Long Infinities Poems
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The grand madam wore double strains of opal perils,
Around her collar of white lace, in eloquence personified,
She’s cultures Lady of utter refinement, curtsying to noble
And high brad’s aristocrats alike.
In fragrances of memories I’ve drifted backwards,
To a time of Lillie’s corsages tied upon white gloved
Wrists, long gowns of silk that trailed behind ladies
Of status and grace.
Glided carriages adorned with opulence’s wealth,
Lined these main streets busy thoefairs,
Drawn by horse powers elect.
Pulling these beguiling vessels beneath oil lamp light,
Did the pampered horse flesh travel, delivering the
High born royals, from fancy balls, to posh dinner
Parties and the rich man’s society clubs.
Gentries Gallant dapper Dan’s went a courting,
Seeking beauties ungloved hands, with sweet kisses
Of vows promise, yet a dowers riches blinded their
Eyes, to the spoiled countesses true nature, so these
Court Jesters with mouths full lies deceptions,
Got their own back lashings tongue, in the end.
In these arena of wealth and fortitude, did Madame
So travel, amongst the crimson carpet walking
With prides stride, holding her head held high,
Never exposing the lower birth from which
She’d been birthed.
For she knew the truth hidden behind these
Fanciful fans of lavender and lace lay masks
Of masquerades charades, and games of
Fortune were played by dollar’s gains, not
The feelings of heart.
True class exudes not from ones pedigree,
Or families wealth and power, but instead
It comes from within, honor, duty and a
Soul’s valor of spirit.
At the evenings final climatic hour,
This mistress of the wise, seeks her humble
Shafto’s warming bower, sitting in her chamber
Of isolation, she smile at the portrait hanging
Above her mantels fire place.
Whispering slowly, soon beloved, she blows him a
Final kisses farewell, then drifts into infinities
Drifting realm of for-get-me-knots.
Behold its Madame’s last curtain call,
Let us all throw red roses at her feet,
For if a lady of true elegance ever existed,
On this earth of ours it was her, Madame
Of lavender and white lace, let the opal
Chains of perils thus be broken, as her eyes
Of classes distention, close for the last and
Final time
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
If a book has footnotes, though it is fiction,
How do you classify it?
Historical fiction has made some inroads
To this chimera crossroads
But science fiction
Ironically, is behind the times
I’ve kept writing vigils like Virgil.
I muse ‘neath the stellar stars at night, I sure hope you do, too.
Perhaps a mix, writing while wundering under stars is next on my list To Do
I don’t mean to be egotistical
but I hope to revolutionize literature fictional
A melding of deep research and deep imagination is my objective.
Thank you for being part of this voluntary experiment. Collective.
To cross bloodlines of logic and creative
Though she personally likes them, this avocational teacher thinks
For students, textbooks and research papers can be dry
Entertainment is currently a current vapid like air
But rippling vibrant characters could add life and water
I’ve heard people say ‘no man is an island’
and ‘standing on the shoulders of giants.’
Reading and citing
giants’ thoughts are excellent.
You’ll tower among the peaks
And enjoy their “views.”
But you can create even
small things
with your equals, also.
Long distances of space and time are fine.
Someone who is dead- a slight seance
or someone on the other side of a screen.
But you can turn to the person next to you, also.
The “joyful burden” of creating does not solely fall on your shoulders.
If each “man is a universe unto himself,” two universes combining- how much larger are the infinities?
Yet, most celebrities’ songs are sing-ular singing.
Yet, most books have but a single author. I mourn for all the lost possibilities.
And as they yammer on with their plastic faces and artificial voice sounds
I can assure you, someone in your own classroom or neighborhood has written something more profound.
And, if you look, another person in reach could sing the pants off them, hands down.
Spawn beautiful ideas and solutions and skills and combinations of knowledge and rhyme.
Ideas spawn other ideas, ad infinitum down the line.
Chimeral caleidoscopic chords.
Form:
The truth is that I am happy only when I am sitting in the car,
Between the place I have just left and the unknown destination.
My happiness is unbound only when traveling; when I arrive, anywhere,
It suddenly becomes a corner of melancholy and pain that bathes my soul.
In motion, I find that elusive balance,
A dance of wheels on endless asphalt, a cascade of untied dreams.
Each kilometer, a story that opens and closes,
A story untold, searching for a never-found ending.
