Long Transmit Poems
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I spent my day shopping with Ruby
(I find her an absolute pain)
Torturous tale to transmit truthfully
You'll kindly let me explain...
Friday I purchase veg and fruit routinely
A schedule pleasing to retain
Ruby put a spanner in habit supremely
Consumed by cranky campaign
Fondling each ripe piece - ridiculous
Their intact skin forsaken
Commentary made us conspicious
My cheeks stung pink as bacon
Fumbling excursion injected remorse
In friendly familiar domain
Ruby's cruel fruit critiquing discourse
Done with utter disdain
Finally (red faced), we got to register
- feat she pulled when paying
Whole shop hushed as a seminar
Short change accusation relaying
In dulcet tones in foyer, I refuted it
Calm voice rigorous to contain
Ruby's shrill insisted the fruit was s**t
Plus she'd have to check coins again
Adament she had been ripped off
- I found the debarcle innane
Cash register accuracy blatantly scoffed
Treatment of clerk barely humane
Pressed lipped shoppers regarded us
A pair of loons, I shaking frustrated
Hoped the dear got hit hard by a bus!
Notched her up to cousin most hated
3rd August 2020
Written for Contest : I Went Shopping With Ruby
Sponsor : Julia Ward
Go to the sea if you feel slight
On a blue draped dreamy night
When the sliver disc of the sky
Dances with the sea on the sly
Riding silent waves rising high
Reach the moon you would try
Cut slice of still sea on its side
Like the birthday cake liquefied
Drink to celebrate time you got
Someone for you has brought.
The sea would enter you serene
With a piece of moon's silver sheen
That sparkles broken on the wave
A dear birthday gift you can have
And save in your heart’s recess
The waves would drive in pulses
Blue blood in cascading arteries
And transmit harmonic melodies
To the heart that would beat in glee
With the rhythm of the dancing sea
You would invent an abode to reside
Hear songs someone singing inside
For you would be lifted above
The rolling waves silent in love.
Written : August 26, 2017
March 29, 2020
Contest : Strand Choice T, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
15.8
“Have faith, my son, have faith
You are Awareness alone
the Self, the One
You are the Lord of Nature”
15.9
“The body is made of worldly stuff
It comes, it lingers, it goes
The Self neither comes nor goes, yet remains
Why mourn the body?”
15.10
“If the body lasts until the end of time
or perishes today—
is there gain or loss for you?
You who are Awareness?”
15.11
“Let the waves of the universe rise and fall as they will
You have nothing to gain or lose
You are the ocean”
15.12
“You are the substance of Consciousness
The world is You
Who is it that thinks
he can accept or reject it?
And where does he stand?”
15.15
“Leave behind such distinctions
as “I am He, the Self,”
and “I am not this.”
Consider everything Self
Be desireless
Be happy”
15.16
“Your ignorance alone creates the universe
In reality One alone exists
There is no person or god other than You”
15.17
“One who knows for certain
that the universe is illusion,
a no-thing,
becomes desireless,
pure Awareness,
and finds peace in the existence of nothing”
The zone of deep silence
Beyond mind
Presence in self existence
Formless space aligned
(21-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Verses revisited on 02-December-2021
Let’s begin then, by exiting self-hypnosis
Enslavement to lower mind
Melding mind, soul, spirit, Perichoresis
Exiting narrow thoughts that bind
Our innate aliveness, where is it located
Is it in the head or the heart
Desire enmeshed thought, has us agitated
Until we add love to cart
Head and heart meld, in a stillness continuum
Devoid of thought, fears and desires recede
There remains in mind-body, no ego residuum
Layer by layer, erst habit patterns we weed
There is no thought, yet our awareness remains
Poised in the void in childlike wonderment
Soul cleansed of feral stains, measuring not gains
Magnetised, reveals innate essence luminescent
We may call this Holy Spirit, kundalini or grace
There is no one now within, to assign any label
In timeless time, we may see God face to face
Inner alignment being all it takes for this miracle
Becoming the answer, we need no translator
Yet the light that already is, we cannot transmit
Ceasing to be a doer, as a humble receptor
Know God in-dwells all, when we cease to resist
"Fata Morgana"
feet hardly touch the ocean
