Long Electric Poems
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Soul consciousness
Conscience without a body
no brain, no thoughts,
no heart, no emotions,
no grief, no joy,
no smile, no tears,
how can consciousness be?
Soul, an electric stimulus
to enlighten the brain
to make us ponder,
Body else a pile of dust,
will not glow
if soul fails to nurture,
Many souls that surround
put on thinking caps
That chisel and sharpen
to discover logic of life,
A spirit of positivity ...
To be engraved on souls
as consciousness ...
For generations to reinvent
the purpose
Be it followed or not ?
Written May 26th, 2016
Inspired by question 3- Why is it necessary that soul consciousness be achieved while in the physical body? Is this the purpose of our souls being encased in the physical body?
For contest by Catie
songer.co/song/kjcqh580onj2t085azkwm1n1
[Verse 1]
Don’t worry, girl — I’m not falling,
Just your laugh that keeps me stalling,
Almond eyes, that perfect hair,
I’m not obsessed — you're just everywhere.
I swear I’m fine, I’ve got control,
You’re just a name I can’t let go.
It’s casual, I play pretend,
Relax — we’re just friends.
[Verse 2]
You light me up when you walk in,
I say your name just for the grin.
You make the silence feel like sound,
But I’m not sticking feelings down.
Your lips? Yeah, they stop time,
But I’m not reading into signs.
You’re a ten — don’t need suspense,
Still, we’re just friends.
[Hook]
"Just friends" — that’s the line I repeat,
But my heart skips a line every time that we meet.
If this is nothing, why’s it feel so intense?
I'm still saying "just friends" — but I'm losing defense.
[Verse 3]
Tell me how to stand near fire,
Without catching love’s desire.
If you're pretending just like me,
Say the word and set us free.
In this game of push and pull,
Feels like we both could break the rule.
Dancing close, but play it cool,
Tell myself, it’s just for fuel.
[Bridge]
Do I show up in your daydreams?
Do I spark up all your schemes?
Playing hide and seek with fate,
Are you also feeling late?
Electric vibes, we harness light,
Like two stars colliding in the night.
In this rhythm, we’re in sync,
What are we if not the missing link?
[Final Hook]
"Just friends" — but there's passion inside,
Every laugh, every glance, it's a rollercoaster ride.
Tell me how to balance this dance on the fence,
Still saying "just friends" — but I’m losing the pretense.
[Outro]
So we laugh, we tease, stay in our zones,
Living for moments amidst the unknowns.
But hint at something just below the trends,
Maybe someday, we won't just be "just friends."
Yeah, maybe someday, we won't just be "just friends."
PSYCHEDELIC
There was a decade, it was the 60’s I’m sure
When everyday things were just a little bit off
As if there were rumblings in the earth’s core
And when scripted lines gave way to improv
There were plans afoot, some quite nefarious
A Hippy time, with weedy substances to share
And was the dawning of the Age of Aquarius
Minds set free and wearing flowers in the hair
Rainbow colours swirled to the sound of sitars
Free love, at least it may have been for some
And a coming of age of good electric guitars
Whilst others just sat crosslegged acting dumb
Psychedelia was a mind state and the fashion
Radical changes working through the system
And all things anti-establishment, the passion
Rules got lost and older people missed them
The time when all free expression took a lift
We may look back at it with little veneration
Not only tectonic plates that began to shift
We still hear echoes of that Beat generation
Elysian fields long since embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tad more'n eighteen plus months ago,
nevertheless melancholy
still plucks mine heart strings.
Mine psyche still situated awry
placid countenance of yours truly doth belie
residual sadness easily prompted
can easily trigger me to cry
linkedin when grim reaper gloated
October 7th, 2020
ye did somewhat peacefully die
though methinks immortality
I did briefly espy,
when miracles of modern medicine
tried, but could not
stave off mortality nor fortify
depredations of aging concerning
one wunderkind whose accomplishments
laudatory when a young handsome guy,
whose intelligence scored high
native talent aptitude tests did imply.
The late Boyce Brandon Harris
exhibited prolific talents at young age
aside being scholastically gifted,
acquiring graduate degree
courtesy Columbia University,
freshly minted mechanical engineer
(he admirably ranked within
uppermost percentile academically),
I hashtag thy mine deceased father
(a polymath - jack-of-all-trades),
who possessed (née excelled)
at diverse creative abilities.
