Yellow is the boundary of the stride,
A paper-thin cleft between the end and the beginning.
Time catches its breath within that tiny seam,
And we weigh our choices once again—
“Shall I press on, or shall I stay?”
The moment my foot takes the green light,
A palanquin charges forward, compressing time itself in its speed.
“How dare you! Make way for the Magistrate!”
That glare is no simple threat.
Our hesitation is a quiet ritual, testing both choice and chance.
Green is the opening of a promise.
Yet within that promise seeps a hidden gaze and a silent rule.
We read it, judge it, and take our step.
Can we truly step forward, trusting this green hue alone?
As swift palanquins rush by without end,
Our judgment is constantly put on trial.
A traffic light is never merely a set of colors.
It is the invisible shadow of order,
The ultimate symbol of the norms we belong to.
And the traffic light asks:
“Do you truly trust me?”
Truth Escapes
Each day shorter
than the day
before
Each word
sharper
and meaning more
Time compressing
the past
implodes
Truth
escaping
— life’s final throes
********
The Enemy Within
Everyone lives
with a cancer
deep inside of
them
Waiting
like a panther
striking
from within
If not today
tomorrow
on that
you can depend
Setting up
a sneak attack
malignancy
— portends
********
Within The Lines
Verse
is my mistress
Poetry
my love
Every line
my beating heart
Rhyme
sent from above
Feelings
wrapped in verbiage
Passion
leads the way
Stopping time
within the lines
Couplets
— on display
********
Words Rebirth
The leading edge
of prescience
A doorway to
beyond
Walking through
the past adieu
As words rebirth
— in song
(The New Room: June, 2026)
bonasa umbellus--- "cloak of secrecy"
A warp drive is a theoretical concept that
moves a spacecraft by compressing space
in front of it and expanding space behind
it, creating a "warp bubble"A cloche
french for bell.
The limbs of the hickory wii be fashioned
and forged into a bassoon.
" Hezzah Hoeing"
--- -- --------------------------------
Manila Clam Hand Hoe
Clam Hoe/Fork
Solen brevis
sandy-muddy tidal areas.
Other species, such as
Amiantis umbonella
Barbatia decussata
tivela damaoides,
being prominent in
clam feastated areas
--------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------
-------------------Quahogs----------------------
---------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------
Qawad Large Snout............------------------------
I opened the door
it was unfamiliarly wet outside
the water eroded the memory
I have opened the wrong door
each door has a history
didn't know that
so I accidentally changed the story
now I'm entangled
it feels like drifting through the ocean
while seagrass has taken over your body
pushing you back
I don't want to go back
it is dark and wet
the sky is pouring heavily
compressing my lungs
I don't want to go back
I'll be forced to open my eyelids
and see
how mothers are wearing their children as a hat
… your mother
while the walls are detouring from our house
may keepers hold you safe
we didn't know better
In my youth I dreamt of playing the piano
filling the nights with romance and melodies
orchestrating sound and beauty
Reading and interpreting sheet music while
compressing innermost feelings into sequences of notes
translated in the language best understood by the heart
Swirling to the beat of rhythmic grace
rich with aphrodisiac chemistry
intoxicating mesmerizing beguiling
I’ve dreamt so long of pleasuring the night
to charm the moon and stars above
with my hypnotic serenades and symphonies
AP: 1st place 2025
Dancing with delusions, sparks of hellfire
Course through my lugubrious quill pen.
Distorted words igniting fear,
Anxiety fills crevices,
Encircling, silencing,
Asphyxiating.
Walls closing in,
Compressing.
Hope fades,
Doom.
Dread
Runs cold.
Veins poisoned,
Sanity slips
Unmercifully.
The angels are mimicked.
Light dimming, darkness descends
As demons mingle with the dead.
Apocalyptic skies crack open
To wash away all that you held sacred.
Though what we know
and that which we feel
goes into what we write
I believe
poets are more inclined toward
image-periphery
the alchemy of lyric-formation
what is just around the corner
horrifically vague
standing on the lip-edge
toes dangling over
peering bravely into a
primal abyss
------------------------------
each new declaration a journey
backward, compressing coldly
into dank catacombs of past
drafting explorers
forward, confronting bard echoes
the maps of our ancient priests
left for the daring
the literary awakened
new skies revealed
sustain alternating and renewed
every night a fresh splattering of light
every dawn
a bounty-warmth of slippery
sunny icing
such decadence our breakfast
lunch and supper
no dessert denied
the rich slices we pen
the hyper-caloric that
drives us to the brink
daring us to step off
both angels and demons
awaiting their catches
lift must be in our favor --
-------------------------
Let the work begin!
There's this little fragile
Betwixt the escort.
Trying to understand
Their psyche,
Their interest.
Are they really the armours
Or the aviary?
And will the dust devil arrive,
Rising from our own silhouette,
Compressing the cage of ribs
With the bludgeon?
Illusion of something erroneous,
Or may be some nave.
Perfect guard,
Guarding the heart,
The cascade of truth
For the so called panoply,
Squeezing the heart out.
Every piece of the jigsaw heart,
Turning out into butterflies
Dancing the dance of freedom.
Breath breath breath,
Screamed the chambers,
Shouts the guard.
Rushing the red ink
To the fragile little heart,
Pumps & paint the canvas,
Red with pure air.
They said it
to be the cage of protection,
And still the heart suffocated
Bearing all the badger in love.
So the kernel continued singing
The song of strom..
(12th April, 2023)
Everything pressing on my mind
So, I question, why?
Blessings are small when addressing
Where I am currently at right now.
Life is compressing my being
With every-day turmoil progressing.
I am a window dressing of peace,
But a different narrative inside.
Blessings my Lord, gaze down on me
And open a flood gate of discipline,
Help me transcend above it.
7/5/2022
The brain is an incredibly efficient computer
Compressing trillions of bytes of information,
Registering every impression we encounter,
Analyzing concepts from formation to causation.
Compressing trillions of bytes of information
In milliseconds without hesitation, unrelentingly,
Analyzing concepts from formation to causation
Remarkably, it even functions unconsciously.
In milliseconds without hesitation, unrelentingly,
It processes the continual intake of our senses
Remarkably, it even functions unconsciously,
Outlining proposals, formulating our defenses.
It processes the continual intake of our senses,
All while regulating our involuntary responses
Outlines our proposals, formulates our defenses
Even evaluating the most complicated nuances.
All while regulating our involuntary responses
Registering every impression we encounter,
Even evaluating the most complicated nuances
The brain is an incredibly efficient computer.
Written May 9, 2022
Dancing our epic song
inside images
dreams
narratives
ritual motions
rhythmic changes
disembodied
Can become dissonantly self-predative
depressing
exhausting
compressing
Claustrophobic mean remains
of darkly disabling
demonic Othering;
nothing left
for cooperative choice,
wellbeing voice.
Dancing our song
dividing MeWe healthy humanity
in unhealthy ways
Sometimes therapeutically remediated
by better
silent outside
sacred listening,
for healing humane justice
in divinely green peace
forest Cathedrals,
desert sand drifting Paradise,
oceanic blue Heavens,
mountainous purple sunset Passions,
silent flowing rivers
of transparent Power
chasing
following vulnerable
wounding Light
Cooperatively active
inside/outside copassion
recklessly curious love
restoring EarthPeace
one dance at a time
For cooperatively revolutionary
mediations
resonantly YangSun sung
YintegralEarth danced
In and Out
Self and Other
therapeutically empathic
sacred muses
dancing our co-arising Psalms.
Majestic flight sweeps up from lobby sprawl
Mattress padding pink carpet creeps corners
Bannisters ornate in century's old discussions
Omit disclosure of grim history above
Uniform scuff tread flat railed staircase
Stretches ominously into third level dim
Each step taken fades from life the stepper
Cobwebs claim frames of dust dampened portraits
Compressing is staircase from dingy third
Wide shouldered folk hunch, tunnel encroaching
Trapdoor top is a shock to wood tread traveller
Rejoicing of stiffened hinges, solitary sound
Huddled roofspace floods intrepid with doom
Heanous endings leach from panelled attic walls
Slivers of snowdust rays showcase eye sockets
Emptied in skulls committed to fourth floor torture
6th September 2020
The Fourth Floor of Nowhere Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish
He bound thru hoarfrost, highland fells
With naught but knees to ring the bells
Such haunting peals from little blooms
That daubed his hell with dreamy doom
He wrapped his dreams around their throats
Sweet things that bled with beats and notes
And squeezed with all the strength he knew
While each bright face turned ghastly blue
The morn breaks, new, for each grieved soul
Though doubts and deeds can take their toll
He suffered, wrought from pride's cold dawn
Those highlands bled from shame, now gone
He searched for what he'd thus once found
That careless heart ... now dead and bound.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Completely Your Choice (30) Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
* This is the Rhyme that my poem "Type, Cast" was built around ... I never did a mixed-form this way before, (writing the Free Verse sections and inserting Rhyme as I went), but compressing these sections after the fact helps me to see where the core ideas originated. Kind of a fun exercize, overall! *
There is the turning point
He said like I should know
Twisting conviction tight
While frozern to the bone
This is that hopefull sign
He said like it was fact
Compressing doubt inside
Until my spine Began to snap
This way is saving grace
His tone full of pride
Almost deflated still
My rib cage open wide
This is where you say goodbye
His tone was empathetic
My back turned painfully
I pulled out my haert and left it.
Impression is for now.
Trust is for the future.
Impression,
contentment,
ego-compressing precession,
is for breathing out ego-now and eco-here listening;
Trust,
compassionate co-arising recession,
is for breathing in the future.
Extrapolations
of a Yogi Positive Energy tea-bag
as read,
and preferably incarnated,
by Jonathon Wilcox,
breathing in impressions
breathing out democracy-building trust.
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