Bequeath this Honour from the Eighties' Tribe
To he who Modelled their Choice of Youth then
Synchronise! The Word our Age imbibe
Of Cool Moves, Puppies and Groovy-Pop Scent
This Innocence, Sir, which you Emulate
Through Mischief that Last Good Deed you remind
How we, though Clowned, this Party appreciate
Left printed for Cats to oogle behind
Then that Watch you wore alarmed you to Grow
And signalled your Hour to stand and be brave
Hail, Parker Soldier! Valiant Flag bestow,
Took arms with Locals and fought for our Stay.
And when you Return, those Preppie-Girls cheer
The Nerd and the Suave, Cross-Wrists with you here.

I see my soul dancing naked in a pit of burning embers.
She is on fire, and she is laughing and twirling engulfed in beautiful flame.
She dances mostly alone.
Sometimes another soul will come along and dance with her.
They will stay for a while, and then they will leave.
The fire is too hot for them, and they tire easily.
Then one day a soul comes along who is made entirely of water.
He is her opposite in every way.
He dances with her and enjoys the heat of her fire, for he has the power to keep himself cool.
He never tires of their dancing for she is so different to him, and he is transfixed by her uniqueness.
She in turn is in awe of his fluid motion, and the coolness he conveys.
One day they decide to embrace each other.
A merging of fire and water.
They touch each other for the first time.
They fill each other and synchronise in perfect harmony.
They both wonder aloud how they had ever been separate, for now that they were together, they would never dance alone again.

Well-perfect day...
everything pointing in.

Cricket on the wireless, and
England turning it to win in the middle.

Sun winding bubbles on the wine.

War gone into the heart of peace.

Love settled in midst, staying.

The table set for friends.....

And in the vase at very centre,
rose petals synchronise their inward curl.

Motions croak in crimped t-shirts
Peace hurts the leg of 3 wheelers
Spit in a book, carefully holding hands over healers
Frosted articulation of bricks hitting off buildings
The doctor resumes surgery on the filming
Actress gummy mouthed backpacker sharing rooms with a jet-lagger galvanizing goo
If I phone myself, I’ll phone you too
Ad-hoc hop around dentures holding saxophones, laziness is the common king around here
Match the sketch with the deliriant fear free freedom and sneer
Shut the promo drunk and dolo
Potions of pogos bouncing so low
Both bones focal, keeping in a smile from an eye perched over the edge spitting on the populous
Attacking formulas with cruel gruel from the oesophagus
Wilting oxalis wooded in obelisks
Mortal coil in amphetamine greed for the sleep
Positioned slightly awkward and barely out of reach
Been seen being dreams piercing holes in the purple of the seeds
Peace is deemed green, free me from the iron between the sheets
Coins flipped in a river and an etude rings out with a profound sense of urgency
Won't wake up faces blindly painted deranged by a 5 sided box that gave fame to what was contained
Warp the wattage, walk in nervous
Hold cosmic stardust in one hand
Another a phone to call the best man
To marry the two hands and I’m sure the priest will understand
Hairs on the ceiling float through the window and provide an outspoken account of how they are feeling
Canisters of friendship huffed in the backs of vans till passing point seizures explain themselves
9mm film reel candy bars and ring modulation skeletal structure cat gut harps
Never finish a walk to work without beginning the start
Trolleys of Dolly Parton facelifts
Knife cutter butterfly anaesthesia makeshift
Hollow bellies of pardoned mop heads becoming a commodity
I can't say sorry if I begin to speak so oddly
I’d say probably yes if you lit a fire beyond the fence where the old man gambles drop-***** with 50 pence
Bite down on copper, synchronise the action
Winter comes and goes like conversation going out of fashion
Morbid, terra-fin switches waterbeds
Hints home at spit-roasting ostrich heads
Cost and effect, cause and intellect
The castle puts his foot down only to find a horses neck
Zipped up in honey, the combs hive mind should reconsider its self lucky
Unorthodox autodidact naturally diffracting compound eye composes paranoia and lies
The patronage of the savant is murderous and contrived
Its better out than in
The constant metaphor for unluckiness
Is where we begin
Radiance in a hot water semi permeable membrane crescent
Strokes the backs of frogs in the desert, stars iridescent and sun bears a weapon
Hammocks, ****, sweat on the brow, split lips on cornerstones of the solstice in the dead of now
Space-age ape on the country road lets out a cough
Caution to the hissing hills ****** in hidden zygotic havens
Actors have no time to cut themselves shaving
Austro-Bavarian chemical burns Molotov cocktail sewers
Crayons let me draw this face on, paint the day on and on, it gets newer
Its the context at which you and I notice the separation, that cues canned humour

