Best Infinitesimally Poems
I was born in a spoken Word
a universe of infinitesimally low entropy
energy and matter
pressed into order
incredibly dense
God breathed
Since that first compression
I have been sliding
toward indifference
toward equilibrium
and yet your existence remains
statistically staggering
You are temporary whirlpools
in my river of chaos
the bloom of a flower
the warmth of a coffee cup
the span of a human life
beautiful because they are
fleeting states
of disequilibrium
You live in the pinprick window
between my highly ordered beginning
and my ultimate stillness
the Heat Death
where every particle
surrenders
its last difference
You call it paradox
that life seems to break my rules
but life does not break
the Second Law
it discovers
the loophole within me
the narrow passage
between collapse
and creation
You intercept sunlight
like a waterwheel
catching a waterfall
performing thermodynamic work
building order
from my downhill slide
But there is no free lunch
to create a pristine room
you must sweat
breathe heavily
radiate heat
you make the room ordered
and the air around you
more disordered
Life does the same
on a grander scale
to keep your body
your brain
your memories
in a state of low entropy
you consume
transform
and return
chaos
back into the room
You pay me
an entropy tax
you become
a masterpiece of order
only because you turn
your surroundings
into a stadium of disorder
faster than they would decay
on their own
You are temporary
stardust
golden
brilliant knots
tied in my fraying rope
tight only because
energy continues
to pass through you
And still
after knowing
the fate of stars
after hearing
the silence waiting
at the edge of time
you plant gardens
We saw the ultrasound of your unborn child
Early this morning, still awakening
When at the speed of light
It raced across the internet finding its way
Into our home and hearts.
Your mother began to cry and I
Was stunned and stupefied
At the reality of it all, remembering when
You were one time just so small.
I wondered about all the unseen and inexplicable forces
Conspiring and converging to create this new life
Inside you now. I wonder how
Time could have raced away so rapidly leaving
All those yesterdays turn to dust
While you grew up in front of us.
Thankfully, as the infinitesimally small
Photographic figure in this ultrasound shows, something
Of our hopes, dreams and love grows
Like fruit of the vine and nectar
Of God’s eternal sea of goodness and grace shining
Down on our humanity.
This evening when the sun sinks low
We’ll still be aglow with thoughts of you
No longer one but two
Hearts beating together
In rhyme and rhythm. Your mother and I
Could never be happier for you and this new found
Miracle we’ve been given.
The seashore lets through cracks of light
And is the cradle of a bird in endless flight
Loss to the bounds of sea and sky
Plummeting and barreling through invisible doors
Hoping to always reach a higher epiphany of being
The seashore is the entrance way to all of this and more
As I stand with my feet in the sand
And beckon the gods to show me all that they are
The shells made of infinitesimally tiny glittering particles
Open up their eyes and open their souls
Asking me to trace their loving back into the beginning of time
A Self-Tutoring Translation of RIMBAUD's " The Vowels " in Contemporary Terms
(" The Vowels " in the Paul Verlaine (first version) copy in RIMBAUD Œuvres complètes. Ed. by Pierre Brunel. Paris : Livres de Poche/La Pochethèque, 1999, pp. 279-280. Please see notes following the translation. T. Wignesan)
A, black ; E, white ; I, red ; U, green ; O, blue ; vowels,
I'll invoke true to day how your latent forms take shape
A, velvety black corset shiny bluebottles armour-plate ape
Pullule hovering over putrefying carrion stench gruels
By leeway gulfs. E, shimmering of vapours and tents,
Icy surges prideful, white grapes*, fluttering parasols umbellate,
I, purple, spat-out blood, laughter from Synchrotron** lips ondulate
Through anger or from inebriate benumbing of penitents.
U, cycles, the divine vibrations of emerald-green seas
Peaceful grazing grounds teeming with animals, reposeful furrowed pleats
Some alchemically concocted hand imprints on great foreheads studious ;
O ! stentorian Bugle ! the laden strident shriek deranges,
The calmness pierced by disrupting Worlds and Angels…
--- O ! the ultimate Omega, the violet tincture of her eyes !