I am a wanderer of life, seeking through endless roads,
Each stop a thorn in my chest, a knot of sorrows.
Like a comet, I shine only in the flight toward infinity,
When I stop, my light dims, and I gaze into a silent void.
The car is my refuge, a vessel for my astral journeys,
A sanctuary of melancholy, where the magic takes shape.
I leave behind the masks of the world and become myself,
A solitary pilgrim lost between points on a map.
In the speed that carries me, I rediscover an ephemeral meaning,
A meaning that fades with every turn taken, every defined horizon.
When the engine falls silent and the world seems deafened by stillness,
I find in the pause the most severe suffering.
Each stop is a reminder of where happiness left me,
Each place touched by my steps, a dark page in an unseen journal.
With incomprehensible longing, I dream of endless roads,
Of perpetual motion, like an endless waltz.
Between departure and arrival, between today and tomorrow,
I find the magic of a bitter freedom, a silent flight.
I am a heart's nomad, a seeker of vague infinities,
Constantly searching in motion, for a peace that never arrives.
Thus, I navigate between worlds, between dream and reality,
A perpetual traveler of destiny, without a place of rest.
My happiness is like a migrating bird,
Finding its joy only on the horizon, never in a settled nest.
And in this dance of roads, in the melody of unwritten paths,
I embrace solitude, melancholy, the magic of open roads.
My happiness, an ephemeral chimera, feeds on the desire to be nowhere,
In a world where between places, I find the essence of what I am, a passing soul.
Turning
Across this land
Across this fractured waste
With each cycle of the earth,
The Joker in repose
The Tower in flame
The Enchantress a blaze
Death does not make the change
Fortune is crucified on his Thorny Spine
It grinds on and on never stopping never slowing.
The Queen of all men’s hearts
Laughs hysterically at the passing of time
The loss of mankind’s design
The Joker on the run
The Tower drifting in ruins
The Emperor in rule
The Hangman dying
The Lovers in oblivion
The Four Horseman all a knowing
Oblivians Wheel turning
Burning forever turning across
These are the backs of the damned
Skulls scream across this black, blackened Sand
Where death did run, grand
The Cabals of mice n men, a flame
Worshipers of the Gun, demand
Onto the Tower ablaze
A fortune is bled of fates
Nothing is ever claimed
The petty plans of a master of shame
All blowing in the changing winds
All lost in these Ebony Sand for years
Just a ripple in the abyssal pond, deep
Digging for the dark gold
At the end of the storm
Ending in voids dead socket
Or cards of destiny in the spokes
Of a child gods grand cycle
Shards of infinities expire
Nothing is what it is
A continuum
An infant gods training wheels
Turn
Deep in the murky green bottle
A corrupted Chronometer n string, twine, wire
Turning across this land
Across this fractured waste
With each cycle of the earth,
The Joker arose
The Tower tumbling down
The Enchantress slane
Death does make the change
Fortune is crucified on its greed
It grinds on and on never stopping, slowing.
The Queen of all humanities hearts
Laughs hysterically at the passing of the Cosmos
The loss of mankind’s innocence
The Joker on the run
The Tower drifting in ruins
The Emperor in rule
The Langman lying
The Lovers in paradise
Around around
Where to stop no one knows
Nowhere to go
No one knows
There is nothing to end
No one can see
The Emptiness
The Deceit
Or Feel
The distant turning of
Oblivion's Wheel
my agent grew nervous
when he discovered
like the rising sun
on a sea of shark fins
that one must gauge and become the gauge
what is it that heralds an improved model
claiming to have superior knowledge
my hospital masturbates immobilized patients
the cure rate is astounding
it’s all in how we conceive ourselves
the oil and tincture panaceas
were giving me intestinal upheaval
but my inner cephalopod still had
a couple of pots of ink in him
and swore by his mother's nipples
when info comes a-knocking
best let it find a seat unaided by grief
everyone rigs the game
we are all defiled by propaganda
here let me wipe you off
we all want to be authentic
so gimme the straight story for once
the sigh of the wind for once
must have been the stoning squad's day off
tarred and feathered instead
the world may not owe us a living
but it does owe us an explanation
I think it all has to do with
branching cascades and nested infinities
is it rain on the roof or radio static
I'm pretty sure it's a comedy show
there's a lady in the front row
bearing her breasts at me
I am quickly hypnotized
turns out she’s KGB
I hope I'm the lucky stud
that gets to climb her stairway
in an experimental courtship ritual
we rubbed pudenda for an hour
before I heard her secret name
it's still secret
her guillotine blade warm and wet
cut through me like a 3 dollar car wash
through fresh dung
OK why 3
for you double meaning compulsives
I'll tell you
but you must obey my commands
they are buried throughout this message
because 3 is like the fingernail relics of saints
and he'd rather be thundering back at Zeus
which got him everything he wanted
not so much money clothes cars women
since he didn't set out to establish
an empire of invisible influence
but he was a free man
free to disintegrate periodically
my advice is to keep
something for yourself no matter what
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
smiling from within the waters
compassionate
undertow
my faceless energy free from
physical form...
