If you spoke of me in terms of atoms,
I'd say I really didn't matter
Not a molecule of me really holds any mass,
And the weight of that thought gravitates
Until my being completely retracts.

An artist once told me that science took away from the beauty
of the stars as they were only mere bundles of gas. What is
'mere'? I can see the stars from the top of this hill as if I
am bursting from the atmosphere which dulls their light and I can
feel them as if they are burning right next to me. Do I see
less beauty than children who think the dark paper of the night
has been split open to reveal the daylight behind it through
my understanding of what stars are? The vastness of black stretches
my mind across itself because I can see a streak of burning
light from a million years ago. There is a vast pattern
and those children will dream of tearing apart from themselves to
merge with the sky as I ask what the meaning is and why? Even
when I know what the stars are, there is still the mystery of
why they are. The truth is far more wonderful than any words
before spoken imagined it to be and why do poets
not speak of it instead of dreaming about some deeper meaning
to the sky behind the clouds? Who is a human if they can
imagine themselves as the entire solar system but
cannot admit they have a burning star lying within them,
waiting to be spoken?

~~ Inspired by the Feynman Lectures. ~~

Science can pluck as many heart-strings
as poetry, and it can break as many too.
Maybe I didn't want your body,
but I wanted to comprehend your laws
and I needed your laws to apply to me--
I need to be explained
No, I can't explain myself to you
I need you to explain me to me
But would it make a difference in your field?
This imbalanced psyche isn't a new technology
I am ancient, the fate of my health is sealed
You must choose
Only two options, etc., etc., etc.,
Doomed to insanity or sanity
After the last glacier melts into ambiguity

will your understanding of me matter?
The fact is, no, it will not.
So don't sit there and examine
the pulse and pull of my heart-strings.

Pearson Bolt Apr 17

positivity is a plant without root,
withered petals dangling acute.
obtuse excuses are abusive homes
with leaky roofs and we're spluttering
in the gutter as our lungs
fill with rainwater.
integrity is small and it is fragile,
but at least it's foolproof.
i critique, therefore i am.
engaging consistently
in an emancipatory endeavor,
a liberatory tour-de-force.
false hope is a fucking noose,
endangering our biosphere.
the anthropocene is here.
we will not survive
if we remain aloof.
pursue truth.

"If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed."
- Carl Sagan

National Poetry Month, Day 17.
Dhaara T Apr 9

The way forward
From left to right
From the bottom, upwards
Version 1 to 3.0
We progress
In hope that we're improving
Enhancing
Building up
Refurbishing
Innovating
But are we, really?
We come a full circle
Only to learn
Life was never complicated
in the first place
We made it so
In our pursuit of oversimplification

Not all updates/upgrades are forward-looking, even if that is the intent.
oni Apr 8

science says
the bee stings their victim
and dies

keep that in mind
when you take a stab at me

Lori Apr 7

vision is a ton of soil with billions of bacteria
labeled invasive species reduced to four criteria
written like mighty armies of ants on sticky notes
brought your tractor to cultivate electric nodes

an A is never given to those who never fit in
follow the rubric listen to instruction you'll get in
reduced to idealistic poetic unhygienic disease
unique is antique do away with feeling release

hear the sand fall of dreams your mouth reeks
habitat destructor a million of bacteria seeks
friendlier living spaces than your noise pollution
tongue over harvesting nature vision extinction

afraid of insects ruling the world overpopulating
in crisis save the bigger species generalizing
create a biodiversity hierarchy of entitled importance
vision is flora fauna bacteria fungi inheritance

Day 7 is undervalued things prompt. I took the abstract route. I really wanted to talk about a specific thing but I wanted to write something about vision. I wanted to talk about bacteria and fungi originally so, I just combined them together. I'm always really discouraged that I never qualify the requirements in writing projects. They say I get too off topic or got too creative and free. I feel it's ironic that I'm a writer but I never get good grades in writing or English. Ugh.
Vexren4000 Apr 3

The world we dream we live in,
Is nothing but a trick of the eyes,
Only being able to see,
What our limited senses allow,
Imagine the alien things,
Hidden in plain sight,
Underfoot or in the jungles,
In the ever reaching ocean,
Or the depths of space and time,
The things hidden before our senses,
By our senses,
Inaudible sounds,
Invisible wavelengths of light,
Could compose whole races of beings and beasts,
Never before imagined by man,
Illusion is our daily reality,
Reality masked by our tunnel vision ridden senses
Only machines can see
What man cannot,
We must create artificial life,
To see what is masked by being human.

Timothy hill Mar 28

We conduct are options of said varant.

We conclude it's conduction.

Reasons and actions are prize of a pure thought for inventions.

Ingenious the seem less degree of varantions.

Permutions and recovery of old systems with out dated ways.

For we rise to seed the galaxy's with hyper precession and achivemental development.


Hesitant as hands approaches clap being of a honorable mention.


Within a one of 3 star year.

The all which provides heaps of determation.

Too grasp a world filled of diasters and need of a drained sky.

All the chemicals processed to harm the clouds.

Changing there compostion and puffness.

Weather stages are more of strenght and winds changing as well.

Inductions and communicate and words wrote by the minds of realistic convextion of persons.

Scenes of a varant.
Vexren4000 Mar 21

Buds, sprouts, shooting forth
From wet soil and melting snow.
The Animus stirring from their slumber,
Creaking open their eyes glued shut by the dark of winter.
Birds beginning to flutter again.
The cicadas crawling from the thawed ground.
Trees growing leaves, bringing with them the shades of summer.
The shades of chlorophyll pouring from the verdant forests.
Sunshine bathing the land in warmth and renewal.
Where man has worked all winter,
Animals have rested, to recover for the summer.
Man never recovered, he has forgotten how
To hibernate for the winter months.

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