Gravitational Hands:
(The unaffected minute)
The clock face project, the dials:
Suspended in a silent, frozen fluid state.
Detached from the norms of its time.
As the seconds turn to minutes,
Unrecognizing the hours in a hurry.
Away from those forgotten days, just
Last week, saying slow down before
Fortnight answers with a brief timeout.
This month had no time to reset.
There’s nothing we can do now.
The new year is here.
A crescent moon, being cradled, waits.
Angles suddenly appear in a weightless
Form within triple timing turns gravity
Into what becomes a mystified standstill.
Calm before we realize how?
Decades can evade without notice.
The sudden moments of bygones
The century has shown throughout
Millennium, how far we've come
From aeon to eon, but the difference
In the distance, when they appear in time.
Beckoning us to accept the hidden forces
Behind gravitational hands, in reality.
When I sit atop enchanted hills
draped in green silk,
I feel your presence so fiercely;
our distance waning,
feeling it's gravitational pull, as
our souls are entwined in
iridescent bliss, amidst this
phantasmagoric love story.
Swirling amidst the clouds, that
blanket our hearts, with
everlasting emotions—
I cover myself in your
honey-glazed scent,
pirouetting beneath
glimmering astral showers,
drizzled throughout our
cosmic haven of resplendency.
Cradled in the ballad of
your sempiternal devotion and love,
I’m addicted to your alchemy, as
I feel wisps of our intimacy,
sparkling in alabaster beams of
a virescent destiny,
layered across aureate tales
of our chasmic ever after.
The store has an otherworldly glow
in a starless lot.
The few parked cars
have leagues of loneliness between them.
No one comes or goes, they merely slipstream
through a personal invisibility.
Beyond the electric slide of glass doors
the anchorless roam
between the high stacked
and glitter wrapped.
Anyone that matters in the daylight
is not here.
At the check-out he sees her,
dark moons slung from each ear,
she with the dragon tattoo arm sleeve,
her small, half-cupped breasts
daring anyone to be kind.
He wants to be near to her,
yet he is only an itinerant broker of bad news.
The few that are here will leave separately
to tunnel into more makeshift hours,
and he must drive far enough away
to be some distance from himself.
We should all be thankful as a nation
For the phenomenon called “gravitational causation”
A strange unknown force
Pushing down during intercourse
Causing an increase in the birthrate in some locations
you upon
my lap
push
inflating
while
dilating
my eyes but
you pump
my heart
it was like
a balloon
that had
swooned out
of the factory
of loneliness
so this different
cpr using different
lips leaves me a jar
with a pop
of something
coming off or
about to
so you
twist
hips a
little
and
let me all pour
out without any
ceremony my
can lids
've been
open
spilling over
your bowl
knowing
i want
you to
stir my
condensed
soup with
milk and
gravity has
nothing to
do with my
rising
balloon
GRAVITATIONAL LOCK
You walk the night, and the crazies are there,
all of your life you've been living your lie.
Everyone knows why the sun goes no where,
it just sits there, and it's waiting to die.
You will be cold, but your dark is the thing
freezing your mind, where no light can be found.
Gravity keeps, you'll stay younger than spring,
but in your cold, there is death all around.
Never to die, is a place for the dead,
you are my sin, I'm your gravity lock,
when you're alone, has become, in your head,
now and again, through each minute you walk.
Letting you go would be letting you die,
letting you die, would be living a lie
© ron wilson aka Vee B'Dosa the doylestown poiet
( "Write the truest sentence you know." - F. Scott Fitzgerald )
Variant plurals suffering suffixation's whims;
fly-tomatoes and the valley boo-mouse,
when the sheep alumnus in a mother-in-law seed,
animosity-cat tiptoes in the church alchemy,
genetic forty-winks sing noun names; brag and blame.
Go to the spy picnic early, the heavy earth hides,
the shy long-cot swings over the screeching pond.
She wont let me say the words; I love her,
an ice-cream non-communist with a gypsy-grace and a smorgasbord-rub,
( I have tone-deaf toothpaste and my megawatt chow miens)
It’s enough to make you gang your hemihedral in a jolt-wagon.
