| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/31/2007 6:33:05 PM | What I can’t have
Upon thy thighs I spiritually search.—I search for an entrance.
I sing a song of love to the mirror.—I walk the long mental shore
Of what I can’t possess.—Do forgive me for such candor—but I
Would gladly perish in thy arms—after one intense sin of love.
Bicpen! Your soul is warm. And I thank you for igniting my fire.
You have struck anew in me a vision. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/31/2007 6:45:59 PM | | Ah, thanks. naiveandwitty. My friend lifts me up, though too much I neglect him. Burn, man--yet not to perish. We have to provide ourselves the burning bush....eh. One woman's thighs hold only so much eternal promise. Your godliness burns brightly regardless. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/2/2007 8:35:07 PM | | Bicpen...I thank you in Truth....Your kindness is radiant! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/2/2007 8:35:19 PM | Ritualistic-Orgiastic-Sexual-Magic~
Aca-threads attach us as one to the
Soul of life—where between the worlds
We encircle the candle-magic
Drinking from the chalice of the dove’s blood.
Behind the veil the drumming is magnificent.
Enchanted into the crystal sphere we connect with
The dragon-lines of eternity—consumed by the Church of
All worlds—circuit charged by that unutterable talisman.
Drawing down the moon—and drawing down the sun—
We transcend into the sexual magic—we disappear
From existence leaping into the sabbat of the wanton sphere—
Where the drumming is rhythmic there we are one.
Our spirit hearts become larger than Divinity—
Out of body we experience Dionysian hermetic magic—
Our bodies echo throughout the ankh-ka touched by the agogic
Pen of art—where symbolically the bloodline is contagious. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/3/2007 9:47:42 PM | lecidious thoughts grasp at visions end
where life departs the plains of midnights realities
and time begin anew
buried in the leaves of the fallen oak
lies the wisdom of a million dead warrioirs
burned in the ahes of time
tranquility washes away the guilt of lifetimes lost
unto all the minds of the stars and planets
mankind awakens again unto his ragging fires
where sanctuaries exist only in the daylight moon
and life ends with the whisper of wisdom
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/4/2007 5:03:14 AM | | Shadow... My Friend... Another one to ponder upon...I thank you! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/4/2007 5:04:08 AM | Misty Travels~
From the cemetery
To the wake
To the Uncolorful House
To a blank space in time—
Where we sat—and still
We sit
Sudden awaken-ness
Sudden presence
The suddenness of the Conscience-ness—
Un-apparently un-sudden
“Enough with the nonsense
Enough with the procrastination
“‘Speak the vision, and make it plain’”
Enough with the circles of the non-music”
She thought the journey was over
But then the lawyers approached
With the sheriff—due to her recent divorce
She lost her twins—they lost their mother
Will she ever breathe again?
Time panics
The clouds fall—but Dissipate
Into the atmosphere of the un-earth
Where between worlds is picklock’d
A tinge of the un-peace haunts upon
The fig tree—banshees appear given
Of hidden glint the penetration of the psyche
Upon which the un-soul’d spirit awakens
It is always sudden
The suddenness of a luminous silence
The suddenness of a sudden loss
The suddenness of letting pain un-blossom
The suddenness of breath
The suddenness of the un-forever
The grass needs water
The ghetto needs a vision
Space needs to stop—stand still
And motion needs to move the mountain
Then tears betray the writer
Nonsense has an impact
The waves aren’t tired of thrashing
And the melody rhythms into focus | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/4/2007 5:56:08 AM | Shadow- buried in the leaves of the fallen oak
lies the wisdom of a million dead warrioirs- I love this thought...
Joshua- it's nice to read you again- i love the story element in your poems!!! They always take me for a ride :)
From infinity to physicality…
The seasons change from joy to sorrow
From fragrant lilacs to heavy snow
Amidst the death and the growth
The ebb and tide must go and go
And I along with the larks and loons
Migrate towards those distant shores
As the climate changes with each new Moon
And my vessel glides on the stroke of oars.
Then one day…
Our young are born to follow our lead
Until they can flock in pursuit of their dreams
Yet, for now on us they shall feed
Like the soft green moss on the rocks by the Sea.
And the sun keeps on shining in from the West
When the late afternoon comes crashing to rest
To endure the painful glare of the high Sun’s test
While we wait for the promise of the evening’s caress. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/4/2007 12:55:36 PM |  Joshua .....misty travels.....magnificent! truly....was ...my friend! Thanks!
Jesyka....that poem....as always....left a lovely scent...in my mind! 
Faceless people march on.............
most unworthy....and unknown
Mightiest of all....shall win the war...over crime and pain.
Want and wish all to be of the same....
But knowing this blank page in life........
leaves many to their own...to suffice
I carry my heart ...on my sleeve ...nowdays.....
love is not something...I find on the doorstep!
Images....creep into my dreams...
more like my nightmares.......
Helpless...many faces....with little children....
all suffer....
Integrity bleeds....like the knife that indeed
crept into humanity...........
bleeding so much insanity!
My heart....bleeds blue blood.....
like a river......or more....a flood....
of discerning....discomfort,
I wish for more of compassion......
Yet....angels...hover above....
wings are clipped........yet the love....
still flows....like a stream
sends words....of imaginings
seems like nothing is ever right........
we hope for more.....
we have less sight.
 hugs joshua!
Joshua....you really do inspire me so! Hope you know that my friend! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/4/2007 6:48:06 PM | walk with me in the lights of heaven
feel radience glow in light cast forth
swim with me through the mysteries of the universe
and set eyes upon your soul
judgement lays with the skie
where all is set upon his time
his rythems flow in our words
and his thoughts flow in our minds
decend now with me on our voyage
and know of yourself as he knows of you
embrace life with reason
and taste of his glories with passions before unknown
for to walk beside the father and bath in his light
is to highten the soul to greater understanding
and greater measure of ones self
Rob | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/4/2007 8:00:31 PM | | Jesyka…Jules…Shadow… a poet’s voice should always be distinctive and different from the rest. You each have a private voice! Each voice impacts with power. Each of these poems touch in an artistic way! I thank you each for these written expressions. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/4/2007 8:01:19 PM | The Phone~
Somewhat confused—adrift
Where thoughts usher forth
‘The child is breathing’
‘The child is breathing’
We then dance in the magic we touch’d
In tears the light glistens!
But a child is reality
Besprinkling the ungraspable charm
Why can’t she just lay in her bed?
The years discomfort
Even death they do
As flowers drop from the sky
Look upon the young
Look and see what was lost
Seasons are never the same
Perception changes the percept’d
Tell the judge the colors are wrong
Why so much havoc in order to be lov’d?
The mind is machine-gunned by truth
There’s a tornado in his soul
She reappears when at first she fed him
Poison—goblets of hemlock
Poems of exile is what he reads
Every thought utters eureka
He was a man of dreams—unaware
Of the greed—unaware of the manipulative Relic
Once the pinnacle of refinement
Just as fake as Willie Lynch
Stirring within the cauldron of darkness
Being shifted through perspectives rifted
An inward laugh affronts reason’s web
Even the charm of Galileo couldn’t amend
This infraction—thus, the guillotine is freedom
If only the fluvial vibrations would desist
Another call—the phone rings without remorse
Memories just keep calling
How do you turn it off?
How do you unplug the phone of the mind? | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/5/2007 8:08:08 AM | He was a child of war
a runner is what they called him
carrying dead bodies afar- to safety
So they could be burried
Revolution hung thick in the acrid air
guerillas incognito in the night
By day he sat in his classroom chair
Hounded by visions of fright, of righteous battle
A child soldier with grandiose dreams
Sandanistas en poder!
Were the soulful battle screams
Man, woman and child- hecho la mano
revolution come an go
What was the fruit of all of this violence
his children now want to know
Dispersed among different countries
Fatherless they grow
A brokedown man always at war
Love is a dream he'll never know
REVOLUTION
His children now broke a little too
without ever watching a bullet fly
But as the years go by they too shall cry
How many times have women tried to mend his ills
Nurturing the child within
How many times he keeps dodging their wills
And running again and again
His comfort comes from knowing the truth
That a legacy he'll leave behind
No matter if they suffer or prosper
Their existence is enough to ease his mind
Child of revolution, man of sorrows
Laugh away your pain
Rhum on the tongue is just as good
As the Lord's torrential rain | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/6/2007 9:58:25 PM | | Jesyka...I love this poem...It truly took me into that space. Wow! Truly! Wow! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/9/2007 7:33:58 AM | Arouse me like a storm
Thunder and lightning
Without rain
And I am the coming in you
Somebody is wet now
But it is me who laughs in tears
I KNOW where I belong
So high and deep in you
No cryptic message my darling
I’m just not brave to say your name
The twist is between man and my Jesus
Entwined in us
Careful
I have just hung myself | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/10/2007 10:26:31 PM | | Another Awakening. Your every sentence is greatly symbolic to me. I love the many layers that you create. Every read is truly a revelation. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/10/2007 10:27:04 PM | Destined against time child
Steamy eyed blue, rebelled wild
Shaking in rhythms foreign
Staring into the morning
But no death found sight
No plight to adorn in fright
The melodies of the canary do echo
Loudly in the heart that rests mellow
Even the hyenas mustered a grin;
Today was the beginning, of forgotten sin. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/10/2007 11:11:11 PM | Freely the dots do not connect
Oceanic dreams
Dionysian passions
And a thirst for the manna of love
The heaviest of all fresco paintings
But this is fresco buon
And this is the feeling of oil painting
The glaze of the woodblock
The primordial Shunga
Whence Ukiyoe
The float of desire
The surrealism of nonobjectives
Alas! The finale neophyte
This motif is recurrent
Paleolithic cycles
Have you not heard the drums?
Hence, back to the rotunda
But she was the last
And mosaic was the first
“But it’s a cycle”
Ah would to god shut your mouth
Off the hip-roof gravity slides
“Grip this trickle of blood”
The sounds are baroque
In the arch of the Ka
This is merely a frontal pose
Why deceive the faith of gothic?
Why romanticize the unreal?
“Why live as you do in unwisdom?” | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/11/2007 12:22:00 AM | Ah! Reality!
My heart is luminosity.
What is this feeling?
But I know it well!
The seers unite
In the nexus of energy.
A goddess in truth!
“Test all spirits.”
But how do I ignore the heart’s leap?
“You can’t.” Thus
In God I perish! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/11/2007 2:42:30 AM | I cannot be an angel or a god
You, I and me egos truly acquire another way
I feel life spinning out of control
In comfort of what I believe
He’s given me another chance
Allowing me rest
On the tip of an angel’s feather
Struggling in life to find the balance
I learned to beg and now I repay
In His testing humour
I must learn my balance
Every moment in time I have choices
Never to blame Him
It’s human’s fault
Forgetting we are only that
Conduit friendships be familiar with …indeed!
ALWAYS with thanks for your kind words J. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/11/2007 9:47:38 AM | Outer Sketch #3
Outside my house
An orchard grows through the
Long arms of the sun
Becomes oblong and obscene
And there is dust
Which builds itself into horses
Momentarily like a life
Two men begin a duel
You have seen this so many times
Like stars superimposed
Everything becoming outer
Becoming winter
Home to my poems
One day
Maybe we gather the laurels
Our arms full of the golden reeds
Then sleep like silent minnows
Striped silver to light
In the glass pond
I feel myself turning
Into a dream
A dream for someone to dream
With immediate gesture
To wonder out of night
The silken floors
Sequence of spheres
Let us pray
For the storm to rain down on us
In white birds | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/11/2007 3:46:32 PM | Awakening...This poem is enthralling. You are truly spirit!
Black Mary...Another work of Art! I truly enjoyed reading it. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/11/2007 3:47:30 PM | Cultic Astronomy!
What’s the absolute magnitude
From the reference point of absolute
Zero? Now into the airglow I ponder—
Hoping to attain unto the apogee of
Reveal-ments. Aurora settles upon her
Countenance! And but a Rake am I—
For her axis I wish to devour and thus
Forsake. Why must I feel therefore this
Seismic surge in heavens members? I’m
No more distant than 10 fathoms the black
Hole—and evermore rapidly I sin thus nigh.
Celestial spheres wert my havens—prior to
The reign of my wanton for every womb!
What’s the color index of my transgression?
Will I perish or make bliss unto the ultimate
Climax? I’m but a cosmic ray harpooning for
Thy senses! I’m but the rebirth of the angelic
Uprising! I’m but the throb 8 inches down thy throat!
I’m but every hue of animalistic passions!
I’m but the deep painfully joyous thrust that rifts
Thy core. I’m but infinity the picklock of
Hermetic rituals—the utter manifest of ceremonious
Sacrifice! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/11/2007 5:17:25 PM | Two shadows dance on the wall
As the blue candle wax burns
Flickering flame praying
Whispers frame the shadows and fill the room
The water glistens in the candle light
Sweet grass and other botanical brews
Healing the child while he dances with his shadow on the wall
The burning sweet grass transporting us through time
Whispers and prayers cutting the silence
Rituals a veil of hope
Tendrils of incense smoke form a crown
Above the infants head
Unknowing the urgency of these ritualistic pleas
He tries to catch the smoke with his fist and laughs
It is not just a candlelit bath
It’s magic | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/11/2007 7:22:40 PM | | Jesyka, my friend, I love this ritualistic poem. In heart and soul I do! | |
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