Notes
* " rais blanc " (" raisin blanc " ?, hence : " raisiné " : blood, claret) ;
** " belles " (" beautiful " is hackneyed and meaningless ; by contrast, the CERN Synchrotron is the most daring, infinitesimally elegant and awe-inspiring human creation) ;
© T. Wignesan - Paris, March 21, 2019
Caught in a madman’s rage
Life distorted
Normal becomes abnormal
Sense becomes senseless
Logic disappears
Flowers appear
Springing from the bloody ground
Can they hallow the soil?
In this eternal struggle
Of good versus evil
Love versus hate
The decision is yours
Choose wisely among
The images you resurrect
Will you choose
Flowers
Living symbols
A kaleidoscope
Of changing patterns
Varied hues of
Red, yellow, orange and purple
Delicate and wild
Single and in bouquets
Spreading as grief flows
Like blocks in a quilt
Standing at attention
Mirroring internal struggles
First fear, grief and anger
Later, forgiveness
Will you choose
The glint of sunlight on steel
The thunder of bullets
Tearing flesh
Faces contorted
Bodies crumpled, discarded
Left where they fall
As a fetus without a womb
Animal sounds emerge
Without a home to go to
Echoing through
The community, the nation, the world
Hate as strong
As the gun’s metal,
Contains within its chambers
Limited volleys
Once expended
Its power dissipates
Love, as delicate
As the flowers’ petals,
Conceals within its pods
Seeds
As infinitesimally small
As grains of sand
Stretching
Through space and time
Imagine
Nature choosing for you
After hate’s missiles end
Love’s seed sows itself
Endlessly
Norway – July 2011
Third version September 2011
Fourth version Oct
KDK
Time To Shower...When Pervasive Odor Of Ureic Acid
Doth strongly waft, sting,
and nauseate about me
olfactory nose flying zone
bombarding cilia of
nasal passageway analogous
to displeasure wrought by
crashing, deafening, exploding,
ear splitting xylophone,
also synonymous isolated like
barenaked lady within
remote location of Lake Woebegone,
voluntarily forced to bathe
in brutally cold
mountain waters oxbow lake
vaguely resembling out
size topographical wishbone
rescue unlikely since
bajillion miles from radio tower,
thus state of the art
electronically sophisticated videophone
good as worthless resignation,
sans fate linkedin tubby
mother nature's cryogenic specimen
more'n murmuring undertone,
where huge Arctic glacier overshadows
infinitesimally microscopic human,
one speck kin zee ditched
*****sapien subsumed
under superfluous tombstone
as frozen fountain head,
where Atlas shrugged,
nonetheless incongruous yen
to purge mine offensive odor,
where civilization footprint
sole lee mine alone in wilderness
thus farcical reason (without rhyme),
atypical, farcical, and poetical title,
yours truly didst stirrup and spur
inexplicable search for soapstone,
yet prospect to don measly frame
without gay apparel
(beastie boy bit figurative bullet,
and buttressed body in buff)
immediately augmented primal scream
to trumpet heebeegeebees
(teeth chattering yodeling
rendition re: stayin alive)
from this Rhinestone
survivalist cowboy wannabe,
began feeling comfortably numb,
and immediately prone
to become human popsicle,
especially when sub zero temperature
immediately froze water splashed skin
(like glassy sheet of ice)
glancing viz albedo effect
as blindingly white
snow capped mountains outshone
albino crags, offering
absolute zero, yes none
reassurance with insulated moonstone
sleeping bag useful
as yolked with lodestone
around neck - slow death by
freezing this knucklebone,
who sought cleanliness,
(and panacea to immortality)
joining exclusive polar bear club
(Ursus Maritimus very selective,
and only chose me) even
at expense of more'n
just frozen jawbone
plus Jack frost bitten cockles turned
deep purple as inkstone
used to write re: scrawl epitaph
on icicle glommed headstone.
"Something is to be discovered in you,
Nothing is to be added to you,
You are not a palatable dish but my life's greatest wish,
I will be in your soul for my whole,
Infinitesimally small,minute, diminutive, heart you have , my love,
I can't tell you reasons and not all this is treason,
Your my life's destiny as well as my greatest fantasy,
My life is yours and you are my destination,
Aggravation and provocation is to be expressed,
Just for you, Only for you,
Till Death and beyond,
Till space and infinity,
I don't blame "gravity",
I don't blame "fate",
I encourage normal(force), my seducing love,
You are a magnet and I am your attraction,
You are my attraction and also my seduction,
I didn't know how to judge by what is inside,
I just saw your beauty through my gleaming eyes,
Wizard phosphorescence, sparkling seeing you,
This is the only reason I have abandoned you,
I miss you, miss you, my carcinogen,
Your the reason I am living,
Your my challenge I am facing,
You have detoxified me and I don't know what it is,
My body needs your presence to be seen,
Or else I will not be seen,
Promise you for infinite times,
I am seeing you from inside,
Just inside, insight, your my foresight,
I miss you,
Just miss you,
Am living just for you
And my life is sophisticated and complicated,
I am becoming under-rated..
Help me for Heaven sake!!!!"
Una or Death, Life : 1, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Una ou la mort, la vie by T. Wignesan
Sometimes he wonders what good a poem can be
Of course in his case doubting is blasphemy
An absurd benumbing of life
In truth, what good can a poem serve
Where all the overpopulated deaf people despite noises
Make believe that they listen in to him
The only thing which matters is the heart beating against
The ear-drums and becomes the organ of hearing
The heart which spreads in a stellar network
The beat maintained in the finest capillaries
Infinitely infinitesimally
The ubiquitous unit of life : Poetry.
* According to Anne-Sophie Constant, Una ou la mort, la vie (first book in Livre de l’homme et de la femme, just as the other two books in the trilogy : Duel and L’Autre, all in twelve lines), the poems are untitled, but numbered.
(Una ou la mort, la vie, O. C. t. II, p. 733)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Mitochondrial Eve spinning the moon
without interruption or supervision.
Stars sail across the sky without time
as she is both mother and midwife.
Primordial Eve in infinite density.
Infinitesimally small, a ball of power
a witness to it all, as all
abilities to predict the future break down.
She was there with the molten soup;
the black iron core glowing blood red.
The syrupy mixture of elements
spirit, earth, fire, wind, and water.
Kharithana exhaled into existence
into Lucy our African humanity.
Silently witnessing the dawn of spring
the azalea blossoms, the buzzing insects.
Everything comes alive when Kharithana
opens her eyes at sunrise to capture
that moment when the first golden ray
caps the mountain range and forms a lining.
Thus when Kharithana yawns, stretches out her arms,
like the big bang my heart becomes a beating drum,
synapses snap and my quantum capillaries
rediscover the meaning of life.
how can a speck of dust
comprehend the universe
in all its glory and majesty
I am at times beyond overwhelmed
past the point of feeling my smallness
infinitesimally minute barely even a presence
and yet you have generated
a wonder beyond anything
I could possibly feel outside of
a magnitude of gratitude
for the minuiscule perception of glory
you have taken dust
and congealed a realization
that gives light to life
and touched even the broken
with a glimpse of paradise
of a grace that even in our brokenness
that you could reach deeply
beyond all that an eye can see
and touch the hidden
that we have fortressed
and sheltered and not allowed
violence of nature or men to touch
for only your divine purity
and innocence will we
even allow to enter this room
COPYRIGHT © 2014 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
This tediousness of life and all
LIFE: that sinful lady
who gambols and whips her watery gown
and whispers those most secret secrets
whose cosmic kiss dances so infinitesimally close to the eardrum
but never encounter
How it all bores me
this whining, day-to-day existence of nihility
forever to hopelessly and helplessly wander this whispering life
a trivial splatter
an insignificant speck upon the all unimportant commix of man
impatiently awaiting both life and that deathly slumber
A yowling pang of pain that plagues the soul
brought on by some humanly mutual silent rebellion of the heart
some umbriferous desire to veer away
from that road of we to that moonlit path of I and alone
to endure the hail of individuality
and the impeding squall of worldly foreigner
An incessant haunting that shreds the heart
from that honeyed canticle sounding from the stars
which the heart is doomed to eternally hear but never fully be
a swaying, smirking, glossy-eyed, universal promise
that beckons the anima farther and further from animation
and the consciousness close to that miserable fault of misery
So...felicific facades must be withheld
to unceasingly veil the devil beneath each pearly wink
a mere life merely spent in maintenance of jocund fancy
how dolefully and darkly we all seek Heaven
better we learn to take Hell with a smile
By Darren White of PoetrySoup and Brian Johnston of PoetrySoup and Poemhunter
Where Laughter Lived
Do not come looking for me in
small corners of our house
I am not there
The vast space we occupied
where laughter lived
I left behind
The still place in our bed
once radiating love
I sense its cold
Photoless frames, shattered glass
a myriad memories
I will forget
Do not try to find me in the yard
or in the snow of blossom
I once loved
Forget you ever knew the wrinkles
around my mouth and eyes
I crumble
If you aim to memorize my face
know it will fade in time
I lost you
In any place you find me drifting
remember in your heart
I find you
Darren White
May 28,2017
The Birth of Hope
A photon wave, I lighten the broadest vista,
not a nook that has ever contained me,
unable to choose between two dark eyes
my ripples enter both simultaneously
striking but one heart, I'm free.
One light is all that can exist
and though I am but a fragment
the chance of you not surfing
my expanding disturbance of space-time
is infinitesimally small.
Let us rejoice then however many times
our reflected waves may interfere
and celebrate our massless voyage
that always reaches outward,
diffracted at times but determined.
To stay the course our heart's desire,
our memories will last as long as
God still looks to future days,
recognizing in our tiny spark,
the birth of universes He has yet to dream.
So, you and I live on in time,
how could one dream forget another,
what God has joined with, in His heart,
cannot be torn asunder,
for as He Is, I Am, and You Are - always mine.
Brian Johnston
May 28,2017
Infinitesimally scaled people
Of the forgotten planet
Pitter patter the surface of their planet.
Almost atomic in demeanor!
Though bulldozered many times over.
They mutilate, bleed,
Their infected flesh ooze with green.
Infinitesimally scaled people
Of the forgotten planet,
Live their lives
Scavenging from the
Garbage Bins.
Infinitesimally scaled people
Of the forgotten planet
Look upon the vaulted sky and
Pray
To be remembered!
Once in a while,
perhaps
On their national remembrance day!
Infinitesimally scaled people
Of the forgotten planet
Cry real tears like us human beings!
Their offspring are reared on mother’s milk.
The floor under their feet creaks;
Unfamiliarity creeps into their existence!
So they freak and hit the streets
Living on the cardboard scraps again!
They shave and shower on the streets!
Infinitesimally scaled people
Of forgotten planet
Inject themselves with opium like
Substances!
Sometimes they trip and sometimes they expire!
A photon wave, I lighten the broadest vista,
not a nook that has ever contained me,
unable to choose between two dark eyes
my ripples enter both simultaneously
striking but one heart, I'm free.
One light is all that can exist
and though I am but a fragment
the chance of you not surfing
my expanding disturbance of space-time
is infinitesimally small.
Let us rejoice then however many times
our reflected waves may interfere
and celebrate our massless voyage
that always reaches outward,
diffracted at times but determined.
To stay the course our heart's desire,
our memories will last as long as
God still looks to future days,
recognizing in our tiny spark,
the birth of universes He has yet to dream.
So, you and I live on in time,
how could one dream forget another,
what God has joined with, in His heart,
cannot be torn asunder,
for as He Is, I Am, and You Are - always mine.
Brian Johnston
May 28,2017
Like islands and continents on the sea
The essence of space stretches for infinity
They are of transcendent beauty
And can be made to divine majesty
As non linear equations knowledge transverse
They are but infinitesimally small part of Omni-verse
But even if they be what they are to zero to the Omni-verse
Even than using those with true divine one could not converse
But I’m of conclusion
That what essence of space is to normal fusion
They would be to Omni-verses’ greatest secret of them all
That essence would be a mirror to the soul
Like a threads of crystal silk
Spreading the cosmos like spilled milk
This is greatest power in Omni-verse
With witch with God one can converse
The complexities of colors of nebula are surreal
But real beauty is what your spirit can feel
Stronger than titanium or steel
The ideal soul of the divine it will reveal