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Muse aux pieds nus,
Pour l 'amour de l 'art
Tu acceptes que j'ajuste
Ta pointure.
Tu chausses du trente-sept et non pas du trente-huit
Et je m'exécute
Que ma volonté soit faite
Ce que Muse veut Dieu le veut
Tu t'étends sur le lit de Procuste
A même la terre à même le ciel
Et tu sens mon parfum brigand
Qui te martèle et qui t'allonge
Puis qui te rogne
Et qui t'attache aux barreaux
Capiteux de mon poème.
"Et si tu mettais trente-sept et demi
Il suffirait d'une demi-semelle ! "
As-tu suggéré
L'air de rien.
J'y ai pensé !
Qu'importe en effet trente-sept ou trente-huit !

Mais en poésie tout est aussi mathématique
Sinus cosinus tangente et logarithme
cube racine carrée carré
Or trente-sept, même s'il est nombre premier cubain et non brésilien n'est multiple de rien
et surtout pas de huit.
Et trente-huit, s 'il n 'est ni premier ni parfait ,
Est de la race des nombres composés brésiliens puisque trente-huit vaut vingt-deux en base 18 .
I feel like an unsolved rubiks cube;
Indecisive and confused,
Chaotic and muddled,
Vague and hazy.

Tongue twisted is what I feel
When someone asks;
for I can not say
anything for sure .

I am lost in the galaxy,
wandering through the forests -
I don’t know what path to take
to reach the destination set for me.

Oblivious to what I want
or what to do,
everything feels
unsure and unsteady
“It’s just a phase” is all I say .

For one day I will know,
the floor will not be unsteady
and it will be clear.

For I hold on to the hope
that one day
the rubiks cube will be solved
Sumairupoetry Jun 18
The heart is like a Rubik's cube;


There is no algorithm to keep it whole.
PoetryHeals Mar 19
one, two, three, four
one, two, three, four
over     and     over...
black. yellow. red. orange. green. blue.
six colors
eight ends
twenty - four flat lines
twenty - four crosses
Countless Memories.
forever in my heart.
Solitude Man Jun 2018
He put his heart on the poker table
‘he’s all in’ his face grim and unquavering, he thinks he’s able
but the cards are stacked against him
he plays all moves
but the joker beleaguers his fingers
they use his mind as a bullet practice board
wearing their bullet proof vest so they’re well protected
He’d been on a scorching quest for disaster
was given a tepid glass of love in return

They said his heart was a Rubik’s cube in a Swiss bank
so he pulled the funds out took the risk rather than being a *******
He spends his heart on love,
he realises its like a cigarette loaded with regret rather than nicotine  
so he took a cue,
formed his heart back to a Rubik’s cube
and put in a Swiss bank in the maze house
effie ebbtide May 2018
it's blue where the robins lay their eggs
so the eggs themselves are blue; the nest,
not being blue, can only long to become
a comrade of the grass again. the grass is
something only wishing to be cut,
the lawnmower only wishes to be fueled
(by what?) and worms find themselves
through the pores of the skin of the flaky
earth below. rigidity is a form of division
that splits apart no self but others only.
Debanjana Saha Feb 2018
Rubic cube taught me,
With full of unsorted colors
No matter we can sort or not
But it is still an unsorted beauty
Leaves it's impression to be how it is
Or how more it gets unsorted
with more variations of colors
Doesn't matter what happens next
That's how life goes on!
Was playing with a rubic cube lately and the unsorted whole of it made me to think so deep. It's a way to satisfy oneself that not everything will get sorted out smoothly! The pain of being unsorted should be enjoyed more often!
Rosie Aug 2017
I have never had the patience to solve a Rubix Cube
instead I cheat
I peal each different colored sticker off
and place them in a way that
makes it appear solved
I guess I do the same with myself
I peal off each of my colors
aspects of my personality
and rearrange them so I appear solved
But under the seemingly ordered colors
I am scrambled
Janae Jun 2017
you are like a sugar cube
sweet and bad for you
i crave this eventual pain
that will make my teeth ache
Simon Obirek Apr 2016
Hanging in space,
suspended in nothingness,
tiny little cubes
with rounded edges
glistening brightly
like bulbs;
they're moments.

Some moments are nice
and some worth writing about.
The best moments **** time;
Earth spins slowly,
your bones tilt
your guts twist
and then it's over
like blown-out candles
just like that.

The tiny little cubes are snapshots,
they capture the moments
and they won't shake them after they come out.
The cubes are collages
of your entire life
of the feelings you've felt
the experiences you've had
and your love wrote a cute note at the bottom of the picture.

The tiny little cubes go unnoticed
by most people
but you.
the moments still exist
as long as there are someone
to remember them.
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