Best Transmitters Poems
Enroling you a worm (cumbersome and)
hairy, you- scimitar of leaves
Knows the pain ,writhing pupae
Abandoned and convicted
Constricted hanging straightjacket
Squirming like a jackrabbit
Gagged nocturnally - blindfold humility
Rejected by those mocking moths
and jealously believing left the key
Both found our grace on bended knees
..left there dangling from a tree..
Unhinge now those spinakers of glory
Pretty - flaky- flinder
Streaked in splatters paint
Dust of the fairies
Gaze at me with criss-cross eyes
Innocent beauty oh ye butterfly
Spiny antennae, stretching out transmitters
Taking flight so easily
Flitting off with no goodbyes
To a newer afternoon over there
Dashing in the sun
Kneeding and gouging all those zinnias
Joy! Slurping up the nectar
Whisky! Tequila! Brandy and Champagne!
Swops them for a chorus of pansies
Dancing blooming flowers
Crazy blessed colours
Bouncing delight.- erratic in flight
Dodging in between the bees
O enchanted mystic butterfly
Only pausing for a while
Hold me in your spell
For you walked that crooked mile
Linger in this dream
So seldom comes to see
Just as you, my timepiece too
Is coiled in spring
A dustpuff within the wind
Specked all over pollen confetti
Envied now by every moth
Suicidal circle - one kamikaze candle
Seared and singed and slowly fried
Getting what theyre vetted for
But the sun his laughing in his sky
Beseeching all the yet to open flowers
Awake !Awake!
An angel is coming by
Categories:
transmitters, angel, beauty, butterfly,
Form:
Free verse
Signals were emitted from a very high tower.
Broadcasting was done with a million watts of power.
Reception reached as far north as Canada.
The waves traveled southward to Venezuela.
Birds flying too closely were roasted in flight.
Programs could be heard during both day and night.
It was possible for this powerful transmission,
because there was no communications commission.
The stations with call letters beginning with “X” we would know.
Their behemoth transmitters were located in Mexico.
Categories:
transmitters, business, history, political,
Form:
Rhyme
Her words were mumbled unprovoked and put him through the grinder
minced they were tearing apart they hurt like a dagger so he finally knew
where his heart was dismembered as it stood still one sentence then silence
No stream no consciousness emotion arrested a world destroyed broken shattered
He picked up the pieces the fragments shards of an ugly mosaic coloured in black
The cutting edge of glass penetrated into frozen blood in icy veins turning tattooing
engraving the twisted knife chopping torturing where passion kindness love
had once been the messenger grinning at the grisly gristle ground to the core
With surgical precision her scalpel incised at the flesh scarred in a flash razor
wire ligatures asphyxiating suffocating mortal wounded lost mindless soul
Denervation ensured neurochemical transmitters flowing into nothing a wide open
schism fissures fission exploding with nowhere to venture a road not yet travelled
Blessed in disguise of disaster her words grew into an unlikely story of hope of
a mixture of memories retold new pathways narration novel meaning of words
No more mill stone weighing the rope round the severed necklace of horror
he found undreamt off passion with a new soulmate and lover a poet tree in motion
Weaving kindness now sensual emotional reason scribed on paper fantasy clouds
written on dreams healing momentum of moments nights and cinnamon bark
their sizzling skins their touches feelings new found beauty make love and make
loving and making love with words and with lived meaning worthwhile again
16th June 2016
Categories:
transmitters, love,
Form:
Free verse
My atomic lover, chemically induces me.
Transforms me into substances and breaks,
Down, my anatomy.
He starts with my mind, as complex as it may be
Changes my compound structure, my neurons
To transmitters, stop functioning naturally
I no longer can process, the capability to reason freely.
He interrupts my thought pattern, and emotionally challenges me.
After the mind is stimulated, he advances to my heart
A vital organ, made up of 4 chambers, this is the crucial part
My heart cannot transfer, what the mind is telling me
It races out of control, in all urgencies.
