In Real Time Poems | Examples

The Mage Whispers

The Mage Whispers

Do you see past your reality tunnels

Your every day to day
Safe plays

As your Geiger Counters
Ticks left to right
As it slowly sways

Do you see the struggles
Of life's many broken runners

In dire trouble
At home or worldwide 

Do you see the villains with the dirty bruised knuckles 

On television preaching or in real time

Standing in someone else's home

Their back garden
Their jungle 
As the world just watches

Engaging in endless bellicose discussions

Will you only take note
When one of the world's elected great hunters

Pushes the red nuclear button 

So I summon the power of the Four Elemental Gods

Earth, Air, Fire, and Water
To wake you up

Before that Old Fallen Power 
Grows so much stronger

That hope will no longer matter, as it will shatter

Stopping one climbing Jacob's Ladder 

The bridge one seeks at birth 
Between Heaven and Earth

So be it

What will be
Will be


(C) Copyright John Duffy

Innuendos Don’t Behave

Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.
In his tongue.
Whose tongue?
Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.
What, with my tongue in your tail?
   Nay, come again, Good Kate;
   I am a gentleman.
—William Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew
    (exchange between Petruchio and Katherine)

Love looks like blue skies, nay.
Today is the tango of sister twisters.

Innuendos don’t behave. They slave
over the mountains and valleys.

Twines of a forked tongue, devilishly
misbehaving, drunken in delight.

Good Kate, is she kind, his kind of date?
Will she satisfy his intellect, his loins?

Is he a gentleman, this Shakespeare?
Is his lady worthy of remarkable taste?

Petruchio, with his yellow jacket,
prepared to sting, with lover’s words.

Katherine’s falling into the Venus fly trap
as she plays along, bidding farewell.

Petruchio draws her back in
wagging his tail and tongue.

These heavy boots filled by Taylor and Burton
acting in real time and on the silver-tongued screen.

If the ballroom could produce such a tango as this,
Shakespeare himself would rise and erupt in applause.

Time 1984

Time is a funny thing,
time does not always seem real.
Governments and their rulers,
come and go.
Some are good to their people and country,
while others only destroy.
Can they be brought to their knees,
maybe ~ sometimes?
When we are living in today,
we have real time.
Can we now see or understand,
the many years that will come?
Then one day we awaken,
to that far off date.
Now here in the new real time of 2025,
we say where did all the time go?
In their day many read the book 1984,
some laughed at it as it was the talk of the town. 
Some saying, 
this would never happen.
Now in real time of 2025,
many years later what do we find?
Today many are saying, 
we are now living in this book of 1984.
The question is,
are we?
Some say yes,
others still feel it was just a crazy book.
Have you read it, 
only the reader can decide.

To journey through life as a black person

walking through life as as a black person, 
the world needs to understand 
we rock with a rhyme, we bop with a beat
we jive like a jazz band 

we improvise on the fly
we adapt to any situation
we can spit a rhyme in real time 
and connect with a combination 
 
we can create out of chaos
we can take trash and turn it into treasure. 
we can see beauty in the midst of bedlam
and turn dissonance into sounds of pleasure 

to journey through life as a black person 
we march to the beat up our own drums
we always have a song in our hearts
we are musical phenomenons 

we are the deepness of the base 
we are the sexiness of the saxophone
we are the smoothness of the violin
we are the richness of the trombone

we have the versatility of the piano
we're the lead guitar that gives the melody 
we are the trumpets in life that blow 
with much power and intensity

we are the rhythm, we are the rhyme
we are the harmony
we are black people journeying through life 
with a musical propensity 

so keep shining, keep grinding 
keep moving with all that jazz 
because walking through life as the black person 
just means we have much pizzazz

The Scenic View

falling rain, droplet by droplet
pane pain pane
sipping on leaves
fall falling
failing to see

leaves livestock
lumbering, conceited
between the pages
their veins throbbing
as a moppet scribbles

over their bones
with primary colors
heavy-fisted, fat crayons
that melt

into the whirligig
cheek flames
and bright eyes
follow the track

jump into the raked
leaves piled high
aww, rains leaking
inside…pane…pain

child leaves it all behind
the grown kid rounds
Louisiana, not impressed
until Autumn leaves

remind and reminisce
stopping the automobile
in real time…real smooth
New Orleans beckons

but the scenic view
having said, howdy-do
is left behind with the pain
of slippery rain

Why Humans Stop Building For Wonders

Because wonder has morphed
Building an edifice of beauty 
Is no longer magnificent
The plan in going to Mars
Communicating with others 
From around the globe in real time
Are to believe all miraculous
Because all technology 
has robbed humanity of imagination 
No more sense of creation of marvel
With our own two hands
Capitalism killed dreams
Human lost trades
Few artisans left to carry on the concept 
Plus very expensive materials this time
Everything is prefab and build boxed type structures
All artificial beauty are in science and technology
We no longer look for organic beauty.

FALLING

I'm falling in reverse. 
From the ground into the sky. 
At the edge of gravity.
To where the laws do not apply. 
I'm rising like a phoenix. 
From the flames into the air. 
Through the layers of the atmosphere. 
With rainbows everywhere. 
As the world beneath me. 
Grows ever smaller still. 
Through iridescent clouds.
In Autumn's whispy chill. 
Towards the orange harvest moon. 
I'm falling in reverse. 
Touching golden star dust. 
In the infinite universe. 
As sun beams dance around me. 
Aurora in my eyes. 
Falling, always falling.
Into black and silver skies. 
As distant stars grow closer. 
And purple Nebula appear. 
Flying towards heaven. 
Gone, the pain and fear.
Because I'm falling in reverse. 
Towards the edge of space. 
As Supernova burst forth.
Shining upon my face. 
Past galaxies and black holes. 
Creation in real time.
Subtle waves of beauty. 
The feeling quite sublime. 
And God is there beside me. 
Guiding me through the endless night. 
I'm falling into darkness. 
Exploding into the light.

