Mourning of pulsars

Languid play of light slowed as molasses…
Can you hear it? - Each pulsar a different note,
with sweet one+ weaving their music as one,
pulsars’ note of mourning clear now, near time’s end.

Across universe infinite, light’s languid play slows,
music of spheres knowing not its pacing, playing on,
perforce of gravity making sure nothing else changes,
while Yuki plays notes against time, light notwithstanding…

celebrating gravity perforce of now, always,
not anywhen, Yuki alongside its bowshock.
Listen closely, very closely, and you’ll hear it,
celebration as I’ve not heard in such mourning…

Imagine octaves beyond experience, notes the same…,
not quite a wailing, a keening for promised newness,
celebration this time of light undelayed, perforce
shouldered as mantle of exaltation, ever tearless. - *selah*

--RK, 2:25am, 4/26/2014
     Thank you dear Yuki+… - (palms together) - *bows*
[Catch RK on Google+]

Found poetry...

     (inspired by one who approached softly…)

In the night quiet… - *shhhh*…
I've been here a long, long, long time,
and 'they' are unable to see me coming…,
but I'll see what depths they've reached,

or not… - *selah* - *bows* - It's okay…,
*shhhh*… - I'm a watcher..., waiting…,
wandering unhindered among stars many,
each noticing my passing..., longing…

--RK, 1:10am, 4/25/2014

I lie low...

        [Inspired by Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi video+]

…waiting, …on ‘ciragettes,’ listening, lying low.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Turnin’ ’round, now back fifty-five, I was down so high
in a white room with black curtains, lost waystation,
until I saw final millennium bring deep revelation.

I lie high/low (no one noticing), looking, hoping...
I watch skies for interlopers assigned gravity here,
cameras, paparazzi everywhere, sky unnoticed, heavy,
“until you love me,” my paparazzi…

And here they come, sky parting wide…

--RK, 11:38pm, 4/10/2014

Keeping up with Gaga

       [Inspired by Lady Gaga’s Marry the Night +]

A hole in my rug, intimate of dark close…
I married the night, alone in darkness…
so quiet, so quiet in its black velvet silk,
its reminders, its pain, its desperation…, Shhh…

I married the night, alone in its velvet soft,
utter quiet, in deep, silent silk of the dark…
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Its soothe, close, comforting, precious, touching, touching…
my eyes with no light, illuminated of all things deep,

as my own shores within see brilliant eternal sands close,
…aglow, far beyond any pale of shadow in nothing before…
that I’ve known long beyond time. - Oneness mine now,
forever left far, far behind, nothing its neighbor,

and all before me, finally remembered in high exultation,
without dark’s sombrero in fire’s final nothing, gone…+

--RK, 2:18am, 4/9/2014

Turning home

Out of time? Lost within?
Road passes beneath, wheels turning.
Crash, no, a subtle impact.
Unknown, concussion, concession of memory.
All but >now< lost within, swelling,
years peel away, head hits ground.

Weeks pass, unobserved.
Memories come, decades old.
>Now< works, yesterday remains.
What of yester year?
Will it return, or remain,
lost within, lost in time...

--Anonymous, 10:34am, 4/8/2014

9 Days

9 days passed, in time,
but not in my mind.

Instead, regressed.
Returned 10 years inside.
Arrived, out of step.
Home, in the wrong days, years.

9 days gone, never witnessed, never known,
10 years here and gone,
9 days lost within,
or 10 years gained again?

--Anonymous, 10:18pm, 4/7/2014

Applause, Turn the Lights On

     Inspired by Lady Gaga’s Applause +
         […absolutely, inarguably the most brilliant female mind on the planet…]

Perfection of surreal, inarrogant, assertive, impeccable, no apology.
“Bang the gong,” bang the gong, waiting… “crash the critics”…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I live for the applause, the applause, the applause,
the way that you’re cheering,” and so lights focus…

…as Lady Gaga takes repose in sigh of completion, accomplishment,
shining deeply brilliant, no apologies…, “sweet for me.”
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“Put your hands together, make them touch,” love me, love me…
‘Monsters’ of perceptual perfection in artpop’s rapture…

…new, unapproachable, touchable, dear Lady Gaga, Whistler’s-mother smile…
What’re you gonna’ do now… What’re you gonna’ do now…, do now…
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“Can’t read my, can’t read my poker face. No you can’t read my,…
can’t read my… poker face…” +

Artpop, artpop, artpop!…+

--RK, 10:59pm, 4/5/2014