i make music with the universe
one verse after another...
my instrument (illuminated)
just so happens to be Caramelized Sunbows
spraying origami orchestrated laughter
like mint-chocolate confetti...
swaying so sweetly
merging with the insight
from the Great Pastel Owl
donning butterscotch blues
swirled in powder greygreens
he resides on the 7th Ring of Saturn
which has taken a sad turn
setting in motion emotions candlestick
to be lit upon stigmas wick
protruding out of the flowering ocean
blooming on peddaling petals of purification...
reuniting my Soul with my Spirit
amongst the Autumn's animated driftwood narration
read by death and every double-crossing decision
consuming infinities enchanted eternity...
embracing the rest
covered and kept safe under a layer of Wisdom's Blanket
learning...
dancing to the rhythym of the Crimson Cromlech Tapestry
of duct-taped waves
crashing
against the ululating glimpses that
Reflect
Reflections Reflecting
Reflectively Reflected
breaths
breathing
in inkchiseled messages
with Poetically Penned Piercing Points...
POINTING * TO THE TRUTH...
now
the fact of the matter
as a matter of fact
it's a matter of right and wrong
heard through the lies is a herd of hummingbirdsongs
singing in soft sneezes spreading seeds
growing into symphonies of supernovas
any Solar System would be awestruck by
shedding tears that can buy
every single good-bye
pleasent dreams...
because a brave dog once said "Good-byes don't last forever"
HOWEVER forever is clever beyond starscorched weather
NOW
whether or not
this knot gets untied (which it will)
for it's the Creators Will
AYE
I am the Eye of the Storm
sent to warn us with a scent worn
in the waxed seal...
written from the isle of Paradise...
*Quote from "All Dogs Go To Heaven"*
The bittersweet days of our spring love slowly slip away,
Like a silver river winding under the night sky,
They drift gently, like rose petals from a lost dream,
And I immerse myself in the memory of nights when we burned with stars in our hearts,
The sky spun in a hypnotic dance, we, two infinities lost in light and shadow.
Our sweet love, like an unforgettable spell, fades on the wings of time,
Like a candle in the cold autumn wind, before the leaves fall,
The green fades into the golden sunset, our hands clasped tightly,
As if in a final prayer, our souls creak, break,
Like life on the roadside under the rolling sun.
We are, who we are, two pilgrims in search of meaning,
Passing through days that melt like Dali's clocks,
Through nights when the moon watches over us with sad eyes,
We wonder if our love, like a magical ritual, will survive
The approaching autumn with heavy steps, if we will remain the same or become shadows.
Oh, our days, like good years, slide past us,
We wake up on an October morning, with golden leaves underfoot,
Tired hearts, but still full of the burnt stars of May nights,
We look into each other's eyes, we recognize ourselves in the silence between us,
Like two twin souls finding each other in a parallel universe.
Where our love knows no end, only a transformation,
Into another form of eternity, perhaps, one day,
When the sun sets for the last time and time itself ceases to exist,
We will understand that our love, like a melancholic spell, was always there,
In every heartbeat, in every whisper lost in the wind.
We are, and always have been, what we are: two wandering souls,
Caught in the eternal dance of love and life,
Two shadows of our lost dreams, transformed into light,
In a universe where our love knows no end.
We are who we are, and we will always find each other,
In the infinite dance of love, under the eternal sky of our memories.
Thinking about Sigmund Freud and his psychoanalysis theories
Albert Einstein, and his formulations upon the relativities
Playtos pupil, Aristotle.... Michelangelo-the sculptor, painter, architect and poet
An endless list written and rewritten, of lives within the pages of time....
Thinking of the human mind, with its boundless spectrums of possibilities
All the why's, the what's, and, the what ifs? A universe, yet to be discovered!
This amazing realm that we are in; at least to myself, of abstract truth....
For who can know beyond a doubt, the very core of any matter, the absolute!?
What mind can hold the ultimate essence, within infinities hands?!
Science itself is not even truth-but merely a shadow, at its very best....
And where does this leave me, as I return to this sphere of contemplation?
Grasping at particles, as if I could collect them all, while standing...."Amid a dream"
Gathering them into a manifestation, of concrete realities?
Reality it seems is a futile endeavor-more negative than positive, in the terms of
Mathematical economical equation-out of the black and into the red....
John Nash would know more about that-the structures of content, tranquillity and sanity
More to be lost it seems, than to be found....to complicate, to overwhelm!
It is true that we do need knowledge though, if ever we are to hope
To expand, to extend, to be better, to cure and to grow....But therein lies
"A dividing line," between knowledge and wisdom-a perspective of ones view!?
The big picture so to speak, of the here and now, and the forever to come....
Which leads me back again, to the beginning of this contemplative thought
For we must 'all' choose, what ground, we would most want to stand upon!?
An old Biblical verse, "We are in this world, but we are not of this world....". {Cont}
Form:
My true self wanders through other realms,
Far from my life, invisibly, it roams endlessly, free of burdens.
In oceans of dreams and sparkling stars, it is born,
Where no moment of the present can ensnare it.
On fields of the aurora borealis, my steps melt into the wind,
Wandering like a leaf in an astral dance of light,
In the depths of boundless forests of memories,
I am the whisper, lost in echoes of ancient dreams.
Never bound to this fleeting land,
My self pours into the waters of stars, where everything feels lighter.
A world of crystalline clarity and turbulent skies,
Filled with mysteries and warm lights of shimmering stars.
My true soul travels through emerald dreams and abysses,
Each wing's beat sings a ballad of molten black and white.
In the ocean of time, I find myself again and again,
In an endless dance of experiences, lost in unknown horizons.
In the pages of silence, thoughts flow like honey,
A flux of infinite consciousness finds its way.
A traveler in parallel universes where time stands still,
There, my self recognizes itself in a mystical fire.
Lights dissolve into shadows that rain glistening silver,
Each moment is a star birthing another reality, a new season.
I meet myself in ancestral dreams, in eternal breezes,
A free, invisible self, wandering through lands of serenity.
I gaze at the realms where my self flies, a rainbow of secrets,
No worldly worry penetrates the spheres where I escape.
I, the true self, free from life's constraints,
Wandering through infinities, in the magical and melancholic flow of eternity.
An infinite dance of the spirit, seeking the ultimate truth,
My self, an endless story, flowing through celestial currents.
In this universe of metaphors, I have found pure ecstasy,
An eternal self, traveling in the web of magic and relentless destiny.
Oh, dear God, this life's been such a blessing,
At times I forget that I live in Your Love,
Though I may miss the mark, still a lesson for me!
On occasional flights, I do dream that there's more,
That you're real, life has meaning beyond all desire!
To bail out of a swing, or to jump from a height's
A reminder that gravity's king! Though men circle the earth
Now in orbital flights, it's your Love that we gravitate toward!
In day's light child in tree sees impossibly far,
And we've learned now that stardust sparks all 'IS' there is!
As our minds circle earth far above all the clouds
Day or night light will dim when a planet occludes
Stars a billion years old! Their youth whispers to us,
And bears witness to how far life's chemistry spreads!
But a true God revealed must exceed all man's dreams
As now sky's darkest patches show galaxies home.
Matter races away from our parent 'Big Bang!'
(God's gift recently named as once Adam and Eve
Named all plants, moving life, even planets that share
Our own sun though they 'wander' across the 'fixed' stars.)
Are there those unaware the theology's false the Earth's center of all?
Now we learn that some galaxies follow new rules,
Are not randomly spread through all space as once thought,
But more smudges on lines Roman Candle balls trace
From one source fired through space at the whim of a child!
As minds stretch to create maps of not just sun's planets,
But galaxies, stars, that share space that surrounds us,
And learn some infinities dwarf many others,
That in fact, some exist that are boundlessly bigger
Than many we know! May we gain new perspectives,
Grok how small all constructs of God likely are!
Morph your infinite God to one boundlessly bigger,
Might our whole universe be a street light in heaven?
Long Tooth
February 13th, 2019