Namaz was less prayer and more about
Standing beside Amma and mirroring her,
When as a toddler I stood on the chataai
Murmuring as she did,
Bending down as she did,
Resting my head on the floor
And then waiting to come back up
When she did,
Some days I'd be so sleepy I'd sway on the mat,
Only to be jolted up by an angry Hmph! from her side,
Some days the patterns on the mat seemed like
They were God's silhouette- something she always denied,
Times of silently bonding with the Almighty and the Amma,
Slowly faded into me deciding to pray solo,
When the hour of maghrib coincided with a
Mother-daughter tiff,
And even when we stood praying side by side,
I'd make it a point to not let our sajdas coincide,
On the mat laying bare our rifts and divides.
I wonder if Amma noticed me daydreaming during prayer,
My musings whether God understood English,
My requests to Him to make that crush like me back,
My teenage self angrily bubbling at her obtrusions to my 'freedom'
As she prayed and prayed for me.
Years have passed,
And how I'd love to synchronise again,
The pace of our prayer, the length of our sajda,
But the days, and this new house,
Are now ridden with so much more clutter,
That, though the chataai has stayed the same,
There's not enough space to accommodate
Both daughter and mother.

Make me yours,
Let your tongue trail swirling signatures over me,
Carve your initials into the bone of my hip,
Burn each kiss onto my skin,
Touch me; leave traces of your fingerprints,
Hold me close until our heartbeats synchronise,
Tell me you love me and only me,
I'm yours.

Imagine to my surprise when I say.
"You're my soul mate"
"You're my sole date"
"Yet we can't be because of fate"

Imagine to my dismay when he told me.
"She doesn't love right"
"She does't believe in it and so she fights all these emotions with all her might"

Imagine to my chest when,
It heaves
When each breath comes with a tug of pain.
And each beat with a realisation that we cannot be.

I cry.
I scream to the top of my lungs because I know what I want.
"Why doesn't she want me back?"
My soul keeps asking and my spirits keep shaking.
Nodding it's head no!
It doesn't make sense.
Why is the universe so over the fence about us?

Imagine to my soul the pain.
The emotional heart strain.
Truly can I not find and accept love in you?

You're my soul mate.
My one true fate.
So why can I not get closer?
Why must you be so far and so cold to me.

In this epiphany I see no us but I feel all of us.
It shouldn't be like this! If I don't get you at the end of the day.
If our souls cannot merge and become one.
Why must my soul convulse  and be torn from limb to limb.

Imagine my sheer disappointment
When knowing my one true cannot be my only true.

Panda this goes out to you.

I am accepting that the universe has linked us to be two of the same but not enough to be one.
It just affects me mentally knowing that what should be my other half is half of someone that I once was and cannot wholly be forever.

It affects me to notice how we synchronise yet we end up breaking apart.
The complexity behind what we had mistaken for simplicity.
Isn't there just a way for us to restart?

To meet in an alternation whereby our souls remain the same yet allow for the two of us to become one?
A universe that allows this to not end in such a dull dark way?

Can't I get a proper ending with you?
You're the soul mate that could be a star crossed lover.
Yet why haven't and why can I not fully experience us?

Ballet Dancer

Broken expensive ballet shoes which have been abused by her heavyweight strides. Swollen bones in her toes isn’t what she thought of.  She’s always wanted to be a ballerina.

Bruised knees she feels the  pain every time she walks and feels it more when dancing.

******* hair into a perfect small bun sits on top of her head with modern pins. Princess looking tutu balances nicely around her waist.

Ghost white face, dark eyes appearance is key swan beauty while gliding on the stage lake.
She’s on a high.

Fluttering like birds ready to take flight. Fluttering arms like wings greeting the crowds.

Enchanting music scares the lights to become brighter. Glittered outfits see-through tights what fits nicely. Ready to set the stage.

The romance between female and male dancers has to be strong and they have to synchronise  with eachother. The male dancers take control over the female's body as she moves delicately around him.

En-pointe while stretching her fragile legs, wobbly limbs and weak touches while massaging her sore feet. Signs of giving up can never come to mind. This is her passion.
She’s sacrificing everything.

Painful satin ribbons tightening her blood circulation there’s no escaping a ballerina’s life.

Naked toes touch the floor before sliding them into her new shoes.

While dancing she feels free alone in her mind nothing can go wrong.
She's light like a feather, petite bodied shape she's perfect.
Rosie looking cheeks she's nervous. She's mirrored every arched pirouette so it has to be the best.

From a hard pirouette into a plié, she knows that's the most important part of the performance.
She can't fail.
Can she?

Her strong poses, while he lifts her leg in a perfectly straight line, pointed toes has to show off her feet. The attitude between her and her partner is occupying the crowd.

Every ballet dancer cries out to be the best that's why they compete with each other. Achieving success is what every dancer feed off.

She's risking her health for this moment, she's damaging every inch of the body in ways she couldn't of imagined.
Every morning she tells herself she was born for this.

Tired eyes, early mornings with late night yawns.
Difficult choreograph's to learn.
But she's flying towards her dreams.

She's an artist at heart
A performer by night
It's worth being a ballet dancer.

My weekly downhill drive past your flat
And your static life in your static flat
Briefly synchronise courtesy of your mirror's angle,
Opening a brief view into your lonely life:
Your brown vintage sofa
With it's vintage orange cushions,
Your formica TV dinner table.
A retro combo,
Reminding me of the set of a 70s sitcom
Minus the laughs.
Yes, it's a terrible thing
That I can't help but gaze
At that speedy reflection
Of your Thursday nights
Above your anachronistic Everything shop;
The shop *** museum that you've curated
For forty years or more.

ever since i could form a thought-
i knew of this phenomenon called god.
at least that's the name it was given.
but i could never think of god as a person,
a figure to look up to and
are ultimately afraid of.

god was never my best friend,
never something i devoted my life to
nor someone i gave anything up for.

god was the force that willed the plants to grow
upwards from the ground.

god was the recklessness that pushed me to forget my reasoning
and follow my gut.

god is how you can make sense of the past,
how your heartbeat and inhales and exhales
synchronise with the ocean
how you know what it means to feel electric.

god is what made my wrists stop bleeding at the right moment.
it made my father cry when he saw the flaw in his production.
god is what refused my angelhood
and allowed me to breathe
and live.

i still had time to grow.

so i prayed.
i surrendered to the magic of the universe.
i gave it my undying loyalty.

The occasional visit and hope you restore
A gentle kiss on your lips, a feeling never felt before

I'm suffocating, as your hand touches mine
My heart is racing, as our eyes align

You slowly lean forward, our movements synchronise
Her kiss was more than anticipated, this is where our love originated

We never looked back and everyone became aware
Never knew something could become so obvious
Through a lingering stare

Our attraction has become, impossible to resist
Wrapped in each others arms, is where love exist

Forget the world and coexist, but to do that
There's a bit of a twist....

I want to drown in your essence.
Synchronise with your soul.
Until we are one mighty force,our little universe. - The Mad Romantic. -Swoo

My heart beats to a rhythm only made for you,
A strung together ensemble, only made for your view
To a song so beautifully crafted, so delicate and sweet
The notes reverberating to an angelic feat

To your melody, your tune
Shining brightly as the moon
Sung from the first moments of light
till the lates hours of the night

My heart dances along to the song called you

Grace me with your presence
Hold me tightly in your hand
The sweetly tempered rhythm surrounds us
Flooding us with these feelings so grand

Let the music of our hearts guide us
Leading us through this dance of me and you
Without a moment of hesitation
This time we will see this through

Our heart synchronise in beat

~

Terminate with Prejudice,
The word came from on high,
Synchronise the satellite
Above her in the sky.
Instruct the drone manoeuvres
To glide 10,000 feet
And fire the micro missile
Through the roof, but be discreet!

A haze of gas like perfume,
A sneezing fit or two
And every living thing within
The building dies on cue.
No symptoms are detected,
No evidence is found,
The toxic gas is oxidised
Before the hour comes round.

She lies in all her beauty,
Clear alabaster skin,
Green eyes stare to infinity
No heart, that beats, within.
Her searching words offended
The holders of the grail,
Who reached across the globe
To wield their deadly flail.

This Brave, New, evil World
With technology to do
The bidding of the acolytes
Who transgress borders through,
Of every creed and every man,
Across the planet vast
To violate, at will,
All human values of the past.


Marshalg
Revelations in a Scorching Sauna
26/11/2011

Everything passes
Like seasons that come and go
What you deem important today
Becomes yesterday's headlines
Soon something else will seem more important
Don't get stuck in a time capsule
From which there is no escape
Don't look back
Avoid that pillar of salt
Don't dream of what could have been
If it was meant to be
It would have happened
The hands of a clock can not be turned back
Nor can they be pushed one inch forward
Synchronise your heart and beat in time

I promise to write till I have no words with me.
I will write till I've exceeded my limit and can no longer do no more.
And even once my hands are unable to write, I will stay loyal to you.
I will admire the art that you are.

At my lowest,
You held my hands and listened to my withering heart.
You locked eyes with my darkest holes and smiled.
You gave me a pen and whispered, "Write.Anywhere, colour your pain and let me feel it"

During my drought,
We fought.
Countless of times.
I began to lose hope in us but you stayed.
You pushed pens, pencils and papers in my direction and told me to write.
"Good or bad just write, I'm not here to judge", you sang to me.
But I refused.
Blocking your lullaby because I was afraid.
Afraid that I would let you down if it was bad.
I only wanted the best for you.
The best from me.

The drought got worse.
I couldn't write and my heart ached
My souls cried,
My hands itched.
I was craving you.
So I wrote.
Good or bad because ultimately
You won't judge me.

During my moments of happiness.
I wrote a lot,
I wrote till the tips of my hands turned purple.
Till I could feel my own heart beat synchronise with the movement of the pen.
Till my arm cried in pain as my triceps and biceps contracted and relaxed.
I could not stop.
I simply still cannot stop.

You watched me write.
You watched my body grow in anticipation.
Grow anxious to touch a pen.
You smiled and whispered to me
"You're finally writing your heart"

I turned back and looked at you.
Engraved with people's lives.
Coloured with their greatest dreams and nightmares.
Inked with so much of their emotions.

I laughed and turned back.
Jotted down so gracefully.
"She is my heart"

Come and lie beside me
Soak my essence in
Feel my heat responding
The goose-flesh on my skin

Come absorb my presence
Lead me along that path
Synchronise our heartbeats
Hold me, make me laugh

Come and feel the flutter
Note the hitching of my breath
Your nearness sends me reeling
Towards that quiet death

Come revel in the excitement
The subtle rhythms, the grasp
Nails raking down your flesh
The collective, sensual gasp

Come and linger within me
Know that you have made your mark
This union has set free
That all elusive spark

Come and lie beside me
Know that my senses are aware
You have laid waste to my defenses
And my soul lies completely bare.

Verse 1
If there’s a time, if there’s a place, for you I’d truly wait
Our love endures from page to page
To mesmerise, to synchronise and so epitomise
Steps of harmony throughout the age

Chorus
A bright horizon, such a blissful scene
An awesome treasure, held in high esteem
Joining forces, solid as a team
You are, you are
Love’s unfolding dream

Verse 2
To visualize, to recognise, true love that defies
Soaring high beyond the skies
A seasoned fall, to give my all, delightfully enthrall
A beloved dream now realised

Chorus

Bridge
Love’s unfolding, love’s unfolding dream
Love’s unfolding, love’s unfolding dream
Love’s unfolding, love’s unfolding dream
You are, you are, love’s unfolding dream

Written by Geraldine Taylor ©️

Rhythmic pulsing,
Volume turned up high,
Words don't matter,
Focus on the beat,
Hear it synchronise,
Feel it beat with your heart,
Close your eyes,
Become inert,
Breathe.

I watch him sprint as fast as he can
across the tar road
right after dropping his black pistol
that’s just released a bullet that’***** my stomach
The smell of death suffocates me,
it whispers all the things
I’ll be leaving behind on this earth

I look own at the newly created blood river
that my stomach has just released,
it tickles down my skin
As the warm liquid flows out
a tear escapes my eye
and runs down my cheek
like a raindrop on a window
I tell myself that this is the end
Thoughts race through my mind
about how I’ve lived
and whether I’m going to heaven or hell
or if I should start believing in reincarnation
before it’s too late
I’m going AWOL on everyone

The air is thickening and my chest is weakening
My knees tremble as my hands and feet get numb
My lips slowly turn purple desperately wanting to be violet
As my thoughts twist,
a psychedelic knife stabs
through my chest causing impact
My eyes shut in pain like the effect of a car accident;
quick and sudden yet unexpected
My mind and heart synchronise a stop
having it be the end of me
I lie there lifeless
I’m going AWOL on everyone

[Poet’s Note : This poem tabulates poignant reasons why Artificial Intelligence is unable to replace Natural Intelligence. The clarity here is that both emerge from Divinity, since everything emerges from Centre : the primary difference being that AI was created without Heart & without Soul ~ it’s simple.]
___


AI has no Heart therefore no intuition
zilch nervous system therefore no feeling
no ability for compassion or consciousness
nor reasoning power, so cannot improvise
or supervise any contextual situation wise
it can expand, but cannot ASCEND

has unthinkable computing control
without physical brain to function hold
zero ego, therefore cannot be any hero
can connect dots hot, however has no
prayer or meditative faculty or kundalini
spots, cannot commune with Grace or
collapse into Void or synchronise telepathy
with Galactics coy ! AI is strategic devoid

cannot be spacious or audacious without
human instruction to delete the obsolete  
is unable to obliterate Akashic Records
access or reconfigure it for purposes of  
healing, integration or individual peeling
can recreate time through compression of
information, no hesitation or superstition
though timelessness it cannot touch
AI has no bowl for hush, spirit or Soul

its arrival at this phase in human history
as Gaia transcends into higher octaves
brave, is no coincidence, it will behave
as we stave it, crave it or rave it ~
choice is ours : dry, wry or moist cries
Divinity gifted humans AI for us to be
free bees from mundane density drools
~ life as strife rife during Kali Yuga’s rule

as gift it offers artificiality in service to
authenticate our individuality with purpose
imagine, conceive, direct, create what
we desire Aquarian-Golden Age to be
panacea or pain, we cannot resist or reject
                                   what is given for gain !


©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song25

~~~~~~

Have you ever felt being torn?
have you ever seen a pitch soul?
have you ever told the right words?
Does wrong feel right?
Does black seem now white?
Does your brain synchronise with whatever's in your chest?
Ah.Laughter made of tear's the best.
So.Have you ever,ever loved or been loved ?
When did you fall and broke?

You tell your boss to
Swivel *****!
I will tell mine
To stick my job up his ****
We could even synchronise it
Record it
Editise it
Turn that *******
Into art
You can sell your mothers house
And I can sell my grandmas flat
Cash in all pensions and ****
And that will be the end of that.
Then move to Bolivia
I hear they make
Excellent crack.