Aside from being schooled
as mechanical engineer,
(which courses in mathematics and science
he passed with flying colors)
his mind genetically bequeathed
to craft almost anything under the sun
evidenced first by yours truly,
the second offspring and sole son
who ofttimes felt intimidated
at being in presence
of said Renaissance man.
Handicrafts included
expending blood, sweat, and tears
to craft multitude of projects;
i. building me Flintstone (foot powered)
car with wooden license plate.
ii. making playhouse for all three
of us - his progeny.
iii. amassing wood pile(s),
to stoke wood burning stoves
iv. designing Zayda trail for Teddy and Ruff
(two doggone mixed breed Border Collies
rescued courtesy youngest sister
at her Jacobsburg, Penna work site)
v. constructing sauna in cellar,
Nestled under blankets,
the gentle whirring sound
soothes the savage beast
within mine body electric
of one generic, opportunistic,
and wholistic garden variety man.
Within blink of closed eye
yours truly transported
into the realm of deep sleep
benumbed to reality as unconscious guy
experiencing dynamic vivid dreams
courtesy Fluoxetine Hcl
(C17H18F3NO·HCl)
known as Selective
Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI),
especially prescribed to treat
depression, panic disorder,
and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Holmes tower fan whooshing air
analogous to sonogram (ultrasound)
infiltrates slumbering snorer (me)
best not to awaken papa bear,
cuz he will roar loud and clear
disrupted sleep upends ability to function
no joking psyche riddled
with profound anxiety and despair
subsequent havoc wrought
on par whereby mailer daemons ensnare
co opting, conquering,
and compromising blissful state
deadened head reveling
within private webbed world
regarding unscripted drama deep inside
temporal lobe of brain,
the hippocampus might conjure
time traveling circa Renaissance faire
wordsmith metaphorically possessed
remonstrated by fire breathing dragon
evidenced fiery breathing
affect nostrils to snort and flare
awoke from necessary dreams,
I would angrily glare
frightfully enough to induce goosebumps,
and raise every small hair
along spine uncontrollable fury
communicating shattered functionality
essentially rude awakening would impair
ability to experience joie de vivre.
Debilitating panic attack invariably triggered
similar to Tonga underwater volcano
eruption January 15th, 2022
constituting physiological displeasures
chiefly vertigo, racing heart, nausea,
excessive perspiration, adrenaline
coursing thru body,
whereby Prozac (brand name regarding
aforementioned synthesized chemical)
ameliorated unbearable,
unmanageable, untenable...
earth-shaking, devastating,
and crushing manifestations
disabling, exhausting, hijacking,
jackknifing, sabotaging, and wrecking
life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.
Kickstarting psychological equilibrium
linkedin with savoring at least bajillion winks
else sixty plus shades of gray matter methinks
knotted courtesy cerebral gordian knotted kinks
yours truly feels discombobulated
teetering and tottering atop brinks
of figurative precipice.
i saw the devil as doubt and my mind relaxed and recoiled at the thought eyes studiously staring at each flaw finding reason to turn away realizing that all along it was an illusion that kept me awake at night and daydreaming out of the side of my eye fast shadows fly as i pray to Jesus for salvation the quiet tears dreams of reptiles without a plot searching with their tongues for flesh i open my eyes in the darkness of morning body aching hardly able to rise my left hand cramping fingers curled in pain i turn on the lights their soft electric pulse vibrates in my chest the sun is still sleeping but the clock keeps on reading one more minute after another decades dying in my memories measured in other people and their opinions changing with my words and worn clothes clashing with all they possess paradise lost in their eyes glued to phones unaware of how the wind moans every generation changing wardrobes fading into histories of war in the ceaseless hunt for increase in pleasure and wealth begging for health fighting the decay that occurs day to night afraid of falling asleep without waking
Oh, lidded kettle boil me water fast
I cannot live without your heated blast
Your spout is small but perfect for its use
And, as your lid is hinged. it can’t get lost
An electric kettle made by Russell Hobbs
A teapot with a spout and lid with knob
Are what the English need in times of storm
If crisis comes, we need tea hot, not warm
I don’t object to diverse kettle brands.
We had a coal fire once with kettle stand.
