#subjectivity
Don't believe people,
they are mad, because you know --
you are of sound mind.
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 3:54 AM UTC
Everyone would like
to preach and judge at some point:
own ethics come first!
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 2:17 AM UTC
Then out the Void,
The Monster springs,
To serve his maker, Man.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 8:20 PM UTC
i write to describe
the tales of my existence
but not even
an entire language
can put into one’s heart
the essence of experience
for my words
will form their meaning
within the mind of the other
my words are clay between
the readers hands
my writing is the blank page
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 10:31 AM UTC
Being objective
is easy, less scary as --
being subjective.
Aug 8, 2022
Aug 8, 2022 at 2:19 AM UTC
If it feels good do it again
In repetitive continuum
Take the mind for a ride
We are mechanically sound
The great and powerful
imagination
is hardly earthbound
In the freedom of subjectivity
emptiness
and
nothingness
can hardly exist
Traveling the synapses
Is a very blissful trip!
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 5:28 AM UTC
In the TV screen,
I see a reflection of who I want to be.
In the mirror,
I see a reflection of who I don't
In your eyes,
I see a reflection of who I can be.
But in my mind,
I fear I won't
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 6:30 AM UTC
Two good, close
Friends
Separated by the
Existence of humans.
For they are
Misunderstood by
The species
They originally
Existed for.
Called themselves
"Objectivity"
"Subjectivity".
Tried extensively to
Establish their individualism,
Yet holding hands to
Become mutually inclusive.
For they were
Unaware
Lines drawn, fades.
Misunderstood by
Humans,
Mutually inclusivity
Confused
As one.
Silly of the two friends,
Had no idea
Humans have failed
Humans for
The longest imaginable
Time.
For they were
Just mere Intangible,
Failing them is
And will remain
An easy possibility.
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 12:42 AM UTC
Does each of us
see the universe
from our own perspective?
If so,
does each of us
live in our own perspective-universe?
If so,
is objectivity impossible
and only subjectivity happening?
If so,
to achieve a cooperative society
does each of us
have to empathise
with each other's
unique perspective-universe?
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 7:07 AM UTC
*The stars are always in disarray
But at the mere thought of you they sashay
Before you twinkling and mingling in collective merriment.
How you whip up this loyal admiration is a fascination as ancient
As yesterday’s headlines. The sun wondrously
In isolation marvels at your brilliance that clearly
Manifests as your countenance. You thrive
On immortality’s soul as each nerve
On your body is as ageless as the sun.
You’re full of cheer and so much fun.
Yours is an incomparable beauty
My lovely and charming cutie.
A celestial masterpiece you are
Your eccentricity spreading wide and far.*
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 4:58 AM UTC
Whenever one lays their eyes upon us,
What is perceived is something that exists
Only at the peripheries of their mind, while
Things that makes us, us, are the opposite.
One would gasp in awe at someone's beauty,
Shiver in excitement about their courage and might,
Imagine countless friends and lovers they have;
How success is their husband and joy is their wife.
Surely, for them, talent blossoms like a flowers,
And everyone knows when and why they laugh, and joins;
And if they ever cry(why would they at all?),
More than one soothing arm awaits their call.
While what is unseen lurks beneath beholder's delusions,
Who wants to see what one envies most and searches for
In oneself in vain. As how they see us is the opposite
of us, true, but the opposite of themselves at the time as well.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 7:07 AM UTC
I lay here waiting in my skin for the tearing of the membrane
that seperates this world from the next one and I let myself
get carried along by a fresh stream of reasoning until I
flare up in the dark like a new species of amoeba
this balancing and spinning around on an atom and just not
falling off it becomes boring at times and maybe because of that
sporules once landed here to grant us the possibility
of another possibility
I lay here waiting and I manage not to drown just like only
an almost newborn baby can and being born in 1983
means nothing here in the swelling infinity
of the abnormal
my skin has been waiting for new atmospheres for decades
and the touch of unknown forms makes me shudder with
raw impervious happiness because invisible energy
effervesces alongside my arms and the eyes in my skull
could be anyone’s right now
suddenly the waiting is forgotten and I wallow myself
in the gathered fairy tales of every soul that preceded me
carelessly astonished and uncapable of understanding
the seriousness of this absurd life
inside me irrational poetry dances
like a tribe jumping around a bonfire
outside the universe
dances her own eternity
round and round
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 7:33 PM UTC
Met Kali today on a descending escalator at the Galleria. Her six arms juggled assorted shopping bags, purse, cell phone, three children, and a fourth in a stroller clearly not hers. I stepped down in front to help balance her baby buggy. No sooner had I reached out for the rubber bumper that I felt lash of her tongue against my cheek. It was hot and frothy, smelled like a tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle, and quickly wrung itself around my neck. I was soon dangling from the precipice of an oversized potted fern where I had been perched by my assailant, high above the food court. I dangled dangerously as I saw chinks of chain giving way. The glass ceiling was begining to crack and about to cave in on me. I swung out and with all agility I could muster, landed in the Bagel Nosh's assorted schmears. Hisses and jeers decried. An angry mob of mothers chased me to the nearest exit. I almost didn't make it out alive.