when silent stars of no voice
transmit words to pay the ferryman
on the water no reflection
gently the sun waves smiling as if to say
feel that, the warmth of waking sleep
no fear of what remains hidden
it will unravel from inside that which is all too deep
walking towards you across the briny mist
from ancient stories forgotten
a halo of St Elmo’s Fire surrounds
it stands still for a short while before you
watching
you,
walking water with your bare feet
faith in dreams consistent in their constancy
that visit you when you are complete yet incomplete
holds out its hand to lead the way across
sharp burning rocks, now a desert, climbing mountains that are steep
a small life crumbles to powdered sand
more than 40 days silent gone astray
years the turning of untimed tides pretence
meets a haunting vision beckoning, new horizon, odd unclear
safe harbour left long ago,
lost in that ornery time, cursed by flying monkeys' bellows
of bloodletting and betrayal, stock still, standing amidst the shallows
somewhere along the way dark narcissus followed
what breaks over the bow
washes all stern fear away
sacred wings of albatross
ne’er to be sacrificed, no more night nor day
souls of ancient mariners
forever follow me, even when I stray
the rich baritone of bedtime stories
messages in code conveyed, I hear them still today
now swallows spooning spinnakers
running directly before wind and sea
the water turns to wine, much stranger the belief,
all manna of trust it feeds
bells tolling
no man’s an island entire of itself
in unusual reckonings
observing swimming hearts, that hear and see
the eyes that melt, this more curiously
in truth, the dream defends
messages eternal
life it never ends
tides move in and out
never alone when we begin
fata morgana
softly the moon ascends
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
VCB
Lux Vitae
5.5.10
"Under a splintered mast,
torn from ship and cast
near her hull,
a stumbling shepherd found
embedded in the ground,
a sea-gull
of lapis lazuli,
a scarab of the sea,
with wings spread—
curling its coral feet,
parting its beak to greet
men long dead."
("Talisman", Marianne Moore)
By George P. Lumayag
A series of ticks on the phone,
Woohowoo... ready?... go...
Yaks, YIK, smile...
Look at the sky...
and dream...
a life of bits...
to transmit
our codes
to code
the colors of life.
You click and
download the files
for the child and
for the nation's pride.
You are the guide of our child.
You guide the child and
motivate him or her
to engage,
to explore,
to explain,
to elaborate,
and to evaluate
every competency
of the day's lesson.
You guide the child
to become a better citizen
in the future.
Music that touches the soul. This is so wonderful.
Well, what kind of music can you describe?
The sound of her magic
She can say everything without words
And break the dumb silence
She is beautiful when she sounds in silence
So gentle with the touch
She touches every key of my soul
I love it, I listen with pleasure
She will talk about love and separation
She will cheer you up in an instant
When her magic sounds
They will cover the souls of a rusty scream
She will transmit everything that is in nature:
The sound of the sea and the melody of rain,
And the wind howls, and the sun is rising,
A golden sunset at the end of the day
Well, how not to listen to her, not to love her
She is a continuation of our lives
Blessed is the one who can make music
And give us beautiful moments!
A simple god so slender and symbolic
having a one way onslaught in his approach
and toiling with the master-class of the game
to revolutionize an entire country away from his.
He bastardized his inheritance of stiffness and a crunch system
To transmit the pleasure of a video game to a live coverage.
A believer of his approach, a missionary in his style,
legendary in his execution, but often blind to its short comings.
Going an entire season without a fault
and giving the possibility to travel cloud 49
makes his glory carry such schoolbag of mysteries and awe.
From the African prince of Monaco, to the great George Weah
and the Dennises, Thierrys, Vierras and Anelkas,
he converts a dusty wood into a luxurious boat.
Academy is his bedroom, ventilated by continuity
even though some megastars were short of understanding this.
Maintenance of a certain threshold even with half loaded guns
is very difficult to achieve and impossible to maintain
but not at all to this attacking minded General.
