Under the solar system
in our basement I sat,
copying schematics of
superheterodyne radios
from a book on electronics,
while my dad, across from me,
stood at his drawing board
illustrating advertisements
for feed and farm equipment.
The floor was painted blood red,
the walls bandage white—
a battlefield made tidy.
The dehumidifier murmured its hymn
beneath Saladin’s ceramic gaze,
his turbaned brow inscrutable
as my father bent to sketch
a combine in perfect perspective.
And why Saladin’s head?
What did it mean to my dad,
this sultan of Egypt and Syria?
Did he admire the general
for how he fought with honor
or just like the look of him—
that calm authority,
that stylized beard?
Was it a joke I never got,
or a reminder
of some private war?
Saladin’s head—
commanding,
noble,
a little creepy—
still hangs
somewhere in my mind,
a relic or a riddle,
watching as I trace new lines
through circuits of memory,
searching for my father’s face.
Categories:
schematics, 4th grade, art, childhood,
Form: Free verse
As an engineer with a heart of steel,
In circuits and wires, I find my zeal.
But within the schematics, I yearn for more,
A poet's soul, deep at my core.
With precision, I calculate and design,
Yet in verses and rhymes, my spirit shines.
In the quiet of night, I pen my lines,
Crafting poetry that truly defines.
My words flow like currents in the night,
A symphony of thoughts, pure and bright.
For in the world of equations and math,
I find solace in the poet's path.
Categories:
schematics, appreciation,
Form: ABC
My veins are the schematics
My conscience the pragmatics
A nuclear weapon that’s omnifarious
Self destruct the one that’s multifarious
Many parts no two the same
Doesn’t mean I’m not painfully plain
Nothing about me is distinctive
Identical and parallel, anatomy’s instinctive
So why am I so self-destructive?
You don’t need to be quite deductive
Deduce the reason and the people pleasing
My consciousness requires easing
Rhymes makes the feelings and words coalesce
Does it really makes you digress?
Words made up of morphemes
Feelings made up of morphines
Nothing without you has meaning
It isn’t held it’s given without demeaning
My schematics look better inkless
Don’t want my veins to circulate just ingress
Categories:
schematics, 12th grade, absence, age,
Form: Rhyme
A marionette to the mind,
Whispering fading schematics,
Deluging the heart and soul, in a
Juxtaposition of good and evil,
Betwixt Heaven and hell, amidst
Snowdrifts that swirl before my eyes, while
Spiritless shadows restlessly carouse;
Discordantly, far from reach,
Vagrantly ambling across
Deadened Arcadias, glimpsing
Floating embers, in wake of
Vivid firestorms, swallowing me whole,
Faltering with every step I take,
Decelerating towards the escape I seek,
As it rhythmically scars my timorous nature,
Awakening the monsters hidden deep within-seeing red-
Bleeding out miasmic toxins, as noxious
Spores erupt, immersed in a haze of austerity,
While it seeps and saturates, throughout
Malignant wounds exposed, undulating between
The storms of push and pull, as daunting
Tasks, of rippling sequences, splits my
Chasmic core.
Soulless footprints are all that remain, as
Moon tides wash ashore, ebbing away
Towards dystopian depths.
Categories:
schematics, feelings,
Form: Free verse
Postumous blank slates
Fleeting psycho schematics
tumultous ends
Categories:
schematics, bereavement, cancer, emo, funeral,
Form: Haiku
if you own your feet
they will take you to the greater theme park
but we are sad to see the old self go
and cling to the labors that bring us here
as though survival there was assured
through perpetual alertness
which meant that to change is to be mystified
there is a place in your head
where symbols just don't matter
and you don't need to predict
what will happen next
yet your measurements occur without deformity
every human's hope is to die laughing
yes let's satirize death
in a grand existential caricature
a mockery of the stepped on wristwatch
bottom line happy to be anywhere
running from the object of focus
knowing what it is to be a lesser thing
scribbling schematics on the walls of Paradise
which map the kaleidoscope of desire
with a breathless greeting
from the horse that pulls your cart
so let's ride a swing together sometime
and comfort us with a freezer full of deer meat
instead of killing ourselves to prove a really stupid point
bicycle messengered to Main St.
