Long Hertz Poems
Long Hertz Poems. Below are the most popular long Hertz by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hertz poems by poem length and keyword.
If I was to take a word, say focus,
Stand it on its head,
And ask with growing sense of dread,
Why my friend did you just now,
Fly upon this particular
Moment’s verbal locus?
Torture I might answer, like waterboarding,
Might explain a thing or two.
Indeed the stakes are dear,
And the coast far from clear-
For foggy shores clarity prevents,
The utter contingency of cluttered events.
Focus is the mine shaft of the mind,
Magnifying that which falls
Into categories of significance:
Signs of a trance, a mental dance,
By which thinking signifies
The magnificent follies
Of a man upside down
In a world of lies.
No subtlety there,
Poet banging hair chest bare,
The mental frequency hertz,
Screeching, scratching, snatching,
Lose bits of hurt out of the air.
The mathematics of falling
Made clear by Newton,
His numbers uncovering
What was
Always there:
A god already in free fall,
The Fall, the autumn of our birth,
The forsaken garden,
Two dummies hand in hand,
An undulating snake,
A world of entanglement,
All fleeing into a desert dream.
For what? To where? And why?
The three double jews of the trinity
Which Law forbade no One to ask,
Yet no body did
Put focus to task.
She reappears all the time.
The rabbit hole stood for what was to come,
The worms therein what was done.
The trip down was fun,
Getting out gave more than the sum.
The prism diffracted the invisible
Beams of light,
An assortment of possibilities followed,
The world explained, the mind contained,
A boundless infinite void of space,
Surrounding us,
Disgracing us,
For we had to face,
The borders of our place.
Trapped inside
We looked the other way,
Attic floors, token doors,
A distilled virtue, forgeries for another day.
The sky was not the limit, we were.
The atoms of the mind mere reflections
Of our best guessing games.
There though, lay our best hope.
After the bloodshed
She reappeared again.
But only after.
Choices like Templars into the night,
Distracted the courtesies of a harmonious cosmos,
God had blood and died,
Men embraced humiliation and cried,
Change, the abomination of free will,
Altered the fabric of time.
Focus put by for a rainy day.
Distraction, the play thing
Of an unruly monster lurking in the shadows of thought,
Vomiting a pile of disassociations.
Rear view mirror
Objects, objectively put, are closer
than they appear. But it doesn’t say it all.
With the fair signs that spewed forth once turning to
a slew of pre-twitter pseudo- tweets since.
I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
In rhyme scheme: aab, bb, ccc .
(“ At the wheel
At night. Uneasy feel.
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.
Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist,
Comforting coolness and sultry night coexist .
Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)
A row of earthy images it failed
rather than showed ,images with eerie
librations and weary nutations .Which
was not Physics, but physiognomy of life.
Like when bashed by kiddy badasses and
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but math a behemoth
all the same, and guided perfunctorily
often, and rarely with the right intent.
In the peccadilloes- round, the Tintern
Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans
creativity , but the three trees on
the low sky made sense , and then on to
T.ds. equations and tedious times
soured by sleep and steep sloth.
Ingenious in fair measure , now turning
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after,
in the space of a couple of cusps of
light and sound mom was no more and we
whimpered and simpered under a dad who cared
but did not seem to, in his straight-faced mode
Then came falsely flashing , faintly fuming ,
slapdash years of machines and mega hertz,
eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.
Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);
preferring palm-frond’s loftiness cum
deprivation to urban up-for-grabs
benefaction; and the mess of docs, deaths
and a mossy crock of living pain since.
And all the dicey way , never patted
but p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed;
banked on , debunked ; short-changed, sort-of-changed ;
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering
and if anything wondering if it’s
not all the mirror’s prim fault
which never once showed my face.
Only light can penetrate the
darkness
that resides in the default state
of mind
I descend from beta to delta
through
binaural beats; instantly caught
between frequencies beyond
time
I absorb amplitudes of acoustic
energy
and I learn to just be earth
Since I am the earth
and because I am of
the one that is the source of its
existence,
I've owned the power of
omnificence
I realize now that I AM because
HE is since I am from that, a
descendant
Created in the image of a
thought
and a feeling from the
Universal Mind
I tune in to this vibration from
rhythmic
pulse that manipulates
subconscious minds
Immersed between 4 and 7
hertz;
brainwaves halt to a conscious
sleep
All chakras are aligned shining
crown energy
and now my consciousness
begins to reap!
and light begins to penetrate
the harmonious beams
that were already there
constant and always there
is now flooded with sound
patterns
that force brainwaves to submit
to power
of omnipresent sound that
always was
and always will be connected to
the Source from which I came
so I extend exponentially
beyond;
physical time and space
I long to embrace the intensity
of gamma rays
I give way to the coded sounds
that resonate from the inner
core
and continue to connect
through the binaural beats that
-
remind me of before
Always familiar but ignored
until found by gaining
knowledge of self
I listen with the intent to excel
while reaping an abundance of
benefits and rewards
Listen!!
It's already yours
Just reach out and grab it
as long as intention and ego is
checked
the universe will correspond
accordingly
it will deliver a life to you divine
and orderly
Just listen to the sounds that
were there from before
They will guide to to the
vibration from the core
and it will guide you to connect
directly with the source
On the thread of time's journey where souls intertwine, then depart,
The poet treads slowly, unraveling three loves, each a new gesture.
The first, a youthful spark, untainted in the dawn's embrace,
Planted in us the seed of dreams, undefeated by restrained ardor.
And as we grow, we chase away memories, fleeting moments of separation,
Yet amidst it all, lingering behind, the song of that first love emerges, pure, sincere.
Then, painfully beautiful, with bitter teachings and wounds that never heal,
The second love, fiery as embers, taught us to be both shattered and empty.
It taught us about betrayals and lies, about releases that tear us apart,
About blossoming from darkness and how to shield our hearts from rain and elusive poems.
But when hope seemed nothing but a shadow, the third love arrived unannounced,
Quietly descending among us, a total mystery with no foreboding signs.
It demolishes walls, transforming them into bridges of light, interweaving us,
We lose ourselves in the refrain of gazes woven imperfectly, in the pauses between hero's beats.
That love, as if weaving a destiny, a home, an entire world,
We bow before the universe for every second and straight line.
It is the dream that envelops us in flames, transforming us into essences carried by the breeze,
Love serves as testament that amidst storms and whims, it remains an everlasting surprise.
Thus, the poet, in wandering steps on wild hertz paths,
Reminds us of the trilogy of emotions, forging within us pages of inner epics.
Let us know that, along the path of the past, present, or in fleeting dreams,
Love spirals us towards heights, attaching wings and silently guiding us through fantastic moments.
I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
Suddenly a peculiar audible yet indescribable cacophony plays inside my head,
A thick constant racket of insectoid screams terrorizing me as I lay inside my bed.
Here it is again, in its orchestrated cricketing song behind my dry retinitis,
Sound bloodying my equilibrium from the unknown source of this tinnitus.
Constant criss-cross crescendos of cacuminal acoustics slash my cochlear,
A barrage of borborygmic gaseous airs gurgling in what's heard in the auricular.
From where or what does this click-click infiltrating attack of a static cavalry invade,
Galloping in a stampede aimed to stab my eardrums with buccinal bayonet blades?
Frantically I try to find or figure out from where this constant hum haunts,
Is it the fluorescence of a bulb whose lingering hung aura in my sight taunts?
Or is it the wireless fidelity fuming from a computer modem's ethernet plugs,
Whose wires whip the air with flying frequencies flashing above the oriental rug.
The rug churns to the stimuli's symphony as I stare at its floral embroidery,
Waving in the reverberating rhythm of my cranium's shaken sockets sinusoidally.
I pause and close my darting three eyes,
To try and descry what this noise is that cries.
"Ommmm," says my mouth in a meditative blurt.
A tone at five-hundred and twenty-eight hertz.
Slowly I sink into my very own skin,
And quickly, I nod and begin to grin.
For this sound that has caused such insomniac pain,
Is but the beating gamma waves of my very own brain.
03/10/2017
Submitted for the contest "The Noise", sponsored by Shadow Hamilton.
I have a Dream
Four Score and Seven years ago
The truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God
With Liberty and Justices for all
Send Lawyers Guns and Money
Follow the Yellow Brick road
Get your kicks on route 66
You can trust your car to the man who wears the star
Bother can you spare a dime.
In the land of sky blue waters
Please stay behind the yellow line
Coke it’s the real thing
You have the right to remain silent
When you’re out of Bud your out of beer
When I was 17… it was a very good year
Earth Angel…Earth Angle… will you be mine
Please deposit 25 cents for an additional 10 minuets, 25 cents please
Caution slippery when wet
Don’t use while driving or operating machinery
Imagine all the people living for today
Loose 20 lbs. in 10 days guaranteed or your money back,
See the USA in a Chevrolet
Free to the next 100 callers,
You to can make money in real-estate,
Interest free for the first 60 months
Operator I would like to place a person to person call
Attention, TWA passenger John Doe please pick up the white courtesy phone
Your satisfaction guaranteed or your money back
Please don’t feed the animals,
Where have all the flowers gone,
Who put the ram in the ram-a-lam-a-ding-dong
Ladies and Gentlemen tonight we have a really big show
Give us this day our daily bread
Now boarding rows 20 through 40
Membership has its privileges
Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires
Let Hertz put you in the driver’s seat
Oh Danny Boy the pipes the pipes are calling
Rose Bud,
Form:
A special little whale,
Born in the dark depths of the ocean.
An abnormality, random variable, first of its kind.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Warm ocean currents with the softness of spring
The blooming corals of youth
The merpeople proposing with blinding seashells
The pleasant brilliance of the ocean exploding
A bomb of colour.
The baby whale's heart was sky blue and free.
It wailed in happiness for its bright future - 52Hz.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Scorching fire from the equatorial waters
Taught it to survive in the harsh world.
It earnt its battle scars.
Yet, as always, it was alone.
The baby whale roared in anger
and perhaps,
on a more subconscious level,
loneliness - 52Hz
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Autumn, the season of heartbreak.
The dejected blob had grown older and more
forlorn.
The coral path of love,
Painted in the colours of the sunset.
A lively orange ending in a sad, coffee brown.
Sadness at 52Hz.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
The coldness from the northern ice caps
numbed the beating of its heart.
A monotonous life in black and white
- Mostly white.
It would have frozen its tear tracks
But then, can one really cry in an ocean?
... - 52Hz
Time had left behind a dejected blob.
Giving up, it let its weight drag its soul
down into the dark ocean floors from which it was born,
its eyes like the burning embers of coal.
That was when it saw
Another. :)
The drain of education buckle my belt of understanding to slight I saw twinkle of light from the dark corner of the sky, the branch of imagination hook's me to river Nile I can't stop loving you. The river Nile pen is my diary where I use to keep you recorded.
The height of the benchmark I have been making to stand by you, to pick you up when you are sad, to take to gardens of orchards, and the barbecues night fence from the intruders from infiltrating into our affairs.
The roses in my hand is holistically for you, the envelope of love cloud my imagination from penetrate to any person, except to your magical love.
clap of thought waves of tides smile of flowers by the bank of the sea imaging you in our cloud in bed, tongues sliding side to side licking, and itching the pinching, wishing to swallow the day and chew the night for supper.
The feeling of sweetness tasted in my elbows the axe of love inking
That's stain jolted me into your flower default the mistake I never made to miss you while on mission to the blanket of shoving trembling fingers, building slippery sound from groomed and aimed to the target.
Rolling from education to medications fast to dedication systematic minding my own business under the shape of Cookies biscuit,
To banquet love; I bullied by bullet to testimonial kilo hertz. It mirrors to mirage to lukewarm, to vindicate capsule to culvert sound of cricket by the side of
rivers, Gubah.
A new friend is a gift one can keep or reject,
how you feel doesn’t matter, a gift is a gift!
If a friend can’t get earned, can one be just desserts?
If you want to be friends and I don’t, are you less?
If my poems are cooler and your verse is hot,
does that mean I’m less nuanced? You’ve worth that I’ve not?
Does a friend owe agreement or only respect
for held views, disagreements? Can verse then short shrift
cave you’ve carved in my heart? Shared time’s frequency Hertz,
or accords what you’re due? Let me feel. Then confess!
If I rout an attacker, you owe me your life?
If one feels untoward passion, should husband cage wife?
*
*
Does the night fade with day, or night’s dew envy streams
when it lifts as light fog (can’t bless roots, the reverse)?
Let our gravitas move us through ether distilled
(if it’s bootleg or taxed) that has flavor sublime!
May the curry of friendship add color and spice,
and the comfort we find there confound all advice.
Friend, let’s kill expectations and feast more on dreams
that we share in each moment, that flow like free verse,
quaff the resonance shared by both lives (warm or chilled).
May cloud’s path be song’s rhythm, moon’s softness its rhyme,
and wine flavor our musings, God’s seasons, our years,
till we find in denouement His end to all fears.
Brian Johnston
12th of December in 2020