A luminous forest, a weeping evergreen, a tall waterfall that the breeze bounds o'er, a spring of dreams that doubles back and cycles - sky in endlessly they do :  the wavelet course of the orbs or a calm stream, tearful eyes overflowing with heraldic thoughts thru the night, a singular occupancy in a surge or flood, crest followed by crest, ' till they disguise all, a reign of emerald hue that has no decay, like the flapping wings in the unfolding sky. A gigantic mountain standing tall and strong, not showing how lonely it is to be alone. A calming sound of the river flowing, swiftly the current goes like the days passing by quickly along with each memory. A passage thru the valleys of our future days, and the sunless elegance of such sorrow takes this wealthiest of natures and turns it to industry, and the eventual joys within loving arms that seek out company and some necessary duty in vain at this time, for the day time moments are chipped away by other moments, for all this, I finally admit that I need your happiness to bring me back from this wasting away, because I desire the multiform pleasures that you could bring to me - and I to you.

I seek to come to know the Present by scrutiny, without perceiving
myself to be, at least not here; not here where there's not a soul around, and where day surrounds me in sunlight clear: but the Future becomes born as I seek out the moment I have bound, where I am falling into the depths of Misery, which is and will be, inaccessible to your view on my paths overgrown. Yet o'er tears and reflections I see, reliving my tattered Tragedy within, as I trod the
often traveled moments of my Past --my thoughts are trampled
by my echoes therein.

I seek to come to know the Present by inquiry, without realizing myself to be, tempered by stones and crags, in  the depths of Eternity:
--but the light falters before bursting, scattering upon the Autumn
morn, whereas I harvest my Sadness like a brooding reaper in
Spring, as the Sorrow is again reborn.

I seek to come to know the Present by reverie, without finding myself a being, thru the valleys enveloped in a column of light; and souls encircling me like ivy green, which severs me from a pain that
died, and this time my Happiness is reborn; reborn out of the Gloom, and into the Light that bears my fond memories of yore.

I move along the threshold of your delicate softly curved lips,
and my tall dancing shadow descends freely to nestle upon your *******; my silhouette, your silhouette-two silhouettes likened to one vessel-and I place my hands upon your hips, pulling, pulling, pulling you closer to me in this bold and vain attempt to merge like the shades of azure that shall this old scene impress, as this whole earth is blessed to tremble by your warm sweet caress.

"Hell must be contagious, because I catch it from you nearly every day."

A person with a virtuous soul, whose faultless heart is unchained

from any  corrupt musings  of  excessive pride: one whose soundless

years in safe triumph are lived, whom aims cannot deceive, nor

misery unnerve: that virtuous  soul needs not a shield of steel to

defend, nor keep secret thoughts within. They do not merely stare

thru tearful eyes at the tragedy of this our world's thirst, but rather

they no less than dare to provide what is necessary to end it.

A  brisk  gale  wind
     blows  thru  my
clanking  gears-
thunder  shears-
and  my  riven ­ ears
then  hear  nothing:
but  thru  clairaudience
I  will  ever  be ­ a
master  of  everything
that   ravishes  the
world  beneath  your
feet.

The  pompous  skies
dri­nk  up  the  seas,
to  drop  thus  upon
my  eyes  in  beads;
and ­ as  I  pen  my
muse's  advice,  the
ink  disappears  from
the  s­heets;  and  watcher
dieties-in  the  third  choir
of  the  celes­tial  hierarchy-
now  have  useless  wings.

Oh,  mold  my  verna­l
features  into  a  candle
effigy— watch  them  gleam—
then  gro­w  so  low  by  high
degrees; and  the  wax  melting  by
the  heat  of  flame  -to  once  again­
downturn  my  merry  cheeks.  So  if
you  please,  masquerade  a­s  a  blessed
princess  -before   I  am  consumed  completely-
and  I  will  play  both  parts  o­f  the  duelling
princes.  One  a  man, the other  a  machine.

Go,  rendezvous  with  my doyenne madness!

Indeed  the  tryst  could  cause  my  discarnate
ghost­  to  scarper.  I  will  wrap  a  cloak  around
my Joy  and  Sadn­ess   
—pleased that I  might hide  my  spare  character; or  at  least  proclaim  thee
dressed  a  bit  sharper.

I wander aimlessly here, here in this place where I
often go. A refuge where I come to be restored by the midnight air, ere that perfect silence into which I'm
thrown; and in which I can collect my thoughts &
know  -my percipience does ignite somewhere.

Somewhere off the map.      Somewhere off the globe.

Aloft in these Nameless Hallows, I travel lightly -because
my body ne'er goes... goes... goes...  in these, my echoes within -within the far compass of unerring tranquility: but what an ability
-what a beautiful bliss! to cast no shadow where the
dutiful exist.

  Lo!
           Suddenly a downpour hits!



  T'is Woe!
                             T'is Woe!


T'is Woe!  



                                   And, sullenly I resound her hiss.



I look thru squinting eyes as lightning is barely
lightening the glinting skies; the frightening bolts
extending and scarily resembling skyward highways
which have me verily trembling, hammered, amazed.

Tho I feel and see and hear -part of me does part with
what I fear -and the other partly remains enthralled- as
I tuck myself in so near, an attempt in thwarting the
violent squall.

Now I slog helter-skelter thru the deepening pool.
Seek I shelter like a tooling Creep or a creeping Tool.

                          

Thunder rips the sky asunder!



Those pounding noises sound like resounding voices,
                                                       ­                         voices,
                              ­                                                         voices
and then I wonder, wonder, wonder... if the torrent is my only
torment:


or

if I must also face my other self,


that half of me
that ne'er lies completely dormant,

that hemisphere that lives and breathes and moves by stealth.




This is my grimmest fear, when I must ask myself -for my Self

- which part of me I should
shelf.

I think I can abandon both,
                          you see:
but then there
would be
                     nothing left of me...
                                                    or me...
                                                *or me.

As in the
verses of
Isaiah six,
to me came
a fiery
serpent
bearing
bliss. One
to us
known to
be in the
most high
order of
thy holy
angels;
and she
possesseth
many an
eye and
wilt one
day hath
humankind
beholding
her pent
wingtips,
and she shalt
cleanse thy
unclean lips
and purge
thy sinful souls
with live
burning coals
hereby.

God speaking
without
speaking
once told
to Isaiah,
"I wilt take
all but a
tenth of
their cities,
and the lands
wilt be burned
again and again
until the trees
shall cast their
leaves, and
thereof the
substance
shall be the
holy seed.

Thereafter, her
seraph wings
did thence
open up,
unfold, to
be thereby
a cause, a
love, a flame
to need.

Faith is not
a thing
made up,
and is
hardly
newfangled,
but I saieth
she therewith
displayed it
all; and 'twas
nothing short
of supreme
blessedness!

Then I beheld
her e'en
brighter,
with showy
spangle, and
her attire, a
pristeen
and
impressive
dress, that
was beaming,
lit, bright
with color,
and with
shapeliness
of contour.

Her shining
light like
refractory
gold or
peerless
bits of
silver;
and something
unknown did
glint within
her to
wholly then
bewilder.

Her fire sword
was sheathed
and I did
the most
forward enter.
With shy wing
shield so
still, she
can still
our
meanest
ire, for
all must
therein
endure
what we
feel for
each
and
one
another.

And none
therefore
can
trust
mental
anguish
to dull
in this,
our
loneliest
and darkest
hour.

Therewithal,
loyal
followers,
actions
shall
follow­
words,
ignite
if you
will
the
glowing
candles,
and play
upon your
lyre,
but not
upon
His
Word,
and
forevermore
you wilt
have
your needs
fulfilled
with
hearts
afire;
rest assured.

We shall
hear ye
but not
understand,
the great
forsaking
in the
midst of
the land,
and we
see but
do not
perceive!

Now hear
her pure
emotions
entire
thereat
swear to
inveigle
yet, our
lives so
chaotic,
so
disordered,
but we
can be
rekindled
by a
moving
fire of
an
unstained
object, and
sure enough
hypnotic;
and of a
fervor I
foretell
to be
higher
than all
other
seraphim
in the
ultimate
choristers
choir.

And she does
as e'er sing
the fairest
hymn to
Him, being
gentle and
the most
melodic.
She is a
being
disentangled,
henceforth
being the
nearest
being of
any angel
by far
to the
safety of
God's
hands.

She's an angel
that much
more the
nigher to
His protection
and His
guidance; and
free will I
suspect was
denied her
in all but
her affections...
and for that
reason it
wilt be she
that to me
God sends
again.

And to Him
I heard it
said, Holy,
holy, holy,
is the lord
of hosts:
the whole
earth is
full of
His glory!

And with that,
the Lord shook
again the
doorway
posts, and
the house
that filled
with smoke,
now is
before me
-such as is
our Saviour
surely upon
His throne.

Thy conscience ofttimes estimates
       Itself by itself midst dark logics
             Of the old slate-grey slate of slates.
             I am no creature of "chaotics"
Desiring to pry into dry changeable ways.

Fade slowly into that quietude,
   That lonely but desired emptiness.
Be fainter than faint in solitude;
And accompany Misery at high interest--
A use of usury that leaves many dues.

Now come haunting thoughts of Oblivion,
Not a one canst I undo at all without your
Granting; and I cannot move with any idiom
Anything if you stall to so wish it or implore--
Because it is not mine, nor is it my decision.

The tears that did contribute to that wave
Of Misery did cease  -so they are no more.
I could not win for a loss, I could not save
A hellish beast dead inside, or else adore.


Will she recoil  by trickery, by ways of one
Magic spell, put upon me as once was mine
Or e'er spoil   me in the liberty I have won?
A length of toil  in the cell of lengthy Time.

I  am  lying  here  awake  yet  again
And   the   rainy   night   is   in  vain
Calling...    calling...     calling     me
Behind  blurry eyes into my

          misery.

Sages speak of a steep path that's narrow
and difficult to ascend for humankind.
T'is true, for I have often read it in books
and heard it in the speakings of the mind.

To overcome the passions of this inertia
mixed with my own thoughts reservation,
is a cumbersome thing that does pull me
between sluggish grief and brief elation.

When I am in my solitude, I choose
to drift along with the dread riptide
of the moment, whilst I am striving
for the peaceful beach at ebb tide.

When I am between the shore and
the  violet  horizon, I revel in Time,
with the music of the spheres like
a dervish spun to a forbidden rhyme.

I dream of the beloved and the adventure
somewhere along my minds' bold travels.
The person and the secret place where
all of this old lifes' conundrum unravels.

I lose all of my attachments, until I am free
to be married to this manifesting destiny,
which haunts my dreams and drinks up me
Or all of my Self like a weeping willow tree.

At last I have surrendered to a perfect grace
that has annihilated me; then there is Love,
bringing unity in the diversity freeing me to
attempt the ascent, & kiss the starry sky above.

Sages  whisper  truth  of  a  path  that's  narrow
And  most  difficult  to  ascend  for  humankind.
T'is  true,  I  know,  for  one  did  sing  his  mind
Thru  the  evening  song  of  a  vesper  sparrow

-And I hear Him beside my thoughts aloud.

To  overcome  the  passions  of  this  still  inertia
Mixed  with  my  own  mind's  keen  reservation,
Is  a  hard  battle  between  grief  and  brief  elation
In  the  cold  night  or  dreary  day,  and  vice  versa.

When  I  am  in  my  solitude,  I  choose  to  drift  by
With  the  dread  riptide  of  the  moment,  while
Striving  for  the  peace  of  the  ebb  tide,  a  smile
Upon  my  face  to  let  me  know  it  will  be  alright

-And I hear Him beside my thoughts aloud.

When  I  am  between  the  shore  and  the  pleroma
Violet  horizon,  I  revel  in  a  continuum  of  space,
With  the  music  of  the  spheres  whirling  apace
To  a  forbidden  rhyme  as  I  perfect  my  persona.

I  ­lose  all  of  my  attachments  until  I  am  free  to  be
Married  to  my  destiny,  which  haunts  each  dream
And  drinks  up  my  soul  like  a  weeping  willow  tree.   I  have  surrendered,  nearer  to  our  God,  to  Thee

*-And I hear Him beside my thoughts aloud!

A maker of verses is the refined poet, he does find
Emotional thoughts sublime, inserting some formulae,
Or enigmas that are behind each sustained line, each I

Tell wilt unwind, then that rhyme to be mimed,
The lowest crime in our kingdom mounted up on high.

So if in thy cheerless failure ye seek intense success,
Because ye  subjectsto listlessness of the bodiless
Mind's distress, I request ye give no such inference

It's egress or reappearance from the darkest eclipse
In this; but rather by keenest innovations do impress

-And that protects a poets wisdom from the nuisance.

All thoughts of a fond wish -into Reality
Resolve. They are but servants of this, my Passion,
Or -This Dear Love.

Often in my conceiving I replay moments
Unpassed, between the hours of silence -prostrate,
Restless beside my dreams dashed -spoken hereof.


The evening glare steals the scene merging light and dark,
Whilst I intend to let her perceive my intent of heart, my Feelings buried deeper than she could e'er know.

Many woes hath she for her years, therefore how can
I let her wear these troubled fears alongside me in this
Chamber of guarded Hurt, or this secret abode?

And sometimes from this wild hearth, I ponder my own
Worth when compared to hers. She could hath my all.
Will it be enough?      -I do not pretend to know.

I once did have an entourage, I once had social affections for them, that was in my younger years, in those blessed days before the forfeiture of my smiles; but now, now all are of  the vanished type, each face has
dissolved from memory.

And long ago I abandoned laughter, I abandoned Joy, or rather they both abandoned me when I became ill of mind, and too caught up in my woes to see the hurt that I caused my companions with these my selfish ways,
which desired solitude.

You see, I  valued a Love once- in my way-and I put her before all the world, before all of you -my dearest friends.
I lost nearly all of myself that day, the day I whispered to her softly that  I loved her more than any other, and I did -rather so.

But, as my love for her grew into obsession, I was unaware
of what I was giving up -what I was becoming! I was becoming less of me, and more of her, more of that beast that hid beneath skin deep beauty.

My thoughts those dreary days would begin to whirl, my heart would race, as my
patience for humanity would come to an end; and as my nails turned to claws, my skin to scales, my teeth now fangs! I then, and only then, realized what I became - but I could not for the life of me change back into my old Self.

Do detest somber concepts brought forth by parturition to the thoughts you cannot otherwise declare untrue in the dark hour that is trapping you,
sealing you
in. Do not enter thy darkened
grave, for isolation amongst
those horribly innate constructs breeds involuntary cries
for days -brought on
by
perusal within. Do not encounter some cold cell, where creeping doom stalks and that black dog walks; there under stained obscene appearances,"unreal;"
and where low bred
mouths are speaking
falsely in lightless
arid lands so stale. But rather let the rejoicing wind that purifies
The dawn give lift to your courageously
resolute wing.
This is what it means
                     to belong
with one Self
to maintain.

We  stumble  forth,   'midst  creepers,  and  traverse
||        |||         |||          ||         |||  ­         \\\    \\\\\
 the  jungle    floor    which  measures a dozen acres.

By playing Tic - Tac - Toe on a calculator, you can come up with the following pattern:

123 + 321 = 444

396 + 159 = 555

147 +519 = 666

519 + 258 = 777

369 + 519 = 888

147 + 852 = 999

Mirror equations form a pattern occasionally as evidenced by the following:



789632145 + 541236987 = 1111111110



741852963 + 369258147 = 1111111110


123456789 + 987654321 = 1111111110


963852741 + 147258369 = 1111111110


789456123 + 321654987 = 1111111110


976431 + 134679 = 1111110


718293 + 392817 = 1111110


794613 + 316497 =1111110


9731 + 1379 = 11110


9371 + 1739 = 11110


9191 + 1919 = 11110


2468 + 8642 = 11110


7913 + 3197 = 11110


852 + 258 = 1110


46 + 64 = 110

PATTERNS IN THE MATH

04862 + 31795 = 36657

0486 + 3179 = 3665

048 + 317 = 365

04 + 31 = 35

0 + 3 = 3
<><><>
<><>
<>

0 plays the role of an even number perfectly, because it
is an even number.

You can see this especially when you reverse the operation
when subtracting evens from odds.


Odds & Evens
///////// - //////////
97531 - 86420 = 11111

7531 - 6420 = 1111

531 - 420 = 111

31 - 20 = 11

1 - 0 = 1

Take the even numbers of the set 0-9 this time

and subtract the odd

like so:

Evens & Odds
////////// -  /////////
02468 - 13579 = -11111

As in part 9, drop a number from each side as such:

0246 - 1357 = -1111

Again drop a number like so:

024 - 135 = -111

And again such as:

02 - 13 = -11

Finally

the equation:

0 - 1 = -1

That's all folks!         ............Or is it?

I hope someone out there enjoys my Math poems.

It took me about 10 minutes to figure out this
set of equations.

If you take the odd numbers from the set 0 - 9

and subtract the even numbers you are left with 11,111
  which is a series of 5 ones, ( 5 is the number of odds and the number of evens on each side of the equation.)

13579 - 02468= 11111

Then you drop one odd

and one even to get a 4 series:

1357 - 0246 = 1111

Then another like so:

135 - 024 = 111

And as before:

13 - 02= 11

And finally you are left with the last odd which is one
and the last even which is 0 and you get:

1 - 0 =1

Square root of 123,456,789
=111,111,111
111,111,111 - 123,456,789
=12,345,678

Square root of 12,345,678
=11,111,111
11,111,111 - 12,345,678
=1,234,567

Square root of 1,234,567
=1,111,111
1,111,111 - 1,234,567
=123,456

Square root of 123,456
=111,111
111,111 - 123,456
=12,345

Square root of 12,345
=11,111
11,111 - 12,345
=1,234

Square root of 1,234
=1,111
1,111 - 1,234
=123

Square root of 123
=111
111 - 123
=12

1 - 2 = -1

√123456789=11111.1111

11111.1111÷9=1234.56789

1234.56789×8=9876­.5432

9876.5432
+1234.56789=11111.1111

11111.1111-1234.56789=
9­876.54321
9876.54321÷8=1234.56789

1234.56789×9=11111.1111
11111.­1111^2=1234567890
1234567890÷10=123456789

- - - - - - - - - - - -  1
                         23 23
                     45678945
                  67898765467
              898765432123­489

2 8 4 6
3 7 2 5
4 6 4 4
5 5 2 3
6 4 2 2
7 3 2 5
8 2 4 2

2 8 4 6
3 7 2 5
4 6 4 4
5 5 2 3
6 4 2 2
7 3 2 5
8 2 4 2

Day emerges
      And unburdened urges
The hour vessel sand,
Grain by grain,
To gain by gradual increase,
      That he may enter into
A life that none can ascertain;
And he usurps the authority
                                           Of
Death's powerful hand,
Alight with a spirit courageous
              Yet stained
With Guilt...
For that hand many lives
Has claimed...

Encouraging specific grief and pain!
Devices do definitely die -weather worn and withered; whether worn and wilted -or otherwise.

Once born into his fortress forthright
-The right sustained thru
                  The law of casualties-
Thou gorgeous light steals e'en
The purest night,
      Like a thief unashamed,
(Most naturally and casually.)

But soon Day too will pay this penalty,
And give up the ghost to Night,

      Again one life ends with the sickle of Death,
                   So that a new life might reign
-Afresh in Time's cycle of Eternity forthright.

Not for all eternity
Will sadness streak my cheek
Or curve me with a sightless weight
That bows my kneecaps weak.

Nor evermore shall I mourn
A departure so abrupt,
A constant fixture in my world
From it, so sudden plucked.

Even all time, so short and long
I dare not wish nor pine
Each blessed day that passes by
Each night would ease my mind.

But for a lasting moment
Each smile, each laugh, each breath
The memories shall hold me now
No longer left bereft.

To overcome this still inertia--impassioned as I am with
my wise reservation--is a cumbersome thing wrapped in a naked singularity that does tuggeth me between sluggish grief and brief elation. Betwixt the shore of imagination and the nexus that is the horizon, I revel in a non-spatial continuum of sanity, watching the celestial spheres in constantly changing velocity above me circle around a periphery, each like a space born diadem.


Released from reality, I see Thee with an adventure in hand,
(though it currently only resides in my minds travels.)
He is the King of Kings in His secret land, and it there that
is where the living conundrum unravels. I lose all of my attachments until I am free to be married to my destiny, which haunts my dreams and drinks up my being like a weeping willow tree: but at last I have surrendered to the
perfect Grace that has annihilated me.

Now there is only the diversity in the unity that has
awakened my natural love, empowering me to attempt the
ascent from this mortal levee, and kiss the endless sky above.

To
   wither, vanish, fade, and
diminish,
           dissolving in a glass
half
                     empty that forgets,
whilst
                   growing in Time's passage
and
                   e'er shrinking with age
-is to
                    wither, vanish, fade, and diminish.

Darling,
                    I heed thy cries as you feel blemished,
and
                       are becoming nearer to Death than to me,
because
                     I cannot see the petals for the rose ye be,
or
                at times sense what scents linger in your train
-as
                      you wither, vanish, fade, and diminish.

However,
                    in perfumed decay,
                               I watched you sustain your image,
and
                  persevere in a glass that I changed
out
                            and made half full, being so careful
when
                             putting you back in it:
but still
                             you wither, vanish, fade, and diminish.

The
                          day has come and you have gone away;
and
                          those familiar feel an agony
as
                           we display you finally
in
                           a heavenly vase, for
our
                     good intentioned and religious ceremony:
but
                      now I will now longer see you
-to
                       wither, vanish, fade, and diminish.