Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shannon McGovern Aug 2011
I crushed it, and it regrew anyways.
The hypothesis, was more romantic,
than tossing and yearning all night
over losing teeth in a giraffe fight.

Your hypothesis, was more romantically
worded, than a thesis on how birds die on impact
when colliding with a glass windowpane,
retrieving teeth lost during a giraffe brawl.

Worded, like the thesis about how birds die during impact,
each line of the letter dripped with invisible ink,
like colliding with a glass window. Pain
is only fleeting, if the end comes close behind.

Every line in each letter, drawn with invisible ink,
doesn't sound in the pronunciation, which
is only fleeting, if the end line draws closed behind.
So close your characters behind you, and don't let the draft in.

Does it not sound in the pronoun, the annulment of which
leaves every thing indefinite, and incomplete.
So clothe your characters before you, so they don't let in a draft,
and catch a cold from ****** or being indistinct.

What leaves everything indefinitely incomplete
other than the ability of the mind to hypothesize,
and catch a cold in the **** state of being extinct?
The inability to reconcile your metaphorical heart and instinct.

The others, they, have the ability to hypothesize,
about what makes us toss and yearn at night.
I forgave your inability to reconcile. My heart: pure instinct.
So you crushed it, and still it grew anyways.
Is there a natural virility to the fertilities of the inductions of space time’s continuums?  Is this a microcosmic phenomenon or more dependent on the depths of pervasion of its macrocosmic relativities.  Perhaps there is a unifying field theory we are not yet aware of which explains how it paradoxically is a little bit of both.  Regardless, given the fact that there probably was no beginning to the universe then quite literally an eternity has already passed.  So why then, given our understanding of the physics of physical interaction, is not all in a state of complete entropy?  
     This afore mentioned fecundity must exist.  Further in it’s quite likely the cause of physical existence as we know it.  I have a theory: This creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.  Ushering in a new 500 billion to trillion year cycle of physical existence as we know it.  Further again, perhaps the implosion’s contraction’s revisions are the cause of the atomic structure of matter we experience during this new physical cycle.
      The thought of such quantum leaps to me for the intensities of physical matters existence and catalytic capabilities.  
     Granted your not going to find these speculations touted as fact in a Wikipedia excerpt.  The answers are in fact unknown.  I’m merely being hypothetically thoughtful with what I’ve learned of possibilities prospectus.   Given these truths allow me to hypothesize further.  
     It seems to me that the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny were created by a conceptually reflective derivative (or perhaps antiderivative on the interpolations of integration) of functional physical mechanics.  That perhaps the creative force behind their inception (similar to the afore mentioned natural inductions of space time’s continuums) was the physical realism of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy.  
     Consider, the planet we’re on is revolving at approximately 60,000 miles per hour relative to the sun, the solar system we inhabit is revolving at approximately 500,000 miles per hour around the center of our galaxy.  Our galaxy is traveling at approximately 1,332,000 miles per hour through space with our local group of galaxies and revolving at approximately 216,000 miles per hour around the center of mass of this group of galaxies.  All this to give you some conception of the kinetic actualities of our planet’s trajectory’s extant as a projectile.  We have an almost incredible amount of potential or kinetic energy that is generated by our physical velocity through space.  Although we don’t seem to be aware of the impending preponderances of this realism as tellurian denizens it is nonetheless fact to our intellectual relativities.  
     Once again perhaps the actuality of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of the actuality of this phenomenon are the impetus behind the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny.  We don’t know for certain how the first amino acids were formed.  Much less how these acids in the primordial soup made the quantum leap to living existence as biological organisms.  Once again I hypothesize it was a conceptually reflective derivative (or antiderivative) of the creationism behind functional physical mechanics.  e.g. the natural inductions of space time continuum and the quantum leaps created by the implosion’s contraction’s revisions of our big bang.
     By now you may be wondering why I have extrapolated these hypothetical scenarios about the physical creationism of our universe and the perceived similarly analogous state of organic and biological origins, so I’ll tell you.  I hoped it might make the dissertation I’m about to make on the fecundities of the corporeally preternatural and perhaps metaphysical inclinations of our sentient race easier to comprehend.
     With the advent of biological organisms the diversity of physical existence has apparently exceeded its physical complexity.  Understanding has evolved.  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integral forms.  Being a firm believer in evolution this phenomenon makes me wonder: Is the impetus behind the genetic anomalies that influence the seemingly positive nature of natural selection’s progression a pervasion from the social contiguities of a species? Perhaps a random occurrence with no discernable precedent?  Or, more likely even, the equivocal nature of the superior essence of the ontological state of the beings involved?
     Though many believe that it is truly a random occurrence I have a tendency to want to believe otherwise.  That just as there is a natural fecundity to the induction of space time’s continuum there is a positively oriented inclination integral to evolutional progression.  A sort of élan vital on the orthogenesis overtures.  Granted it is somewhat dependant on the phenological nature of environment but improvements occur which have little to do with the ability to cope with the weather.    
      So is there such a thing as élan vital as it relates to ethology’s entelechy?  Is there any benefit for humanoid demagoguery in pursuing zoomorphic zoolotry as a social contiguity?  Can we actually make accession to transcendentally existential ascension?
     The obvious answer would appear to be yes, at least in partiality.  Maybe we’re incapable (at present) of assimilating incorporeity ideology’s non-corporeal states and existing as godlike disembodied spirits (who perhaps have not lost their proclivity for corporeally preternatural being) but social relativities are an evolving state.  Truly the better we treat each other the better off all will be.  Now I’m not talking about being a bunch of fawning sycophants or schmaltzy schlep-it-ness schmucks, more like the swanky saunter obsequious diligence could indentured servant sail lend to all.  Not given because it’s mandated but because it’s the essence of social contiguity’s evolution.  Granted the individual must remain sacrosanct.  Our metaphysical prowess is at best hypothetical.  Actual magic is not a tool in our kit-bag though I aspire to such everyday as I attempt to be teleportation real with my telepathy to the demons I appear to be confronted with.  I site clairaudience clairvoyance on the vicinity victuals of vigilante villain, the propinquity habitations of harbinger’s harangued, the proximity parameters of perimeter’s peripherals, why I’ll even throw in the objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iotas of self inductive interstitial extrapolation, and if that doesn't get it I'll talk about the embark embargo extraditions and the extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortions.  The thought of such spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.  Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation on the terrestrial equestrian.  Tellurian terrene!!
     The obvious realisms of all of this are that we are indeed capable of making these quantum leaps armed practical magic.  I say lets fecundity get down to it.  Exserted protuberances of erotica erectile errantry, the vibrant volition of verve.  I’ve had enough of vapid flatulence and insidiously sinister archaic.  Mankind’s inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his demise!!!  We’ll become theosophy’s theophany incarnate, the ecstatic euphorias of corporeally preternatural’s enigma entity on the identity crisis!!!!
Laura Turner Dec 2014
“Do you have children?”
“No” I reply.
“Did you not want them?”  
What's with the why?
Oh I wanted them alright
But try as I might
Their father never materialised
So neither did they.

Don’t assume my career must have got in the way
Or hypothesize that I’m gay
So proud all you mums of your legacy
Well,
it just didn’t happen for me.
some of you think I’ve missed out on life
And to an extent
I’d agree this is true
But how many of you
Have seen as much of the world as I?
I think with a sigh,
At least I am free
But, yes at times
Incredibly lonely.

So please don’t ask that question as though kids are a given
BECAUSE THEY WEREN’T GIVEN TO ME
By anybody.
And I have to get on with life
Hearing that question
Which cuts like a knife

I'm sorry
It's fine
It just makes me sad
This reminder that I’ll never meet
The children that I never had.
lonely
Is there a natural virility to the fertilities of the inductions of space time’s continuums?  Is this a microcosmic phenomenon or more dependent on the depths of pervasion of its macrocosmic relativities.  Perhaps there is a unifying field theory we are not yet aware of which explains how it paradoxically is a little bit of both.  Regardless, given the fact that there probably was no beginning to the universe then quite literally an eternity has already passed.  So why then, given our understanding of the physics of physical interaction, is not all in a state of complete entropy?  
     This afore mentioned fecundity must exist.  Further in it’s quite likely the cause of physical existence as we know it.  I have a theory: This creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.  Ushering in a new 500 billion to trillion year cycle of physical existence as we know it.  Further again, perhaps the implosion’s contraction’s revisions are the cause of the atomic structure of matter we experience during this new physical cycle.
      The thought of such quantum leaps to me for the intensities of physical matters existence and catalytic capabilities.  
     Granted your not going to find these speculations touted as fact in a Wikipedia excerpt.  The answers are in fact unknown.  I’m merely being hypothetically thoughtful with what I’ve learned of possibilities prospectus.   Given these truths allow me to hypothesize further.  
     It seems to me that the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny were created by a conceptually reflective derivative (or perhaps antiderivative on the interpolations of integration) of functional physical mechanics.  That perhaps the creative force behind their inception (similar to the afore mentioned natural inductions of space time’s continuums) was the physical realism of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy.  
     Consider, the planet we’re on is revolving at approximately 60,000 miles per hour relative to the sun, the solar system we inhabit is revolving at approximately 500,000 miles per hour around the center of our galaxy.  Our galaxy is traveling at approximately 1,332,000 miles per hour through space with our local group of galaxies and revolving at approximately 216,000 miles per hour around the center of mass of this group of galaxies.  All this to give you some conception of the kinetic actualities of our planet’s trajectory’s extant as a projectile.  We have an almost incredible amount of potential or kinetic energy that is generated by our physical velocity through space.  Although we don’t seem to be aware of the impending preponderances of this realism as tellurian denizens it is nonetheless fact to our intellectual relativities.  
     Once again perhaps the actuality of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of the actuality of this phenomenon are the impetus behind the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny.  We don’t know for certain how the first amino acids were formed.  Much less how these acids in the primordial soup made the quantum leap to living existence as biological organisms.  Once again I hypothesize it was a conceptually reflective derivative (or antiderivative) of the creationism behind functional physical mechanics.  e.g. the natural inductions of space time's continuum and the quantum leaps created by the implosion’s contraction’s revisions of our big bang.
     By now you may be wondering why I have extrapolated these hypothetical scenarios about the physical creationism of our universe and the perceived similarly analogous state of organic and biological origins, so I’ll tell you.  I hoped it might make the dissertation I’m about to make on the fecundities of the corporeally preternatural and perhaps metaphysical inclinations of our sentient race easier to comprehend.
     With the advent of biological organisms the diversity of physical existence has apparently exceeded its physical complexity.  Understanding has evolved.  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integral forms.  Being a firm believer in evolution this phenomenon makes me wonder: Is the impetus behind the genetic anomalies that influence the seemingly positive nature of natural selection’s progression a pervasion from the social contiguities of a species? Perhaps a random occurrence with no discernable precedent?  Or, more likely even, the equivocal nature of the superior essence of the ontological state of the beings involved?
     Though many believe that it is truly a random occurrence I have a tendency to want to believe otherwise.  That just as there is a natural fecundity to the induction of space time’s continuum there is a positively oriented inclination integral to evolutional progression.  A sort of élan vital on the orthogenesis overtures.  Granted it is somewhat dependant on the phenological nature of environment but improvements occur which have little to do with the ability to cope with the weather.    
      So is there such a thing as élan vital as it relates to ethology’s entelechy?  Is there any benefit for humanoid demagoguery in pursuing zoomorphic zoolatry as a social contiguity?  Can we actually make accession to transcendentally existential ascension?
     The obvious answer would appear to be yes, at least in partiality.  Maybe we’re incapable (at present) of assimilating incorporeity ideology’s non-corporeal states and existing as godlike disembodied spirits (who perhaps have not lost their proclivity for corporeally preternatural being) but social relativities are an evolving state.  Truly the better we treat each other the better off all will be.  Now I’m not talking about being a bunch of fawning sycophants or schmaltzy schlep-it-ness schmucks, more like the swanky saunter obsequious diligence could indentured servant sail lend to all.  Not given because it’s mandated but because it’s the essence of social contiguity’s evolution.  Granted the individual must remain sacrosanct.  Our metaphysical prowess is at best hypothetical.  Actual magic is not a tool in our kit-bag though I aspire to such everyday as I attempt to be teleportation real with my telepathy to the demons I appear to be confronted with.  I site clairaudience clairvoyance on the vicinity victuals of vigilante villain, the propinquity habitations of harbinger’s harangued, the proximity parameters of perimeter’s peripherals, why I’ll even throw in the objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iotas of self inductive interstitial extrapolation, and if that doesn't get it I'll talk about the embark embargo extraditions and the extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortions.  The thought of such spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.  Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation on the terrestrial equestrian.  Tellurian terrene!!
     The obvious realisms of all of this are that we are indeed capable of making these quantum leaps armed practical magic.  I say lets fecundity get down to it.  Exserted protuberances of erotica erectile errantry, the vibrant volition of verve.  I’ve had enough of vapid flatulence and insidiously sinister archaic.  Mankind’s inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his demise!!!  We’ll become ethology's entelechy, zoomorphic zoolatry's  incarnate, the ecstatic euphorias of corporeally preternatural’s enigma's entity on the identity crisis!!!!
Bailiff's rake-ness rails
softcomponent Oct 2013
we've all seen each other from a distance - never behind the eyes, where in time, we find ourselves eyeing the mind we all hypothesize lies inside - but can you look behind your eyes and see this mind you're so convinced is in hiding? where is the mind that keeps lighting my iris to allow for this writing?

the same question begs a Q and A session with the mesh inside insanity- my congestion, depression, transgression, suppression- Civilization and It's Discontents- it's inaccurate content, its torment to the inner accent I would consent to except I'm too poor to see you anew as I accrue symbolism and make do- I love you. All of you.

