Becoming one with the universal pulse,
that coruscant hue endued vibrancy benign,
I eschew lethal inhibition toxic,
inhaling meteoric shards of,
effervescent mood boost capsules,
whilst power plugging brain dead cells,
into trancelike transmitters of prana,
unleashing channels stymied by a jinx,
healer, harbinger heroic of invisible field,
whose silver winged prowess pivotal
Best friends are satellites
who orbit around you
like the moon and the sun
on a single planet in our galaxy
and constantly revolving around you
like an inseparable shadow
looking out for you
through every aspect of life
They always make sure
you are safe from every impending danger
that hurdle toward you as fast as a shooting star
and transmit some of their resources to you
whenever you need them
whether at work or at play
and the trustworthy transmitters
of your inner most hidden treasures
that are naked to the eyes
of other planetary beings
nights, days, seasons, months and even years
all come and go as quickly as the lightning beams
but satellites will always reside
close to your bosom until the end of time
Tech Rex big hitters
Respect what glitters
Our new babysitters
Not Grandma knitters
X cortex hex twitters
Hate mission transmitters
Gaza or Persian fritters
Emission spate emitters
Vile bile style spitters
Culture war splitters
Astringent mocktail bitters
Seedier leader flitters
Don't get the jitters
Don't be permitters
The media embitters
Don't become quitters
Need pinch hitters
This lot are critters
What's in cats' litters
All just bullshi**ers
Carefully we planned for the big day
Oblique qualms and doubts drove me away
Moody and thoughtless insensitivity
Maudlin thoughts curbed the festivity
Onerous thoughts like small transmitters
Now revealed my flutters and flitters
Ashamed, you admitted you had the jitters
Laughingly we both had learned
Intimacy shared is intimacy earned
Treasuring our love, our life unknown
You and I, together we’ve grown.
winter of discontent
contentious parade
snow man without carrot
flaked garrottes
icicles frozen synapses
permafrost neurons
refrigerated transmitters
crystal clear rime
arrested thoughts
shackled straightjackets
locked trap door
key shielded in white
powdered in residue
remains of resolve
a hot water-bottle
crocheted blanket
passion under cover
bed springs awaiting
for another season
and thawing delight
deconstructing what is
I am sunbathing
on paradise island
mangos in hand
kingfisher chirping
but my Princess is real
and her kiss
burns desire
02 January 2021
Winter Poetry Contest
Sponsor Emile Pinet
Drivetrain of a Poem
During lapsed conscious hours, I have often
wondered and received mutable counsel
in varied tongues– at times uninvited.
This time it was virtual dream.
I sensed caress of a presence
while my pen was stringing strewn patches of
similes, metaphors, rhythm and rhyme.
“I am watching you from a vantage point
and your skull is no barrier.”
He went on: “I see the marauding
lines on the ridges of your mind,
It seems you are a struggling versifier.
Creation is neither forethought nor a whim.
It hails from the sky and gains access
through the pores of skull.
Mind gets hacked and moves to a different zone.
Chatter picks up in the synapses
seeking untapped cerebral sectors.
Trivial transmitters are kept at bay.
Brain hoes banal growth: new thinking sprouts.
Frontal inhibitions are banished.
All gates fling open.
No more sentries! No checkpoints!
No fly zone for the critic's megaphone!
Unleashed limbic flow of emotions is
nourished by a Gamma spike in the brain.
There! You pirouette with the lines
and feel the Aha moment.
How you identify,
Will always override,
All rational thinking,
Causing a divide.
Read between the lines
As the countries multiply.
Clever with their words
So they call it “colonize”.
Want to know a true coward?
Watch how he handles power.
Aimed to devour.
Leaving the people sour.
And bitter.
If only they had twitter.
Exposing the foes.
These greedy transmitters.
I went there.
And I think they went way too far.
Took it,
and left them with a permanent scar.
Have to claim it back to remember who you are.
Burma is not their name. No.
It's Myanmar.
I lost my soul in a portal hole
I lost my faith in outer space
I gained a voice 3 billion light years away
transmitters track my day
My followers we are in a pilgrimage, no get away
I lost my way to the space station
I lost the plot
O i had trance like visionary i could not see the spot
I asked the spaceman which way to mars
But he just laughed at me
My judgement was indispair
I talked a lot to paranoia
And we signed in blood to destroy her
They want to own me
Disown me
U should no my followers
Now there is no turn
Just the galaxy
Where is my portal
I hitch a lift on a shooting star
And land in psychiatry
The first among to wake up in the Spring
The award winner, comes with a sting
Stinging Nettle pubescent and green
Cannot touch the super herbal queen
Urtica dioica is the botanic name
Dioica is the one with European fame
Tropical cousins are all not the same
Strong and sharp, they can make you lame
Each sting is a delicate hollow hair
Stiffened with a tip of silica ware
Swollen base that stores the venom with care
Shoots its payload, touch, if you dare
Transmitters are same as yours and mine
Acytylcholine , serotonin and histamine
If stung by nettles, remedy is close at hand
Do not go far, Dock is where you stand
With youse guys always on this guy's side
The joy you transmit, I never could hide
Could send you money
Now that's damn funny
Bank account glows red, it's totally fried
Oh look a tantric tangerine slice is walking in high heels with a melon man. Moody mouldy men make monetary meals. And who can eat a coin with a note anyway? Swilled down with a cup of golden nugget juice? Great isn't it? Wow. It is in every endeavour of a particular partridge that a feather forms a quill. And quills are neither queens, quotes, nor questionable questions. They are in fact a sight that is rarely seen. And a duck bomb dive into a sea is an airbed for the head chef on board an ocean cruise liner. And that is it. Great. No ha no x no z. Transmitters translating tasks taken. And a globule of fat from a loin of salmon in a salon having a great hairdo. Peanut peanut pop pop pop. And a little wafer smiling in an ice cream cup. Globalization
I fear I've become jaded
and am no longer open
my light has faded
my transmitters are broken
thoughts lacking direction
just wandering about
looking for intention
yet finding only doubt
emotions lacking cause
searching for a purpose
digging with their claws
creating a bigger fuss
in a state of shock
my mind is currently existing
reasoning seems to mock
and knowledge is resisting
advice from my heart
and messages from my soul
luckily, intuition's too smart
to abandon its goal
The impulse racing
My heart aching
Feet shaking
Decision making
Critically stimulating
Transmitters brain patience
Fell to the ground lately
Words stutter
Flutter constantly
Could it be
Taking on more than I can see
Let it be
Let it go
Before a bloody nose
Tissues wipes residue but freedom is never slow
My darling! Tasting every piece of you when recorded
compresses the entire capacity of space.
Coming so close to keep our hearts taped
makes me share favour’s throne in its own empire.
I sing your praises and disturb nature’s peace
b’cos of the fantastic sweetness of your dot existing in a pair.
Its not just a sensual anatomy on the front side of your skin
but gentle, explicit and highly rated by the consciousness of men,
planted like a leafless stalk in the midst of well rounded carved humus
seldom growing to a shrub when injected with erotic transmitters.
Your vertical lips may possess the control buttons
to my accessory limb when they begin the episodes of your longing
but they will have to pass through the toll gates of these paired dots
so tender and exciting but neurotic and psychotic to men.
Whenever they stand out to appreciate the sun,
natural laws demand, I stretch forth my hands in full acknowledgment
of their awesome beauty and willingness to my trademark adventures.
The year is five thousand BC
Yet ships that sail that year are full of beauty
They have no cannons but otherwise like ships discovery age they would be
With huge white awe inspiring sails whistling in the wind as ship sails the sea
They carry cargo from distant land
The cargo that in only few places can be found and is in high demand
The precious rocks are carried carefully so the ship will not get strand
They are transmitters of energy brought by the ship sailing near coastland
The stones master craftsmen will arrange
Forming a Stonehenge
But something is different about this Stonehenge
There is an orchard of trees within its range
The trees and stones protect against backlash of destiny
This is what their base assignment will be
Communicating with ultimate consciousness they will be
The importance of their power grows beyond very destiny they are perfect in their mesmerizing majesty
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