Someone aught to have better sea-sense. Not me-
I’m palm-crucified. My bulls-eye is a hearse!
She might marry me to a multi-syllabic drainage or I might climb the scrupulous oak.
A weapon based affiliation is neither a cat cavern or a divided field. Marshals could be described as marshmallows as they are often rounded mush balls. Often a cape is found staring at a calender in a midday glaze. But guidance from sandstorms glow in minds. Entering like breadsticks. Forcibly correcting wrongs in specifies locations globally. Wisdom is not held in a button or a shoe lace. And lacrosse is an extremely busy explosive experiment when attempted by nine foot rabbits. How wonderful it is to sit by a plumage which is radiating. Undirected individual skylights of assorted colours and hue. Adjusting with the many lights. Across all regions but where to put a sparrow is the question for a branch. Perched placed pecking. And one must always admire the flowing of elephant steps. How quite quickly they assemble and move. Latter day layers then. No hahahaha actually for the fractions of house us segmented. Jalapeño halogen bulbs. Xxxx terminology xxxx tripods. *** gravitational gravitation xxxx
Gravitational Waves
occurred every time Einstein misbehaves
but with Stephen Hawking
they also felt there was simply too much talking.
Gravitational waves
some have put down to Kimbrel, his multiple saves
but Oso el Blanco
achieved much the same when he took out John Franco.
Ordered by name, sights and tree trippers the climbing elephants sustain a marvellous wealth of injested missionary window ledges. Whilst eleven fleas are whipping cow excrement vast spectacular visions of a few beetles writhe in beds of silvery waters. It is neither a wishing spoon nor a little fork which breaks an erotic cabbage as flybys are mist important when conversing with a purple potato. As wisdom is derived from a stem of a single crocus. And a crocodile balances on a six inch trapeze. Live wires are far the most exciting in a misty landscape. Inkwells smiling. Interesting is the patterns of a bee. Placing a noose on a plate. Until the next to last stirring if the soups. Pointing then to a cloud in a class of seals. Daring. Dancing dimming dimes. Dimensional drawing xxxx gravitational xxxxx ha ha ha
It's 4am
I grab a discarded magazine off
the floor to see if I can count forwards
from the release date to see what todays
date might be
maybe I've forgotten something important
like
what hike should I go on to see the
coolest wildflowers
or
maybe I should switch my cloaking
aura on and walk the streets
invisible
I
could
pretend this poem has some merit
tho it hardly matters 75 light years
away
I can feel the anti-gravity pulling
me towards understanding
possibly even being able to walk
no
glide
kind of like a
hover
3 to 5 feet off the ground
with varying speeds
depending on circumstances
01/12/14
His morning smile
Covers my heart
In a thousand grains
Of love drenched sand
Injected with rays of sun
To heat my core
His evening smile
Like a falling star
Against moons reflection
Draws me closer
To his telescopic view
Of my love within
Lay
I center myself from within
Toward the gravitational pull of the Ibis
Toward the whiteness that I wish to wear
Away from the darkness of despair.
I am suspended from within.
Suspended between the nothingness
The nothingness between the evil and the right
The nothingness between the darkness and the light.
My lefthandness leading to my right
To a possession of my memory not just for reminiscence
But for wisdom and the sacred knowledge
Of Theuth and of all the Earth.
I do not want to be hearer of nothing
I desire a reputation of understanding
And care not for the approval or disapproval
Of those of forgetfullness and Thebes who know not of the Ibis.
(January 7, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Stone upon the water front/
Next to the cashmere pillow,
The pier near the gallow shore/
A man began to speak,
Within this land there shall be no way out accept I tax,
This gravitational pull may bring some down,
Yet if you stay and listen very carefully/
You will live through this time and be very happy !
Many of you have become lazy in the manner of laws,
A decree will be summoned to let us know/
The waiting may be hard to comprehend,
Yet within time you can grow to depend/
The fat of the land,
Let this man take you by the hand/
There can be no further excuses or escape,
The way will depend upon the hearer's !
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