#fiber
10 seconds
With the devil, on a gentry's phone
Breathe, misery, we found the truth
In the way, when a speed is harrowed for intone
Sister Amelia, saw you...
Take the time to him, for a fight and a flight of fancy
My drastic measure, and the skip of worth to due
Has the voice of an angel, with a bared promise to many
Boom...
And the devil is gone, with a dream's feather
The bird of paradise, has been named after doom
With a moment to tell a divine city, we ate a daring in leather
Panic ensues, if not the ingenue of a pillow
We'll stick to cotton, the fabric of choice to a legend
Special in love with surreal, we notice the joy of willow
Slow and gainly, the fog has come for me and the stitch in time...
Proud termites?
And the absolute unhuman will to get a **** in here
Still the ghost of the house, philosophy is sure to ask, by rights
Is it all right to take a picture of us, with your fickle finger...
Jan 20
Jan 20, 2026 at 11:38 AM UTC
I believe in you with every my cell,
With every atom of my body.
If they don’t believe in you, I don’t care.
I don’t care about anybody.
I believe you with all my wounded heart,
With every fiber of my soul.
I can warm up only when I’m with you.
Just let me be with you in whole.
I believe in you! I believe you!
You won’t forsake or betray.
When you’re nearby, I believe in myself.
I’ll pull through in my life anyway!
Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 6:35 PM UTC
How I want to understand you
With every cell of my swarthy skin.
How I want to hug you all
Till my pulse madness! Not care of anything.
How I want to feel you in whole
In every fiber of my being.
But I'm afraid to spot one day
That you're the stranger and we have nothing.
Feb 1, 2025
Feb 1, 2025 at 3:27 PM UTC
Next then now, then next
no line, no dot, nothing now
time passes, came to pass,
as a near answer, a near new
point from which to view now.
…
In my case, my time as part,
smallest difference made,
the air you breathe, once,
I breathed into, and once,
I made you think yourself,
become a being I am not, but
then,
time,
and chance, all things working,
being, by gone, on gone working
to gather the momentum to make
time stretch into another whole mo-
ment, monumental pillar of earth salt.
At this point, next seems inevitable.
So we wait.
Thinking a next like this next one,
has never had a state of being common.
What - all ifery asks, if, imagined, seen, see
we agree and proceed to see, so time's
essence is momentarily mental, we think,
therefore we do many mental moments, we
think we would, or could or should be ready
for ever to cease forming myself, from myself,
slowing time, to myself, for myself, taking mine
and forming some for you to use, to take a second
order of packeted eventuality, side-tracked,
to let the important news of many deaths elsewhere,
make us agree to become so much better informed,
buy the best life has on offer, ready,
read the instructions.
{ lifetime acheivement, never reached}
Chiefest among missers of the mark.
Of course, in the course of human events,
from the playing fields of Eton, to the battlefields
of Afghanistan, what power reigns supreme?
- The Lion came, and brought the Tiger,
- the Bear came, and left, and then the Rat,
- or the Weasle, we can even see a Squirrel
- in the role of first worst case scenario on offer.
VOG - quiet on set, quiet back stage,
mind reengage tongue, taste the fertile reality, who
and what we are, enjoyment, actually, being, mere joy,
ahoy, adrift in all our otherwords, set idle by our tech-logic
- What fear rules the man who has learned his role?
Broken leg, reversed cursing, blessing God, just in case.
-- A day, Ivan Denisovich, Zeks, yes,
man's inhumanity to man, and best layed plans
plotted course of concentration, minds meld, given
incentive to spill over the banks of the feeder canals,
as the hermit's cistern in the Lagunas, topped it's edge,
and he sighs, thinking, so it is, you got a cistern,
I gotta cistern, if yours were to overflow,
it is your fault, or your glory for the joy, in the streets
in the summer,
in the city, back o' yo' neck red and sweaty, you dig,
you become worthy of the daily bread we are given
for righteous duty done, did I do, or did you, did we
sing along with the bouncing ball, did we all?
Thinking, all we do is wait,
becoming old, we wait to finish thinking,
thinking old, old, olden days, before letters,
before
knowing, being nothing, becoming this, these
lines of lettering linking noises used among us
to carry thought from me, myself and I, to you,
the one other at the moment, in the state,
what if, what if, what if nothing makes more
difference than you, one of us, one in our once
in an unbroken history of science and philosophy,
our hours of confluency, our instants in shared
learning, minutes of life's use, as used to make us
up from nothing… to think about a series of every
expansion to our sense of connectedness, seeing
we lieve being true, first proof the priests do lie,
first proof the chaos is not evil, but essential
patient zero, paradigm,
"logical or conceptual structure
serving as a form of thought
within a given area
of experience," Kuhn, perhaps, aligned
any worth, any value, any cost or price,
eventually, any time is too short.
Any vessle filled with experiential wonders
projected on reflective walls, six ways walled.
windowed and doored.
In parts, in passing, taking offerings
left in pasts for hungry spirits, urging
answer seeking, seeming endless, whying,
ifing, framing forms for fitting twos to ones,
as when we agree, we form a two headed
thing, with we agreeing meatily to work
as carnal minds do, given set and setting,
inform a vessle for holding self evidence.
Governing systems, blindman crosswalks,
mandated, ai, remote eye aware, are we,
seeing from television, new form, digitized
bit maps of surprising resolution, if one re-
members learning lessons of scale, how tall,
how small, the ratio, this pattern of whorls,
and that, fingerprint from some once in ever,
there, we all see it, so huge we lack the frame
of referrence, we cannot bear the weight of knowing
we are the tipped point on our wave's recourse
around the laws serving stanchion roles in god's houses.
Pillars formed from promises, to those who find the time,
now, in a given day,
plain old everyday summertime, growing time, passing
as quaint, handcrafted meditation stations, desert fathers,
have we any wool, yessir, yessir, three bags full,
master, dame, and some poor spinner
who lives down the lane… earning daily bread,
as penance for being born in sin, losing all the good God
had planned, I' know a guy,
he can tell this story,
as a called and reconnected son, of God.
And the likelihood, actuarially, as tithes passed,
interesting, heft, umph, to the indulgent users, knowing
good and evil, evil is lazy money, doing no man any good.
Knowing how to grow more money, Midas, reminds,
as do many voices from the tombs, liars prosperity changes
legends, shapes myths, fixes history just so, at the instant,
we knew, we all knew, at once, everything,
is after ever before,
and we have stores of knowns, unbeknownst,
arranged in time and alpha beth order, for habitual
referrence, you know, we all know religions are powers
wielded by Ideal candidates, chosen children, and broken
old ladies,
what mystery is more mysterious than they,
the power they rewield as time stamps, proof, there
that guy was a witness, and he was not there,
on the stair, I
sat, imagining I remembered that, and found it odd.
I have been lied to, and I have lied, to you, I do,
naturally, I am of that class of sapient things, I can
lie, if lying leads the mark into the mark-et try and do,
do, indeed, Yoda, wink. Done, and beheld, now, that
is time well spent.
AND there's more…
Meta Kuhnian Crisis Paradigm.
Four nickles, two dimes, time was,
two novels, or four one reel peep shows,
-SECOND COMING TYPE- ten 2 cent papers
WAR CALLS
PEACE-
times means for holding a cultural bubble,
intact, sticky in fact, tacky to the touch,
RSO and blue stripes… settled hermit state,
from a granite lip of a feng shui breeze,
AI, what do I know - in summary,
a procession
Summarizer
The Structure of Scientific Revolutions is a book written by philosopher Thomas S. Kuhn in 1962.12 Kuhn argued that scientific advancement is not linear, but rather a series of peaceful interludes punctuated by intellectually violent revolutions, where one conceptual world view is replaced by another.3 The book offers a general pattern of scientific change, where inquiries in a given field start with a clash of different perspectives.1 Eventually, one approach manages to resolve some concrete issue, and investigators concur in pursuing it—they follow the "paradigm." Kuhn challenged long-standing linear notions of scientific progress, arguing that transformative ideas don't arise from the day-to-day, gradual process of experimentation and data accumulation, but that the revolutions in science, those breakthrough moments that disrupt accepted thinking and offer unanticipated ideas, occur outside of "normal science." The historical process of science is divided into three stages: a "normal" stage, followed by "crisis" and then "revolutionary" stages.0
Of my own volition, if one were to assume
one of my stations in life could possibly know my own will,
revolunteered to lead a raid behind the lines,
out of loyalty to a bucket list
perfect cow dismemberment, check,
tear a sacred cow to shreds and leave it to be ciphered out,
by farmers living high on the Teapot Dome affair,
and its coincidence to great social reformation,
- steam roll, electric mind of Tesla
- and all the unsung genius under Edison, into one,
- as the online entity with roots back to BBS and
- dial tone tricks of a switch…
yes, the burden of the rich, as we saw the similarities,
become the unresolved problem,
- mission drift, art intuited cognosis
have you never read where it is written that we,
we who read
being the only letting being
to let it be known, that we are to judge angels,
- where does this go?
as best messaging noncorporeal beings, wielding spirit in truth,
not some clown troupe trope miss
representing feeble minds reattempting trials,
Not Clarence, or Caspar, or the couple in the Thin Man,
nor Harvey, the Pooka manifested as human in a rabbit hat.
In profile he became the ******* Logo, same rabbit head guy.
Bunny lore, wrapped in chinchilla, soft as kitten fur,
who would ever tell?
--- Business, summer makes me think of winter sales.
No curious use of curio arts, ancient
beta better possible ways, from when we knew nada
at all, zip, zilch, no se, no way, we were babes,
and if we are raised, we become like animals, we sweat.
But, if we are reared, we become as men, we perspire.
As sentient beings who read as readily as we write,
we accept the role of reader as ours by right, or rote
ritual quotidian duty, each day, we plan to finish re-en
lightening the mob, the masses, eight billion of us now,
as we approach the peak, powers of ten, times six,
why six,
cubes stack nice… least heat, cool
enough to seal a preset get,
go, be gone to elicit light,
research into mind mold.
Jul 27, 2023
Jul 27, 2023 at 5:20 PM UTC
Water reflects the image of its surrounding,
Sky reflects the color of a blue ocean,
Clouds illuminate rays from the sun,
Mirrors reflect the beauty of the face!
Your words convey your thoughts,
Your kindness mirrors your heart,
Your actions display your character,
Your eyes reveal your inner soul!
Make every fiber of your being
Parallel the depth of the ocean,
The scent of flowers, the taste of spring,
Touch of the breeze, and the welcoming of a new dawn!
Hussein Dekmak
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 10:04 PM UTC
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
Before my time is up,
and this moment in life passes,
I want you in every fiber of my being.
So when this body withers,
and ash is dust once more,
I want my soul to be
slowly consumed by yours.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 12:53 AM UTC
Do you remember my wool sweater:
How the fibers used to catch on your wristwatch
And tangle themselves in the buttons on your checkered shirt?
Those loose threads said what I was too afraid to—
Don't let go;
Stay just a little longer.
Fiber after fiber, they unraveled,
Until that old wool sweater was tattered and frayed and scattered—
Softly curled strings on shirt edges and neckties,
A memory begging not to be forgotten.
Even after all this time,
I'd bet you still find specks of red on your pillowcases
Or on your jacket as you ride the bus to work.
I hope you do.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
The old faucet
has lost patience
Just as I have
the fiber of its existence
drop by drop
slithering through
the revolving wheel of time
as it drops
06/23/2015
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
Each second, right here, right now, exciting moments are unfolding as if coming into flower. Breathtaking wonder, its cadence rising,
modulated and rhythmic, making the heart quicken.
Who, for example, can resist a rainbow or not
thrill to the cataract's roar? Before God died in your eyes,
He wrapped us in the safety of a blanket made of moral fiber;
And set us on our way to look upon this beguiling and buzzing beauty. Life in a candy store, ripe for the taking!
This fullness of manifestation is not lost on one looking.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
The arousing emotional fiber of first love
An exhilarating love at first sight
A bittersweet painful passion
An overwhelmingly deep love
Gentle as a summer gust
Fierce and chilling as the ice cliffs
That is the way your love is to me
Universal as life itself
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
Lost to backdrops scrolling past,
She sits knitting
in the carriage of a train.
The vague needles
They scintillate and glimpse
With the cadence of the wheels –
Upbeating ceaselessly.
Strips of tiny loops
And eyelets like dewdrops
Of condensation
Grouped on the superior rim.
Once in a while,
She gives a heave
To loosen more yarn from the skein
Of Filipino-made wool,
brushed worsted weave.
Spun and carded
from the richest fleece,
Deeper in the wicker basket by her feet.
The needles flash,
With ancient rhythms and attack
Of duellists in their chainmail coats.
With little hesitation she can tack
From plain to purl to blackberry.
Count back by rote or slip a stitch
While the fish-eyed gimlets gleam.
All gather profusely in her lap,
As windfall trove, rich-patterned
And warm with peach-fuzz nap,
All crafted from a single line of yarn.
Marvels fall continuously from wise
Spell-binding hands and all is well for now.
(9/11/13 @xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC