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Bad Luck Mar 2015
Both latter and former, contrary and congruent
Neither gas nor solid, the river moves fluid.
No end and no beginning, just water moving… swimming…
A formless former that is a powerful latter
Contradiction through symmetry and space within matter
Passively energetic as potential becomes kinetic
Transparently reflective and silently phonetic
Thermally dynamic and fluidly frantic
The waters maintain a static chaos through mathematical mechanics.

Mechanically architected and architecturally mechanic
Water seems the perfect medium for analysis of a dynamic.
Dynamic existence and persistent resistance
Statically chaotic seems the architect’s insistence.
Equilibriomatic, with addition subtractive
Empirical measures fail to analyze the passive.
What simply is, simply is… Invincible to mimicry or microcosmic reenactment.
Experimental methods seek to unify the synonymous
Attempting to prove the objective with a subjective hypothesis.
Learn from the water, let its metaphor be imminent….
For the divine externality lies not without, but within it.
"Bad Luck: In a Wakeful Contradiction" is now available on Amazon in paperback!

Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
Ma Cherie Jan 2017
In a world of fear and crime today,
well it's hard to see the good,
amongst a guarded people now,
who once together stood,
we focus on just what we can't,
instead of what we should,
say who can help our people out,
if anybody could?

I tell you this in shame for all,
that people here are dying,
adults and infants die alike,
in endless tears I'm crying.
while another child dies today,
from lies that we are buying,

I see the world as it should be,
where we all share our food,
instead we have a county now,
where commonplace is rude,
where elected is a president,
who's mouth is spewing crude,

A divided people always fall,
it will lead us to a death,
I will say we rise as one,
until my dying breath,

My poet heart,
can't take much more,
of a people lost in blindness,
as levied waters at our toes,
to stop it only kindness,

Wake up,
won't you,
selfish those,
with a frozen blinkless stare,

I hope if you were starving,
well I hope someone would share,
in every other bite they eat,
& everything they bare,

If alone and out there hungry
it's hard for some to beg,
with so many apathetic,
to a Humpty Dumpty egg,

They talk an talk in platitudes,
of goodness they don't mean,
stupidity a common voice,
like I have never seen,
where friends are disappearing here,
and the grass no longer green,

Not because their stupid,
though in ignorance,
is bliss,
while painful is awareness,
it is endless,
that abyss,

In a world of broken people,
& few who see the truth,
where ones who share are not believed,
or lost to us in youth,

We search to be enlightened,
or say something,
like the same,
while putting idle hands beneath us,
as our heads hang down in shame,
or we aim a bony finger,
point to someone else in blame,

We are too slow to awaken,
so we must wake up right now,
we must end in our division,
come together here somehow,
& I will keep on asking,
till my death in this I vow,
when I see a God & if he comes,
to him I'll surely bow,

Though here's the saddest story,
of a sweet and blessed child,
from his mother's womb he came,
all humble, meek and mild,
then crucified by greedy hands,
so lost in envy wild,

A baby dies in freezing temps,
a homeless camp his stable,
his barefoot Mother thinks he breathes,
to care for him,
unable,

Some say that she is crazy,
and they think it's even fact,
otherwise well why in hell,
would any woman act,
as if she's nuts or evil,
or with the devil made a pact,

As if her baby was a gift,
immaculate conception,
she says he is child of a God,
a unique an rare exception,
all she hears is yeah sure right,
and utter clear rejection,

Most don't care about her story here,
shooaway,
my listening ears,
they bury heads in comfy blankets,
to drown out the constant fears,
desensitized,
from worldly plight,
in what can draw their tears?

