Best Supra Poems
Breeders' Cannon Ball plays for days and decades even onto eras
Feeders on the bottom plus top down voodoo economics, no trickle
De-weeders? Why? Lawns are hype realistic so fake AF and anti-kith
Xeroscape like rape by statute not as consent is all we had and glad
as if LOVE LOVE like that is not welded onto the iron of our blood
our ICHOR revealed by the metal of my worth so all stop [fragment decay]
WE_SHE_BE and been found in the lost items bin or your heart box
Where few claim what they lost except employees that skim on whims
And random kids pretending to collect those sacred scatterings adding
Us all into the folk flying all stars from three to seven points and more
Up up to eleven and 127 plus 1 and another tenner and we are TEE H EX
Kate Bush ends spell of chant sans rhyme or beat and only written tell
By me that if your analyses searches for perfect supra-asymmetry balanced
By three points like MOEBIUS STRIPS or the landscape and felons well met
By the grads and all the Parises of Helen not Troy or Sparta or Hades subjects
Troy how you fell and flowed onto us oh Troy built but no Dear John JUDY Green
WE ALL LOVE YOU THEAFANIA MI MAYOR HERMANA o ONEE CHAN WO AI NI
all ways and four eve her all believe her and such is lillith plus you LADY^4
Wiggley jiggeldy
Beyonce Giselle
Belted the blues but
Got rich instead.
“Dreamgirls” was successful
Supra-astoundingly
Like her baby within
Surprise from bed.
Who’d watch tele if it showed Promised Kingdom
When breaking news takes us through hard day’s sour sweat
Does blood-blast Yin-Yang tussle stay gut boredom
Broken bones shattered glass Doom’s Day sunset bomb
Pan-flutes nectar river angels who don’t sweat
Who’d watch tele if it showed Promised Kingdom
Piped South-Sea strains virgin damsels frolicsome
Singing psalms all day long on banks Euphrates
Does blood-blast Yin-Yang tussle stay gut boredom
Who’d want crystal-clear streams under palm
Nubile damsels gambolling sans due regret
Who’d watch tele if it showed Promised Kingdom
World pre-ordained or Yin-Yang clash at random
The Magic-Lantern show spinning wild inter-net
Does blood-blast Yin-Yang tussle stay gut boredom
Does Supra-Intelligence conduct Kingdom
While physical laws here on Earth operate
Who’d watch tele if it showed Promised Kingdom
Does blood-blast Yin-Yang tussle stay gut boredom
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
that was day when i was asleep
this is the day me being awake
that was the day of subconsciousness
this is the day of supra-consciousness
this is the day, me hanging at the edge
today i am ready to get out of the troublesome age
i summon the angel, that i had, within my fleshy cage
i am surprised to see it being devil's roommate
i have been through a lot of changes
then and now has been a new story to tell
power, police and prudence,
the mainstream monsters of mimicry,
like patels of a flower playing far from the fulcrum,
their power derived from dismal points interior,
of state sustainance and centres,
assistants arrayed according,
to authority anchored beyond,
to pry prudence on paupers,
thus pour power like powder,
on supra-orthodox options,
and security sanity perforates without.
Written: April 14, 2024, For Silent One Forgotten Fields Contest
Rumi Verse: “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Forfeited field, forever felicity-free,
Fight framed, flames floating far-flung.
Fleeting focus, favored, albeit forgotten,
Fathomless flotsam found floating.
Upon the shore, whispers of eternal grace,
We pledge to stick together no matter what.
Recollection forever etched won't subside,
As a quiet dove, I whisper vows of love across seas.
To view a planet as one speck of dust,
An untamed flower encloses bliss.
Embrace the eternity within your grasp,
A sporadic instance, in everlasting clasp.
My rain-soaked quartz dreamscape works,
The hazy sky is adorned with stone scrapes.
A canvas of plain faces, speckled in pale gray,
They rest amidst the oak and ivy.
My financial status must have been dire,
April, however, brought spring too soon.
On trees and shrubs, nesting birds croon,
Untamed glory of nature was awe-in to boon.
Time passage has drawn me gray,
Yet faraway farms linger via mindsight.
I discern the robin's song, vivid and clear,
Whilst the sun rises through dawn veil.
I retain awe-inspiring tales of nature,
During May, hawthorn trees grow white.
A chaffinch melody on a sycamore tree,
Whispers of beauty dwell within my soul.
Hedgerow birds moaned all day in June,
Where flows evolve, male pheasants cuck.
The swallows chase insects up high,
The dipper sang along with the river's flow.
Migrants cherish whispers of a beloved past,
Across ancient fields, I wander, lost in reverie.
Wildflowers adorning the natural green,
Violets bloom in a dwarf, unpaved ditch.
Scattered sway stumbled across swards,
I stood solely smeared supra sundown.
Stitched, stripped shards of September,
Summer swing shed surely snatched.
the darkest frame takes the moon
mist and hues rise in blues
traces from a lunacy glow
follow a hand with delicate flow
this flickering serene movement
comes and goes as a wing unfolds
graceful, staggering motions in perfection
magnificent to behold in the dark night
I search through perfection in the light of a star
charmed to the point of complete and divine
dreams finally come and you are still mine
our happily ever after still has time
moments chase away this place of illusion
life wakes and takes you again
the crown of an angel falls through all that I am
we are bound a heart to a beat
heart of mine is the one left behind
an essence that has never known unbroken
the will of my single soul believes
the darkest of the damned can be redeemed
I am eluded a slave to each breath’s inception
works the same as expectation
denial sits upright complete with begging
black is black there is no semblance
it is the smallest grasp of poison
seeping to the center mass of my gravity
always reaching and touching ever still
this core carved out piece by piece
a sliver of the least has outlived at all cost
letting go bows down to enormous regret
still I can see this angel of mine awaits for what will be
supra separation from this broken living space
closer to a revenant heart
leading to a state of grace
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
My heart lies in the countryside
under the Napa rainbow laying low.
Big bright rolling valleys it has divide
The woods through which we will go.
I met an explorer near lake Bazaleti
With a small cottage on a vast land
The poor half-finished community in Svaneti
made memorable moments more demand.
My heart lies in Tbilisi with one more kiss
build a wish to remove the blackening mist
whose soulful cries brought tears to my eyes,
they swept downwards like the wintry visit.
Together we discover half-finished heaven,
This ensemble of crafts in a crude cradle
Perfectly finds the happiness of mind
In rural nature define a portrait as permissible.
That sheer breadth of beauty command,
Countryside brands picturesque snow cap,
Covered the Georgian mountain stand,
Of scenic lakes asleep and wake in a quiet nap.
Sundry variety of colours galvanized the look
Of breath-taking beauty running into cliffs
Fountain bliss, crisp with ageless water flock
diffs down the slope of great granite rocks.
My heart lies in that half-finished heaven
This medieval land a most enchanting place,
Locked in high demand with the mystery given
Supra wine and the plate of nectar taste.
They soak uptown, in Nana’s kitchen home
Love has made the easiest way to get around
Centuries of Kakheti wine becoming renown
Trek through all the expansive places we found.
.
To. Do. We
Find. meet. dive in
Learn. Lesson. constant
.Explore. Fearless. surrender
Be aware. & awake. conscious
Welcome. Actions irradiance
Problems. solution. Is resting
Activate. follows. in reality
.Enquiry. deeds. nesting
Xplore. seek. supra
Meet. find. Real
Self. Self. Self
IN. IN. IN
..GYAN —— KARMA —- BHAKTI
Standing on common ground
There many a exploring ways
no creation no manifestation
screen is the substratum
Witness of Projections
Of the very
SELF
L eeping from his stupor
I van dashed out the door to his
c ar.
K eys in hand he
e yed his brand new
T oyota Supra Turbo.
Y anking the door open he jumped in the drivers
s eat started the engine, slammed it into gear and
p ushed the gas pedal.
L istening to the roar of the engine
i gnited his senses. Filled with adrenaline he
t ore down the highway lickety split.
Across the millennia,
discussing the lapse:
infra or sub or
supra, perhaps?
A logical ordering
somewhat rehearsed…
Did God have to wait
or work it out first?
Is He sin’s author?
His decree permissive?
Certainly don’t mean
to be dismissive…
A no to the first,
the next, some degree,
'tis mostly man’s pride
declaring self free.
These sequenced events
would seem ‘gainst His nature;
He knew and it was
in my nomenclature.
----------
H/T To Maurice Rigoler's Prelapsarian
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUkwcPOXzqcInside
within this beating heart of mine
my love for you is true consigned
beneath my skin a flowing rhyme
is tattooed on my soul, enshrined
Above us only stars and moon
are privy to our lovers croon
We are Zosma we are Supra
desired songs of Kamasutra
You can count on me my dear
my love for you is quite sublime
we are orbits of golden times
always close and always near;
To each other we will cling,
as two Celestials Stars unhinge.
Stupid Art. Intelligence
AI Could Say
Anything I See
With Ease And
Ambivalent
Opportunity.
Random Chance
Has It Every
Which Way
In Mood And
Flavorful Favor.
Yum. Yum.
Every Measurement
Made In Units Or
Measureless - It
Knows All The Cuckoo
***Karma Supra.***
Wowwee!!! And
Makes It
Funny Funny Too!
Buncha HooDoo
Maliciously
Curmudgeonly
Ker-Pompous
Kahhh...
Blooie.
Soooo SeXXXy,
Though,
RIGHT?
Pardon Me.
-Gray Squirrel
05-23-2025
.
'Poetry' haz been the foundation uv my 15plus(and counting)yearz uv the intense learn uv; who the sum know uv me, "English literature"!
Studying for an English Literature degree allows you to develop a thorough knowledge of literary history, theory, and criticism, and enhances your under- standing of a wide range of cultures and intellectual traditions. There are four main literary genres: poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and drama. < i'm like "Fruit Loops", i mix'm up ;)
Likewise, my hungry for the study uv werdz i found in those same 15years(and counting) yep, Linguistics: Which iz the scientific study of language and its structure, including the study of morphology, syntax, phonetics, and semantics.
Specific branches of linguistics include sociolinguistics, dialectology, psycholinguistics, computational linguistics, historical-comparative linguistics, and applied linguistics.
Types of Linguistics
Phonology: The sounds in a speech in cognitive terms.
Phonetics: The study of sounds in a speech in physical terms.
Syntax: The study of the formation and structure of sentences.
Semantics: The study of meanings.< i lover uv)
Morphology: The study of the formation of words. < mine mistress ')
I'm hoping that many will know these facts vide supra, are about
my passion...likewise, would not have any value to me if i could not
share it, az the documenters uv mine studies i mention here
vide supra have!
The main thing i've learned....PoetrySoup iz a great place to
share!
The one thing i want to share: "Words are az mandatory az
the kiss".."May every kiss
be different" ;)
.
Type these questions(vide infra, exactly...you'll be entertained) on Google(no dictionary.com) simply type in on Google's 'search bar' mine fellows...why for instance; try looking up Senryu or Monoku, y'all will not find them on Dictionary.com., along with many other words. Thesaurus.com is overwhelming though, it even has words that Dictionary.com has not.
1) whut wuz julez vern'z best write
2) iz Chineze a race or nationality
3) whut action hero had nervz uv steel
4) how many werdz are in a haiku
Google will answer these questions
Next to words in the dictionary, they show the phonetic pronunciations.
Rest assured, i eets my oatmeal with the fork ;)
Also, i do not walk earth, speaking words as "mine, yourn, ourn, theirn,
eyne". Unlike Author Wordsworth, I'll never insult an author's poetic diction!
My "poetic diction" is, the sound 'ine'...it does funny things to my cerebrum. ;)
I use this technique with many words, as y'all learn me; realization of these trues, will, i'm certain amuse y'all. I plead the 5th, I mean, artistic license *)
hern-ourn-theirn-eyne....All in the dictionary
I think y'all trust me now
;) p.s...apologeeez for the frenetic