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Poetoftheway Aug 25
quantum poetry paradoxes

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forArianna who sometimes hears opera by night,
but always sees poetry

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what we are is unique, at the molecular level,
our DNA is microscopic visible,
in every letter, comma and
even the false white spaces of

universes expanding,
black holes ******* in fooled passerby’s,
burning out and disappearing
as invisible forces create and dilapidate -

simultaneously

this our poems are finite but never complete,
explorers sent knowing they will never return,
and if they do, though their poems unchanged,
but all the readers older, deformed and/or dead

think on it!

the world of you has revolutionized many times
since you started reading this prose, you have birthed
and seen cells die by the millions by the time you’ve
read this sad stanza twice and glory hallelujah uttered!

so go ahead, create and die

simultaneously

I give you answers,
though you ask for none,
you keep on breathing beating,
beating pumping apparatus paradoxically

insists you live even as it wears out with each
stroking, explain these minute contradictories
as your consciousness refracts and absorbs
these many mighty infinite finalities of

the

quantum poetry paradoxes

12:34pm EST
http://poetry.nautil.us/article/372/meet-harvards-own-poet-physician?mc_cid=5b79fbdab2&mc_eid=b10b796328
Frigid fire and scorching cold
blue from such happiness -
one's youth found in the old,
clinging onto letting go, such paradoxes.
Julian Delia Aug 2018
The sound of silence.
Peace after violence.

A mother’s browbeaten servitude.
A child’s coerced gratitude.

The world’s most prosperous nations.
Architects of the most dangerous machinations.

Economies like never before;
A life that still leaves you wanting more.

The embezzlement of public finances.
The settlement of a case’s nuances.

Two colluding entities declaring each other free of ******;
With ease, starving YOUR wallet until YOU are down on your knees.

The oath: ‘to protect and serve.’
The reality? ‘To suspect and unnerve.’

A cartel that’s in charge of the guns;
Like leaving a brothel in the hands of Huns.

The lie of representation in government.
The election, expectation of endowment.

Spending your life washing your master’s feet,
Then somehow being surprised by their trickery and deceit.

The mistake of prioritising convenience.
The finalising of our own, eventual obsolescence.

We are a species that will die
Clueless of our role in it, desperately asking ‘why?’
When it’s way too late.
Trying on a new style in terms of venting vexation.
I was walking down a hallway, when a head rush overtook me. blindly ambling forward, the walls, floor, and ceiling lurched in on me.

I was struck by the absurd notion that human beings must be enclosed within these confined spaces. it parallels the idea of the lines, spaces, and boxes that society draws upon and around us that we must remain in.

man is not free.

yet this contradicts the statement made by Jean Paul Sartre, explaining that “man is condemned to be free.” how can this be? we attempt to free our minds, and yet we remain in the enclosures we physically and mentally draw around ourselves.

the walls seemed like they were closing in, and it reminded me terribly of a time that I knew I was losing my mind.

the concept of space and the universe was slipping away from me; before becoming vastly distorted, lacking all meaning. it was like slipping away into the infinite black abyss once more.

all of these thoughts and feelings rushed over me at once: some verbal, most instinctual. unspoken. primitive, as if this knowledge lived within us, residing in our bones since the dawn of mankind.

the entire experience lasted approximately four seconds. it made me nostalgic yet nauseous to remember that I once to lived my entire life in this state.
April 22nd, 2013 

I vaguely remember this experience.
it was just another flash of clarity among an ocean of monotony.

however, this was before I dove deeper into the works of Sarte.
sophia sacal Aug 2017
My soul contains all;
It knows darkness and light,
The bitter taste of heartbreak
And the euphoric thrill of love.

My soul…
A black void of nothingness
And an infinite ocean of life—
An eternal contradiction,
The ultimate paradox to be unraveled.  

My soul is
Ethereal and everlasting—
A mountain of darkness to get lost in
And the path of light to find yourself.

It is everything—
And nothing at all.
Francie Lynch Nov 2014
I buy lottery tickets,
But don't pray.

I curse the drivel on TV,
But own two.

I purchase alcohol,
But don't drink.

I roll stop,
But I flash the bird
(at you).

I don't like Rap,
But do Drake.

I abhor celibacy,
But I dress in white.

I love you,
But I'm not in love.
I'm tired to wash up,
So I procrastinate.
I'm tired to stand up,
So I'm sitting here.

I'm tired to walk to bed,
So I remain on the floor.
I'm tired to get myself to sleep.
So I'm still awake.

But I'm tired.

— The End —