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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/13/2007 10:35:16 PM | | My dearest friend, Adament: It is always a pleasure to read your works. You are the rhythm...you are the soul! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/13/2007 11:03:44 PM | And here, I get to play with the light and shadows,
which are nothing short of inspirational.
 | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/13/2007 11:15:19 PM | Thy quintessence
To breathe n thy light
Is a soothing calm
To this storm n my mental Gethsemane
The place of my spirit skull
For herein I
Have read too deep into
An allusion that
Has incarnated my ancient bruise
But I shall flee
From his moonish whims
Thinking of thee
Sinking into those illumined eyes
Which rescue me from this
Dropping sea | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/14/2007 11:21:32 AM | Friedrich Nietzsche:
And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/14/2007 11:24:17 AM | | Al Czervik: Oh, this your wife, huh? A lovely lady. Hey baby, you must've been something before electricity. (Rodney Dangerfield, Caddyshack) | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/14/2007 11:26:57 AM | | Carl Spackler: License to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. Man, free to kill gophers at will. To kill, you must know your enemy, and in this case my enemy is a varmint. And a varmint will never quit - ever. They're like the Viet Cong - Varmint Cong. So you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower. And that's all she wrote. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/14/2007 11:27:31 AM | | Carl Spackler: This is a hybrid. This is a cross, ah, of Bluegrass, Kentucky Bluegrass, Featherbed Bent, and Northern California Sensemilia. The amazing stuff about this is, that you can play 36 holes on it in the afternoon, take it home and just get stoned to the bejeezus-belt that night on this stuff. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/14/2007 11:28:50 AM | | So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/14/2007 7:08:39 PM | soft pink whispers carried high upon the painted cheeks
call refreshing change to the heart of the twisted fractures of dismal view
hold truth hidden in blackend casks of drunken desire
adulterous motives cast in litmus forication of euchrist feast
cunningulus of the minds sour realms
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/15/2007 9:37:15 PM | The light shines into this empty room
Glistening the air of this gentle tomb
Sparkles of dust suspended in time
The quiet of this room superbly sublime
The light dances in your graceful eyes
Covering the moment creating disguise
Bringing your fears into the darkened night
Traveling faster than the speed of light
You’re left paralyzed, eyes heavy as rock
Left in your mind for you to unlock
Your future spinning out of control
Burning in time deep into your soul
Longing to end the animation’s suspend
You wish for the wind to come and defend
The sparkles of dust suspended in space
Locked in this tomb holding their grace
But the light shines into this empty room
Glistening the air of this quiet tomb
The sparkles of dust still suspended in time
The quiet of this room superbly sublime
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/15/2007 10:21:26 PM | Shadowriter: Thoroughly shocking! Truly artistically expressive.
Triplebp: that’s a unique poem! Truly it is! I enjoyed the read! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/15/2007 10:26:02 PM | Waiting on Jesus
Poverty was normal to us
Youngsters,
Having too much fun to suffer hunger,
The meals forever came just n time.
Us young color’d kids believ’d n
Jesus,
Told that he was soon to come get us,
He was to rescue us from the slums.
During intermission we ran
The fields,
Dirty little color’d kids pick’n plums
From the wild growth,
We never new that them seeds were
Plant’d deliberately,
Never new that some seeds blossom
Only to cause grief.
But our Jesus knew grief,
and also know’n grief,
We were sure to meet Jesus,
But the years chang’d
And we soon begin to plant seeds too.
We knew hell!
Now we needed to know heaven!
Then we learn’d that heaven was
Only for the contrite n heart,
So ever since that chapel tale,
We been real miserable,
Purposefully miserable,
Waiting on Jesus. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/16/2007 1:41:44 PM | N.W. that poem was surely very deepfelt in the heart! You show great hope within!
Extraction from the morals of stories
living as one with little glory
Indecisive in my explanation
finding much stress , to find definition
Glad that I only know what I know in my heart
Keep that inside.....me.....never to part!
Lastly always hope undivided
finding atlast........where my heart has been guided! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/17/2007 2:57:15 AM | Joshua......wow...completely heartfelt so much of meaning and reflection...wow!
Jules...always the becon always the brightside..you seem to guide me back to the safer places and away from those realms where my mind tends to wander....
Shadow | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/17/2007 8:02:22 PM | Jules, very touching words, I thank you, for both the inspiration, and the poem.
Shadowriter, you are the energy. It can only get better. "Everything is good." | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/17/2007 8:17:59 PM | I grab the wind by its neck
Heartless to its pain.
I ingest the entire sky,
Wide-eyed and vengeful
Trying desperately to digest
The empty space.
Then I feel the sun
Reminding me that the
Moon wants out of my soul…
Is this the spirit’s wish!
For I’m a length
Without the width of
Capacity,
An open book
Full of blank pages,
A God that has done
Wrong,
A flicker in a flame
That has long ago
Burned dry,
I’m the return of the enigmatic word;
Now remind me that
Words don’t cry,
As I ponder in what’s left of
My mind! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 8:12:57 AM | Death’s Night-Light
Suddenly deep within the meadows of a cave-lit night
Provoked by psychic-energy the soul awakens waftured to see
Beyond the depths of the catacombs glistens a flicker of death’s light
Forced to approach was me to see this unearthly sight
Right there in the grips of tares and weeds I asleep there
Suddenly deep within the meadows of a cave-lit night
Awakened a second time in supernal flight
Only to grapple with the fraught of revelation that permanently I see
Beyond the depths of the catacombs glistens a flicker of death’s light
Haunted, sorely plagued by this manifested black-lit plight
Lazarus appears in shudders and fears with a mirror that we wend through
Suddenly deep within the meadows of a cave-lit night
We find fugacious is flesh prior to the engulf of esoteric dight
Now otherworld adorned Lazarus vanishes as I mourn that
Beyond the depths of the catacombs glistens a flicker of death’s light
That we all must embrace, for never shall we escape this most dreadful fright
Which lurks in destiny’s path notwithstanding the contrite heart, we shall see
Suddenly deep within the meadows of a cave-lit night
Beyond the depths of the catacombs glistens a flicker of death’s light | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 10:59:47 AM | Tragic lifes with out a care
Finding no soul lives within
What and when do we find when lost?
Life is harder.......we pay the cost
Doubt is something many live
I try to keep above it...and love I give!
Many stay the same....
and wander....hurt is plenty.....
life is a sore that grows
bigger every day they live
Finally perish within the infection........
doubt is the partner.....hurt the intention....
If the sun and moon should doubt......
They'd immediatly go out!
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 2:19:39 PM | Broken Seal!
Yes, how absurd it is, I, subpoenaed to this crucible, this otiose hell
Forced to witness the knavish nature of a breathing and “Gadarene swine” curse
Thus feinting gnathonic I dance amongst gorillas suffocating in broken shells
Yes, I, muricated, pierced by the broken glass, wailing in tacit moans the “tall tale”
That mirrors I beneath the broken matrix, stillborn, but mother’s too poor to afford a hearse
Yes, how absurd it is, I, subpoenaed to this crucible, this otiose hell
How easy it would have been to remain hostage in the depths of purgatory, heavenly celled
Stone flaming cold, chapfallen blain, eternally garroted patiently waiting to avail the dearth
Thus feinting gnathonic I dance amongst gorillas suffocating in broken shells
Reincarnated, drifting through this aqueduct of disdain, lofty lies and promises failed
And the many high tones and looks where therein lurks a tenebrous fear of dwindling worth
Yes, how absurd it is, I, subpoenaed to this crucible, this otiose hell
Flogged and soulfelt desensitized, laughing aside the gnomes trekking towards travail
Quixotic to a fault, believing that the hopes of Logos will break the maze and bleed birth
Thus feinting gnathonic I dance amongst gorillas suffocating in broken shells
Reminded of the “tall tale” daily, resisting the mercurial tide, argus-eyed without bail
Walking “the underwater hills” barely reaching the “euphotic zones” only to see lightless dirt
Yes, how absurd it is, I, subpoenaed to this crucible, this otiose hell
Thus feinting gnathonic I dance amongst gorillas suffocating in broken shells | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 5:47:17 PM | Time unfolds back onto itself
With every crease a new simple complexity
Back into the comfort of memories lovers
I hover, in some sort of space between
The flash of eternity
Images keep flashing like fireflies in july
But the desert stands out static and bold
The nopales, magueille and the low lying moon
Pulsating with the rise of the earth inching closer towards the sky
Did I take a wrong turn? | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 6:05:03 PM | Mind is
cappuccino cocoa thick
swirly like water
but unable to see through
sweet
slick
smooth
made of beans
huh?
no, strike that
Mind is
Mountain Dew
bristling with energy
rising bubbles
that pops to nothingness
on the surface
but only worth the effort
if caffeinated
Mind is
matter
mind does matter
sometimes
and other times
we mind matter
but not the mind
that matters
I mutter
and banter
as my syllables scatter
this mind
RoxyRoxRocker™ © 2002-2007 All rights reserved
***Dearest Joshua, what a marvelous mind you have! You transport and transfix, I am addicted to the words flowing from your soul...Namaste | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 8:17:49 PM | ring hard the silent bell of of aborition found
as walks the night in twisted silver garm the watchers of of lifes trials
give praise and adoration in sinful glee
to the keeper of dreams in minds fragility
hold dear the moments on laughter fall
as dies the flower on the vine
strangled life in vexed creation entropy
as butterflies die in the flames of passing time
and doves drown in a blackened see
pass harsh this night of dismal edge
cut sharp into the flesh of daytime peace
now bleeding with the sun
as setting skies are ablaze with bloodwashed hues
fall fast now
and feel thy damnation
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 8:37:15 PM | My intelligence suffers drought
Parched, parchment
Dry with the dust of age
And forgetfulness.
Plato’s papers were like that
With bits of olive and red wine stuck to the scribbled words.
Took four of us days to re-write and make it legible.
He didn’t have time for that.
Streamed faster than the speed of starlight.
I miss that.
Where you struggle to catch up
Long enough to seek it.
Why have so many of them gone bad
Chose the rage against the passion.
Compassion
A lost art.
Where is the love?
They never meant well when they set out against new lands. Not for new lands, against them. They always came to take. First rape, then take. And boys, you got it up the ass too. Don’t pretend that’s not part of your legacy. Probably every one of those brutes had been ripped from their Mammas and raped. How else do you destroy the soul enough to command it to kill?
Columbus? He was fucking insane. Syphilis we thought, and stayed clear of him.
Some poets mind speak
And some through body
Nipple to nipple
Ripples of awareness
reminding each other.
Did you know that there was a really neat group of forward thinkers who used to meet back in the last century. Yeats was one of them. He writes about what they were working with. Had a great medium named Mina who was so connected to the stars. Her brother was a top scientist at the time. Brilliant family.
Then Alistair Crawley got in there, just like Lucifer among the Arch Angels.
And here we are. Golden Dawn ya right.
I saw the news today oh boy……. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 9:01:30 PM | It’s like a mass explosion set off in here. These words are moving, grooving me into that zone, that meditative zone.
Jules, you are a moving star. I thank you for posting here. You always calm me down. I hope that you know this!
Jesyka…Saltytowers said it best, it’s truly a great poem. It’s always a pleasure to read your poems.
Shadowriter, I’m always forced to think, and cipher my way through. You have tremendous talent.
Ravincause, I truly believe that I understood this poem. It’s amazing how we continue to get raped on so many different levels. I write political poems from time to time; those are the one’s that truly mess with me inside. I often want to share them here, but I always decide against it. I’m already labeled that sad one, wouldn’t want to take it too much further than that. | |
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33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73 |
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