale roared in anger
and perhaps,
on a more subconscious level,
loneliness - 52Hz
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Autumn, the season of heartbreak.
The dejected blob had grown older and more
forlorn.
The coral path of love,
Painted in the colours of the sunset.
A lively orange ending in a sad, coffee brown.
Sadness at 52Hz.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
The coldness from the northern ice caps
numbed the beating of its heart.
A monotonous life in black and white
- Mostly white.
It would have frozen its tear tracks
But then, can one really cry in an ocean?
... - 52Hz
Time had left behind a dejected blob.
Giving up, it let its weight drag its soul
down into the dark ocean floors from which it was born,
its eyes like the burning embers of coal.
That was when it saw
Another. :)
Baby Ich Liebe Dich so wie du bist,
So perfekt, so wie du mich glucklich machen.
Die Art und weise du mich fuhlen,
Di Art und weise du mich lacheln und lachen.
Auch wenn Ich wu tend bin, trairig oder songar weinen.
Mein Hertz blutet dur dich baby.
Ich Liebe Dich Mein Schatz baby.
Ich kann mir nicht helfer, aber ruhing und glucklich.
Wenn du so wundershon und du liebst mich fur mich.
Ich Liebe Dich fur immer!
Always~N~Forever,
Briana Lynn Palmer
Age:15almost16
Dedicated To:My wonderful and amazing Husband Dustin James Palmer
12-09-11
~Dustin's one & only faithful and loving wife~
I Love You Baby!
It isn’t the incandescence that bothers me
It’s that anyway you spin the arrow,
Whatever goal or mission or path you undertake,
They’re all correct.
The full force of your efforts is all that matters.
A congress of pelicans came to dinner last night
While I swung scallops at the High Mistress.
The miasma! My asthma!
You’ve driven me right down Knucklehead Lane now.
My knee hurts. I should’ve taken Hertz and
Let the engine roar up into a God-awful thunder.
Jumping in and out of mosques.
Carrying news I can't interpret.
Practicing silliness under the cupboard,
Beside the space that has no name.
I am that space with a wicked haughtiness.
I am also however lofty I dare my balloon to rise,
Navigating my own slim spool.
Dr. Thumbopolis is ready for me now.
Time to stop writing.
Don’t dare bring this back to “incandescence.”
(You horrible hack.)
What bothers you if not the flooding light
Busting through baseboards, then?
Go on. Answer.
Rear view mirror
Objects, objectively put, are closer
than they appear. But it doesn’t say it all.
With the fair signs that spewed forth once turning to
a slew of pre-twitter pseudo- tweets since.
I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
In rhyme scheme: aab, bb, ccc .
(“ At the wheel
At night. Uneasy feel.
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.
Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist,
Comforting coolness and sultry night coexist .
Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)
A row of earthy images it failed
rather than showed ,images with eerie
librations and weary nutations .Which
was not Physics, but physiognomy of life.
Like when bashed by kiddy badasses and
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but math a behemoth
all the same, and guided perfunctorily
often, and rarely with the right intent.
In the peccadilloes- round, the Tintern
Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans
creativity , but the three trees on
the low sky made sense , and then on to
T.ds. equations and tedious times
soured by sleep and steep sloth.
Ingenious in fair measure , now turning
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after,
in the space of a couple of cusps of
light and sound mom was no more and we
whimpered and simpered under a dad who cared
but did not seem to, in his straight-faced mode
Then came falsely flashing , faintly fuming ,
slapdash years of machines and mega hertz,
eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.
Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);
preferring palm-frond’s loftiness cum
deprivation to urban up-for-grabs
benefaction; and the mess of docs, deaths
and a mossy crock of living pain since.
And all the dicey way , never patted
but p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed;
banked on , debunked ; short-changed, sort-of-changed ;
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering
and if anything wondering if it’s
not all the mirror’s prim fault
which never once showed my face.
If I was to take a word, say focus,
Stand it on its head,
And ask with growing sense of dread,
Why my friend did you just now,
Fly upon this particular
Moment’s verbal locus?
Torture I might answer, like waterboarding,
Might explain a thing or two.
Indeed the stakes are dear,
And the coast far from clear-
For foggy shores clarity prevents,
The utter contingency of cluttered events.
Focus is the mine shaft of the mind,
Magnifying that which falls
Into categories of significance:
Signs of a trance, a mental dance,
By which thinking signifies
The magnificent follies
Of a man upside down
In a world of lies.
No subtlety there,
Poet banging hair chest bare,
The mental frequency hertz,
Screeching, scratching, snatching,
Lose bits of hurt out of the air.
The mathematics of falling
Made clear by Newton,
His numbers uncovering
What was
Always there:
A god already in free fall,
The Fall, the autumn of our birth,
The forsaken garden,
Two dummies hand in hand,
An undulating snake,
A world of entanglement,
All fleeing into a desert dream.
For what? To where? And why?
The three double jews of the trinity
Which Law forbade no One to ask,
Yet no body did
Put focus to task.
She reappears all the time.
The rabbit hole stood for what was to come,
The worms therein what was done.
The trip down was fun,
Getting out gave more than the sum.
The prism diffracted the invisible
Beams of light,
An assortment of possibilities followed,
The world explained, the mind contained,
A boundless infinite void of space,
Surrounding us,
Disgracing us,
For we had to face,
The borders of our place.
Trapped inside
We looked the other way,
Attic floors, token doors,
A distilled virtue, forgeries for another day.
The sky was not the limit, we were.
The atoms of the mind mere reflections
Of our best guessing games.
There though, lay our best hope.
After the bloodshed
She reappeared again.
But only after.
Choices like Templars into the night,
Distracted the courtesies of a harmonious cosmos,
God had blood and died,
Men embraced humiliation and cried,
Change, the abomination of free will,
Altered the fabric of time.
Focus put by for a rainy day.
Distraction, the play thing
Of an unruly monster lurking in the shadows of thought,
Vomiting a pile of disassociations.
The drain of education buckle my belt of understanding to slight I saw twinkle of light from the dark corner of the sky, the branch of imagination hook's me to river Nile I can't stop loving you. The river Nile pen is my diary where I use to keep you recorded.
The height of the benchmark I have been making to stand by you, to pick you up when you are sad, to take to gardens of orchards, and the barbecues night fence from the intruders from infiltrating into our affairs.
The roses in my hand is holistically for you, the envelope of love cloud my imagination from penetrate to any person, except to your magical love.
clap of thought waves of tides smile of flowers by the bank of the sea imaging you in our cloud in bed, tongues sliding side to side licking, and itching the pinching, wishing to swallow the day and chew the night for supper.
The feeling of sweetness tasted in my elbows the axe of love inking
That's stain jolted me into your flower default the mistake I never made to miss you while on mission to the blanket of shoving trembling fingers, building slippery sound from groomed and aimed to the target.
Rolling from education to medications fast to dedication systematic minding my own business under the shape of Cookies biscuit,
To banquet love; I bullied by bullet to testimonial kilo hertz. It mirrors to mirage to lukewarm, to vindicate capsule to culvert sound of cricket by the side of
rivers, Gubah.
Suddenly a peculiar audible yet indescribable cacophony plays inside my head,
A thick constant racket of insectoid screams terrorizing me as I lay inside my bed.
Here it is again, in its orchestrated cricketing song behind my dry retinitis,
Sound bloodying my equilibrium from the unknown source of this tinnitus.
Constant criss-cross crescendos of cacuminal acoustics slash my cochlear,
A barrage of borborygmic gaseous airs gurgling in what's heard in the auricular.
From where or what does this click-click infiltrating attack of a static cavalry invade,
Galloping in a stampede aimed to stab my eardrums with buccinal bayonet blades?
Frantically I try to find or figure out from where this constant hum haunts,
Is it the fluorescence of a bulb whose lingering hung aura in my sight taunts?
Or is it the wireless fidelity fuming from a computer modem's ethernet plugs,
Whose wires whip the air with flying frequencies flashing above the oriental rug.
The rug churns to the stimuli's symphony as I stare at its floral embroidery,
Waving in the reverberating rhythm of my cranium's shaken sockets sinusoidally.
I pause and close my darting three eyes,
To try and descry what this noise is that cries.
"Ommmm," says my mouth in a meditative blurt.
A tone at five-hundred and twenty-eight hertz.
Slowly I sink into my very own skin,
And quickly, I nod and begin to grin.
For this sound that has caused such insomniac pain,
Is but the beating gamma waves of my very own brain.
03/10/2017
Submitted for the contest "The Noise", sponsored by Shadow Hamilton.
Art’s A Virtue!
Sitting forlorn on a plastic chair
When a rush of heat swarms the air
And Fourteen thousand Hertz declare:
“Music fades away despair”
Staring lonely on a mountainside
Nanometers of wavelengths collide
Four hundred and Seventy of them confide:
“With natural beauty your joy is revived.”
Bored and reading from a page
The words are angry with sheer rage
The letters jump out and engage:
“Poetry defies the laws of age”
How dare you undermine art’s view?
‘Tis the only thing that rings true!
With it the prompted birds they flew
Over the landscapes of heaven yet where are you?
Can you only stare at the sky so blue,
Or will you join the flight? Art’s a virtue!