All my senses then awaken, with one single touch
My vital signs, are compromised, as a passionate persuasion erupts
My heart skips a beat, at the thought of his loving ways
So pacient kind, and understanding, never ceases to amaze
An ignition starts, that revives the heart. I can never give enough praise
My atomic lover, I will love you till my, departing days.
Categories:
transmitters, body,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh look a tantric tangerine slice is walking in high heels with a melon man. Moody mouldy men make monetary meals. And who can eat a coin with a note anyway? Swilled down with a cup of golden nugget juice? Great isn't it? Wow. It is in every endeavour of a particular partridge that a feather forms a quill. And quills are neither queens, quotes, nor questionable questions. They are in fact a sight that is rarely seen. And a duck bomb dive into a sea is an airbed for the head chef on board an ocean cruise liner. And that is it. Great. No ha no x no z. Transmitters translating tasks taken. And a globule of fat from a loin of salmon in a salon having a great hairdo. Peanut peanut pop pop pop. And a little wafer smiling in an ice cream cup. Globalization
Categories:
transmitters, autumn, beautiful,
Form:
There is no such thing as silence
And no place left to be alone.
Our communication highway has become
An inescapable irritating noise
An incessant ringing in one’s ears
No longer just the ticking of a clock
Keeping you awake.
Transmitters hum atop dead trees
Whirling buzzes from electric fans
The grinding of a dirty engine block
And neighbours building their deck
Sawing and hammering away at
Life’s necessities that aren’t really
Necessary at all.
Sounds that you cannot hear
Are still there all around you
Riding on the waves and surfing
The air in a non-stop chatter
Giving you news, music and weather.
Even where there should be no noise
Lurking in the dark are low electronic signals
And the sound of your clock radio
Receiving enough energy to
Remind you its five am
And you’re still awake.
Technology continues in a plethora
of beepers, cell phones and laptops
Giving us no escape at all
Where even in the woods
You can turn it all off and
Find yourself bumping into
Someone who is also hiding
From the world in a place
You thought there was no one.
Even the last great escape won’t be -
The space program will discover
Water on Mars and send half
Of us there to get away from the noise
Only To discover the incessant hum from
planet Earth keeps them up all night.
Which brings me to one final thought -
Are we alone in the universe?
If only.
Categories:
transmitters, funny, introspection, life, science,
Form:
Lyric
How you identify,
Will always override,
All rational thinking,
Causing a divide.
Read between the lines
As the countries multiply.
Clever with their words
So they call it “colonize”.
Want to know a true coward?
Watch how he handles power.
Aimed to devour.
Leaving the people sour.
And bitter.
If only they had twitter.
Exposing the foes.
These greedy transmitters.
I went there.
And I think they went way too far.
Took it,
and left them with a permanent scar.
Have to claim it back to remember who you are.
Burma is not their name. No.
It's Myanmar.
Categories:
transmitters, corruption, perspective, power,
Form:
Free verse
Can't understand how Covid
Has taken over our lives
Started in Wuhan, China
But some say it's a disguise
To eradicate a population
That the undertones defines
As the count is rising
So does the bogus cries
Some say it's a man made disease
Caused by G5 transmitters
But the fast increases
And mounting funeral pyres
With the tally on the rise
Gives me the jitters
Some say its the future
Some say it's liberty denied
Because in a life and death situation
The government controls our lives
Not with rules and regulations
We have to give up freedom
Before the whole population dies
Some say its a curse for failure
Others , there is no explanation
Even hidden from the wise
But we keep playing with nature
When it avenges in abundance
The whole world cries
It gives us the notion
That these are perilous times
With no end to the commotion
To find a cure
We are faced with the daily tally
And an increase on the score
The old bear the brunt
Of that we can't deny
But the young has no exemption
When you hear parents cry
But what of the un-recorded
When they are certified
In the absence of an autopsy
From which we can rely
Giving some certainty
To verify the eye
We were talking about climate change
Before Covid hit the scene
Now wiped from the front pages of dailys
As Covid, reigns supreme.
Categories:
transmitters, health, natural disasters,
Form:
Free verse
The first among to wake up in the Spring
The award winner, comes with a sting
Stinging Nettle pubescent and green
Cannot touch the super herbal queen
Urtica dioica is the botanic name
Dioica is the one with European fame
Tropical cousins are all not the same
Strong and sharp, they can make you lame
Each sting is a delicate hollow hair
Stiffened with a tip of silica ware
Swollen base that stores the venom with care
Shoots its payload, touch, if you dare
Transmitters are same as yours and mine
Acytylcholine , serotonin and histamine
If stung by nettles, remedy is close at hand
Do not go far, Dock is where you stand
Categories:
transmitters, nature,
Form:
Narrative
My darling! Tasting every piece of you when recorded
compresses the entire capacity of space.
Coming so close to keep our hearts taped
makes me share favour’s throne in its own empire.
I sing your praises and disturb nature’s peace
b’cos of the fantastic sweetness of your dot existing in a pair.
Its not just a sensual anatomy on the front side of your skin
but gentle, explicit and highly rated by the consciousness of men,
planted like a leafless stalk in the midst of well rounded carved humus
seldom growing to a shrub when injected with erotic transmitters.
Your vertical lips may possess the control buttons
to my accessory limb when they begin the episodes of your longing
but they will have to pass through the toll gates of these paired dots
so tender and exciting but neurotic and psychotic to men.
Whenever they stand out to appreciate the sun,
natural laws demand, I stretch forth my hands in full acknowledgment
of their awesome beauty and willingness to my trademark adventures.
Categories:
transmitters, love, lust, romance, romantic,
Form:
Romanticism
tell them i’m gone
tell them i’m gone to change my name
give them any name
i’ll not give them another name
tell them i’ll not take my father’s name
no more father than i’m my own
i do not create
i’m not responsible
i have no ownership over my makings
so i’ll take this name i’ve got
for the moment
tell them
and i’ll go short-changed to be cast again
yes
tell them i’ll go and change my name
not have my name changed
and come out again unchanged
tell them again i’ll not take my father’s name
yes
tell them that
tell them i’ve gone to change my name
my very own name
and yet keep the name i’ve gone to change
yes
tell them that
tell them when i’m there
i’ll see why josephus broke the essenic law
why marx the mighty essene changed his name
and note
why the ribonucleic-acid embargo in between
why the dna father-son short supply
i am a cell lodged in the molecular-memory-millennia
i’m the agent of growth and decay
i see the cells strung out in an embryonic fantasy riddle
while intercourse was still permissible
i proclaim
i propound
in my genes the spermatic stimulation
the evolutionary process
the woman the link-breaker
keeps it all going longer and longer
until i stand and transmit
until we reach out into the micro-wave length
listen in on ourselves
in the multi-macro-cosmic network :
the tv stations
the electronic transmitters
the nether-world subliminal messages
all shall interlock
and we remain tuned in
sitting bolt-tight-up
in our nudging squeezing cells
no more afearing nor doing
no more no less that is
than sucking a python diet
we’ll do without rousing sex-play
courtship nor foreplay
or even sans monetary excuse
we’ll do it for ourcells
in ourcells
by ourcells
then i’ll not have to go away
nor will you have to tell them
‘he thinks he’s gone to change his name
his only name
and quite probably not take his father’s name’
rendes-moi mon nom unique
Copyright ©: T. Wignesan, 1965 - London from the collection : tell them i’m gone. Paris : 1983. (rev. 2012)
Categories:
transmitters, allegory, change,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The impulse racing
My heart aching
Feet shaking
Decision making
Critically stimulating
Transmitters brain patience
Fell to the ground lately
Words stutter
Flutter constantly
Could it be
Taking on more than I can see
Let it be
Let it go
Before a bloody nose
Tissues wipes residue but freedom is never slow
Categories:
transmitters, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
I am the vastness of the cosmos,
Made to be mortal from parts of Immortality
I live within spirit and my body's a host,
My Heart is home and my mind in endless journey.
