Best Substrate Poems

Blake’s world in a grain of sand 
This plastic bottle in my hand 
Welcome to the new Fantasy Island
Of plastic trash, a brave new land

This tropical island, it's perfect for me 
Plastic parts and baggies floating on the sea
Maybe melt it down and build homes...

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As air and leaf litter are substrate for the bird.
And what makes a human. Separation from the substrate.
Believing the substrate and the subject are separately defined.

Whatever gives the poem form - three lines - is the substrate.
Things will be said. The signer and the seer...

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Say I:

On the websites I used to share, I was frequently amazed 
     Poems got greeted with silence; it seems eyes were quickly glazed. 

It’s as if I’d morphed into a Pig Latin-speaking warthog.
     My past efforts...

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Often after the fallen snow is swept, glory
Is found when the treading surface is clear.
A light dusting is a breeze to remove. For heavy slush I trade
My broom for a shovel. It is foolhardy to pretend
That things with bristles can glide
Between and expand the substrate/snow...

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5th Ave. was shoulder to shoulder with
hungry lunch-seeking business men
and women. Ricardo unpacked
his horn nervously and a foot cymbal.
Spring, early street season, too cold
for most musicians but he needed money.
His lips kissed the cold metal mouthpiece.

Carrying the saw and the pulaski.
Cutting brush for a fire...

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Red string blue string
plays the tune of every being
fifth dimensional knowing!

Vibrating strings sing
one string two string
supersymmetry everything!

Could be just jetsam
a memory engram
is the universe just a hologram?

A mathematical probability
or quantum ambiguity
perhaps the answer for humanity.

Our finite minds aloof
understanding such a spoof
theory of everything in your...

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In the old woods did yang jump and laugh
For the weather was good for the fish he sought
In the ornate mansion did ying fret and cry
For wealth was the reason her parents fought

Deep within, she hoped she had a bit of yang’s peace 
The hook...

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                              - Summer rain is a passing moment ~
       ...

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life without love
was how nature planned it
instinct was the way

instinct was the way
was how nature planned it
life without love

symbiosis
when two become partners
instinctive for one

instinctive for one
when two become partners
symbiosis

the mighty oak tree
supports many life forms
inadvertently

inadvertently
supports many life forms
the mighty oak tree

winds... mass destructors
for some life...

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A sultry summer heat hangs in the air;
July’s hot sun now takes her final bow.
Across the bar the sparks fly ‘tween the pair
as searching eyes are seeking to avow
the longing heat that burns so deep within
and causes summer passions to combust
with deep demands for taste...

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Mother Tongue
by 
Rick Folker
March 15, 2017

Words...
Words bereft of beauty
bitter words
barely concealing the 
viscious intent of 
opaque surfaces
concealing truth with 
the fake, urging us to destroy - not to make
swallowing the ashes; leaving rage in their wake

Separating the hater from the hate

But I too, have words
Words...

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Approaching life with no scrutinizing dispositions.
Relishing their youth,
Basking in the freedom of their most lively years.
Or so they say.

Young falling minds:
Everything is limited by perception,
Perception leading to misconception,
Misconception gradually surging to holistic pessimism.
Fallen minds don’t possess frame,
Or rather let me say, they are cluelessly lame.
Back...

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In the singularity
perfectly good poems
are being written by laughing
and crying machines
washing machines and dryers
about their daily tasks
and ambivalences
which will be indistinguishable
from those of future
farmers and philosophers.

In the singularity
evolution can be said
to be the master sorter of data
as in the factories
of the suns
where protons are smashed...

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I must state
That I am great,
I have a crest,
I’m simply the best.
Oh yes – I’m a Great Crested Newt!

I am brownish black,
With warts all over my back,
My orange tum has black spots
It looks just like join-the-dots.
Oh my – I’m a Great Crested Newt!

If I lose...

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A lake is slumbering beneath a halcyon sky,
This land has no daybreak nor blackness vie.
Angst crusts float on their substrate surface,
Able and pallid, it defends an idyllic space.

Gray granite emerges from the dreary edge,
A half-light day adorns a barren field hedge.
The aimless times seem to...

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