otherwise the odds are slender
Categories:
schematics, how i feel,
Form: Free verse
Sunlit curly blond hair, icy blue eyes
Horse shoe crabs, sundials, cloudless skies
Rolling Stones, Dean Koontz and Mathematics
treasure hunting, pizza nights, schematics
fossils, meteors, tulips, strawberries
complex creation physics and theories
Sea breezes, ponies, quiet dreams
Plotting and planning your life schemes
Memories linked to the songs you hum
Trapped in your heart to beat like a drum
Chatting fingers, friends, long wavy hair
Sharing time and space with those who care
Mountain drives, lakes, snowless nights, roaming hands
Your mind and your world constantly expands
The hopes and dreams that you still wish
A boyish dork some call bookish
Midnight loving, long pillow talks
James Bond watching, languorous walks
Tim Tams, wine and fire light
Eyes that gleam as souls ignite
Whisper white sands shifting beneath your feet
You live your life to a different beat
Bonsai trees, stargazing and jars of treasures
just some of your many intriguing pleasures
Surfer boy who daydreams but loves me true
The gift is the joy in you simply being You
Categories:
schematics, friendship, love,
Form: Couplet
lazy electrons
select correctly
for a hard working dawn
my schematics are smothered
in positive provocative ions
can't wait to see you
in a nice classy black thong
psychoactive therapeutics
cycle through sedative terror optics
I bask in the error of righteous lunatics
monday night slippery pistol grips
doing it right, no hype
sex toys
bondage tape
frozen grapes and feathered whips
I could spend all day squeezing your hips
the rough riding randomness
of my erratic energetic lust
all I want is to take my time and touch
and touch
and touch
and touch
Categories:
schematics, art, sexy,
Form: Rhyme
chromed attics
patrolled by magnified dragonfly schematics
quivering silvers, rippled submarines
enlightened black magic
black dawn hawk borne of ashes
manifested in tragedy then smashes
smithereens flit to unison
babe on the nipple fades blue, leaves an only son
falls on the roots, sap his tipple
overboard on the beech seeking tetragrammaton.
instant pan-global sepia scope
your skull is an hourglass
and sand teems down the slopes
visions of Egypt are gridlocked
so you sneeze just to cope
but the issues weep at you, your emotions elope
with tryptaminical spellboundancy
immediate hope.
Categories:
schematics, art, spring,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme
Reason is a tool,
it can not escape the boundries of calculation as oxygen departs from blood,
logic operates on the body of algorhythems thumping along trails of faceless fates,
reason is a scavenger of possibilities matured into conclusions born from imagination,
without formulas to navigate the maze of Life's elasticity reason becomes music unplayed,
reason needs it's parent of the playground so to construct a kingdom worth caring for,
provided with an objective it can flourish as seed to stem, highlight the heroics of heaven,
Love is a hope,
confidence to dream is what it encourages, to orchestrate talent into the physical dimension,
love is the currency paying the mercenary of reason for a fort captured or erected properly,
schematics of soul lust, blueprints of God's sandbox gives direction to the 'chain reaction' of destinies,
where would purpose go to if denied sojourn in the mansions of love's capacious creativity,
love is the roadway feeding the logistics of our egocentric reason, the part of us seething for results,
tragedy is when love fails to convince reason to trust in adaptability, when smiles fail to persuade tears -
J.A.B.
Categories:
schematics, education,
Form: Didactic
Middays muse; with tinseled fingers and what is this, but a mockeries dust amid the wind....
Lost laxus, in its own schematics malignful maze everwinding unto inevitables end within
A self-fulfillings twisted prophecy spelling this enigmas day of irony, that shall be!?
Finding but a paradox in bittersweets truth clinging to these ivy genuises walls
Scaling both reason and purpose; this mingling of night with day and laughters illusions
Soon to fade into what was no less than a sifting breeze passing by as it lingered upon
This bed of thornful roses which pierced their eyes while tears gathered in shadows blind....
Unto where is the irony to be found in this tangerine testament aneath times carnival tents?!
In quantums theories these porcelain dolls with their charcoal smiles; defiles dangling
Upon strings of pain to be broken inside; a chorus line of deceit and lies kept in a bios box
As daydreaming within this mirages muse amid a maze which they once believed, their truth....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....“The Puppet Master” *
Categories:
schematics, hope, life, love, day,
Form: I do not know?