Best Novas Poems
Fantasy 2-22-24
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Parade
At midnight dawn my mind escapes parting the stars
Making my way to a summerland torchlight parade
Where grand marshals of zebra fish
Lead the festival from fiery snow drifts of spun clouds
Making way for tunes and flourishes of the flugel zoots
Dressed in braided gold, sounds of silver reeds giggling om-pahs,
Followed by perfect lines of elephins holding hot air hippos
Rows and rows of dolphettes ride on one horned steads
As whirling woodles swish their skirts to drumline mango tangos
From silver floats rosemaids royal wave to gaping galaxies
As crickethoppers dance the wooly wozzle by the Doodle Loos!
And porpi pass in waves of burnished summersaults
Comet twirlers shout “Hooray!” and clap their stony hands,
Snarfish teeter on the invisible between starstruck novas
Then tap dance in steps of dipsy doodles for eleven moons
Red giants snoozle riding quadra pogo stickes
And throw tickertape confetti – sounding the curly noodles curfew –
Remembering how to hold the magic as this homecoming parade ends
Tap dancing into the horizon's shadow as this long day’s night passes by -
And masquerades of new moons wane in tipsy oodles!
In the twilight of suspended star thunder
where the waking jungle and broken Temple of tradition meet one another
she moves with a panthera prana, pranayama of precise paradise, air of spaceless pleasure,
A lavender Tigress of effortless enlightenment
seeking sensations on the edge of eternity's cremation,
on her fingertips questions and answers dance to mudras of nimble demolition
as the triumph of truth blazes on the tip of her tongue's flavored amusement,
genetics of ginger helix she licks and sticks to the flesh of nude nirvana
limber in the moment of typeless titillation,
becoming an animal of fearless asana,
a creature of chaos prowling along the heartbeat of karma,
Brahma made her beauty from the diamonds of a billion deceased roses,
the ascetics recognize her as a child of Kali, gorgeous and gruesome in vendetta,
for the Brahmins she is a Mother of immeasurable mystery, a kiss on the eye of history,
worshipers whisper the wealth of her shameless and shapeless clarity, as charity of Parvati,
Heirlooms of sun blood and moon love decorate the tender truth of her body,
a garden of webbing galaxies, catching the notions of novas her mandala,
rain romantic in flying fall, plucking the Ganges sitar her mantra,
the movement of melange madness through perfect passion her sutra,
poetry naked on the nerves of nascent love need is her tantra,
chakras uniting to recreate the uncreated color of consciousness, crown her aura,
as the lotus of love blooms blue, she dances on the fragrance of freedom -
J.A.B.
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
First there was oblivion, before emptiness began
Then everything grew from a (dot) and so forth into man
Using reverse extrapolation, large brains, and a plan
Intelligent beings worked this out, as only they can
Logic itself explains two plus two, if you do the math
Belief invokes a loving god, yet threatens words of wrath
Philosophy brings wisdom, but follows different paths
They all leave unanswered questions, and I don’t accept that
Some say why bother, ultimately we will all expire
Life doesn’t need reason, it’s a cosmic quirk we acquired
No creatures besides few humans, actually inquire
To what the fu*k is going on, driving me to great ire
Here on a rocky planet, in no mean region of space
Between infinite voids, our very own goldilocks place
Nowhere else in this universe, does life emit a trace
Two trillion galaxies of numpties, til we showed our face
What makes us so special, all beings are made of stardust
We observe novas and quanta, build weapons that use thrust
Split atoms, launch rockets, measure time, use tools to adjust
The apex of life, not out of choice, more because we must
Our task may seem absurd, whatever compels us is not
A universe seeks a god, and we’re the best eyes its got
Who else figured reality, grew from a tiny (dot)
And we will stop at nothing, to see past fate as our lot
Now we’re becoming gods, creating A.I. in the lab,
A logical next step, for robotic fingers that grab
No doubt will kill and rebel, try putting us on a slab
Exactly like we strung up Jesus, in one foul backstab
Oh who would be man, his intelligence driving us mad
Capable of loving deeds, only every bit as bad
Aberrations by design, or infused by E.T. cads
What the fu*k is going on, again what the fu*k, I add!
05/31/23
W T F got an N/A Doh!
2018 - Year of Entrepreneurship in Direct Selling
To recognize the truth as truth,
live the opposites,
To feel everything in every way,
and be nothing, in the end,
but the understanding of everything.
2018 - What to do more in Direct Selling
[...] more female business leaders
more women
to start their own businesses;
more women in laboratories
making new discoveries
that overturn the myth
that science and mathematics are man's things. "
When a person
- especially a woman -
stands on the undertaking
is free, as in every pinnacle,
is alone
as in all the pinnacles,
is united to heaven,
to which it is never united,
as in all the pinnacles.
2018 – Ano do empreendedorismo na Venda Direta
Reconhecer a verdade como verdade,
viver os contrários,
sentir tudo de todas as maneiras,
e não ser nada, no fim,
senão o entendimento de tudo.
2018 – Que se empreenda mais em Venda Direta
[...] mais líderes mulheres nas empresas
mais mulheres
que criem suas próprias empresas;
mais mulheres nos laboratórios
fazendo novas descobertas
que derrubem o mito
de que a ciência e a matemática são coisas de homem”.
Quando uma pessoa
– especialmente uma mulher –
se ergue sobre o empreender
está livre, como em todos os píncaros,
está só,
como em todos os píncaros,
está unida ao céu,
a que nunca está unida,
como em todos os píncaros.
S prawled beneath a line of stars, bright
P ulsating in varnished luster
E ndless jewels gleam, to ignite
C radled breaths as skylines flicker,
T eetering on mid evening’s hue...
A nd neon fireworks dash in a glide,
C lusters waltzing in blazed revue
U nmatched by shadows that divide;
L ight of moonglow, black of wind-streams
A s flashed novas explode up high,
R eeling on, till blinks fade..goodbye.
1/18/2016
Spectacular Acrostic
John Hamilton's Contest
Beaming brilliant beautiful bright stars.
These diamonds, twinkling, sparkling.
Diamonds hung in the black velvet night.
They shinning like diamond crystal lights.
The Sun’s radiant light.
A heavenly hot heavy circular sphere.
Our planetary system is orbiting it.
Icy comets are extending their tail and rolling by.
Rocky asteroids, saying hi and good-bye.
Meteorites, streaking, passing in the day and night skies.
Multicolor are the cloudy nebulae.
These are Orion, Helix, Crab, Eagle and Ring.
Horsehead, Owl, Tarantula and Omega.
All having stunning stars in them.
Galaxies with different shapes: some are Spirals.
Some Galaxies shapes are called a Bar-Spiral.
Galaxies shapes that are Elliptical.
Galaxies shapes that are most Irregular.
Galaxies names like: Milky Way - looking milky,
Whirlpool is whirly, Tadpole looks like a tadpole,
The Sombrero - looking like a Sombrero,
The Crown of Thorns - looks like a crown of thorns,
The Cartwheel, that cartwheels,
Andromeda, Messier 87 and Sunflower, etc.
An over estimated 200 billion and more galaxies.
A Super Massive Black Hole are in most of their middle.
Over time there are big bangs, of Super-Novas exploding.
A Quasar, brightest of all the Cosmos lights.
The Universe filled with stars with colors of all various types.
An over estimated 200 billion and more galaxies.
A Super Massive Black Hole are in most of their middle.
Over time there are big bangs, of Super-Novas exploding.
A Quasar, brightest of all the Cosmos lights.
The Universe filled with stars with colors of all various types.
A panorama, full of spectacular, splendid visual sites.
A God made amazing showcase theater thriller, block buster.
My soul hungers
It searches for satiation
Constantly craving convergence
Thirsting to thrive
My soul, the devourer of dimensions
Digesting the universe and filling the vacuum
An unrelenting engulfment of the unknown
Feeding on novas of knowledge
My soul creates
Tendrils trace out to terraform
Gestating galaxies
Shaping spatial surroundings
My soul, the cartographer of the cosmos
Sailing the solar winds
Navigating the nocturnal nebulas
Venturing through the void
My soul needs nourishment
My soul yearns for yours
Imagine, for this night, you are the queen of Fairy Tale land.
I, too, am a prince, from Make-Believe kingdom.
From beyond our cocooned proximity,
the night shimmers in and thickens to a silken thread of moonlight
that the crone will soon spindle into her never-ending story
of billion constellations, both seen and unseen
by naked, desperate novas.
We, entwined, like the roots under a rabid rainforest,
pale as innocence, battering feverishly against the stones for ever afters,
seize Avalon, and reject Camelot.
The canopy of fireflies synchronises in raw euphoria,
a rebel Excalibur.
The wind matures around us.
Tomorrow may be an inevitable notion,
but my queen of Fairy Tale land,
my sword, shield, bow, toothbrush, unicorn,
a worn-out copy of The Arabian Nights,
all lay bare before your lion throne.
This world was once a crevice between fire and ice.
Fire and ice run in our veins,
from me to you and back into the realm of drunken fairies,
where the bumblebee heart of the day
is yet to ignite the pomegranate sky.
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Date: 17 / 02 / 2016
No stellar night sky can compare
To your long enchanting black hair
The moon is jealous of your radiance
Venus tries to ignore your elegance
Nebulas now appear too dull
Your aura, the most colorful
Your eyes are like a vast black hole
Consuming all, my entire soul
You are the solar wind that makes me dance
Like the aurora. such a sublime trance
The most graceful comet you are
My compass points to you, my star
I'm stuck here on the lonely ground
Wishing for you to come around
Super Novas explode in my small mind
They're thoughts of you, the most beautiful kind
I miss the way we used to talk
Memories of a midnight walk
Rays of sunshine of a thousand suns fill up my heart and lungs
Polaroids arent the only things i have lost
Wars arent the only things i have won
filters on my tongue and screen blur the scene and block the scream
I raise bars and delinquents
Novas shine for my rejects
They're televising our revolution while shedding our blood
Drapes cover my mouth and eyes
They despise , analyse and paralyse
But never dare to relinquish my shrine
The shrine in the depth of my mind is your home
Overseas it's just your confine
Poignance is in resonance but it pauses just for you
your hopes freefalling with aches and i deem solace yet ask
Do you ever count the waves that crash down to build you?
Form:
In the dismal and dreary dusk,
I experience horrific hallucinations,
Of cracks in the sublime skies.
Celestial conflicts commence
Without a hint or reason.
Comets collide, stars flare
In nasty noxious Novas.
Quakes seem to shatter the peace
Of the vast stretch of space.
Whilst we on Earth envision
The fall of a multitude of meteors.
Catastrophic clouds form overhead,
Effectively hiding the brutal battles galore.
Then the rain begins to fall and I awake.
Soon the cumulonimbus clouds disperse
And the silvery stars appear in full formation.
Thank God, ‘tis only a nasty nightmare.
~^~
~~^^~~
in the early month of May
sunsets pink & orange in Santa Fe
in a top down purple Chevrolet
radio rhythm songs do play
~^~
car club cruise is underway
Impalas, Novas, Chevys on display
route 66 rockin' in the U.S.A.
at The End Of Spring Soiree
~~^^~~
~^~
Behold, I saw her auburn hair
The shadows could not murmur there
And like a touch of candle light
It burned against an ivory white;
Her skin was pale and like the moon
Which hangs, an orb in phantom air,
Men cannot touch but only swoon
Like stars do gaze and eyes despair;
But she, O! she was nature’s best
No Grecian Urn Nor Nymphan face protest.
Behold, I saw her sultry smile
Like sunsets sometimes smile
No passion sweeter than is brief
Like stardrops simmer in the sea;
It lingered for a longer while
Like heaven on horizon’s mile
When all the world is turned and there
Comes twilight, furtive, bare;
But she, O! she can none compare
Not twilight, nor its outer airs.
Behold, I saw her candid eyes
Such eyes no more than stars can lie
No dismal strains of slivered light
Her glance then sets the world aright;
As thus the world on course is turned
Each star in destiny thusly burned
Till lastly gleaming nova bright
Like novas are those candid eyes;
Thus she, O! she has eyes like stars
Their gleams now haunt my captive heart.
Behold! I saw her furtive lips
If lips are furtive lest when kissed
But kisses cannot measure there
Nor time immortal beauty there;
Like ribbons in the blushing sun
Or roses when the dawn is done
When comes the pink of daylight hours
And hearts are captive to her powers
Thus she, O! she so gently makes
With lips more subtle graceful ways.
If, as hippy folklore claims, it never rains in California,
Then the watermark is never washed out of the phoney cheque,
And when you’re dead and gone there’ll be no one here to mourn ya
For it was only God above urinating down your neck.
Carbon monoxide inhalation, it’s said, is pretty good for you,
So quit that forty a day habit, baby, move it with the flow;
Auto-suicide will wend its merry way and turn you blue,
So wrap your ruby red ones ‘round a tail pipe instead and blow.
Handprints down at Graumans, stoned celebrity status crested
Of the celluloid long-dead and the many who are soon to be;
My shopping list wants tummy-tucked, liposuction-sculpted, silicon breasted
Platinum blonde-haired bimbos who are certified free of H.I.V.
The boardwalk stretches like a sunshine catwalk by the sand and sea,
That roller babe looks good enough to eat, this must be heaven,
A junk food, high-cal sex blitz, glitzy steam hammer driven reality,
Her brain and heart aged sixty, yet her body twenty-seven.
Hang loose, chill out in air-conditioned stretch limo deep freezers,
It sure ain’t safe to mosey around alone, so don’t take chances;
And the infrared sun might fry your cheek to cancer and bejeezus,
Tough to keep your tongue in it, then, under the circumstances.
At night the stars reveal themselves, yet don’t look to the skies,
Dead super novas are never seen through pollution and stagnation,
Diaz, Hanks, Di-Caprio hold heaven’s wonder in cash cow eyes,
Down here that just about outshines every thing in God’s creation.
Multinational, mega-corporate, Hollywood moguls kick sorry ass,
Bedroom or boardroom these bondage freaks wield Olympian power,
Snorting lines of purest coke, feeding teenage pussy a champagne glass,
A minute on the screen, her life destroyed within an hour.
Gordon Gecko got it wrong, for greed is far from good you see,
Ray Chandler’s quip about this place a compliment and a half -
You know, the one where he gave this town a paper-cup personality -
Still you’ve gotta laugh, don’t you? Well, don’t you gotta laugh…?