Long Ecliptic Poems

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Indirect interference into interesting iconographic inked inner initiative is not a carefully stepping clam, a carved tree cake nor a dune of a moon. Taking no bistro out for a walk or a cafeteria for a swimming lesson. For galas are won by astronomical gesturing garages who can do a high speed sprint in a pool. And high jumping competitions are competitively won by a zero rated steak sandwich with extra relish and cheese. Well that helps with the balance. Wow. Even eggs, explosive electric eels, erotic earwigs, economic ecliptic eccentric elves, and a fortified frog are capable of racing a tidal wave. Perfect. Pass. Perfect position. A country manor is not maneuvering on a dry day. Dry days deliberate drying dresses. And dance of the nine millimetre worm can be most admired in a pie of a circus tent. Whirling around carrying eighteen batons, a baseball, a silver jacket encrusted with rhino slices, snake shoes, and a tiny earring glowing. Lights that are lit at that moment will ensure a beacon built. And beacons are not big bakers they are brilliant bringers and bombarding battlers. So not a duty seen before in a table spire leg of a nineteen century church with a nice arrangement of flowers and candles. Watch how it moves around in the dining room. Arlington National Bank meeting Arlington castle in a tank ranking above all the little poor people. Nineteen fifty one and three quarters through the year but now overseas known as an overweight quarterback. General-purpose general genes. And the light from a single bin can foresee an evening gown in a long moveable mirror. Mirrors message movements making music movies. Instantaneously it is. How rather remarkable don't you think? And now take a little pixie and have a little dance in a bathroom. Great. Especially when carrying ten loaves of bread, seeded buns, apple cakes and the mucus from a very fat slug is said to be gold in a full moon. So kiss a grass snake and lean on a temple. Forty forms frolicking. Going boing. Wow. Marvellously enchanting is an armpit aroma? Hahaha the glass is staring at nothing today. Hahaha disrupted drainages hahaha left wing right tail light hood bonnet boom. Boot shaped milkshake on a intersection. Xxxxxxx millionaire monsters. Chat cheat. Xxxxx psycholinguistics z Z Z Z Z bang bang bing bongo. ***
Form:


We Are Worlds

"We are Worlds"



Internally eternal
in each of us
another world

Unknown 
and alien
supporting strange lifeforms 

hidden beneath our veils
watching silently
illuminating exotic ethereal lines

Connectors electric
touch each other 
another’s  world

reaching out instinctively
we regenerate ad infinitum 
Lux Vitae unfurls

too deep an equation
for shallow minds 
without fathoms

Oceans inside us
drown all our sorrows 
wash our uncertain shores

Inside us souls 
come and go rushing through
like hyperbolic comets pulsating 

Leaving footprints
in our grey matter, they are
translating white noise 
and black calculating too

We walk around
each other 
Our universes colliding

Inside us all our worlds
a million self-perpetuating questions 
we are identification unknown 

taste each our salt 
and each our earth
curiously inside us they watch 

our bodily world turn
kiss life for a little while
we mingle within the frail vessel

of skin and bones, 
inside we watch 
from our world

then to sleep within soil 
our essence is dispersed 
into the trees of life,
 
we quench their thirst
where leaves are veined 
sap questioning a whispering wind,
 
"What was our human’s worth?"

eventually our exterior burns
Ash to ash 
dust to dust 

We are scattered
through air falling on
feathers of freedom

Pieces of us 
fall into rivers
swallowed by other souls

like a time from 
The Dreaming
they are singing us in 

mouths open for sacrament
on the fleshy tongue that now grows
a luminescent pearl 

We are 
becoming 
new worlds

Internally eternal
in each of us
another world

We evolve
in slow revolutions
ecliptic, fields magnetised 

towards each other
Light and Dark matter
our Universes colliding

New Worlds
Soul full
eye to eye

(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)





"You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” C.S. Lewis

“The soul has been given its own ears to hear things that the mind does not understand.” Rumi

"The soul is an infinite ocean of just beautiful energy and presence made manifest in human form.” Panache Desai

"The Soul is the Truth of who we are".

Right of Life

All my life I had to fight... this fight... this fight... for right of life. 
Those that give me the most strife are those claiming to have the right. 
Of course, I am different and from another time and place; 
Yet still, I’m inclined to be of human race. 