Show and Tell

I thirst for you is that so strange 
Mouth gets dry when speak your name
Lose all pride pink inside my brain
Need you tonight to cure my insane 

I look for you like shooting star
Around the moon and in red heart
The sight of you takes me away
To another galaxy far loving place

The sound of you is deep and low
Unique true blue and fully exposed 
For you’re in my ear as you hold me close
Keep me near saying you love me so

The smell of you is so denim divine
Raw and real sweet and kind
Gives me a thrill lost in real time
My spirit spills you blow my mind

What you are is indigo interesting 
A kindred gold star brightly shining 
Inside mahogany heart inside mocha me
Come sweetheart let me show you what I mean

The Sale

A keyboard gigolo
works on his profile.
He photoshops a younger him,
plastering the Net
with his winsome smile.

Is he very different
than the little lies
we share in real time?

Best face forward,
but under our hands
we are digitizing
a pseudo existence.
one more acceptable
to the rigors
of a life-long
hard sell.

It may come as a shock to most

It may come as a shock to most,
But texting is not communication in real time, 
And seldom saves time,
Often not getting to the sender on time,
So, frequently is not read on time,
Sometimes not at any time,
As cell phones get misplaced at the wrong time,
Or are not on hand at the right time, 
With running out of battery time,
Happening during text time.

They used to have a thing called a telegram,
That found people most of the time,
Due to fact it looked for you in real time,
As opposed to a cell phone which looks for you at no time.

But if you want to get close to communicating in real time,
Speaking into any active phone is not a bad use of time,
As you can expect answers in almost no time,
Unless you are put on hold for a time,
In which case you will be lost in virtual time,
And virtual space for some time,
And if that is the case you may have time,
To text on your second phone without appearing to waste time.

Nomophobia Breakdown

Dopamine release lingers
 with continuous touch of her fingers
caressing through its brightened face
so it opens up to her, in real time and space
in text, audio and video,
 in such a romantic tango

She loves to live in the screen world
lying there on the bed,  body curled
deeply engrossed as she gaze
 through these ever glowing blaze
her eyes tearing in joy, elated in laughter
unfazed even by the whining of her little daughter

And right there in the limbo
he lay beside her pillow
whispering to her, speaking love
making his move thereof
all the time seeking for her attention
but she could barely notice his intention
the craving to fulfill their nuptial vows
cos' her head is in the clouds
entrapped in virtual ecstasy
in a world of visual fantasy
her eyes tearing in joy, crowing in the course
of this intimate intercourse

For hours, going to a day
she has been this way
wanting to be left on her own
fooling with her Android Phone
browsing unlimited broadband
and neglecting her own husband

Rose Petals and Open Hearts

Vivid pictures of you & I are constantly running
circles through my mind
The times we shared when together are playing
on a loop in real time
These moments shine as bright spots tend to draw
attention in dark times
My reflection brings me joy in a real sense so when
I have to see in the dark I don't mind
What we have is infinite & like Gods mind it can never
be equaled in any sense
When we met I found my match & it sparked a flame
that's burn only for you ever since
You activated this light in my heart space that's burned
brightly ever since
The sight of you still gives me chills to this day
activating my passion in this sense
Rose petals and flower scents fill me with strong 
emotions like a heavy heart
My emotions flow like electricity through open currents
& having you in mind creates sparks
My fire still burns for you despite the distance as no
one but you can ignite these sparks
You'll always be that eternal flame that never dies 
because of your permanent place in my heart

Contaminated

("Contagion", 2020, original oil)

Contaminated

Everything we taste, see, hear, think and feel
Is taken in as a layer 
Upon layers within our mind
Adding to the library of imaginary things
Which makes us distinctly human
All too human.

This world of the collective unconscious
Is worse than any one imagination
Could imagine
A world of angels and demons 
Morphing in real time
As we, the collective
Write our novels, make our movies
Indulge silent fantasies and forbidden fruits
In the dark web of Mind.

Everything so consumed
Adds to this web
And adds to the collective weight
Of being human
The stuff of dreams
That end up nightmares.

This is the world our children inherit
The real world
Beneath the one we see
A world as old as time
Mythical in proportion
Dwarfing the fragile balance
Of what little we can handle
With all we know.

(12/29/23)

Love to Last the Test of Time

I drink of your company
and dine on your laughter
I bathe in your kisses
and glow ever after

You fuel me forever
We are a force divine
and I expect our love to last all tests of time

Love to Last the Test of Time
I wrote you a poem in real time in IM on a phone! Artimus (C) Susan Manley 12:45AM 11/12/23

Journal

Wish I, a journal of my days, had kept
from my teen years until the present time;
I'd have a way to view and intercept
each memory by date- a gift sublime.

Be able to flip back on pages bound;
recall those facts my mind, in time erased.
The story of my life would then be found
in written words- in real-time, be based.

A day, a week, a month, a year- review
the felt emotions then expressed each day;
for most of them, long gone or faded, flew
so far beyond what memories convey.

My journal- snapshot of each day that passed-
the good, the bad, and all those in between;
the story of my life, through words, recast-
to let what's known, what's buried, reconvene.

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