Through this fickle piece of data floating through space-time I make rhymes and say I'm a poet- but all I am are the words that are spoken so potent, I don't even live here inside of my head, I'm just a guest at best- perhaps a bird making nest for the rest of my life- after that, the soul flies into the radio wave of the grave where my behaviour is so unpredictable, it's unthinkable - I become what is represented in the word 'God,' 'Brahmin,' 'Ultimate reality,' the finger pointing at the moon and not the symbolist insanity - I

become

your

sight,

_ _ _

I

become

your

underbite.

you asked who you met the other weekend at that party - let's just say, you met a part of me. you met a version of you who you knew the moment you exited your mothers womb - the great thoughtless void you enjoyed - toyed with - left to sink into faceless space so you could run this pointless race and have fun doing it.

you can't win the human race, because the finish line is hiding in the that space behind your face - it's like you cross the line, and you die. disappear - and it all goes back inside the box - the creatures, the cash, and the clocks - a vulture squacks as your feet rot inside your socks and the trees mock your transience - the universe is a wave of ambiance monitoring itself through every iris shaping words to papyrus.

we are the sound, and we are the silence

we are the peace, and we are the violence

we are the religion, and we are the science

we are the doctors, and we are the clients

we are all enemies in secret alliance

what is the sound of one hand clapping? (clap hand)
so much for zen... so much for Rimbaud, I rub my eyes with cayenne so you can laugh at my pain and say, "now that's a comedian," he's sweating, look at the grease on his chin. look how he declares war on himself when he tries to find zen, he's giving up with this 'trying' as a way of trying again, he's crying again, sighing, seeking, writing, tightening the loosening bolts in his skull as he seeks out his peace in the peeled potato where the point is to think of potatoes, not Plato, not Aristotle, oh God oh I condemn all these looping mazed thoughts to a bottle

first, it's beer, then it's wine, then it's ketamine time till I finally find there is nothing to find and I'm fine but the feeling is gone in the morning...
we've all seen each other from a distance - never behind the eyes, where in time, we find ourselves eyeing the mind we all hypothesize lies inside - but can you look behind your eyes and see this mind you're so convinced is in hiding? where is the mind that keeps lighting my iris to allow for this writing?
Laurel Elizabeth Oct 2013
You change my mind like a massive industrial factory.
Because flowers.
Supposing friendly.
What if therefore.

You crush my forethought in your mandible machinery
For after yellow.
Beside a lake.
Through crimson humility.

I melt under your molten supervision on the grandest scale
Melodic franchise.
Hypothesize sunbeams.
And if replace me.

You reorient my viewpoints on your conveyor belt of
liquidated mellow
jurisdiction.
Andrew Rueter Aug 2018
I'm born
Airborne
Forlorn
In war torn
Discord
My ripcord
I pull for liberation
Alienation aviation
Away from a station
Of no relation
Where their elation
Lies in degeneration

The fright fair
Nightmare
In sight there
Is a right scare
But light flares
From an illuminated theater
I dive into art
To fill my meter

I consume
Darkened tomb
Screen in room
Is where I loom
Inspiration blooms
From a sense of doom
My separation reparation
That will lead to veneration

My artistic fervor
Drifted further
Drifter's murmurs
Lifted learners
But gifted murderers
Shifted girders
Of shame and honesty
To my grave of modesty
Where they prey upon me

This plagiarism
Layered schism
Cratered rhythm
Of great decisions
Now I make incisions
With repetition
And the definition
Of words stolen from me
They're all I can see
And I can't get free
Or just let it be

Consumption disruption
At this junction
I can't function
A plagiarist
****** mist
Grips my fist
Makes me wish
I don't exist
I must resist
Before I miss
My chance at bliss

They're ****** me
By aping me
Making me
Shaking trees
Of bumblebees
With rumble pleas
On humble knees
Drinking antifreeze

Nobody cares
What's fair
They bear
And share
Blank stares
Up stairs
Of artistic compromise
Integrity lost in lies
They're not that wise
I hypothesize

My baby
Caught rabies
From Hades
Now ladies
Flock to a thief
Giving me grief
Beyond belief
In my coral reef
Sword in sheath
I drown discreet
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
i wish i were a chemist,
so that i could hypothesize
& limit my attempts &
my experiments in futility

so that maybe, I could
tell you that your mere
presence was a catalyst
to my volatile elements

provoking reactions,
left & right, endless
explosions in my head
& mostly, in my chest

or that you tasted like a
antidote to the mundane
bringing me back from
this quiet complacence

i could drink your tonic,
swallow your smoke,
& devour your scraps
like a starving bulimic

or how your poison
made me slip, drip like
mercury, through your
skillful & soft fingertips

like sodium, this persistent
salt that refuses to quit
from my veins, a reserve
remains after the detox

or why i would oscilliate
between the alkaline &  
the acidic, never quite
stabilizing at a safe degree

if i had know all this,
i would not have played
alchemist, concocting
a worthless elixir of life
Is there a natural virility to the fertilities of the inductions of space time’s continuums?  Is this a microcosmic phenomenon or more dependent on the depths of pervasion of its macrocosmic relativities.  Perhaps there is a unifying field theory we are not yet aware of which explains how it paradoxically is a little bit of both.  Regardless, given the fact that there probably was no beginning to the universe then quite literally an eternity has already passed.  So why then, given our understanding of the physics of physical interaction, is not all in a state of complete entropy?  
     This afore mentioned fecundity must exist.  Further in it’s quite likely the cause of physical existence as we know it.  I have a theory: This creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.  Ushering in a new 500 billion to trillion year cycle of physical existence as we know it.  Further again, perhaps the implosion’s contraction’s revisions are the cause of the atomic structure of matter we experience during this new physical cycle.
      The thought of such quantum leaps to me for the intensities of physical matters existence and catalytic capabilities.  
     Granted your not going to find these speculations touted as fact in a Wikipedia excerpt.  The answers are in fact unknown.  I’m merely being hypothetically thoughtful with what I’ve learned of possibilities prospectus.   Given these truths allow me to hypothesize further.  
     It seems to me that the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny were created by a conceptually reflective derivative (or perhaps antiderivative on the interpolations of integration) of functional physical mechanics.  That perhaps the creative force behind their inception (similar to the afore mentioned natural inductions of space time’s continuums) was the physical realism of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy.  
     Consider, the planet we’re on is revolving at approximately 60,000 miles per hour relative to the sun, the solar system we inhabit is revolving at approximately 500,000 miles per hour around the center of our galaxy.  Our galaxy is traveling at approximately 1,332,000 miles per hour through space with our local group of galaxies and revolving at approximately 216,000 miles per hour around the center of mass of this group of galaxies.  All this to give you some conception of the kinetic actualities of our planet’s trajectory’s extant as a projectile.  We have an almost incredible amount of potential or kinetic energy that is generated by our physical velocity through space.  Although we don’t seem to be aware of the impending preponderances of this realism as tellurian denizens it is nonetheless fact to our intellectual relativities.  
     Once again perhaps the actuality of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of the actuality of this phenomenon are the impetus behind the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny.  We don’t know for certain how the first amino acids were formed.  Much less how these acids in the primordial soup made the quantum leap to living existence as biological organisms.  Once again I hypothesize it was a conceptually reflective derivative (or antiderivative) of the creationism behind functional physical mechanics.  e.g. the natural inductions of space time's continuum and the quantum leaps created by the implosion’s contraction’s revisions of our big bang.
     By now you may be wondering why I have extrapolated these hypothetical scenarios about the physical creationism of our universe and the perceived similarly analogous state of organic and biological origins, so I’ll tell you.  I hoped it might make the dissertation I’m about to make on the fecundities of the corporeally preternatural and perhaps metaphysical inclinations of our sentient race easier to comprehend.
     With the advent of biological organisms the diversity of physical existence has apparently exceeded its physical complexity.  Understanding has evolved.  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integral forms.  Being a firm believer in evolution this phenomenon makes me wonder: Is the impetus behind the genetic anomalies that influence the seemingly positive nature of natural selection’s progression a pervasion from the social contiguities of a species? Perhaps a random occurrence with no discernable precedent?  Or, more likely even, the equivocal nature of the superior essence of the ontological state of the beings involved?
     Though many believe that it is truly a random occurrence I have a tendency to want to believe otherwise.  That just as there is a natural fecundity to the induction of space time’s continuum there is a positively oriented inclination integral to evolutional progression.  A sort of élan vital on the orthogenesis overtures.  Granted it is somewhat dependant on the phenological nature of environment but improvements occur which have little to do with the ability to cope with the weather.    
      So is there such a thing as élan vital as it relates to ethology’s entelechy?  Is there any benefit for humanoid demagoguery in pursuing zoomorphic zoolatry as a social contiguity?  Can we actually make accession to transcendentally existential ascension?
     The obvious answer would appear to be yes, at least in partiality.  Maybe we’re incapable (at present) of assimilating incorporeity ideology’s non-corporeal states and existing as godlike disembodied spirits (who perhaps have not lost their proclivity for corporeally preternatural being) but social relativities are an evolving state.  Truly the better we treat each other the better off all will be.  Now I’m not talking about being a bunch of fawning sycophants or schmaltzy schlep-it-ness schmucks, more like the swanky saunter obsequious diligence could indentured servant sail lend to all.  Not given because it’s mandated but because it’s the essence of social contiguity’s evolution.  Granted the individual must remain sacrosanct.  Our metaphysical prowess is at best hypothetical.  Actual magic is not a tool in our kit-bag though I aspire to such everyday as I attempt to be teleportation real with my telepathy to the demons I appear to be confronted with.  I site clairaudience clairvoyance on the vicinity victuals of vigilante villain, the propinquity habitations of harbinger’s harangued, the proximity parameters of perimeter’s peripherals, why I’ll even throw in the objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iotas of self inductive interstitial extrapolation, and if that doesn't get it I'll talk about the embark embargo extraditions and the extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortions.  The thought of such spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.  Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation on the terrestrial equestrian.  Tellurian terrene!!
     The obvious realisms of all of this are that we are indeed capable of making these quantum leaps armed practical magic.  I say lets fecundity get down to it.  Exserted protuberances of erotica erectile errantry, the vibrant volition of verve.  I’ve had enough of vapid flatulence and insidiously sinister archaic.  Mankind’s inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his demise!!!  We’ll become ethology's entelechy, zoomorphic zoolatry's  incarnate, the ecstatic euphorias of corporeally preternatural’s enigma's entity on the identity crisis!!!!
Bailiff's rake-ness rails
The birth-throes of adulthood is alteration unto its/our own state, the formation and growth of neural connections straining our minds, the brain adapting to phenomena in space and time, deeming it experience. It is this process I reckon to be consciousness.

It was only after adolescence I could begin to understand qualia. During this period my brain was busy going through the teenage 'motions of neurochemical upheaval. My mind was far too young to understand what it intuitively grasped. Something was memorable, meaningless, its qualities stuck in mind. This was how I began to understand qualia, meaningless memories which I treasured beyond measure without knowing why, the essence of nostalgia.

During this time emotion was a mysterious thing I could only feel as coming from my own experiencing ego, not as something occurring between two animals which one alone can never understand (though the narcissist might dispute that). Take love, an attachment, certainly an altered-state, a modifier of behavior, the serotonergic system implicit in its proper function (and if we're lucky, some oxytocin).

We'll hold this for further discussion.
Now for something mildly intresting.

My introduction and use of psychoactives was typical if quite comprehensive (and of course it felt 'special', I still feel this). Fascinated by what substances could do to elicit qualia (though no doubt unable to elucidate this) I lost myself thoroughly, great attracted to the culture around them. This accompanying ethos I could not hope to comprehend took me in its stride. At first I had no reservations as to indulgence, which taught me a few hard lessons. Later I would catch a rare glimpse of this ethos in its motions, gleaming it on occasion.

These times gave rise to specific feeling, recreation followed by reading into the neuroscience brought about a knowledge of some sort. The neurochemicals represented what my experiences were founded upon but not what they were.
I knew them in theory and from practice upon my consciousness,
This knowledge stayed with me long after my 'research' had finished. I would recognise familiar mental sensations in occasional sober interactions, minor alterations in mind brought on by certain foodstuffs (or lack thereof).

What does this answer in relation to qualia?
It tells us that moments are qualitatively conditioned by the given physical constraints.
What power mind and/or brain have over each other remains to be seen, as does the will's constituents and how it comes into being. Does it boil down to binary, exponential subject-object distinctions giving rise to abstract properties? Answers to the question of meta-consciousness continue to elude us.

We hypothesize that the given conditioning can evoke
a certain magnitude of qualia. We assert that qualia exist
to the extent that belief does (and is) but that they are ascribed
to experience by presentation rather than representation.
Belief and desire are propositional whereas qualia are proponents thereof which feedback into behavior, belief and desire.

Tentatively, we suggest that qualia might be measured in term analogous to wave patterns and spectral density while individual quale might be respective to individual neuronal constructs within the neuroplastic structure of the brain.

In this way a given pathway corresponds to a certain experience/memory.
dj Oct 2012
Sometimes most days almost always
When I
Scrounging stuck in traffic
Unknown mayflies driving the cars around
Insectoid feelers grasping the wheel
When I
Bones of lava boiling over
Teeth everywhere and pointy
I hypothesize:

A mass extinction event or
A pandemic colony collapse
Wouldn't be
Too bad
Personality poem #1
Devon Oct 2012
I do not believe,
that the solution to our problems
lies in the hands of our politicians.
I do not believe,
in the conviction of the world's religions.
Or those who preach of
Lucifer and Jehovah.
I do not believe,
in changing ourselves
to please those around us.
I do not believe,
in this world’s
so called "justice".
I don’t believe in these things because;

Society is a shifting tide,
government is corrupt,
religion is flawed
and people are fickle.

Privacy is long forgotten, buried beneath Capitol Hill
And peace is a flame, flickering in the winds of change.

There is also that
which I do not see.
Things that do not stand in front of me,
but in these things I still believe.

I believe in things we cannot touch
that others do not know,
that we may question and hypothesize,
but never doubt.

Things that make the branches grow
And form the winter snow

These beliefs aren’t good nor bad,
but they are mine to bear.
Because through my time, this is what I’ve seen,
and although that does not make them so,
my beliefs, will never cease to grow.
Mediating throughout my body is a shivering cold, the winter is here and snowfall is now of old, yet I continue shaking in a blindfold.

Wandering aimlessly in these woods of life,
trying to fixate and aim and not ***** the competing wildlife.

My one chance to make it in this forest,
I must listen as though I am this woods leading aurist.

All of this preparation for one shot at a "happy life",
a cookie-cutter form of "what to do" with your knife.

As a twig snaps beneath me and all is spooked I suddenly realize,
I now hypothesize that I must revolutionize my own "happy life"

I sprint through from and away the woods without a second of regret or care of the startling noise I paraded through these sacred woods, the bright moon leading me to all that I wanted...happiness.
Joseph Childress Oct 2010
Catatonic expressions
On a
Schizophrenic adolescent
Bipolar bearings
Helping ‘em stand
On both sides
Of the argument

Arduous Amore
The Mental Asylum
Silences me
If I speak
I’ll show how weak
My will
To not spill
Crazy thoughts
Is
I remain thoughtless
My conclusion
Signifies delusion
I hypothesize
My hyperactivity Is a hyperbole
Constructed
By psychotic psychiatry
Sigmund Freud
Prescribed *******
And left
The remains
Of white dust
On the brains
That trust
Like the kid
With ADD
Who adds pills
To feel
Emotionless  
If too much emotion is
Not a enough
To be a human
I’ll alienate
Myself from
You men
Few men
Understand
The acumen of Wisdom
They fear
What they don’t know
I’m unknown
Anonymous
Synonymous
With the Question Mark
Who am I?
This question marks
The beginning
Of most journeys
Mine began
With
I know who I am,
But how can I show it?

I became
An open book
That was over looked
By the minds
I tried to reach
Read
As comic relief
For
The Intellectually Elite
One could might hypothesize
That the tears would have
Drained more than
The veins drawing out
Of the confines of the muscle
Pumping sweltering anger
On such a transportation
Of creating a new home
Out of one recognized for three years.

The stacks upon stacks
Of emotional drainage
After the physical had worn out
From problem after inconvenience
After incompetency.
A departure I wrote an outline for
Before I stood at the border
Of goodbyes,
I quickly threw out.

The itch and discomfort,
The aching and drainage
The constant questions in my mind
Throughout the entire time
Divorced me from the clouds
That I foresaw above us
Hugging goodbyes.
The storm was in the lies
That made me hurt
To see such discomfort in your eyes.

Here’s to the storm’s dispersion,
No good deed can split the coming tidal wave.
32 lines, 221 days left.
Aseh Feb 2015
the stuff that makes me loud while
the mind whispers softly, reminding
me not to speak
about the pain

the stuff that makes the eyes' luster dim
around the edges
(but we're always
evolving
behind
the eyes)

the stuff that makes us fitted
or whole or pierced
or shed or Other
or perpetually looking down
at our own interactions

the stuff that makes me hypothesize
you across the table
as fitted and whole or maybe
you are broken and barricaded

either way
I want to know you
and
your
warmth,
and
your drift
in the attention span
(can't count to five
seconds without
changing
activity constantly drifting
in and
out
of
life),
and
your electricity, and
vulnerability,
and
your ease in
knowing me differently
than I'm used to,
and
your affection concealed
with halfhearted punches,
and
your inability to Be
without fully Being

the stuff that glides
warm and
burns
down
the
throat
Vickus T Sep 2020
The 1st law of thermodynamics states that no energy is created and none is destroyed;

I know this to be true as a simple fact.

Like the deep blue of Kuroshio my love has no limits,

Surely, the only ever elusive proof that exists,

Is that all of the light that bounces off of you stores itself in my eyes.

Somehow that collection that weighs so heavily on my unburdened heart will surely,

Perhaps, most definitely, continue to become the star I think you are.

The 2nd law of thermodynamics states that disorder grows unbounded.

Disorder must mean things to different people and I dare you to hypothesize otherwise;

It isn't when your hair is untidy after you've just woke up,

It's when I can't find the words to express my feelings about it.

The 2nd law must be true then, because I never find the words to tell you that you are,

Without a doubt, part of the method that completes and destroys me.

If disorder has such exponential growth, how can it be described with so little?

The 3rd law of thermodynamics states that nothing is below the absolute bottom of absolute zero.

There is no disorder in perfection. My crystal heart was at absolute zero. Flawless.

Before you existed, surely, I was the single point. Existence was confined to me.

Bang. Like a gun through an hourglass my flawless, you destroyed.

Still there is nothing. Absolute zero could not contain that which was everything.

Surely, beyond all reason and theory, there must be a 4th law.

The 4th law of thermodynamics must surely state, that my love was never created or destroyed and grows unbounded. Surely, definitely, with proof, you showed me that even at absolute zero,


You moved me.
I just dont know what to do with myself when the days seem too familiar.
                                                       ­                               
                                 ­                                                 Everythings a little brighter,
                                                              bu­t the sunlight makes my shadow darker.

The average things bore me,

                                                      and as much as I love being anywhere, anytime...


I don't wish to appreciate mediocrity...                           I'd much rather pay tribute                    
                                     ­                                                          and enjoy the great moments
                                                         ­ 
                                                                ­                                                          that make me wonder
                                                                ­                                                                w­hat exactly it is that I am.


The times where I stand up on two feet and it feels so strange to be a human, so new.

The times when I lose myself in music and become it, through sound and motion.


                                                              ­        (I look down from above and smile inside)


There are times when I get into perfectly absurd conversations with homeless madmen,

                                                        ­                                             and we understand each other
                                                                ­       for a single tick of time next to a no parking sign.

I light his cigarette for him and we both fail to understand God, but we still stand
                                                                ­                                              in perfect confusion.

We prophesize, hypothesize, and then, like lighting, something comes and sweeps me away from the scene, and I'm lost again,

                                                        in a flurry of passion and perceived progression.


There are times when my heart is nearly bursting, flooding out to the world with the invisible blood
                 that flows  
                                         through every man,  
                                                          ­                       woman,
                                                                ­                                     child  
                                                       ­                                                             and tree.


This is when I feel the weight of the world on my chest,
                                                          ­            I get choked up
                                     and leave the room to get fresh air.

This is when I look into the eyes of another human and I see something new.
Something that wasn't there before,
                                                                ­ 
                                                               ­       and I can just feel the balance of our similarities
                                                    ­                                                                 ­                               and differences

and I can't help but wonder whats going to happen in the next ten seconds.


There are times when I come into the scene unprepared,
                        I improvise and stumble through my lines,


My blocking is off, my motion is absurd but somehow the show goes on.

The play of life never ceases to amaze the players


(who think they know what the play is about
                                                      but in reality
                                                      the audience is casting their vote on how it all will end)

These are the times when I feel something ancient, something timeless,
                                                                ­                                                       still present.


The source of the moment stretching back millions of years only to show up in a crowded room
                                                            ­                                                      in new clothes that fool the eye.


This guest is ever present, even if we refuse to approach and say hello.


These are the times when I can't look away from  what's in front of me.

                                                                ­                      
                                          ­                                             [ The light in your eye...

                                                               ­                          The simplest motion...]


These are the times when I lose control of my limbs
                                                 and let the music of the cosmos move me.


I'm a slave to light and sound, attracted to shiny objects and mystery.


(I could fall in love with you in seconds,
and never return to my old life again.)


These are the times when I feel so old but so new, a child in the womb of the world,

                                                         ­               imagined by an old man looking back from the grave.


These are the times when Love speaks to me as an entity, assuring me and chasing away my fears,
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                     
                                           ­                                    Saying-


"I am present in everything, everytime, everywhere-"


"-I am the life within death-"


"And If you truly live once,

feeling the weight of every mistake,

learning the lessons of this life,
         and losing yourself in all its passion,
              
               you will come to know me-"


"And if you truly live once...

                       you will live forever"
Heather Lapp Feb 2013
As I do propose that in my critical subconscious you have shattered the lines finely composed within the fabrics of my skin and bones. However, in the sense of making friends, I had you by the hand foreshadowed at a time when even your heart was not wholly vacant. Further from that point in the timeline, 17 years since my birth, you had triggered your curiosity; your finger horrendously excited to see where it could lead us as a twosome. Our mutual friend had made a false reality of his sense of he and I which distracted you from the critical point of your infatuation. You contemplated upon the idea that I had been made an allusion and that you did not, in fact, have proof to hypothesize about which character had been true to mine. Consequently, you acted upon this realization and, without regret, went forth to present yourself and your adoration of and to myself. I cannot express to the true extent of my gratefulness to the simple perception that you had been able to form your own opinion and use your own ideas to postulate your decision on who I could be. I'm miserably infatuated with you upon the series of events sequential to this occurrence. Do not stray, for I have let you in and have minimal intention of letting you back out within an admirable amount of time.
MsRobota Aug 2015
He traveled the seven seas and conquered the world
Inherited the riches of the kings before him
Little did he know of the monsters under the bed
Creeping in the shadows, following
The man obsessed with the mirrors on the walls
Who hoped to be someone different
He really thought if he collided face to face with the problem
The misunderstanding would come into clear view;
In a fit of fury the man threw the bottles at the TV screen
Which played E channel's siren song
He was strong for only so long
Now he's anxious trapped in this cage
Ripping up all the magazines that report little white lies
They hypothesize, materialize, advertise
A false delusion that takes away the substance of a person
It's only a matter of time before the king
Who traveled the seven seas and conquered the world
Inherited the riches of the kings before him
Falls like the kings before him.
This poem was inspired by celebrities I admire. When I wrote this poem I was thinking of One Direction and Michael Jackson. I thought of Poets of the Fall, Nine Lashes...etc.
dilshé Jul 2021
Strangers; estranged to eachother
desensitize the soul of another
judgement & diversification -
forefront of a bad implication
you feel - so taken out of context
then you hypothesize the mind of the next
& memorize those objectified persons
but realize; these are empty aversions..
for that stranger too - is similar to you
in a complex existence, lost in the blues
faces complications,
the same symptoms of life
same alterations
of both bliss, sadness & strife
though it seems you're the cynosure
& them; the background noise
though they say,"I'm the protagonist"-
& you're just a little voice
Every stranger, every soul of your life-
whatever role-
possesses a mind as intricate as yours
a life as labyrinthine -
although not shown.
AfterImage Sep 2016
The theory of our relationship
A complex set of numbers
Are we where we want to be?
Are we who we want to be?
What do we become when we're together?
I hypothesize and fantasize the answers.
My only conclusion?
The       distance       between       us       is       too       cold       to       define.
Kevin Theal Apr 2011
High and dry it’s all deserts and tumbleweeds with you.
But I’m a cat that likes to travel and move.
So I go the opposite way. Because stagnant dreams at high altitudes don’t suit me.
I’m a flat line realist with big aspirations, but I need to understand the game board.
So I hope there’s gas in the tank. Not for terrorist motives
Although I wouldn’t mind wide scale destruction
And my friends and I
We try to live like pirates.
We wish we could steal
But my mazda’s not a ship
And I’m not boarding port side.
Although to be perfectly honest
I feel that introspective ramblings
Aren’t going to save me.
When I ‘m fine with my self
It’s the flannel wearing 30 somethings
Raised trucks
Medium beer
Hats
Bro’s with community college degrees
The death of California
So My friends and I
Should drown in tar
Like dinosaurs .
Hypothesize our end
Our demise was overdue .
A few years ago I was cutting edge tongue flapping
Now I’m electrodes to spit older quips for lack luster
Gents.
I know the kinds h & m uniform, scarves in California heat, military grade boots.
This one’s name is Jeff and he slings dehydrated lines about charity like it will save his life of mediocrity and empty,empty,empty pockets
For the things he needs to do
To make people like him
Some where
Maybe india
Yes india
We’re friends that are just a 7 dollar donation away.

So leave me high and dry with your corner out eyes
Save yourself from the breakdown’s the x, y, z’s
Of predictable lines and same old stories
It’s the same thing with * of varying size
So if I quench my thirst from leaky pipe dreams
Or water plants with the excess, it’s all the same.
Because a silver tongue and debatable morals is the selling point but we’re not vinyls
Value is measure in age.
And wisdom wasn’t the call your made.

I’m sick of cut throats in Sunday dresses
And thief’s in cheap yellow sunglasses
Life’s not a ***** of a flat line or a mountain to be ascended or descended
-Kevin T.
PairedCastle Sep 2016
I feel your thoughts
I hypothesize your feelings
Blood draw lets me understand you
I read your mind
I analyze your whole being

Only…

...That type of I has not existed yet
...that type of you has not happened yet
July 25, 2016
Is there a natural virility to the fertilities of the inductions of space time’s continuums?  Is this a microcosmic phenomenon or more dependent on the depths of pervasion of its macrocosmic relativities.  Perhaps there is a unifying field theory we are not yet aware of which explains how it paradoxically is a little bit of both.  Regardless, given the fact that there probably was no beginning to the universe then quite literally an eternity has already passed.  So why then, given our understanding of the physics of physical interaction, is not all in a state of complete entropy?  
     This afore mentioned fecundity must exist.  Further in it’s quite likely the cause of physical existence as we know it.  I have a theory: This creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.  Ushering in a new 500 billion to trillion year cycle of physical existence as we know it.  Further again, perhaps the implosion’s contraction’s revisions are the cause of the atomic structure of matter we experience during this new physical cycle.
      The thought of such quantum leaps to me for the intensities of physical matters existence and catalytic capabilities.  
     Granted your not going to find these speculations touted as fact in a Wikipedia excerpt.  The answers are in fact unknown.  I’m merely being hypothetically thoughtful with what I’ve learned of possibilities prospectus.   Given these truths allow me to hypothesize further.  
     It seems to me that the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny were created by a conceptually reflective derivative (or perhaps antiderivative on the interpolations of integration) of functional physical mechanics.  That perhaps the creative force behind their inception (similar to the afore mentioned natural inductions of space time’s continuums) was the physical realism of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy.  
     Consider, the planet we’re on is revolving at approximately 60,000 miles per hour relative to the sun, the solar system we inhabit is revolving at approximately 500,000 miles per hour around the center of our galaxy.  Our galaxy is traveling at approximately 1,332,000 miles per hour through space with our local group of galaxies and revolving at approximately 216,000 miles per hour around the center of mass of this group of galaxies.  All this to give you some conception of the kinetic actualities of our planet’s trajectory’s extant as a projectile.  We have an almost incredible amount of potential or kinetic energy that is generated by our physical velocity through space.  Although we don’t seem to be aware of the impending preponderances of this realism as tellurian denizens it is nonetheless fact to our intellectual relativities.  
     Once again perhaps the actuality of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of the actuality of this phenomenon are the impetus behind the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny.  We don’t know for certain how the first amino acids were formed.  Much less how these acids in the primordial soup made the quantum leap to living existence as biological organisms.  Once again I hypothesize it was a conceptually reflective derivative (or antiderivative) of the creationism behind functional physical mechanics.  e.g. the natural inductions of space time's continuum and the quantum leaps created by the implosion’s contraction’s revisions of our big bang.
     By now you may be wondering why I have extrapolated these hypothetical scenarios about the physical creationism of our universe and the perceived similarly analogous state of organic and biological origins, so I’ll tell you.  I hoped it might make the dissertation I’m about to make on the fecundities of the corporeally preternatural and perhaps metaphysical inclinations of our sentient race easier to comprehend.
     With the advent of biological organisms the diversity of physical existence has apparently exceeded its physical complexity.  Understanding has evolved.  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms.  Being a firm believer in evolution this phenomenon makes me wonder: Is the impetus behind the genetic anomalies that influence the seemingly positive nature of natural selection’s progression a pervasion from the social contiguities of a species? Perhaps a random occurrence with no discernable precedent?  Or, more likely even, the equivocal nature of the superior essence of the ontological state of the beings involved?
     Though many believe that it is truly a random occurrence I have a tendency to want to believe otherwise.  That just as there is a natural fecundity to the induction of space time’s continuum there is a positively oriented inclination integral to evolutional progression.  A sort of élan vital on the orthogenesis overtures.  Granted it is somewhat dependant on the phenological nature of environment but improvements occur which have little to do with the ability to cope with the weather.    
      So is there such a thing as élan vital as it relates to ethology’s entelechy?  Is there any benefit for humanoid demagoguery in pursuing zoomorphic zoolatry as a social contiguity?  Can we actually make accession to transcendentally existential ascension?
     The obvious answer would appear to be yes, at least in partiality.  Maybe we’re incapable (at present) of assimilating incorporeity ideology’s non-corporeal states and existing as godlike disembodied spirits (who perhaps have not lost their proclivity for corporeally preternatural being) but social relativities are an evolving state.  Truly the better we treat each other the better off all will be.  Now I’m not talking about being a bunch of fawning sycophants or schmaltzy schlep-it-ness schmucks, more like the swanky saunter obsequious diligence could indentured servant sail lend to all.  Not given because it’s mandated but because it’s the essence of social contiguity’s evolution.  Granted the individual must remain sacrosanct.  Our metaphysical prowess is at best hypothetical.  Actual magic is not a tool in our kit-bag though I aspire to such everyday as I attempt to be teleportation real with my telepathy to the demons I appear to be confronted with.  I site clairaudience clairvoyance on the vicinity victuals of vigilante villain, the propinquity habitations of harbinger’s harangued, the proximity parameters of perimeter’s peripherals, why I’ll even throw in the objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iotas of self inductive interstitial extrapolation, and if that doesn't get it I'll talk about the embark embargo extraditions and the extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortions.  The thought of such spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.  Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation on the terrestrial equestrian.  Tellurian terrene!!
     The obvious realisms of all of this are that we are indeed capable of making these quantum leaps armed practical magic.  I say lets fecundity get down to it.  Exserted protuberances of erotica erectile errantry, the vibrant volition of verve.  I’ve had enough of vapid flatulence and insidiously sinister archaic.  Mankind’s inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his demise!!!  We’ll become ethology's entelechy, zoomorphic zoolatry's  incarnate, the ecstatic euphorias of corporeally preternatural’s enigma's entity on the identity crisis!!!!
Bailiff's rake-ness rails!!!
Try talking to a solid brick wall
I'd rather be butchered by the entirety of Gaul.
Where the teeth are cemented in between
Lips sealed shut hiding things unseen.
Behind is a mystery, with no clue about
A waste of time for one to find out,
and explore and analyze and test and hypothesize
the infinite possibilities of outcomes and probabilities.
At the same note, the outside you see- hear cannot
Refusing Eye, Ignoring Ear, causing thoughts to clot.
One thing everybody knows is that
It's the only passageway to the brain. Fact.

Try talking to a stone brick wall
See if you get through or not at all.
Un-moving un-changing
Forever remaining.

*The same.
Inspired to write a poem with a rhyme scheme and flow similar to Gary Turk's spoken word "Look Up." Nevertheless, hope this poem was good. Feel free to interpret it.

Check out Gary Turk's spoken word "Look Up"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7dLU6fk9QY
Joseph Childress Sep 2010
I am not mad!
This scientist intentions
Were only to be inventive
With science
And look what I've invented!
Made a dead man
Come alive
From live wires
Electrifying
Like lightning rods
From a God
I am the creator
Shall my creation
Worship me
Work for me
or Sacrafice
A Life?

An animals?
Or his own?

On his own
Like an animal

Will he
Look to me
For guidance
Like
From father to son
Or sun to man

Study
all of my
Writings
Read my work
Like a bible

And spread my scriptures
Which were
Ripped up
Pages out a journal
Out-dated
Which
I used in the beginning
Addressing
Old testaments
From old tests and
Old testing kits
When I made my first attempt
At revelation
He,
The prophet
Concluded my project

No matter
How loyal
My creation

The formula
To be able
To be royalty
Is made by faith

Will he reject my claims
And claim
I lack proof

I made you
In my image
So I guess
Like you do
And hypothesize life
Until I have
The power to create
One
22
my silent friend
22
I let you in
more certain than my shadow
wherever I go you follow
even when I feel empty
aching
hollow
I know one thing for certain
in this life I may be hurting
my suffering is worth it
pain so bittersweet
a fate I cannot wait to meet
significant meaning in ordinary beings
the larger picture we simply aren't perceiving
the faintest brush stoke has infinite meaning
so I retrace the lines
trying to find
the creator of this grand design
are we of such simple minds
that we would try to define the beginning of time
come to find out
we've been ignoring all signs
underneath deception lies
the youth are preaching you don't hear our cries
too focused on the highs instead of the why's
turned to my inner eye
committed mental homicide what felt like a thousand times
came to a compromise
I hypothesize They monopolize our psyche
powers that be remain unseen
blame it on the fluoride
but ****
that's just me
getting off-key
this faith thing is new you see
used to feel like I was lost at sea
and I must admit
sometimes it still feels that way
not totally there
blending into shades of grey
f a ding away
you showed me better days lie beyond the haze
I have to push through
I don't do it for me
I do it for you
sincerely
truly
22
Ugo Victor Oct 2016
Lately I've come to hypothesize

Love is a science

Maybe its the biology of attraction

The hormonal chemistry of lust

Maybe it's the physics of its dynamics

The product of its mathematical variable

That makes it so complex a function

We are left confused

as to what it really is.
Amanda Kay Burke Jan 2021
I think I tire of my brain
Thoughts keep racing around
From wondering I cannot refrain
I try to chain them to the ground

Will love you no matter what
It makes no sense
Each time you expertly cut
A hole through my thickest defense

The way you played me
A fiddle
Was too dumb to figure it out
I'll never understand your riddle
Only hypothesize what you think about

Looked at me
Those enigmatic eyes
The rest of the world faded away
Too bad 'hero' was a disguise
Off at the end of the day

The way lips smiled as wide as the moon
I would approach your side
Opened up my walls for you
In return emotions continued to hide

Stare sautered into my memory
A nostalgic chill I can't shake
Begged and cried a tragic plea
I still drown in endless blue ache

Hope
Home
So far from my sight
I give up finding my way back
Cannot navigate without light
I spin circles around a track

In soul lie pieces of my trust
Promises we tread upon
They'll rest forever
Collecting dust
To you I'm already gone
I am tuckered out from being lost in the huge wilderness of my mind
Trevor Blevins Sep 2015
Pushing through my mind
In the form of swirling stigma,
My life of such defined shape
Is slowly losing form.