At the store in line at the front. 
They pay me no mind, not even ask what I want. 
They Pretend they're unaware; of me clearly standing there. 
Then the stares and silly grins and acting as if I speak alien; 
thrice repeating my needs again. Got me wondering what world I'm in. 

As I leave, their smirks incite; any doings did in smite. 
To be offensive in clear sight. For Ignorance is a foolish rite 
This fight... this fight... for right-of-life; keeps me hyped to pull my knife. 
I twirl to face these rude affairs. But Away they turn and put on airs. 

Then thoughts in my head go ecliptic 
~~~This eternal brawl of life is epic__ 
~~~rising up before you crawl is hectic__ 
~~~The venom spit at you goes septic__ 
~~~Your spirit dies and becomes decrepit__ 
~~~Your day is done and it's not poetic. 
~~~So, clear your head. Be more authentic. 

Think! Will this be the day; you give your wealth away? 
~~~As precious as the moments be; 
~~~why waste it all so suddenly? 
~~~ on the waning minuscule few? 
~~~Don't you have better things to do? 

Halt! I heed not your scorn of me, for I am what I was born to be. 
I say to you here. I say to you now; loudly so you all can hear. 
Be ye warned thy seed ye spew will sprout a tree. 
At its root, you may surprisingly see__ 
someone there just like me. 

All my life I had to fight... this fight... this fight... for right-of-life. 
Those that give me the most strife are those claiming to have the right. 
Of course, I am different and from another time and place; 
Yet still, I'm inclined to be of-human-race. 


Eh... so I'm a little bit out-the-norm... so what... haven't you heard of... 
the little green men, fairies, and unicorns? How about Aqua man? .... 
Isn't he blueish- green? Ah, hah and there're people born with tails. ... 
So, what I've got 3 eyes... they're all facing the same way... 

In memory of the unacceptably lost to indifference
Form: Rhyme

Time Slip Not


When they pleasure powered down to rest,
their twin-engine heart was beating still 
at the arterial warp speed of galactic love
With the endorphin catalyst fuel shutdown,
the rocket passion blast
was nearing impulse horizontal inertia
The space mariner woman at the bed starboard helm,
told her right-hand man navigating
to turn the hip thrusters off
They were entering the nebulous 
mind-meld zone
A mysterious space-time place,
where the soul pulsar gravitational curvature
formed a time slip-knot:
A bonding phenomenon where time slip not
The captain of this supernova class starship,
guided the navigator’s empath thoughts
with her sparkling, ruby-coated lips
Giving moaning, non-verbal commands telepathically
Alerting him where the next neutrino ****** 
micro-particles would hit at multiple vulnerable spots
Opening ecstasy fissures in the epidermal hull skin
As other asteroidal pelvic disruptions
made the body-shaped ship merge force-field shudder
The time slip-knot 
was a quantum quirk realm of hot 
dilithium electromagnetic loving
They were caught in the invisible force
of two strong gender poles of attraction ... 
causing time to slip not
The stars were frozen into place
like a crystalline solar plasma lake,
due to the time slip-knot
The dimension where perfunctory 
social thermodynamic physics were forgot
The fastest stream of consciousness
slowed to a virtual excitation phase shift halt ... 
Reversing the anticipated climax ecliptic slingshot,
lovemaking vibrations moved with stilled thought velocity — 
Reaching the outer limits where time slip not
The starship enters into a centripetal vortex of sweat,
plunging into the black hole of no biochemical regret
Coming out on the other side
of the molecular maelstrom kinetic frenzy
Solar sailing thru the null pain void,
on serene serotonin waves of the deep-space emotional sea
Charting the light-years of joy ahead,
flight destination: twin planets X’ura and N’gora,
the charming, AI computer voice said 
Retreating into their co-joined cushioned pod,
they rode the erotic cosmic journey out
in suspended romantic animation —
Face to face

Premium Member The Nap Master

The Nap Master
HAIL the astral world of utterance,
     one befalls to eavesdrop whisperings of their sweet nothings, 
          breathlessly whisking up a spell of portioned scents that, nay,
               spilled china of eddied creamed joys and demitasse gooey treats, 

BEHOLD the phoenix rises to a full exalting measure,
     neath a lunar ecliptic mystic hypnotic apathy,
          upon a peacock's crown whose spread out azure-chartreuse wings,
               adorns unsnared midst manes of an unbridled vehement trot, 

ONWARD it leaped a skipped array of a vivid rainbow's path,
     of free glides during its phases of warm air in a chilled sky, 
          as it spread o'er vast terrains of dale and vale of culled greens,
               tethered to tawny treasures of teemed lives infinite mirth wants,

BEHEST of Cherubs advent of endless stars braving her crown,
     on their sailed galleons of whimsical twinkling vigilance,
          seducing a flock of blithe bleating lambs a respectful ride,
               on fluffed souls, nursing meek minions to ripple a fair surge,

CHANNELS a righteous domain free of a distant storm,
     pushed by the lashes of sunbeams citrus lemony whips,
          that ade stirred mouth fulls of dryness seeking quenching,
               gouging the top echelon of expecting lips full measure,

ADHERED to heart pulsates that steady the gauge of innocence,
     unique mild credulity cushioned amongst penitent palms,
          and tinseled charm of enamored superheroes noble acts,
               save the divine a full accounting listing each wonder,

CLUSTERS of mirrors enlightened volumes of a sojourned quest
     of luminous unconsciousness prominent in such a phase,
          the inner realm expanse that dwells in hallowed gifted slumber,
               all grouped banking muses within the treasury of their mind,

ALL delicately locked by the key master . . .
                                                  . . . their fortuitous magnitude of eyelids.

2020 February 05
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative


Time Is Running Late

Nothing is running on time anymore,
everything seems to be leaving late
And arriving even later too
What’s wrong with the grandfather clock,
working quirky is the quartz LED watch
Digital punctuality is ten nanoseconds off ...
losing time at this rate just make time slavers scoff
Now that slight difference might not bother them much,
but your computer 
is having an electrical hard time trying to adjust
And this little misfire gets exponentially wider
with each step you take on the spiral staircase of 
Time
is running late
And the alarm clock didn’t go off in my
Mind
Dead sleep is a retrograde time buyer,
as the rift in reality gets exponentially wider
But the evil time slavers just continue to scoff
And as the hourglass of time keeps losing sand,
this is the tick-tock countdown of what’s happening:
Repentance is a reverse time-share buyer,
as the road to damnation keeps getting exponentially wider
You better start checking the Doomsday clock
because it seems like its ...
                                        Ten nanoseconds off
                                   becoming nine minutes lost
                              becomes eight days of imprecision
                         becomes seven weeks of empirical oblivion
                   Turning into six months of solar ecliptic irregularity
                      turns into five years of where did the time flee?
                     turning into four decades of wilderness wandering
                     turns into three centuries of time-tripping slavery
               Ending with two thousand years of sin freeing Christianity
                     Beginning with one twinkling eye blink to infinity
Nothing is running on time anymore,
we now have all eternity to explore
No need to worry ever again about being late,
the universe forever remains on the same cosmic calendar date
No worries ...
Time has been completely erased!

Symbols Like Asterixes Has Been Done Already So Best Call It 333650 Floating Biscuits

A granny in a brightly lit flower frock is neither a spinning wheel or a basket of multi coloured wools. Multi coloured wools are very very useful indeed for wool wafts wonderful warmth. And warmth is great when cold so never mind the harness in a three wheeled bin in the artic. Oh the whorl of semantic accolade is an issue for a tiny tissue and a tiramisu partying on a giant cliff face. Squarking squirrels sending signals swimmingly secretly sedately swift. A cloud worshipping a beacon is a beanie in a bun but not while the bun is sleeping. It needs peace and quiet you see and tantalisation can often christen the rite of passage in in even the mist tightest of skirts, shirts and dressed crabs. In a salad. Overtones of a butterscotch pantry never belittle a momentary pickle. Miserable money making mongrels make marvellous man made moons. And a jingle jangle.simmering on a stove is a one time initiation starting ship to a nonlethal Atlantic cruise basin where crudities are neither cuddles nor cute and anarchic apathy is swamped by an adjudical nun in a costume from the fourteenth century castle of the espionage for espionage is not a experience it is a an exact evenly economically excellent ecliptic eccentric eclipse. So all go hail the ring of the bell from the cooker. Ding dong ding then. Right isnt it? Playing football in a dough ball of glue is preferable to hand gliding in gloves of concrete. And a forthright pair of gloves are always leather in outlook and forward drive like a medium in a trance. Trembling trees throwing turnips thrice turning tormenting tortoises. Hahaha the time tick tock tick arguing with a baseball glove and a hat and a microphone stands with a bacon trolley. Hahaha missionary mishap makes many mingling monsters. Oh left heel clock clock right heel click. Great. Fantastic isn't it? Xxxxx evolutionally z z z z z
Form:

Elliptical Part2

The moon is the compass to more than lunatics 

 the world shines forth on course to break the habits of Heretics

                         The void, the miasmic zone

               The desert a monicker of mine to show 

what on an empty canvas I can do, or to leave desolate as an epiphany to grow

Nomadic trackers seek me out in the signs

in the sands of 

the

Mountains of the moon

             they brave the desert to find, signs written in the dunes

                           Craters, calligraphy written of the Creator
                                the sands of time just rivulet capulet capitol letters
of loves endless sea where miracles are all the better

skylined wink of nursery bard story shine, on

the starlight makes the moon an adorned and pregnant bride, from the Sun

having a little me time as the nativity hears the tales

                                                    The sun, the moon and stars

they make nimbus across the sky as the Battle En tales

                          The stardust makes for night light, blink of the divine 

to shine and shine and shine

the light of the stars, and fill the dark like fruit to the vine

                                            Like star and moonglow on the desert snow

The moon and sun meet as two stars adjoined-to each other to know

in marriage, 

one shines to, as the other beams, with child, aglow.

The ecliptic a carriage and around we go.

Family, children, Husband, Wife, Creator, its written in the stars.

Heaven a front row seat in a vast ampetheatre.

God has his actors His scripts and His laws, that plan for the Future.

They say their lines without flaw, learn to love! 

The main attractions and the special features.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Nap Time

Nap Time

In the astral world of utterance, one overhears the whispering of sweet nothings, breathlessly whisking up a spell of portioned scents that nay, nearly spilt the teacups swirled cremes delights and demitasse gooey treats, 

Behold the phoenix rise to full measure under a lunar ecliptic mystic mesmerizing trance, upon a peacocks crown, whose stretched out azure-chartreuse wings, becomes enmeshed betwixt the manes of an unbridled passionate gallop, 

For it leaped towards a skipping array of a colorful rainbow's path, that was freely dancing throughout its phases within the warmth air of a frozen sky, 

As it spread o'er a vast terrain of mounds and vales of gathered greens tethered to tawny treasures teeming of life with no end at joyful pleasures,

Thus at the behest of Cherubs during the advent of endless stars whose dreamy light twinkles instructions that seduces a flock of whimpering lambs a free ride on their woolly souls,

Fostering meek minions to flow in the channels of a righteous domain free of a distant storm pushed by the lashes of sunbeams tickled whips temperate to your hearts enchanted beats that steadies the gauges of innocence,

And as a cluster of mirrors enlightened volumes of your sojourned quest of luminous unconscious prominence in a period of this, your inner realm expanse, collectively storing away as romantic muses within the anthology of your memory as its key

All delicately locked by the fortuitous magnitude of your eyelids.

2019 May 16

*4th Place*

Baby Face What's You THINKIN 2
~~James Edward Lee Sr.
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Silent Music of Falling Stars

Silent Music
of
Falling Stars

A radiant glob shone down upon this planet,
life seemed so bright – why is it then ?, all seen,
on the surface, ( in the face of ) – seems the dark side,
the spirit of the moon permeating the innermost recesses
of this harbored soul, having been reached out to.

Towards this planet, around it Mars gravitates, rotates.
In the furthest reaches, a sphere so cold – grows –
a heart so distant and aloof, this planet seems,
from a different universe, travelling in other dimensions,
orbiting on a different plane, even when two -
as one - have flown together ?, – apart.

Why has Venuses, influence repulsed ?,
slipped out of orbit – lost her way –
drifting away – always, it seems –
gravitating towards planets of perceived perfection,
in their ecliptic, aesthetic, elegance,
in their orbit of alleged worldly knowledge,
in their spheres of impressionistic light,
light that seems to blind,  their gravity, pulling Venus,
into their orbits for a week / weeks,
a month / months, a year / years,
or for just a date or two.

Comes disillusionment, disappointment to shake Venus,
from her dreams of – that set her gravitational pull back
towards this lowly old planet – set adrift –
drawing it back into her orbit for another go around
- this moon to her earth, without power of influence –
no gravitational put, no raising and ebbing of tides,
just a continuous revolving around her glow.
a companion to the empty spaces in-between,
never to be included, to become a part of her universe

B. J. “A” 2
June 2nd 2008

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