Mindful of others, but always deeper in thought.
You call it the folly of an inquiring mind,

Concern some may say diving to deeply
unsure of where this may take me.
Regarding the complexity of a frame.
I just see more than those who
open a door, and only see the other side.
So if the the hinges hold it what was behind.
Is it wrong to have an interest in more
than what others see as normal without
yearnings to find out what was, what's more.

Where I wished to delve deeper was only
an excuse for others to want it to wither.
never would I intrude, but my searching
eventually causes some unintended pain.
So I relent, I'm curious of the outcome some say.

There are many outer layers

Covering your skin

It takes a bit of stripping

To find what lies within

That is the beginning

Dig on and you will find

A thousand coats of rainbow paint

Covering the mind

Simplicity & complexity are a powerful combination.

Minimalism is discipline, the aesthetic is often pure and sensual; 'a simple joy’.
It strips the superfluous down to its essentials; it enables the viewer to contemplate the gaps and see the magic through simple repetition and gradual variation.

There is more room in our future when there’s less in it.

It's a setting for subtle syncopation, a place to break free from convention, a setting where aesthetic simplicity and abstract thought can combine to facilitate change, a space where human beings can create a tangible difference with very simple things; magical things.

By Pig-Man

Never can do it better my way
Outcomes hollow around the corner
Belittled, what else I could say?
Lifetime seems to be playing for forever
Arms to grab on, leaving it up
Having so much luck, can’t hold till the end
Confusions blur too much, mind can’t *****
It never comes to the point of nowhere

What could you do more?
Say as much as you want for life never comes tomorrow

Lives come and go till infinity covers the world
Never ending thoughts of getting serenity
Restless mounts the entirety of my mind
Free to fly like nothing’s broke
Yeah, it breaks me from within
Strangled not to breathe, never want it that way
Living the way life grows
Yeah, it breaks me from within


Easy to dig, matters go up and down
Taking it high but never looks it down low
Lingers to my feelings and later it hurts
Left standing in the dark with nothing ever glows
I’ll be known to the greatest, light up till your bound the limits
Unraveling the cloak of anonymity, spark up to shine
Innocence makes it up and leaves without a stain
What matters to me is the desire to make a name, nothing’s the same

What could you do more to me?
Wait till I can’t say no more


Caught up in a dream, it made me feel like this
Wants for the guts, disheveled lines for the throne
Fortunes stop knocking on me, waiting till the end
Timeless steals the life I’ve never known

Eating the universe’s cinnamon roll,
Trying to bite into the center.
The edge is not so sweet,
But it is worth all the effort.

One and one does not make two
Each combination is something new
No one is quite alike you see
So one, one, and one is not three

Two and two sometimes makes four
But it can make so much more
Two and three is sometimes five
Or it can make you feel alive

People are complex
Concave and convex
Multiplicative
Distributive
Bound to perplex

So put the calculator down
Take a look all around
Equations have their use
But reduction can be obtuse

I am indivisible
I am not invisible
I can make any move
I’m a number you can’t prove

flowers bloom unseen,
dolphins, at birth, swim;
elephants lived long and never forget;
butterflies’ epic round trip migration,
a transgenerational relay team.

unnecessary perfection is not;
futility is a most grievous flaw.

beauty baffles,
complexities confound;
constantly wonderful and amazing:
a language, alien to human wisdom,
secrets, inaccessible to knowledge.

a fantastic picture darkly perceived
shape and colour counts as comprehension.

but truths revealed to an innocent child.

the newbie failure complex(ity)

the poems come torrentially,
hurricane, waterfall & tornado are working adjectives
worthy of the task, yet unequal to the unlimited army
of the written dead of unread poems and poets
that occupy the nether of blog, podcast, and poetry sites,
orphan stars in the un-salvaged junkyard galaxy of verbiage

a faceless wight, once alive, now permanently dead,
we shuffle march, chanting each our own newbie poem,
onward soldiers to ignominy and glory so fleeting,
we are forgot before we are remembered

this is life in poetry,
or better yet,
the worst of it, (sigh)
this is the poetry of lives

all for nought,
nought for all,
at least we pass our prison time
in the company of fellow strugglers