My world of pain
Is hurting far more
And I don't give my time
To hypothesize
How to turn this all around.

I'm ******* myself,
But this world requires
A rough exterior to survive.

There's absolute sorrow...
The purest collapse in reason
Locked deep in my cathedral.

/FORESIGHT.

I drove down a road
Paved with asphalt as thick
As all my good intentions.

I swerved right into the traffic.

Death felt like a warm embrace
Riding the coattails of your words.

So devious now to think of you
With that halo.

/DIAMOND.

But that's all abstraction
From the roots of my mind,
Cracking like fire
Seconds from meeting its fate
On the end of the extinguisher.

And that's how I hope to vanish
From this Earth...
So bright and then nothing,
Shattering any illusion of my worth...
I'm just another diamond
Held under your sledgehammer.

/GAMBLER.

Pour another shot of your venom
Down my ******* throat.

I love how bitter
You are at your core.

I'm begging for those eyes
To turn into mirrors
As they take the last of my life
With that last cherry kiss.

My charity is death,
My donation isn't evident.

Spin that wheel again for me
With my soul on red
And yours on black,
And see if my motif of lucking out
Can recur so flawlessly once more.
Take wanting for, abandon – and then one will begin.
Who is approaching close enough to devise an entrapment
will not see image clearly: him, as he will offer you a face
and a hand to desolate – put a lacking so you can flinch,
and a hand to brace you from it. Prophesying that a body
and another body cannot be singular. To hypothesize
an effort as a sharp encounter. To be given the world
to know its limits when a border has been reached,
to slowly unravel a form and a shape from the scope
of its representative and bend a spoken dismissal precisely
to generate content. To take wanting for, abandon then,
so you can begin to reserve a function for the body to elope
with and thin into an arbitrary.
     So when you begin from an instruction, reshape a simulation
so your actual body could hold you in for your yearning –
to begin again, so you can abandon a want to remember how
slivering a house is when two cannot be one and does not admit
it so to be true – facing each morning delighted the walls
each moment when together  to untangle, meeting, surprised
that we have still become remainders.
SE Reimer Apr 2015
~

a sentencing phase?
not really!
it is instead
a punctuation
deliberation!
be it a period
or a comma
to his phrase,
a life gone…
so terribly wrong,
awry!
oats sewn in haste
becoming
tares of waste
for thrashing,
not for threshing!

his acts despicable,
his name
an alliteration
to us unspeakable;
the terrifying
seen as desperation,
now in need of
great deliberation.
his end undertaken
by those he counted
once as peers,
these twelve poor souls,
now gods
with feet of clay;
his determined fate
to destine and ordain.

is any among
these twelve a peer
to the one
so driven
to destruction?
undeserving of
an exclamation point
no peer am i
as i hypothesize,
at most i’d put
his name in
(parenthesis)
not above,
but underneath
that cold, hard stone;
and ‘neath his name
omit the dash
between his beginning
and his ending.

~

*post script.

(Dzhokhar Tsarnaev)

yes, it is a cold, hard subject,
yet one worth discussing
if only for the sake of
reminding ourselves that
some do not, will not ever
respond to the correction
and the instruction of
a civilized society.
the very basis for
the correction system
in a civilized society
should be one of hope...
hope of restoration,
hope of redemption,
hope of a soul's resurrection.
when hope is gone,
what action then?
and in what manner
are we then charged?
Joyce Ramas Jan 2016
I am not going to hypothesize
When or if ever one of us
Gets a Mt. Vesuvius
And everything goes to hell
Because if it does happen
We get to immortalize our love
In glorified ruin
And bask in the afterglow
Of our unintended destruction
by way of the solemn.
more so than
by way of the brilliant.

emotions
not fully focused,
would perform deeds unaware,
evil impure, pooling and swirling.
young stagnant river, aging unnoticed under Missourian mountains.
take a stroll now to mend all your wounds.

from hope or pain you will close your eyes.

                                      coax today's life to a slumber.
                       know today's knife is your slumber.

I can describe no more detail.

take watch?
                      "no, not yet."
stand?
and we shall not kneel?
or bring arms for our raining March?
                      "no, not yet."
bend.

phantoms now.

over the timbered forests, a glow becomes a guide.

yes move towards and follow.
sever their source of medicines.
nod yes, smile while peace is burning.
cook fire
   and eat, drink to a merry dance.

a shadow watching you now.
your shadow so curious,
                                 betraying you now.

"home..."

cried for,
in wet gulps near black gulch filling
with you.
closest scarlet.

by way of the solemn, more so than by way of the brilliant.
it is tested again.
hypothesize
or abandon your
growing truth.

time proves its weight.
over and over.

this is now end.
tragedy
t.hardy-1878
Hailey Jujubeen Apr 2014
Baby, you're so smart
Because you keep it simple.
But you've got locked-in syndrome
when it comes to drawin' lines.

Baby, you keep it simple
with darts as answers
with sweet nothings on Wednesdays
with no calls on Fridays
no more.

And you say you get mad
when I
"hypothesize"
which I thought was
"facing the facts"
You're so clever baby.

Baby, you keep it simple
by putting me on hold,
Just me and the dial tone
for days, weeks, months at a time.

Baby, you keep it simple
when we break up
but you keep squeezin'
i-miss-you's
here and there, like you had too many
nothings to spare.

Baby, you keep it simple
by keeping me on my toes
by not hearing my pillow woes
when I clutch the blankets at 2 am
on the dot every morning
to look for your name
to find blank screens.

Baby, you keep it simple.
So baby please, stop painting the roses red.
Arlene Corwin Aug 2017
A Little Quiz

If you could sell a thing for lots,
Finance your yachts;
Would you boycott?
Boycott, if what you sold
Could finance wars,
Could bring worlds
To their burned-out knees,
Would you do business?

If you could earn a salary
By working in a factory
Producing weapon’s heads,
Guns, poison gas –
All granted by the local laws,
Would you do business?

A little quiz - a little Buddhist -
Prompted by
The sheer potentiality
Of personalities and crime TV
Regarded daily.
Hypothesize:
Your kids are hungry.

A Little Quiz 8.29.2017
War Book II; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
Hard choices.  How strong is your philosophic base?
Dear Ghost,

Would it be easier for you
if I ignored you,
blocked you, hid you,
and came back later
after an 'appropriate' amount of time?
Or is it easier if I stay,
patient and persistent,
occasionally dropping my two-cent
invitations, heart, and laughter,
gently
(repeatedly)
reminding you
that in spite of everything
I still give a ****?

I ask
because I do not know,
just as I can not ascertain
whether to hope or to mourn.
I hypothesize that neither
will improve this situation,
but I agonize over which
might make it worse.
Your input on the matter
would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,
Lost in Limbo.

— The End —