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
Dead bee
The moss grows round it
Water spray
Purify it
Pest is relative
Coming from where?
The cat stretches
Common sense
Rock bottom
Delve deeper, come on
There’s no soul here
Empty it out
Start again
Transcend yourself
Transcend transcendence
So yeah, there was a gardener
Wielding a pressure blaster
Which ripped the moss from its roots
The sun peaked
And the moss turned dust
Because the aesthetics of the pavement
Supersede existence
Who the **** cares?
Dead bee on the pavement
Blast it into the bushes
It depresses the school children
A hedgehog rots in the gutter
Flies lay eggs in its flesh
And create a home
Isn’t that beautiful?
What the **** did the moss get?
“China would have done this in a day”
My father says
Watching road workers rip apart asphalt
“It’s quite nice, though”
Looking into the concrete river
As mayflies hatch deformed
Due to the heat from the channel
Half the students stare at their toes
Wishing they were cuter
Stronger
Smarter
Because narcissism has become the new desire
Things are rotting everywhere
But we pretend they’re normal
**** man, rock bottom
The children pick up the bees
And stick them in their mouths
Until the moss completely coats their hearts
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
No, that’s not how it goes.
Start again.
Do you remember the tree on the lake?
It was a forest.
No, it was black, like tar. It tasted like broken glass.
I remember the incense on the drapes.
Yes. It clung to our clothes.
You cried.
No, I smiled.
You cried smiling.
Yes.
I hate it when this happens.
What happens?
You know?
No.
Um. Sometimes it feels like the world is too crowded with words. Like it's too dense to speak.
That--
Like there’s something in the air that pushes against my throat.
There was a black dog, just then.
What?
Outside. It’s gone now. Sorry. Start again.
Do you remember the tree on the lake?
There was a raven.
Yes.
It was black like tar.
It caught a worm once.
Ravens don’t eat worms.
Yeah. It just sat there, with the worm in its beak. The worm squirmed, wrapping itself round the beak, over and over.
Is that why you were crying?
It wouldn’t stop. It kept going, digging its flesh deeper into the edges.
What was your father doing?
Smiling.
Why?
He’d filed for a divorce earlier.
Right. I wasn’t there.
No, you weren’t.
Do you regret locking the doors?
Sometimes I can taste the rain before it comes. It’s a skill I’ve had for as long as I can remember.
I’m lost. So your father was smiling?
No, he was crying.
Sorry. I swear I just--nevermind. Start again.
There was a storm in these parts when we were young. The worst storm in a hundred years.
I don’t remember.
You slept through it. I held your hand all night.
Why?
Because I was alone.
You still are.
Yes.
I hate it when this happens.
What happens?
You know?
Yes.
Where have you been?
Everywhere but here.
And where will you go?
Nowhere.
Sometimes when I look at you, it’s like looking through static. It’s like I’m looking at an impression of a person.
I get that a lot.
It’s like all my memories of you have blurred together. Vague feelings rise out of the haze. Feelings I recognise, yet cannot describe. I cannot connect them with who you are, what we were, or where we’ve been. It’s--
Like exiting a dream.
Yes. Exactly.
You feel a gap in your soul. One that has always been.
Always been. You held my hand, once.
During the worst storm in a hundred years.
When was that?
Every night.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
That smile from across the room
The glance that lures your heart into a one-two you didn’t know existed
Eyes the colour of the ocean but tell the story of the sea.
Sentience, your love she consumes
The fight for sovereignty is lost – she cannot be resisted.
You can no longer be free.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
You are the moon in my sky
And the only hand to hold mine
You turn my long braids into time lines
past the world and before we both were here
past everyone and everything near
back before the sun could shine
back before you were mine
From London
From Home
From Places Unknown
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC