#measuring
The living reality of a metaphor, almost every ounce in-taken,
Every nuance, every pronounce, measured, weighted and weighty,
Fluid or firmament, each encapsulated, prior to release, scaled,
Tabulated, ordered, noted, recorded, and ultimately judg-ed.
Totality of it all, the varied quantities of the ingested nutrients,
even the forecast of the future, if every day was a metaphor for
like today…
DO
I speak of the day's headlines?
Of the quantity and nutrition that passes through my lips?
Or
The surround sound of the surrounding sounds of this day,
the flocks of bandito geese who exist only to torment,
the landscape working crews, with their tools, like a 7::00an wake up buzzing about, for the entire street, going house to house, looking for itinerant grassy knolls of patches of bright green,
overnight sprung up and needy to be
guillotined,
laundry to do, rugs needy for clothesline screaming/beating or merely super fast vacuuming;
they, hawking their skills available for the old and infirm,
or the fatty catty cattle lazy, (somewhere in there is moi);
and the decibels of their machines, the rat-a-tat of their rapido, voluble speech that feeds me poetry by the ounce of their laughter, but more exactly of,
What do I speak, to what do I allude?
Why all and none, everything and specifically nothing,
for the metaphor is meta! (1)
It is life itself, from the quarter teaspoon
to the overflowing bath, it is life at its most incremental,
the moment
of flushing face,
the second
of ah ha! recollection, the,
long term trends
trending,
the flatline of my EKG,
the weighty pronouncement of my talking scale (you've been bad),
IT IS THE EVERYTHING
that is measurable, weighable, isolatable, defined;
it is our existence of our each & every of action and inaction strung together like a necklace and a chain
We are metaphor, reality, is, the script,
which is the product of you.
scriptwriter…/
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 6:17 PM UTC
_Peace abides in the gentle velvet folds of patient time;
When industry is forgotten and rigid right angles
Give way to soft currents of inspiration;
Lacking definition, judgement or expectation
My yardstick shrinks and disintegrates into nothingness...
Inadequate to the task of measuring infinity._
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 1:00 AM UTC
Tick tock tick tock
Is their any difference between a tick and a tock?
I mean conceptually of course
Not just the workings of a clock
I guess the ticks are every moment
And the tocks is what will be
All tocks become ticks
But all tick tocks go eventually
Not to worry
I care more though in concepts
Of looking past our man made time
Ticks and tocks don't really matter
If you don't pay them any mind
That's a funny thought though
I like that actually
Paying time our money
Money equals time they say
But to me it's a little funny
Cause what if you don't care for money or time?
What then defines your existence of being alive?
I mean to me a more sound measure
Is perhaps the pleasure
Of feeling my heart beating
A personal repeating of self made time and space
And once that tickers gone
I'm sure to follow along to our final resting place
Fitting we call our hearts the good old ticker then, hey?
My lungs are therefore the tocks
Like two little personal clocks
Working together differently
But in symbiotic harmony
All beats become breaths and all breaths pass by eventually
To me this seems a more valid sense of time
Like when you think of the sublime setting of the sun
Moments as these seem to slow down
And you're stuck in blissful entraption
Some moments just go so fast
And some feel like the last an eternity
And all the while inside me
My heart and lungs slow and speed accordingly
It's quite beautiful actually
Cause now when I think of us
I can count what you mean to me
115,200 ticks of my heart
30,000 tocks of my breath
Those are my average daily rates at rest
80 ticks of heart a minute
30 tocks of air
But around you I am sure
These numbers rise beyond anything compared
Like when I first met you
I think my ticks were at least at 122
Yes to be fair
My breaths fell short in some way
I guess from all the kissing to be had that day
And when we first made love
I felt like both were above
Anything I have ever felt before
And darling
If I could store my ticks and stocks in a special place for you
Reserve them in a bank for us to save
For special days between us two
I think it's safe to say
I'd gladly let you withdraw and take
All my beats and breaths away
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC