Best Wormholes Poems
Welcome, dear children of light...We are star seeds from the Galactic Federation of Planets...many of us are from different worlds, galaxies, universes and dimensions...working together for the harmonious existence of all life...and have been here for much millennia...to help with your ascension to higher states of consciousness and universality...
We have given permission to the earth vehicle of whom you call Winged Warrior...to enlighten you briefly of things to come...
Through the Horsehead Nebula and Pillars of Hercules, we pass the cosmic gates
For the Star Seeds of dimensional drift, their message of universal love awaits
From wormholes to black holes and earth's science theory of Super Strings
We learn about galactic giants and the existence of everlasting minute things
Super-celestial skies, time travel at our door with a quadrillion quantum leaps
And unravel the colossal cosmic codes of the hierarchic hyperdimensional heaps
We shall observe the ancient alliances, Christ consciousness the Christos Beings
Who provide for the Nibiruan Council, the planetary school of earth teachings
Spatial subatomic particles that form the wave-particle duality is a beginning
With electromagnetic fields, light quanta, photons set the universes ringing
For man, matter, and mind are evolving as we reach the cosmic shores
As we become Prime Creators passing through the esoteric enigma doors.
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Aug.31.2016
TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO POET HAS GONE BEFORE - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: The Seeker
My child, a baptism took place when you jumped into the river for my sake—Ringo Bing
Just like her favorite character Alice she dresses
A young girl named Cassy sits bored by a riverbank
She looks into reflecting waters twirling her long tresses
A giant ladybug hanging onto a twig, has fallen and sank
Cassy jumps in, pulls with all her might on its wing
The ladybug's wing tears from all the water it drank
Swept up, she is thrown onto the ladybug with a fling
Flown far from the river, the ladybug thanks her for saving him
I’ll call you my young fair Alice, and you can call me Ringo Bing
Cassy admits to the current identity crisis she is in, one of seven
Ringo struck, by her inability to remember a poem of Alice’s adventures
He offers her a key and whispers, fits a door to the other side, heaven
Blurry swishes of gardens and trees, Ringo lands, fixes his wing and dentures
The door! In a panic realizes the key is lost, the one she’s clung to forever
Wormholes, galaxies, beaming showers, black holes, she now censures
Never needing the key at all the picture is clear, she sees stars of silver
The key a crutch, has held her back from the flow of the river
Are you muse listening?
Can you hear
the Cosmic mechanics
quantum singing?
The nebular orchestral oscillations
are photon vibrating
Waves upon waves
of pure starlight expanding harmoniously
Music of the Spheres
ring Galactic in my ears
As I silver surf in the Void,
seeking the golden
event horizon
of Infinity
The Fountain of life force source
of endless
Transcendent energy
Time traveling on
waves upon waves
after after
waves waves
of solar winds
Speed of Thought blowing
Can you feel
the dimensional Continuum flow
ever pulsar rising?
As more prism portals of rumination
keep firmament opening
Wormholes of gravitational creativity,
through which I rainbow fall ...
Taking the terrestrial dive
into planetary depths
A murky glow state
of an astral emptiness fate
I stargaze await,
in my dry suit
of beta wave vulnerability
Being inertia lulled
to the sleep of entropy
Waiting to muse hear
the soul elevating,
Supernova symphonic sound —
Sub-atomic transformation trilling,
Revival currents ...
sending me Celestial bound
I stand, once again, upon
my kismet faithful Ascension board:
The cerebral silver movement,
that never precious elements hoard
Basking in the shimmering teleport,
which will send me
to the Universe timeless origin —
The Paradise realm
of Eternal Bliss Permutations
Ever surf gliding
on waves upon waves upon waves
of waves and waves and waves
of Love Never Ending
Written: July 18, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Tom Woody
Walking around the edge of a massive crater that seemed to beckon her with all sorts of bizarre things, Alice—now an adult but still not quite—felt a strong pull. She still had an insatiable need to travel, even if it had been a long time since she had done things such as dancing with white rabbits or drinking morning tea. She discovered a mirror encircled by shimmering stardust while searching the enigmatic Moonrock for indications of madness.
The mirror flickered and changed, as a beauteous glass serpent, opening doors to wormholes from another galaxy. She touched its surface with her fingertips, but they went right through it like it was liquid light. The aromas of cardamom oil and starlight were so powerful that they flooded her whole body. It was an amalgam that savored such as the core of time. Her body parts swayed and twirled bizarrely, as she was in an intense nightmare. The nebulae above laughed with joy as they opened up. Comets spun around a celestial chessboard, making a symphony of clicks that echoed through the universe.
Alice traveled through planets ruled by quantum queens. Their eyes were as deep as black holes, and their lips formed the language of math. A drink infused with the essence of auburn was handed to her, while another crafted melody defied convention and pushed boundaries. The atmosphere in the room was warm and inviting, reminiscent of an expanded Wonderland, now adorned with an enchanting layer of twinkling stars.
She met a dark matter cat along the way. Its smile had the power to break apart galaxies. "Tell me," Alice asked as she drank the delicious essence of entropy, "is this a memory or a wonder?"
The cat looked back with knowing eyes and said, "Both." We never truly depart; we only shift.
spacetime came apart
curiosity sewed string~
mirrors still call out
Wormholes winding wackily in space-time
Time twists and turns endlessly in space -time
Pulsars pirouetting with perfection in space-time
Singularities sitting silently waiting in space-time
Nascent nebula nestling together in space-time
Galaxies gorgeously gleaming spinning in space-time
Asteroids appearing aimless moving in space-time
Comets creating chaos as they travel in space-time
Divine deity’s design or quantum chance space-time
Universe unfurling unabated creating space-time
Bejewelled beauty begotten of space-time
Only a poet can promise perfection to match that which we dwell in.
DIRE STRAITS was playing on the KITCHEN radio while ROSIE tried in vain to play along
with “Money for Nothing” on her HAMMOND organ. Her house always looked like a NUCLEAR
WASTE(land) with huge TID-BITS of food all over the counters and floor. Her husband
Roscoe was an inept VACUUM SALESMAN who went door to door wearing blue SPANDEX
BOXER SHORTS. His face was full of zits that looked like LUNAR CRATERS. Roscoe constantly
dabbed the zits with LISTERINE SOAKED TISSUE(s) as his MEDICINE of choice. It wasn’t
CONVENTION(al) but it lessened the PAIN somewhat.
FRIENDS and neighbors never invited the pair to any of their GIG(s) because they ate
like “cone heads” when they were in the WINE AND DINE mode. On rare occasions when
they did partake of a repast at someone’s house they left WORMHOLES in all the sandwiches.
They would just take a sample bite and put it back on the tray which always reviled the next
one in line.
The two of them are so socially ignorant that when it came time to thank the host for the
invitation, they felt it was a UFO situation. To them, this meant in their DRIFTING minds they
were Un F...ing Obligated to say thanks. I say all of this because knowing my brother and
sister-in-law as I do, I guarantee they will never experience any INSOMNIA or remorse over
their outrageous public behaviors.
* For entry in the Wacky Weekend Challenge
Hear the clip-clop of iambic beats
Sounds like Shelley with a side of Keats
Is that the scritchity-scratch of a goose quill flickin’
Or just the tippity-tap of some mouse you clickin’..?
So you a prophet poet, regular Marley meets Dylan
Writin’ about oppression and unjust killin’
Shootin' the Sheriff with a Reggae song
Inspirin' your generation with a sing along
A shot of tequila with a wedge of lime
Saddle up and bide your time
Every line don’t need to rhyme
I can give you a million examples
You don't seem like the lyrical type
Kickin' cold turkey with oranges ripe
That's the fruit that rhymes with nothin’
Fresh squeezed it's good for somethin’
Citric flashback, Tang for the brain
Hyperspace wormholes one cannot explain
Sun dippin' below the rim of a rhymeless plateau
Cow skull and cactus, a timeless tableau
In the twilight gloom, a weather-beaten sign
Free Verse Ranch is the place to dine
Gorge on rhyme-free wordplay victuals
Linguistic linguini and cage-free visuals
Specialty of the house: lemon chicken couplet
With a side of mashed onomatopotatoes--plop!
Gravy sloppin’ down slopes like molten lava
Washed down with mugs of fresh-brewed java
Buzzards circlin' the sky in a lazy ellipse
Moon moseyin' in for a total eclipse
Flee in the dark, take a steed for a ride
Jump the split rail fence to the other side
Leap back in time to a buzzin' hive
Looks like the vortex, circa 1995
Can barely think amid the din
Perfect time for the ‘shrooms to kick in
Tie-dyed girl where I left her spinnin' in place
Band still playin' a trippy Drums n Space
But how strange that I cannot feel my face
How did twenty years vanish without a trace?
Tumbleweed twirlin' down the rutted street
Empty rocking chair swayin' skee-reet skee-reet
'Taters still steamin' like a mini-volcano
Room reeks of whiskey stronger than Drano
Spilled orange juice tricklin' a fly-food slurry
Someone cleared outta Free Verse Ranch in a helluva hurry
The clip-clop of iambic beats, Sheriff on my tail
He wouldn't shoot an unrhymed man, would he?
In Dire Straits we now find Rosie,
Sitting with Hammond in her kitchen, cozy.
If only she'd taken her pain medicine
Gone with friends to the UFO convention,
Then she wouldn't be doing the wine and dine,
Scared of this vacuum salesmans intention.
He says he wears spandex boxer shorts
His cologne smells like nuclear waste of some sort,
And his complexion looks like lunar craters,
While his smile reminds her of an alligator's.
The conversation keeps drifting, from wormholes to insomnia,
With tidbits of insanity to help her diagnose schizophrenia.
Hitchcock would really have enjoyed this gig.
Will Rosie survive? Is Hammond "The Ripper"? Tune in tomorrow,
For the next exciting episode "The Issue of the Listerine Soaked Tissue".
contained within crooked pages lies the secret of happiness its a secret noone will ever
find though because the world would fracture into infinite equations quasars would
eviscerate limbs and render human speech impossible which would be catastrophic in the
grand scheme of things i only wish to last forever or maybe for what i write to outlive me
somehow even though im not exactly keats or yeats to be recognised in multiple dimensions
and by multiple personality disorders of the same fictious person would be somehow
endearing albeit somewhat scary and improbable momentous thoughts tend to surround us when
we least expect them to but be it writing a terrible poem about a daffodil or being
punched in the face or travelling through wormholes of improbability at seventeen thousand
times the speed of light at the end of the day when all is done and said humanity is rubbish
"Roll on tonight my mates are coming round
For a few cold beers and some rocking sounds
Time is drawing near, as I hear a knock at the door
Blimey! at this time of the night, a vacuum salesmen stands before"
"Hey pal make it quick, I have a party to host
Tell me your pitch, now disappear your a ghost
The best place for them is in the lunar craters
Sucking on Listerine soaked tissues, singing, "see you later alligator"
"Another knock on the door, and I'm pleasantly surprised
All my intended buddies on my doorstep, the parties arrived
For a night of drifting, ending with earache and pain
Entering wormholes of insomnia, no pain no gain"
"Our party is going to be like a cool Rock 'n' Roll gig
Beers flowing a plenty, this ain't no highland jig
We start with Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention
Best friends and myself, our schooldays convention"
"This is no wine and dine as Dire Straits play
The "Sultans of Swing" sounds excellent any day
Next we play Deep Purple, listening to Jon Lord's Hammond sounds
Music is our medicine in six speaker surround"
"In between sounds to the kitchen we head
Tid-bits and more beers to keep our gig well fed
We sample some Grunge Metal listening to Nuclear Waste
But once again Classic Rocks rules, as Grunge is not our taste"
"For the next couple of ours it's like The Monsters of Rock
AC/DC and UFO, the Rock never stops
We air guitar to "Whole Lotta Rosie"
Wearing spandex boxer shorts, one of us drumming like Cozy"
"We all awake in the morning, some with sore heads
But it was never a night that we were ever going to dread
It was a bunch of guys who met whilst at school
Who released their friendly energy, like fools but really cool"
"Tom, I never knew you, but I thank Catie for this
Writing this poem, just fills me with bliss
I know you will be busy, but if you happen to look down
Give our convention a shout, join our Rock n Roll clowns"
My tribute to Mr Tom Bell, so many people spoke about him.
Reading what they said, I only wish I knew him.
Look deeper inside the universe and you will find it's brilliant mind
Transcranial stimulation directing intelligent design
The Heavens celestial is the body of an eternal dream within it's own
A window into the galaxies where the heart is connected to it's soul
While event horizon reflects a dark side there is still a beauty to behold
Through parallel dimensions and wormholes into eternities of the great unknown
Where there is only the absence of time and space, a beginning without an end
Floating through the Milky Way across a gentle stellar wind
Deep into the macrocosmic silence I close my eyes and disappear
Awaiting on the other side is the golden thrones of new frontiers
Unto the nebula of Orions belt you can feel the gift of life
A place one day we'll again call home as we ascend into its light
My friends Rosie, Hammond and me
Had insomnia and were in the kitchen one Sunday
Discussing The Nuclear Waste Medicine Convention
We wined and dined and had a good old time,
Hammond in his Spandex boxer shorts and
me feeding Tid- Bits of Listerine soaked tissue
to my crazy, vacuum salesman biting Bichon Friese,
"Are we going to go to that gig?" we all asked eath other
After all, the convention was held on a UFO.
"Ahh, heck, maybe we should go," we deliberated
"Otherwise we may be in Dire Straits and infiltrated!"
So hence we went- to the Nuclear Waste Medicine Convention
Speaker talked about lunar craters and wormholes.
Me, I was drifting off to sleep, as Rosie
held her hands to her ears as if in pain-
Hammond asked,"What is there to gain? Let's go
and blow this idiot convention."
There was nothing to gain except a fun way to go
Riding around in a UFO.
A. Green
Inside my mind is a paradox when I reminisce about you with my filter off.
I can speak about you but simultaneously be relating it to all the evils within myself..
The ones that I give into and live for..
The ones that escape my brain crawling out through wormholes.
That's when I forget why I even wanted to remember for, tell me what for?
I want to know why we disguise our emotions
Sweeping 'em under the welcome mat of the front door, kind of hypocritical, tell me what for?
That's what happens when the cadence of your heart meets the agony in my eyes..
Lost in our untimely consciousness..
That's what I'm always caught up in.
I don't have to confess, you can see it on my face.. Adrift in space..
Assaulting myself by replaying memories..
How can two things be so wrong, so undone yet wound up in one?
Reminisce reminisce, stop traveling back in your mind.
Instead cast the feelings out among the stars, let 'em shine..
They float so far, they stay out of sight. But creep back up in the dark of the night.
What's real shines through.. If ignorance is bliss then I guess I'll make a wish too.
My little nightlights.. They literally are a piece of mind.
Because when I'm zoned out I'm seeing my feelings that were lost in time..
A dance divine with a celestial convivial chime
Gazing galaxies upon a midnight summer's breeze
Wormholes waking as the nesting nebulae are baking
Star cluster smiles twinkling traverse the many miles
Alpha Centauri within gravitational galactic glory
Cosmological constellations need no explanations
Blusterous Black holes sucking in symmetrical souls
Thru the Multi-verse all shall divide and disperse.
June.25.2017
LATE JUNE PREMIERE CONTEST - Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Compressed predator instincts
Exist in the most primitive dimension
Textile complex of nerves
Mixture of nebulas and herbs
Blinking imperfect echoes
Is it a crop of static points?
Yet there’s no sign of growth
No sprouting into a G minor code
A multi-fingered park
For a suicide octagon roll?
Most probably
Horde of wormholes on the wall
Dementia brought cheese mentality
Expose your paper gestures
And fold
Extreme fisherman-frontal jump
Into the scribbled reflections of
A starving point