Stars twinkling, radiating orbs of pastel coloured plasma
The moon reflecting the brilliantly glowing solar rays,
As the sun soars through constellations in a year of days,
The Zodiac impelling our souls made of the same plasma.
My heart bled
and writing
was an open wound
As words
poured out
in hemorrhaged pleadings
No suture
or hemostat
clotting their flow
The nearer
the end
the harder it pumped
In gushing
pulsations of
finality
Bleeding out
what time
— could never give back
(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
You wouldn’t know he was A Good Drummer,
Until surfaced the Period of Summer;
You wouldn’t know: Giver of lion’s fight,
Until he felt challenges getting tight;
You wouldn’t know: loved Avocado Pear,
Until you grabbed his and this wouldn’t bear...
You wouldn’t know: could stay outside till mid-night,
Until there was some snake indoors, no light!
You wouldn’t know resents indulgent friend,
Until you saw him cross one and head bend;
You wouldn’t know: could use a liniment,
Until he had surfaced some punishment;
You won’t know: hopes to find his Charisma,
Until he naively like them with Plasma.
It’s the attraction of charged particles:
negative and positive swirling around a nucleus.
Some would call this framework an article
from an ancient energetic cumulus.
You are to me as I am to you-
with a quick ray’s burst of gamma.
Intertwined and betwixted, a centerfuge
complex creating a material plasma.
Feel this magnetic pull as it imparts
to combine and form a dynamic rampart?
The electric current of the universe ignites,
as our spirit molecules dance in the atmosphere.
Vapor wraps around that which incites
and we launch past the ionosphere.
As our cells dissolve into the cosmos,
we mingle together as one in another
and we open into the collective conscious-
it’s a breathless feeling like no other.
We are to you as you are to us-
We are more than a routine enigma.
An equation will never be enough
to explain our sentient version of plasma.
Later that night
my eyes fell into the plasma screen.
I had reached a point of dimly-lit-dull,
no-thought was my open mouth.
Maybe I was dreary to the bone broth;
dead spots creep up on you
when reality has nothing left to do.
Slowly my hands rose up,
to find my face,
slowly my attention drifted in
from a darkroom far from now.
It had been a good day
so why am I lingering in a movie
not watching, just seeing myself
asleep
on a dead horse?
something biting at my feet
something tasting mighty sweet
I'm in this to deep
the flooding waters
these tears I'm crying
am I alive or dying
I'm trying to relate
to love and not hate
look at me now a downsized clown
awaiting a stimulus to pay for my frown
while in this reality
I'm a slave brought for a fee
until God made my master's release me
par the coarse
I spoke loud my voice
now readily I'm righteous freed
a victim of humanity conformity
I've been to hell once
don't want to go again
this is why I'm in full repentance stage
O' Lord my God, Jesus help me
10/2/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.© 2021
Elements in me are found in the sun.
These same stars power the atmosphere.
Is this why you keep gassing me?
When it is all set and done,
I want to stand in your sun`s and eat your love,
to understand the universe
with all its energy,
so that you can’t change
without passing me.
{XM}
TALK LIKE A PAINTING: SOCIAL APES TRILOGY.
POETRY COLLECTION BY BZ.Mannie
link: https://www.amazon.com/Talk-like-Painting-social-trilogy/dp/1093118938
Live streaming my dark plasma
Through the veins of inhumanity
Life coursing like hot magma
A ball and chain enslaves my sanity
I scream myself into a coma
Silenced like a shattered screen
A hourglass in flaming Roma
The sands of time transfuse the scene
Live streaming my dark plasma
Through the veils of poverty
Love is mocked like a stigma
Bleeding hearts seek diversity
I stream myself in full colour
Blind to my painted black face
Struggling to fit into a white collar
Rejected from here to no place
My cloud's the belly of a great white
I drown in his acid rain creation
At the sight of his crushing double-bite
For I'm just a drop in the ocean
The pale face of a thousand generations
A million dislikes we unconsciously seek
A history channel of uncensored discrimination
My dark plasma has no life left to soak
the cold air hits me hard
nevertheless i have to do this
my legs buckle and i struggle on the hill
wearing three layers of clothes, i wonder how i got here
each second something changes, yet i remain stranded and lost
i exhaust my mind thinking thinking thinking
i depress my self blinking blinking blinking
the end result is me sinking sinking sinking
further down i go into an abyss with parasitic views
the only way out is to immerse myself in extended disruptions
knowing this, to the library i go....
classified section after classified section....
call after call to temp agency after temp agency
it is enough to drive one crazy if one chooses to do so
however, i remain and remember that i must keep the faith....
It was an absent answer. Terror
was one abyss in unhindered
waking of eternity in being. The passions rise
between downpour of black rings on the terraces,
was nonstop a parade of excuses and pretentions, no
body was taking the responsibility of the war lost, and
we nod in unison. Hunger drives the wedge. This
is a city of moonless sky where the headcount
never stops.
Warriors sit down under the volts opening red
eyes, the trade gets a bad name, rubbers
win the coin. Yellow metal gleams around arms,
a wound becomes a talisman, you start collecting
the awards from severed hands.
Satish Verma
It was an absent answer. Terror
was one abyss in unhindered
waking of eternity in being. The passions rise
between downpour of black rings on the terraces,
was nonstop a parade of excuses and pretentions, no
body was taking the responsibility of the war lost, and
we nod in unison. Hunger drives the wedge. This
is a city of moonless sky where the headcount
never stops.
Warriors sit down under the volts opening red
eyes, the trade gets a bad name, rubbers
win the coin. Yellow metal gleams around arms,
a wound becomes a talisman, you start collecting
the awards from severed hands.
Satish Verma
*On watching a massive blaze of gas depot at Jaipur ( India ) unebbed for 3 days.
High energy mix-
Ture of ions and elect-
Rons, found in flames.
My remote control taunts my mortal sloth
Pale light pulses, pulling me like a moth
Such a vast plethora beckoning me
Urging to decide what I long to see
I’ve got cop dramas to test my mettle
Cooking shows to inspire my kettle
Sporting events to tackle my spare time
Or dark sci-fi flicks spewing viscous slime
Game shows and rodeos can rope up greed
News scripts concocted to force a stampede
Travel shows touring streets of dead cities
Perhaps senate and house subcommittees
Cartoon madness might play to tickle me
Maybe sitcoms could work to pickle me
Animal shows and bridezillas abound
My mind still pictures a betrothed bloodhound
Those reality shows cause me to itch
Never mind--I think I’ll hit the off switch
We listened deeply to the sounds
of seed power of duality.
I was very restive
there was no time to review
the veracity of benevolence.
It was a flight of songs,
a passage through silence.
The event and nonevent,
became burning topics enslaving the angles of lips
and splitting the smiles.
If you wanted to feel the truth,
you must undergo splendid mutation,
to read the grains,
the sun, the rains.
Here comes the moon
sailing on dry bones
of our trivialities;
of our banalities,
shutting off our thoughts.
Multiples of our arts,
our performances,
had the plasma oozing
from our buried themes.
SATISH VERMA
An apple,
how it translated to blood plasma,
was a wonder,
cells work overtime,
here and beyond yonder.
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