RJ Days Apr 21

Closed
timelike curves
I need you
now more than ever
unfortunately

Come, take my hand and quickly!
We'll sail the seven seas
We'll find buried treasure
Enjoy merry weather
And do all of the things that we please

Come, follow me quietly!
We'll sneak up on the cave of a troll
We'll steal his good ale
Fill his shoe with a snail
Don't get caught, or he'll eat you up whole!

Come, run now, beside me!
I'll show you where Pegasus fly
We'll go and won't stop
'Til the gold mountaintop
At the spot that just touches the sky

Come, sit here before me...
But, don't move much, for not to disrupt it
See, between you and I
A tiny village doth lie
Only look, for 'twill break if you touch it

Come, think closely on all I have shown you
May you forever never forget
While in one place, you're a giant
In another, you could be a shy ant
And who we are now is anyone's bet

the title is a play off of "fairy tale", because I originally wanted to call this piece "fairy tale", because it fits, but that would have been too expected, which does not fit. Combined traditional fairytale fashion with elements of greek mythology and smoky, but subtle notes of pirates. I miss childhood.
Yanamari Jan 24

I found a carving made of wood
A carving I made and
Never really understood
The shape was awfully made
And yet at the time
Emitted an aura that felt good
The raw quality,
The way light fell on it,
At the time I could only think
The carving was perfect,
The way that it stood.

I found a wood carving that I hid
Away from my mind
So that I could bid
Farewell to the misplaced notches and indents
That surfaced on the carving.
Why did I leave pieces here
And cut off parts there?
What experience did I have in carving
Such an obscene piece?
Of myself, the carving, I would rid
But if only I could
Forget what I did
What I carved
What I was amid
But I cannot

The reason I didn't understand
The decisions I made
Was because
I understood the decisions I made.

There are parts to this poem drafted in my mind and yet I carved them. I consider reattaching them but what effect will that have to my misshapen poem?
Alva Cardona Aug 2016

Like Schrödinger's cat,
we are all, at times,
ourselves
and not ourselves,
the known
and the unknown,
and some might feel
–for whatever reason–
both alive
and dead

(not unlike a ghost
would feel like
in the spirit world)

It's an unshakeable sense
of uncertainty
–on a sub-atomic level–
thinly veiled and contained
by our bodies,
the only part of us
that can be observed
from the external,
by those beyond the fringe
of our psyches
and physicality

~Our inner oceans,
with their entangled waves,
whether calm
or in turmoil,
only look like ponds
to those who can't see
past the surface
of things~

Even in a realm
drunk on infinite
possibilities
and parallel realities
–ruled by relativity–
it remains
the only constant,
the only thing
that brings us
sobriety

But do not despair.

"Be the particle,
ride the tide;
be like
the One Electron
and dare
to explore
yourself, for you
are the Universe"

It would be
my only advice
for those seeking
to comprehend
this inherently human
state of matter
and consciousness.

Mark Wanless Aug 2016

My name is Kepec
I see
I see the mountains and the trees
     as a Holy Place created by the Great Father
     put here for  me to live in and enjoy
Ever since I was a young boy I have felt
     as one with the land and sky and rivers
     but I see  people as dreams
They listen and do whatever I say
     they know I would never lie to them
Why should I lie to a dream?
I tell them when to plant seeds
     when the rains will come
     where to find fruits
     and when to pick them
     and when to sacrifice
     a hundred slaves
I see dreams killing dreams
They clean and cook the bodies
     and they eat
I eat only the fruits and grains
What use would it be
     to eat a dram?

Ramisa R Jun 2016

i. no absolute rest
"yes, time
never did stop
for anyone."

but I add...

ii. no absolute motion
"even time itself
is an
illusion."

because
yours and mine
...dissent.

iii. backwards
maybe yesterday,
we could still
work things out.

--softer,
than lightly (3.0 x 10^8 m/s)

iv. implausibility
our foreheads wear
the cracks of our heart.

you lost your zeal,
I lost my saviour,
we lost each other,

but left
with osmium-clad
backpacks,
and collapsed
patellas.

E = mc^2.

v. our end

fact:
tomorrow
is inevitable.

fact:
screeching alarms
and lopsided bed-hair,
and chugging caramel lattes,
with precisely two tablespoons
of raw sugar--

fact:
forget among the clamour,
the shadow of your figure--

fact:
you are an
unearthed blackhole,
under the facade
of a supernova.

(your mass = 2.5(+) x greater than the sun)

a late night poem, inspired by Einstein's theory of relativity according to this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttZCKAMpcAo. I have worked out that my love for physics doesn't step from solving problems, but thinking, contemplating, the concepts....

the romanticisation of such a theory, though, was not an original idea. I recently watched (and absolutely fell in love with) Steins;Gate, the science-fiction anime.
Jade Louise May 2015

This moment is final
They tell us
This is the end
Coming up against a new beginning

But how do we make sense of time
How can time
Be framed in bookends
One hour marked apart from another
One day pulled apart from the next

We try to take things apart
But graduating
Doesn't end our education
Stories live outside of their pages
Ideas
Stretch beyond their words
And People
Live even outside of their bodies
Their ashes swept up by the wind and water and mountains
Their genes alive in their children

Some moments
Some people
Are too big
They continue
To live
Into infinity

I think our ancestors had it right
When we began to wear time on our wrists
Not in a Line, or Square, or Single Dot
But in a Circle
To Infinity


~JLH

Matthew Harlovic Dec 2015

to the one that knows or examines his existence,
explain the relativity of time and distance
from the instance of creation,
the expansion of self
to the bold bearing of a life lived well
then picture the presence of a proclaimed faith
through the face of a Galilean reference frame
but refrain from the mention of preconceived notions
which pertain to gnomon-wise motion.

© Matthew Harlovic

A love poem
spysgrandson Nov 2015

LET
THERE
BE
LIGHT
a
fierce
sun sucked
vapors
into
a
thunderous
sky
which
wept
sixty
sextillion
t­ears
creating
a
riddled
calibration:
the river  
time

we
came
cells
devouring
cells
metastasizing
into
li­fe
first
cruel crawlers
then
stealthy stalkers
wicked walkers  
and
finally
THE
terrible talkers
blasphemers
bending
time
asking
WHY
it
flows
?

we
are
th­ey
who
have
no
shore
to
which
to
moor
on the river,
time

what comes at 2:00 AM when I had too much chocolate
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