I am an observer, a listener.
A machine of filters, receiver and transmitters,
Burn out my resistors and capacitors,
that has been engineered to deceived,
Programmed to resist what needs to naturally be conceived.
I am the music and dance of the wind,
That nudges and sway the trees held by false roots,
I am the pulse of rain and whispers of the stream,
Eroding whilst expanding banks of spruits.
I am a child and a father in ecstatic action,
Playing in wisdom, wise in infraction,
Passion ignites with past's reactions and future's satisfaction,
Lessons teaching that only one truth is left,
Death is near, though not the end. Now, is all we have.
I am bare without and bearing within,
I am silence aloud in calm violence of the diminutives,
I am the limit of an infinite Universe in sync,
I am a contradiction to all popular beliefs.
I am every prophecy, every omen,
Every heart that is broken, every soul that was stolen,
Close but yet open. A prose and yet a poem.
I am falsely true. I am the old and I am the new.
I am forever, in a moment. I am me and I am you.
Categories:
transmitters, life,
Form:
Rhyme
I walk from galaxy to galaxy
Devouring planets,
With my mighty eyes I can detect you from light years away,
I move across dimensions
Warping time and bending the laws of gravity
to Destroying and creating anything,
Dancing in circles to rearranging
I'm The darkest being you ever seen
I'm just flowing energy,
Inhaling heaven and exhaling hell
Life, living in me
Stars as cells, moving across my body
Monitoring everything.
Rebounding myself and changing form
As i control atoms to electrons,
So I shrink from infinity to humanity
Ideologies and laws downloaded,
From regulations to restrictions
Tax payments and passports
I.Ds to money the human encoding is in,
From DNA manipulation
to genetic engineered foods the biological warfare
The world decaying and im witnessing it,
My spirit crying,
the call of the inner being
So I expand slowly, growing
The insight I get from stars
My cellular transmitters,
Sending signals across the sky
Transmitting frequencies,
I've learned the human program
The high tech of my own imagination,
As I breath air I create the manifestation of reality,
The energy that flows throughout my body,
the illusion of being
After separating myself into quantums
My higher self has been waiting
So I'm coming.
Categories:
transmitters, deep, earth, humanity, identity,
Form:
Narrative
I didn’t want to join as a pilot, and could wait till next Monday,
To become a rear gunner, but I choose to be a wireless operator,
By waiting another three months. There were 30 men in array,
And we trained at Bridgnorth and Yatesbury to fly on a bomber.
I’d joined with Keith, and we were selected to fly on Lancasters,
And because we’d done well in the theory exams, we were chosen,
For radio jamming the Luftwaffe’s signals on equipment of ours,
Called ABC, and we listened into Nazi transmitters, the conversation.
We chose our pilots, but the Adjutant made us into Pilot Officers:
We wanted more training, because at stake was our life and death,
And, indeed, we went through many pilots, and some had blinkers,
Especially the Canadians, unaware of Europe’s mountains and breadth.
We flew raids on the Ruhr from base to Reading to Beachy Head,
To Le Treport, then across France and into Germany the target;
Once Keith’s plane did not return, and i wrote to his mum, not dead,
Just missing in a POW camp, to Florence that was my true bet.
On the 50th anniversary my wife and i travelled to Calais to see,
My friend’s grave, which was in Cambrai, found a UK gardner there,
Who directed us to the German cemetery where Kieth was to be,
One of 40 graves that lay serene and peacefully with no palaver.
His body was still in uniform and on the headstone it carefully said,
“Proud and treasured memories,” must’ve been Florence’s words,
But I was strangely upset because on the stone “Pilot” was read,
Why should it say that when he was a wireless operator, i had words?
Categories:
transmitters, courage, hero, history, political,
Form:
Quatrain