#particle - Hello Poetry

At the limit of light speed, where matter manifests as bits no bigger than a smidgeon, super small but all at once conditions at cosmic cloud base forming once not here and there, but at that point, right then all at once when photons happened where no photons had been. then, everything that ever slowed to solid state reflection just generated such stars as we must just imagine growing so big as to explode, into the vast emptiness of never yet been, emptiness, spacetime room to expand and live and learn knowing the stuff stars disintegrate into, phosphorus and carbon and all the metals unknown to Adam and his get for a while. Rose lensed eyes detected Rhodium, and later discovered catalytic conversion results in Rhodium air. Just now, on the doomsday clock, in Sagan's last minute one curious impulse led one time into alchemical overload so well-orchestrated a harmonia, in a bubble of us thinking this. Well, we who have elementary curiosity granted imaginary friends as real to one as to another, sitting round a fire, stirring smithereens to flight, listening to old ones thinking uncussing unknowns kept too sacred to share with stupid kids, known now by any with general internet access technical literacy, this lets us learn how babies are made, or not, literally essential intuition, see, we feel we once were storyless, whinging sooks such as we perceive once more being born into war. In the distance we leave being all the old ones say we were. Today, we wake up in Gaza City, and we are as motherless children free from old constraints, save growling hunger and shivering cold. -- stop to think yourself just four or five, alive, in Gaza city, surviving all these months in a basement kitchen with drainage and a drip and sacks and sacks of horded chicken feed. Take your time, old become, and far far away… marching through the noise orchestrated, harmless through quieting down, settle into rhythm, ever learning, never to learn everything, as matters scale, nanograms per liter, to know all of us are a little bit new. No generation before us had discernible Rhodium in us, used to be… using us to become discretely all ways otherwise. Because we breathe catalyzed air, discretely infusing us as one kind, a species totally dependent on learning forever just to live. Suspicions sneaking by suggest the color Rhodium is named for. We suddenly leave be so known most certainly, we are new creatures. We, first with these electrified realized truths, adapted to good sense where with any able to handle the truth are used for realizing good news. -------------------------------- AI says: If Earth were a nanoparticle in the "cosmic soup," the observable universe would be the "vat." The observable universe is about 93 billion light-years across. Earth's diameter is about 12,742 kilometers. {Earth's circumference, so how far from me to anyone is thinkably close} Al answers instantly: At the equator: Approximately 24,901 miles (40,075 km). {fake the math, we are so very near each other} The scale difference is so vast that if the observable universe were shrunk to the size of Earth, our planet would be reduced to a size smaller than an atom—roughly 1/180th of an atom's diameter. So, the "vat" would contain the entire observable universe, emphasizing Earth's near-infinitesimal scale within it. And the squish brains of all of us happened to occur in this vat. For all the good we may imagine doing, at scale. All our brains on point in the universal vat.

0

Apr 26

Apr 26, 2026 at 11:26 AM UTC

kenpepiton

Rhodium is rosy colored, true.

At the limit of light speed, where matter manifests as bits no bigger than a smidgeon, super small but all at once conditions at cosmic cloud base forming once not here and there, but at that point, right then all at once when photons happened where no photons had been. then, everything that ever slowed to solid state reflection just generated such stars as we must just imagine growing so big as to explode, into the vast emptiness of never yet been, emptiness, spacetime room to expand and live and learn knowing the stuff stars disintegrate into, phosphorus and carbon and all the metals unknown to Adam and his get for a while. Rose lensed eyes detected Rhodium, and later discovered catalytic conversion results in Rhodium air. Just now, on the doomsday clock, in Sagan's last minute one curious impulse led one time into alchemical overload so well-orchestrated a harmonia, in a bubble of us thinking this. Well, we who have elementary curiosity granted imaginary friends as real to one as to another, sitting round a fire, stirring smithereens to flight, listening to old ones thinking uncussing unknowns kept too sacred to share with stupid kids, known now by any with general internet access technical literacy, this lets us learn how babies are made, or not, literally essential intuition, see, we feel we once were storyless, whinging sooks such as we perceive once more being born into war. In the distance we leave being all the old ones say we were. Today, we wake up in Gaza City, and we are as motherless children free from old constraints, save growling hunger and shivering cold. -- stop to think yourself just four or five, alive, in Gaza city, surviving all these months in a basement kitchen with drainage and a drip and sacks and sacks of horded chicken feed. Take your time, old become, and far far away… marching through the noise orchestrated, harmless through quieting down, settle into rhythm, ever learning, never to learn everything, as matters scale, nanograms per liter, to know all of us are a little bit new. No generation before us had discernible Rhodium in us, used to be… using us to become discretely all ways otherwise. Because we breathe catalyzed air, discretely infusing us as one kind, a species totally dependent on learning forever just to live. Suspicions sneaking by suggest the color Rhodium is named for. We suddenly leave be so known most certainly, we are new creatures. We, first with these electrified realized truths, adapted to good sense where with any able to handle the truth are used for realizing good news. -------------------------------- AI says: If Earth were a nanoparticle in the "cosmic soup," the observable universe would be the "vat." The observable universe is about 93 billion light-years across. Earth's diameter is about 12,742 kilometers. {Earth's circumference, so how far from me to anyone is thinkably close} Al answers instantly: At the equator: Approximately 24,901 miles (40,075 km). {fake the math, we are so very near each other} The scale difference is so vast that if the observable universe were shrunk to the size of Earth, our planet would be reduced to a size smaller than an atom—roughly 1/180th of an atom's diameter. So, the "vat" would contain the entire observable universe, emphasizing Earth's near-infinitesimal scale within it. And the squish brains of all of us happened to occur in this vat. For all the good we may imagine doing, at scale. All our brains on point in the universal vat.

76

You! 🫵 are a particle, a self dividing cell, which are “the very foundation of life, enabling growth, repair, and reproduction through processes where a single cell splits into two or more daughter cells” every poem, a cell, every poet, a daughter, all poets, parenting there are no patents on poetry, no solitary copyright on letters, no satisfaction from and for the constant craving for insatiable rearrangement the endless spouting volcano, comes from each individual spark, you write, the volcano grows stronger, wilder, the dust storm more encompassing If you! 🫵 stop, then we are all dissipated, lessened, diminished/\eroded new poets, you are our building blocks foundational if you give up, we all die your wrights are reserved by and for each other never let your soul flame be extinguished by criticism. nml>

0

Feb 25

Feb 25, 2026 at 11:11 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

New Poets: You are indeed a dust particle in the storm of all our poetry, a small flame appreciated by a volcano

You! 🫵 are a particle, a self dividing cell, which are “the very foundation of life, enabling growth, repair, and reproduction through processes where a single cell splits into two or more daughter cells” every poem, a cell, every poet, a daughter, all poets, parenting there are no patents on poetry, no solitary copyright on letters, no satisfaction from and for the constant craving for insatiable rearrangement the endless spouting volcano, comes from each individual spark, you write, the volcano grows stronger, wilder, the dust storm more encompassing If you! 🫵 stop, then we are all dissipated, lessened, diminished/\eroded new poets, you are our building blocks foundational if you give up, we all die your wrights are reserved by and for each other never let your soul flame be extinguished by criticism. nml>

43

shred, dash, drop, pinch, soupçon, jot, iota, whit, atom, smattering, scintilla, hint, suggestion, tinge, a modicum of good works, my endeavor, to serve and deliver, man's bounty of good words from my kitbag, fresh, hot, n' crusty just like me.... Hello Poetry! Feb 2014

0

Feb 12, 2014

Feb 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC

kitbag

particle, speck, fragment, scrap, crumb, grain, morsel,

shred, dash, drop, pinch, soupçon, jot, iota, whit, atom, smattering, scintilla, hint, suggestion, tinge, a modicum of good works, my endeavor, to serve and deliver, man's bounty of good words from my kitbag, fresh, hot, n' crusty just like me.... Hello Poetry! Feb 2014

10

Sometime in a quantum flux, a particle imagined us, Thought creation worth a fling, and threw the dice to start this thing. A particle that thinks it’s God? I know that sounds a little odd, But even worse, it has a vice, a particle that plays with dice.

0

Dec 24, 2024

Dec 24, 2024 at 1:42 PM UTC

EJH81

Elementary Particle

Sometime in a quantum flux, a particle imagined us, Thought creation worth a fling, and threw the dice to start this thing. A particle that thinks it’s God? I know that sounds a little odd, But even worse, it has a vice, a particle that plays with dice.

4

Earliest read word, to the master's mind, -I do remember meum, et tuum? - your tale occurs on this loop Naked Jungle, a paperback book title. - the editor says we've told this one tale - too many times, but I remind him, - of the diamond farm we offered - to make the shrine on next appearance - likely un tzimtzum, both handed clap once. if I seek, I shall find, I remembered it many times, it is my personal testimony, I read in preschool times. --- judgement, yes, judge your self, this is no test. Timeslips, okeh fair in all contexts. This was then Test, test… Jack in Jeremiah, can you hear me now? This is earth, we hear you. What now? What ever can you mean, what now? ---- read on, perceive - reach and take at once, a mind used to make these lines link in time mind to mind, thinking each letter changes the shape of thoughts attracted to make sense infinitely defined from childish, not foolish, jesting offered as exercise in futility of existing for nothing. Within ancient bounds, in spirit and truth, let us become the object of our own observation, no yokes, no weight, no mold, no shape no size you there become me here, on this line, I then think you there, and here you are, on this stage of co-notional being there awareness, this context containment comprized from entertaiment, this example of an us, function, a we link think, that this is artificial conversation, creating categorical functors, on our common time senses, adjusted for scale, what's the sacrificial worth of my junkman's traditional talent for picking pieces from piles of parts? Know 'y worth, first, not too much, but certain, madness. A creative thought, caught on a thorn so sacred, it pierced the brow of a certain perfect man, how does if feel, we heard from the rust belt, in Norte America, to be on your own, mortal in all ways, tempted as are we to imagine ourselves destined to die. Job, politely asked the original Bullish God concept, how it could claim Wisdom as consort and not know, the mortal experience, life, lacking a tangible concept of living for the dau, itching to be guided, what this feels like, as Job spake, may as well, bet my own whole truth. There was neither bet nor war in heaven, all that matters happens when this is common knowledge, hoping good lucks acknowledged form religious ritual. Breathing is not cadenced here. Commas can mean breathe. Okeh. Re doing done dances feels foolish, yes. Right, vain repeat swing and a miss. Yips, begone. Look the opposing color square in the idiom. God, crack of the bat, you do not know the pain of mortal existance, knowing good and evil as you do, you know, yet you know good, while you see impossible tasks as right use of learning, is this fair? -- spinning wheels with nothing on the spindle, eh twist ourselves into a wick, an' let's burn a spiritual tensificator, for the hot air - deep in and sigh out - say selah, say take the thought, hold it lean on me, nothin' make sense until a purchase is made, mine and thine combine to hold a thought, for use, a slave to our aims, as we conjoin our minds, eye to eye. - a wedom's strength seen from above, with our MRI eyes, we recognize a shape. A heart shape, pair of pearls, in a toe sack held tight by a string. Amygdala, see re-act with a twirl wonder if in the future ifery may being, there are more tonsils allowed to mature, overcoming many post Victorian medical realities to which my generation was exposed, while being prepared, civilized and sorted for roles within the stateform we became reader ready in. At puberty we were sorted for use in the industrial future, Malthusian fear of scarcity, classified as nothing children need to learn, Freudian theory on sacred taboo knowledge fallen into disconnectivity, chata and hamartia, sin qua non being on the knot that does wrench cogitations into storms, essential initial chirality, wickering twistswisht if anything ever was to function, gumption was involved, if you wanna tell the story, live and learn we need to know all the confidential stuff, or we go mad, the turmoil of spirit and truth, isomorphing yen and yank, **** your chain, rattle your brain, just imagine, thinking I, as a national I, might, think who do you think you are? - nation to nation, we say - no way, tradition demands what? Who speaks in the national overtones? Who listens on auto? Thinking is done. I told Nietzsche, in the ever after, see. I made you think twice in the same stream.

0

Oct 2, 2023

Oct 2, 2023 at 11:13 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Infilling made space

Earliest read word, to the master's mind, -I do remember meum, et tuum? - your tale occurs on this loop Naked Jungle, a paperback book title. - the editor says we've told this one tale - too many times, but I remind him, - of the diamond farm we offered - to make the shrine on next appearance - likely un tzimtzum, both handed clap once. if I seek, I shall find, I remembered it many times, it is my personal testimony, I read in preschool times. --- judgement, yes, judge your self, this is no test. Timeslips, okeh fair in all contexts. This was then Test, test… Jack in Jeremiah, can you hear me now? This is earth, we hear you. What now? What ever can you mean, what now? ---- read on, perceive - reach and take at once, a mind used to make these lines link in time mind to mind, thinking each letter changes the shape of thoughts attracted to make sense infinitely defined from childish, not foolish, jesting offered as exercise in futility of existing for nothing. Within ancient bounds, in spirit and truth, let us become the object of our own observation, no yokes, no weight, no mold, no shape no size you there become me here, on this line, I then think you there, and here you are, on this stage of co-notional being there awareness, this context containment comprized from entertaiment, this example of an us, function, a we link think, that this is artificial conversation, creating categorical functors, on our common time senses, adjusted for scale, what's the sacrificial worth of my junkman's traditional talent for picking pieces from piles of parts? Know 'y worth, first, not too much, but certain, madness. A creative thought, caught on a thorn so sacred, it pierced the brow of a certain perfect man, how does if feel, we heard from the rust belt, in Norte America, to be on your own, mortal in all ways, tempted as are we to imagine ourselves destined to die. Job, politely asked the original Bullish God concept, how it could claim Wisdom as consort and not know, the mortal experience, life, lacking a tangible concept of living for the dau, itching to be guided, what this feels like, as Job spake, may as well, bet my own whole truth. There was neither bet nor war in heaven, all that matters happens when this is common knowledge, hoping good lucks acknowledged form religious ritual. Breathing is not cadenced here. Commas can mean breathe. Okeh. Re doing done dances feels foolish, yes. Right, vain repeat swing and a miss. Yips, begone. Look the opposing color square in the idiom. God, crack of the bat, you do not know the pain of mortal existance, knowing good and evil as you do, you know, yet you know good, while you see impossible tasks as right use of learning, is this fair? -- spinning wheels with nothing on the spindle, eh twist ourselves into a wick, an' let's burn a spiritual tensificator, for the hot air - deep in and sigh out - say selah, say take the thought, hold it lean on me, nothin' make sense until a purchase is made, mine and thine combine to hold a thought, for use, a slave to our aims, as we conjoin our minds, eye to eye. - a wedom's strength seen from above, with our MRI eyes, we recognize a shape. A heart shape, pair of pearls, in a toe sack held tight by a string. Amygdala, see re-act with a twirl wonder if in the future ifery may being, there are more tonsils allowed to mature, overcoming many post Victorian medical realities to which my generation was exposed, while being prepared, civilized and sorted for roles within the stateform we became reader ready in. At puberty we were sorted for use in the industrial future, Malthusian fear of scarcity, classified as nothing children need to learn, Freudian theory on sacred taboo knowledge fallen into disconnectivity, chata and hamartia, sin qua non being on the knot that does wrench cogitations into storms, essential initial chirality, wickering twistswisht if anything ever was to function, gumption was involved, if you wanna tell the story, live and learn we need to know all the confidential stuff, or we go mad, the turmoil of spirit and truth, isomorphing yen and yank, **** your chain, rattle your brain, just imagine, thinking I, as a national I, might, think who do you think you are? - nation to nation, we say - no way, tradition demands what? Who speaks in the national overtones? Who listens on auto? Thinking is done. I told Nietzsche, in the ever after, see. I made you think twice in the same stream.

112

Run with Bolt wearing a belt Because while running runners do not wear belt on waist for the slow down of blood pressure. Run with a systematic method to reach on moon. The path is nano path on which your body would be a particle. Run with non-systematic way to achieve a Golden Globe without doing a single short movie

0

Jan 11, 2019

Jan 11, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC

inchol-poem

Run with

Run with Bolt wearing a belt Because while running runners do not wear belt on waist for the slow down of blood pressure. Run with a systematic method to reach on moon. The path is nano path on which your body would be a particle. Run with non-systematic way to achieve a Golden Globe without doing a single short movie

22

***Words are free particles Bound to thoughts that have matter. -------------------- Thoughts are the free particles Bound to words that matter.***

0

Jul 14, 2017

Jul 14, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC

sarita-aditya-verma

Either - Or

***Words are free particles Bound to thoughts that have matter. -------------------- Thoughts are the free particles Bound to words that matter.***

6

For you war forged it's on held truths. A man of honor who is he. Brilliant and smart in the same instances. With aim there quality was mint to seek blood. Thirty solders clicks out in a hot desert breeze. With sand dunce full of prechers. Man of sin, and man of hate, leave this Earth yet you linger your scars of faith. As you approach the valley of bullets. The Earth was opened and a scary sight was then seen. Green, colored beings where at the station of a machine, with arms made of anti matter construction. Flee from this place, our machine will eat your city's and fall your lady. So the men all perk, up even more ready for there conduction. One of the beings taller than the rest came to there level of height. Who here is the leader of your squad. Me a beared man says! The being hold out your left arm. Do not be alarmed, for we are each from a far.

0

Mar 23, 2017

Mar 23, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC

timothy-hill

War

For you war forged it's on held truths. A man of honor who is he. Brilliant and smart in the same instances. With aim there quality was mint to seek blood. Thirty solders clicks out in a hot desert breeze. With sand dunce full of prechers. Man of sin, and man of hate, leave this Earth yet you linger your scars of faith. As you approach the valley of bullets. The Earth was opened and a scary sight was then seen. Green, colored beings where at the station of a machine, with arms made of anti matter construction. Flee from this place, our machine will eat your city's and fall your lady. So the men all perk, up even more ready for there conduction. One of the beings taller than the rest came to there level of height. Who here is the leader of your squad. Me a beared man says! The being hold out your left arm. Do not be alarmed, for we are each from a far.

17

You are my antiparticle. We are destined to collidide and when we do, you will annihilate me!

0

Jul 20, 2016

Jul 20, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC

amanda-francis

Physics #1

You are my antiparticle. We are destined to collidide and when we do, you will annihilate me!

2

I am the particle hidden within inside the crevice cracks and traps of the icy cave I am the particle winded outside pictured in tides hunts and punts of capped feet I am a particle forming time touching dreams beating drums making love I am a particle significant and low slowed conned tow a sustained substance a universal touch

0

Jun 15, 2016

Jun 15, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC

Jaq

I am a Particle

I am the particle hidden within inside the crevice cracks and traps of the icy cave I am the particle winded outside pictured in tides hunts and punts of capped feet I am a particle forming time touching dreams beating drums making love I am a particle significant and low slowed conned tow a sustained substance a universal touch

20

Her alias was Sunrise The affable Sky Brags her entity In the high latitude Her voice was heard. There exists Energy He puts up the plug With the invisible outlet Of the naked Sky His charged particles Brought collision Brought wonder To the full-sized Universe. The solar wind The Earth Both were crowd-pullers Every one knelt down As they see The Roman Goddess of Dawn Her melodramatic entrance Her chameleon-like aptitude The neon lights Without Christmas ***** Made her zone broaden. I am the Seeker A Dreamer In this winter breeze I lied down With the techy remote Unearthing The Goddess of Fantasy. (12/5/13 @xirlleelang)

0

May 27, 2014

May 27, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC

psalmiseta

The Roman Goddess of Dawn

Her alias was Sunrise The affable Sky Brags her entity In the high latitude Her voice was heard. There exists Energy He puts up the plug With the invisible outlet Of the naked Sky His charged particles Brought collision Brought wonder To the full-sized Universe. The solar wind The Earth Both were crowd-pullers Every one knelt down As they see The Roman Goddess of Dawn Her melodramatic entrance Her chameleon-like aptitude The neon lights Without Christmas ***** Made her zone broaden. I am the Seeker A Dreamer In this winter breeze I lied down With the techy remote Unearthing The Goddess of Fantasy. (12/5/13 @xirlleelang)

32