quantum gates open
peace centres rotate
light waves and particles jump
non-local, then ~ here-now
peace centres rotate
expanding human frequency
non-local, then ~ here-now
consciousness stretch
expanding human frequency
quantum gates close
consciousness stretch
portals removed
quantum gates close
peace centres blocked
portals removed
light particles stilled
peace centres blocked
cosmos collapses
light particles stilled
human frequency reabsorbed
cosmos collapses
One becomes Void
human frequency reabsorbed
reconfigure openings
One becomes Void
energy vibrations altered
reconfigure openings
dark eclipses light
mountains dissolve
cosmos sleeps
sky purple
humans disappear
cosmos sleeps
light waves and particles jump
humans disappear
quantum gates open ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Placed 3rd : Standard Contest : Jan.26
Sometimes when I try to write about something
my mind travels though light and darkness,
and it wanders through my universe of thoughts
A dictionary of scrambled words circulates through my brain and regurgitates them into my muse
As I try to reconfigure them into something that makes sense, I back-read my thoughts
And then, I realize...
It's time to put the cap on my pen...
It makes no sense at all
It rained last night
and it will rain again and again
after each dry spell -
the planet has always understood
the benefits of hydration.
The ground of being, being mind-clay
will reconfigure a muddy tale,
then poetry (or whatever speaks
in riddles and earthy visons
claiming to be the most profound
of witless squiggle’s)
will surface to inscribe its thoughts
upon a fluid reality.
Writhing, writing worms
will raise their blind heads
in praise of the compliancy of all deconstructed worlds;
they will carol in the newly wetted shallows
as God muses together
all potentially squirmy realities,
ones that can be read as an outward appearance,
and evidence
of yet more superficial churnings.
That is one thing about rigor:
It can Intact Man disfigure;
Like a cell phone reconfigure
The Stout left A Sorry Figure…
You won’t yourself in public show;
Not a new thing in you did grow;
Slaving at a task “Your New Foe”
Hours taking to turn a toe!
It’s a big stab from stretched rigor:
It leaves not the same one’s Vigor:
I used to know a strong Igor,
Not dead before stripped of vigor…
Some men it’d enveloped in dust.
Good pipes now struggling with rust;
You don’t energy drink dismiss
Nor caffeine you can handle miss.
Converging clouds morph
into mesmerizing shapes
then reconfigure.
Pleas I proffer sail through clouds
chaos and Covid to God.
July 2, 2020
entered in the Stand Completely New Poem Contest, 4
May 28, 2021
entered in the Bite-Size Poem 3 Contest NA
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
December 30, 2021
entered in the Coronavirus (Covid-19) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Each day I crumble,
Broken to a million pieces,
Each night I reconfigure,
Fusing the shards together as I sleep,
The task may not be easy and there are other options,
I choose to become me yet again and face today.
Chances and choices to grow
Chances and choices to taste
Chances and choices to blow and throw
Chances and choices to invest or waste
Same chances for Tom and John
Same chances for Mary and Martha
Same chances for June and Jane
Same chances for Betty and Bertha
No rivers of tears to cry
If chances you squander
No matter how much you try
To console your blunder at the sound of thunder
Tearing your overcast sky
Unless in your life you inject order
To jettison the blue lie
Thar denies the hand you play in the disorder
For which by design you crave
To reap the whirlwind you sow
Pretending your paper tiger grows brave
When it self inflicts low
Blows all the while dreaming repeating the same discredited methods
Yields better outcomes
Despite playing new music on dissonant cords
Assuming oversize claims
Fate disavows
Unless you rejig and reconfigure the path
To success which cows
Steps to reengineer your magic lath.
My heart,
a place of solitude,
my place of worship,
a place of pleasure,
place of leisure,
treasure of love,
where God resides,
my happy place,
hidden within.
At this sanctuary,
not all is allowed to enter,
only the admitted few,
selective admittance is permitted.
The world,
my whole life,
my struggles,
my joy,
pains of my inner fear is experienced here.
The beauty of man is carried there,
like the moon with its two sides,
the ugliness of the dark side
of man is hidden there.
This heart of man,
who can know it?
With its complicated complexities,
the heart of man is carried with dignity,
full of grace, vigour and beauty,
though mixed with greed,
there is also a taste of
emotions of hate,
and unimaginable unfathomable
touch of wickedness.
It requires the alchemical fire of the divine light to purify it so that man can be metamorphosed into a demigod,
become that sun of righteousness,
where the true love abound.
Strive to reconfigure your heart,
make it a grandeur irreproachable portal where innumerable company of angels dwells.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
If heaven were to fall into hell
I'd surf the spiritual wave
generated by this cataclysmic
tsunami, and ride it to sin's origin.
Dissect the specific parts of soul's DNA,
reconfigure the connection that
Adam's folly took away.
Live again, placing spirituality
before physicality
allowing us to take our fig leaves off.
Seeing the we that we are
instead of the we that we've seen.
Believe, speak to God daily
as if He were the alpha and omega
of all conversation.
I wouldn't pray to Him but
with Him and everything
before Lucifer's seperation
would be unification
if heaven were ever to fall into hell
sinners would be redeemed
and saints would come clean.
Hell, if only.
Stripping away layers of confusion
Staring into the eyes of my lover
Stripping in the dark for my man
Needing him to hold me as we make love
As we embark on this journey
Searching for a life paved in gold
We run into the arms of the future
Trying to reconfigure the architecture of love
Kissing each-other out in the open in my dreams
With a passion of a matador
Keeping the candle lit
Leaving the door unlocked
Waiting for my lover to initiate & push play
Running my tongue all over his immaculate body
Sucking him till he begs for relief
Needing him inside me
Wanting him always.
The clichéd cavalier
clings to his
carbon copy life with
constrained complexity
and settles
for conventionality.
Miss originality
and Master clarity
dismantle, reconstruct
withered concepts
within a cul-de-sac
of ubiquitous creativity
by alienating themselves
from main-stream
cultural orthodoxies.
Our imagination:
a perverse configuration
of disparate thoughts
that congeal into
an incomprehensible concoction
of cerebral combinations
which reconfigure,
inexplicable,
to creatively convey some
innovative originality
and clarity
into a world
which continues
to advocate constrained
and conformist ideologies.
With life nothing but a tired old story, I was waiting, always awaiting;
Checking off the pages that life has to me been sending;
Unimportant, I mark each page, with life so boring.
But, always with a wish that magical page will be opening,
And, to a wondrous scene, I would be transporting.
Now jaded by this whole affair,
I flick my finger at a passing page.
Amazingly the page undergoes a revision.
It appears that by the pointing of my finger,
Some of what life sent my way, can no longer linger.
So, I flick again, and the story revises as if I pulled a trigger.
Then I flick once more and more of the story does reconfigure.
Just how this came about I cannot figure.
But, now it does seem that all life really wanted from me,
Was to stand up, and rewrite my destiny.
Ever changing, always different
Never know what to predict
Expectations driving nowhere
Confusion forever plaguing within
Reaching, grasping for familiar
Nothing is ever all that's found
This unsuspected masquerading
Creeping suddenly into my world
Now here it is plainly upon me
Screaming, screaming, silently screaming
Revealing all the hurtful secrets
All the things I failed to see
They always fool you
Reconfigure everything that was right
Empty promises, broken heart
Misplaced trust, settle into darkness
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.