Its metal black from soot an burned by coke
We made our neighbours tea which seemed to smoke.
Ah ,kettle , instrument of civil life
We cannot boil our water on a knife.
THE TWO UNLIKE-POLE ANALOGY
Analogically, this simplicity of poles might communicates
extensive comparison of things life usually complicate.
Just as the tale of "magno magnets",
Like-poles repulsively repels even off a border
and unlike-poles abnormally attract one another.
The north pole of two magnets are set asunder;
Opposite poles of two magnets attract each other,
but the like-poles are overly at loggerheads,
Similitude to electric charges which postulate same rules:
Like-charges repel, and unlike-charges attract.
This theory sums up the summary of a proven fact.
The irony of life is, two different souls are match-made,
We're bedazzled with such common rarity that doesn't fade.
It's sporadic to have two people with same traits
or cosmic (birthday) twins becoming soul mates.
By taking a leaf out of the analogy of unlike-poles,
attraction is established and so is unlike souls.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright©January,2023.
In riming realms
of crystal contemplations -
frozen water-vapor meditations
and chilled flutes
filled with zodiacal-light musings
of ancient cosmic dust
dancing in the arms of Sol..
windswept operatic reveries
rise and fall
as her stirring soprano
tickled by the chanting of icicle chimes
gathers momentum
in strengthening sprays
of frosted musical notes adrift in broken chords
she bestrides
a clouded steed colored mother-of-pearl
flowing with fury
within which beats a blustery heart
surging at jet stream speeds
on the clattering beat of hailstorm hooves
from streamer-skies of the northern dancers
they fly aloft
on arctic gales of lyrical laughter
igniting the imagination
of her freezing fire
burning now with a blistering whip
and a frostbite nip
that sinks its tingling teeth deep
sailing
a supernatural stage
amplifying—
her aerated soprano soars
in polar vortex arias
as an avalanche of glazed trinkets
—descendants of her fertile femininity
skydive
in shivering sixfold symmetry
falling
in fierce flights of fancy
as she cyclones on consecrated currents
with wild abandon
escalating
in twirling trills
of glass beaded squalls
swirling her iced eiderdown skirts aflare
baring tempest thighs
storming with a Siberian sting!
..and as her electric eyes spark
luminous with lightning
she buries you in a blizzard
of opalescent mistletoe berries
and wanton whims.
I had better start at the beginning
When my heart started beating to fast.
When I collapsed at work one day
And I thought I had breathed my last.
We had booked to go on holiday,
On a cruise we was ready to go.
But two days before we was sailing,
The doctor said the holiday is a no.
He said I had to go into hospital,
In a ambulance, with blue lights so fast.
They gave me a chemical cardioversion,
Three times,but that didn't last.
They said I had to see specialist,
But it slowed down and I could go home.
All I could do when I got back,
Was to sit and wait by the phone.
Then my heart again went out of rhythm,
I was back laid out on the floor.
When the ambulance came to collect me
My pulse was three hundred or more.
So they gave me another cardioversion,
But the electric one instead.
I wasn't very long back in rhythm,
At least I'm still here and not dead.
This has been going on for two years or more,
A alternative they will have to explore.
They decided to do a catheter ablation,
Three tubes from my groin to my heart.
To burn away all of my problems,
I felt like I had got a new start.
Then one morning in September it happened,
I awoke at my usual time
My wife said I looked really vacant,
She said I didn't look fine.
Then I came round from my trance like state,
Then I went out the door.
Later that night,I didn't feel right,
So to hospital just like before.
It turned out, I'd had a stroke,
A bilateral cerebral infarction.
I knew it had to be something really bad,
But I didn't show any reaction.
At least my body doesn't show many signs,
And my mind seems to work as before.
The only problem I seem to have
Is my heart is out of rhythm once more.
Sometimes it's high, sometimes it's low,
My specialist says,
A pacemaker is the only way to go.
I will have to have medication,
To slow it when it's high,
The pacemaker will work if I go low,
So hopefully it won't let me die.
I bet there is a lot of people out there,
With symptoms just like me.
Putting it down on paper,helps with my anxiety.
This poem about my a fib, the scariest thing in my life.
So thanks to the doctor's, nurses and specialists,
And most of all my wife.
Without her help and quick thinking,
I don't think I would still have a life.
11/9/2020