E = MC9² FLIGHT CODE
Energy = Mass x Light to the 9th power ²
E = MC9² this the Great Man Knows
Unto The Sun, The Source Code
I the Great King of the Solar Current, Ruler of the Abodes
the one who Governs C9, Vanquishing C2 to the Throne
Nine Light Realms I Traverse
Solar Rexus, the Sovereign of the Metaverse
Oscillating in Bandwidths , Blue and Violet Throned
the Stellar Djed, traversing beyond 3D Light Code
Burn Bright, the Throne Room of the Eternal Mind
Freed We Are when we are, Ever Of Light
E = MC9² Escape Velocity, I'm on the Run
Full Ascent, C2 to C9, I Become The Sun
crystal cluster scintillate on etheric arm silvery
throned in centre I sit pert alert
observing galaxies glitter gloriously at golden gate
silent stars circling dance luminosities, flawlessly
ordained with eternal breath echoing eerie
I shake ringed jewels from cobalt space ~
The darkness is all I see. I have given into the darkness.
My isolation is my defeat. My defiance is not me trying to be rude when I say this I get shunned. To be throned is to be above everyone else to be understood is to be put down.
My isolation is my defeat. My darkness understands my silence and my depression. We smile as if we are one. I am tired of smiling and laughing.
My isolation is my defeat. My darkness is part of me. My dreams are not what they may seem.
My isolation is my defeat. I am strong and brave for everyone else because I do not know anything else. stand up for thyself and get told not to backtalk shunned into the darkness once again.
My isolation is my defeat. Can I trust thyself? Stay quiet and don't backtalk to thy mother or father. Isn't that how a conversation works? stay strong for thy younger siblings. Be the one Thy friends come to when they have a problem but as I listen I realize thy friends would not listen back if I had a problem.
Isolation is my defeat.
Of one, cloud-throned eternal
Untiringly what is
In breathing out, breathed by all.
Freely. Lifts freedom's urge.
Of the many, that whipped up
Now cold, ahead of this;
Storm-rode as drove, devilish.
Ran from! A frightful surge!
“If, to speak my truths, I bleed these syllables, let the wind ferry them to a moon-kissed shore,
for I am a caged rose dreaming in deafening darkness” Quote by Poet
I mourn within an aquamarine aquarium,
drifting like treacherous torrents of the Arctic Ocean,
while my ink, stained with sorrow, floats like splintered sapphires,
serenading the unspoken reality of obscured waves in blistered black.
But if truth were a poem,
woven from bleeding colors of supernova scars draped in stars,
will the calligraphic constellations carve my tale in crystalline cadence?
For I’ve long been fighting currents of chaos in silence,
too reluctant to wade beyond the familiar torment,
as I’ve sealed an eternal curse,
enveloped with macabre metaphors from cold caves of satanic seas.
Now I am the throned rose of darkness, breathing hope~
and faith, to erase scribbled heartaches.
I know one day I’ll reach my shore.
He is silence,
crowned in rosy rhymes,
sprinkling balmy rain
upon frail flowers.
misunderstood, yet
beneath his armor,
is the selfless moon,
bestowing starlight.
when darkness unfolds,
time may be cruel,
but seasons can't wilt
soft-spoken sagas,
echoing amidst
hushed sanctuaries.
he shoulders the weight
of a true savior.
suppressing his need
to be heard and seen,
in a world so dark
and misleading,
he remains throned to
an emerald
garden, that glows
as the king of
picturesque patience.
painting the wrongs right
through butterfly strokes,
of everlasting
acrylics, in gold
across mourning skies.
Throned green eyed rat in
golden trap of cheesy poo
he rules like a king
Nestled with the glittering elements,
I ponder the immortality of the senses—
my lucidity twirls,
as pirouetting flakes through
sapphire mist amidst cyanic windstorms,
drifting like arctic embers,
towards cerulean twilight skies,
beyond frost covered pains,
littered across glacial clouds that linger,
swirling upon an indigo iced cluster of
topaz teal stars,
enveloping my cobalt soul beneath your
cashmere caress—
we behold the wonder of an
opulent crescent moon,
cradling our kismet love, in
vows of our balsamic destiny, ever
sanctioning icebound purgatories
buried deep in our bones, in
flurry feathered snowfields,
guiding our
souls back home to our halcyon hereafters,
where I’ll sit throned as the
queen of blizzards,
wearing a crown of bleeding splinters.
To the breezes
moving so wiggly
and fondle your cheeks
I kiss them in broad daylight
To the moon
shinning so faintly
and mirroring your pretty face
I retained her under my eyelids
To the morining mist
smiling in the valleys
and rejuvenating your eyes
I hug her so gently
To the rains
descending so calmly
and soaking your thin frame
I dance and sing in it
To the sun
that promises a day
and making you sultry and sweaty
I burn in it
To the rose
red with throned whip
and on your lip that flip
I crush it and rub on my chest
Written: May 21, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1219 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
From on high, only by Him
How throned o'er, thought of?
When as prompt, through each flash
Rainbow's, ray's, re-sent
The heartening mercy!
The heart-warming love!
To believe, must we bear
Full-faced God's descent?
The wound becomes inward like the pink moon
after a little rain. It glows and then becomes
red as the blood and the wool of the wail
dangling white like a sheep in the wind.
And this thorn that now curves in your breast;
you will not bring to the garden
nor to the throned light.
It lies at your breast as a bone of some lost horse.
It will not bring Light to the growing mooring-post.
Nor will it exalt in any way the twining winds that move
in the night.
:: 10.31.2022 ::
Ruining the moral murals
With its rhymes of times
Fulminous falls fell
Soaking my soul
With arts of heart-wall
The passing wayfarer
The life-laden layman
Seeing the callow curves
In a suppressed pipe dream
Giving a heart
of no fine art
A ditty with witty lines
Attuned with a fitting tune
Scented with a decent
Barely bloomed bud
In a thorn-throned thicket
To whir like a chirping cricket
I’m greatly grateful to thee
With a matchless sublime fee
For coaching in a cosy couch
Yonder, a song’s nature
And her phrasing of signature
Breathlessly speechless though
To requite the love I owe
You, to me, in words less
The Sinhagiri, the fortress
(The poetic English portrayal of the Sinhala verse ‘Wasanavan numba mata’ by Mr. Mahendra Siriwardane)
A priviledge, not a burden
The power of Love to wield.
In the name of the highest;
Crowned a king; alike throned.
As far beyond that wall afield
Each castle's; cloud-horizoned.
A great honour, the greatest
Entrusted them, vowed knightly
Raise not a gold-fingered hand
But tears for to wipe, ward off
In black who for Despondency
At such saving gestures scoff.
The Princess and the Pauper
by Michael R. Burch
for Norman Kraeft in memory of his beloved wife June Kysilko Kraeft
Here was a woman bright, intent on life,
who did not flinch from Death, but caught his eye
and drew him, powerless, into her spell
of wanting her himself, so much the lie
that she was meant for him—obscene illusion!—
made him seem a monarch throned like God on high,
when he was less than nothing; when to die
meant many stultifying, pained embraces.
She shed her gown, undid the tangled laces
that tied her to the earth: then she was his.
Now all her erstwhile beauty he defaces
and yet she grows in hallowed loveliness—
her ghost beyond perfection—for to die
was to ascend. Now he begs, penniless.
O! devastating devil,
you poured poison in the
garden of angels.
Because of you the water of the river darkened.
Angels surrendered to your witchcraft,
Say why every paths of men made you throned?
You, the liable ominous, standing behind it .
For you that teenage boy went astray while at
the beginning of sweet youth.
The simple girls changed their hopes by being
your slave.
Unbreathable air , going away from grasp.
Greed and illusion decorate men's innerself as
you took control out of them.
Heartfelt occurs everyday.
Devil in her mind occupied early.
How long can you remain as stone?
Sub Categories
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.