Spending a decade to shoot regions near the actual target
under the stuffiness of limitations both in finances and talents
shines the stadium light even in the darkness of his underachievement.
Prudence and a closed fist was his personality’s widget
b’cos glory on the pitch alone isn’t his mental gadget.
Placing a repercussion of a very stiff budget
and his command, downgraded so low to a midget.
All these because he’s carried the club like a personal object
placing the short sightedness of instant glories to an eject.
Stability in his empire is now a complete project
As his winning dominance was once a European subject.
He’s now back with an intimidation which will make opposition fidget.
Back to his rank, as he wears all the colours
rising in significance after all the hurdles
heart poured out to a club glorifies him beyond a mere coach,
the riches of such dedication influences the staff of his reputation,
winning and being a champion has always been his signature.
He has once again proven it,
as the world of sports stands still in ultimate salute.
I sleep while nature squeezes under my door.
A dream of the swamp blooms like a water-born disease in my polluted
senses flooding my throat, nose and lungs.
Breath rattles heavily through damp fabric and pushes tears through
infected lids.
Salt cracks and crumbles from my eyes in brittle flakes.
Nature is in this house.
From within the walls, soaking wet tendrils transmit intricate messages.
Tapping. Smearing.
Mud at the water’s edge swallows my legs in muscular contractions that grip me hard and hold me sucked into the slime.
There is comfort in my restful sludge as I slowly become a celebration of waste.
A new smell is in this house.
I fumble, prod, rip, and slash at the dirt-smeared welts in the hope of exposing bone through paper-thin skin.
Insects have burrowed beneath bleeding fingernails and laid their sodden eggs inside tear duct, nostril, and mouth.
Swollen and stretched, the engorged tissues begin to rupture as they rhythmically pump soupy discharge onto saturated sheets.
I hear my laughter in another room.
From the banks of the swamp, I watch amber lilies drift away on dark, green ripples that shimmer with an oily gloss.
Their moist, heavy perfume clings to my tongue like a sugary membrane.
I slowly lift my head towards the clean blue sky and open my mouth wide.
I hope God can see me, feel my restructuring.
One by one, black, twitching mosquitos swarm down to feed from my gaping mouth.
They bite and suck the blood from my blistered lips and force their way down into my lungs and stomach, filling me to bursting with their fluttering wings and delicate stings.
I cramp, bruise, tumefy.
Cells divide.
Segments fall away.
New organs grow.
This is my fresh suit, my next phase.
I do hope God can see me.
Flagrant bird Bernadette feathery flair flamboyant
Towers over average plumage
Parades tassle twist pantomime pow wow warbonnet
Cascade costume illuminating
Cheyenne crowned showgirl, a flurry of torso tumult
Statuesque neck festers fatalism
Stiletto weapon punctuates staid with societal revolt
Rouses a Lady Marmalade rythm
Elusive vermilion mouth majestic Bernadette buxom
Slinks sequined by beside suited
Patrons in shadow of taboo troublesome seduction
Stubble rub struggle translucent
Sashaying aves, aloof eaglet suspended in feminine
Bouyant slow swirl drape tailed koi
Hypnotic bronzed bends transmit treacle pheromone
Concocts a carbonated cider void
26th June Too sexy!
Coat stand tree commingling clan protects
Quilted caterpillar sticks linen to spine
Pine foliage erect points to its apex
Before its born, spire spreads star shine
Swooping swivel neck owl huddles, human eyes
Scan heaven, hook beak hoots transmit signal
For seraphim shifting, shades of dove devise
Butterfly current shaken napkin nimble
Venture from avenues of arrow quivers
Dispell dictating army apostrophes
Barrel roll ballistic, blank space delivers
Delight due outside barracks claustrophobic
Antenna tuned owl throatily purrs
Pleasure for butterfly’s fast learned journey, laughed
Drift under dry angel feathers, breeze spurs
Freedom wish from wizard to aloof aircraft
27 January 2025
Written for Contest:
Embodying the Light
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker