I’ve been transmitting
on the frequency we talked about—
the one braided with microwaves
and half-truths
about entangled minds
and sympathetic resonance.
I figured you’d catch the pulse
once the white noise parted,
once my kettle screamed
or the dog stared too long at a corner
that wasn’t empty.
My mouth even watered
with your name
on the dough's first rise—
I dallied in the kitchen
with a low-stakes ritual,
used gravity to split particles—
you still didn't answer.
Did you notice any of it?
Do earworms still play my advice
like backmasked invocations?
I wouldn't run from a little proof
of your esoterica.
Maybe you’re the kind of quark
who skips the symposiums entirely—
no RSVP, no collision data,
just a shrug in the margins.
Or maybe your reception
requires stranger offerings—
Either way, you should know:
I'm running out of ideas.
Aquatic colossus breaches with elation,
crystalline baubles spray towards
periwinkle skies as casting flukes sway.
In expanse of brine play the descendants
of millennia old warriors; their songs
eco among the macrophyte gardens.
They know the secrets of ancient sailors,
these Balaenoptera musculus in their clan-pods
carry the wisdom of unknown worlds within Gaia’s
womb. A harmonic constitutional for these
hearts of compassion, the annual migration
will glean offspring to carry on the tradition
and guardianship of esoterica; this star
has come far and whispered her secrets
only to the wise ones.
4-22-2021
ALL YOURS (Apr 23) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
In an incandescent wood luminous poppies offer
guidance to travelers; tree limbs dance in
syncopation to universal rhythms.
Fireflies shed their phosphorescence
among the flora.
I walk here in radiant beams of enlightenment.
Gathering gemstones; dream time baubles
of esoterica for I am first, a spirit.
Hearts of lavender and rubies
sing out their wisdom in archetypes
of eternity’s cultivation.
I secret it all away in my backpack
and return with a smile to mortal reality.
I have heard the voice of the flowers,
smelled the sweet scent of the Universe
and danced to the refrains of cosmic elation.
Inspiration comes from unnamed realms
and rests upon the ethers...
grasp your share.
They call me ‘Cap’, (Captain) America!
But are my Values REALLY out of date?
Prefer Red Meat to esoterica…
At end of every meal, I clean my plate…
I would have – given time – tried to explain
To Tony Stark, the depth of what I knew,
But he responded, giving pain for pain,
Barehand, I beat the Ir’n Man black-and-blue!
It broke me! Had to trade a friend for friend!
I would have – given time – tried to unfold
A hist’ry of deception, tried to mend...
But, friendships SHATTER! left out in the cold!
Could I have showed that LIES had kept me sane?
NO! – giv’n a chance – I'd crash another plane!
Date Updated: Jan. 10, 2018
Withdrawn 2/12/2019 from: Movie Magic Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gregory R. Barden
Movie and Character: Captain America: CIVIL WAR; Captain America
Solomon’s internal ears; absorbing esoterica.
Quaternal energies intermingle; feeding the king’s soul.
The tree of life bears the fruit of wisdom; few students are ready.
At the flower market
I found spice, holy water,
cobblestoned obsidian dreams,
but no flowers.
The blustery Tuscany day
showed me its underlying graffiti,
incantations of poetica esoterica,
and yet another way
to excavate the mystery.
Nostalgic Roman nights,
Spanish palabras, Sicilian incantations,
idyllic panoramas; promises
enough to purchase the moon.
Such a foolish sacrifice to
fresco up for portfolios in
sanctuaries precious
and profane.