We are told that capitalism,
is the way up to the top,
money rooted all our evil,
to share would help it stop,

An ad hominem argument,
to argue truth of God,
& I'm sure if he exists at all,
he'd find it more than odd,

If he sent a child here to see,
if kindness here exists,
if 9 days old is all he had,
to raise an angry fist,

I couldn't say I'd blame him,
seems that no one gave a ****,
for a little dying baby,
just a sacrificial lamb,

If people who believe that Jesus,
he died for us our sin,
if they and every person,
treated strangers as their kin,
there wouldn't be a battle,
that together we can't win,
realize not to judge,
on say someone else's sin,

No mouth would ever hunger,
our strength as one would grow,
to a loving giving God,
in our kindness we would show,
doing what is right ,
is something we should know,

The money hungry people,
a machine who's way is lost,
who throws away the extras,
regardless of the cost,

Animals are moving on,
while Winters without snow,
smoggy skies to block the sun,
a hazy smelly glow,
the government says look away,
then puts on another show,
they can take another bow,
while hitting a new low,

I ask above an answer,
why WE do this to OUR people,
while my country is my church,
& my sky above,
the stepple,

It's not about religion now,
or right,
or wrong,
or hate,
there's only one way in to there,
behind the pearly gates,
our journey architected,
by our hands,
our only fate,

I implore you,
share in all you have,
before it's all too late.


Cherie Nolan © 2016
Crying for a nation today ;/ this actually happened yesterday in America. I do not discount God or Religion in any way - I just know we need to act here now. With love and kindness, gratitide & awareness, understanding and effort we can change the world. Please share today - idk if makes sense- ❤ VERMONT
Louise Ruen Sep 2016
Dear future husband,
I’m writing this now, because my future self might be convinced that I love you.
Might be persuaded by my desire to find true love. Problem is, it’s always just a phantom of my fantasy. Love, I mean. I want it so bad I start hallucinating. I lose myself

The truth is, I don’t know if I dare. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to set my self loose like that. Loosing control is my biggest fear, and isn’t that what love does to you? Makes you put aside all logic, and let you act upon your heart? Can I ever fully trust myself in someone elses hands? I doubt I will ever be that brave, which is why I’ll never truly love anyone. I just don’t have the capacity.

I might be in love with the idea of us, but not with you.

You see, I’ve spend years burying what my heart desires for not only you but myself. It was too late to dig up years ago, so why now? Most of the time, I don’t even want to. I build these walls for a reason. Young and pretty, but never yours. Smart, so I’ll will never let you know how I truly feel.

I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to axe my needly architected buildings down.

Some days, my mind decides to do so, but I’m simply too self destructive to take any action
All this time I've spend on becoming a selfmade woman…Would love mean giving that up? Deep down I realize volunerability is a strength, but there’s too many things thrown on top for me to see that anymore.

So my conclusion is I will never truly be able to love someone.
It would be a riot against myself.

**I was never much of a rebel.
I don't know if I use this as an excuse to avoid love, but no matter what I'm questioning everything I ever thought about myself.
Persephone Oct 2015
Both latter and former, contrary and congruent
Neither gas nor solid, the river moves fluid.
No end and no beginning, just water moving… swimming…
A formless former that is a powerful latter
Contradiction through symmetry and space within matter
Passively energetic as potential becomes kinetic
Transparently reflective and silently phonetic
Thermally dynamic and fluidly frantic
The waters maintain a static chaos through mathematical mechanics.

Mechanically architected and architecturally mechanic
Water seems the perfect medium for analysis of a dynamic.
Dynamic existence and persistent resistance
Statically chaotic seems the architect’s insistence.
Equilibriomatic, with addition subtractive
Empirical measures fail to analyze the passive.
What simply is, simply is… Invincible to mimicry or microcosmic reenactment.
Experimental methods seek to unify the synonymous
Attempting to prove the objective with a subjective hypothesis.
Learn from the water, let its metaphor be imminent….
For the divine externality lies not without, but within it.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2015
so many wise sayings of the philosophers, so many maxims noted, and none, none, making it to a tombstone engraving chiseled missing curves of the ten epitaphs of sinai. so you know why the chinese were left budding atheistic, no pictorial with the chisel, but that's why the comic book district emerged there for a mango baton perfect slouch or slurry *****: ****** that *** and ***** in, i went to the classical gallery for the monkey, came out and wondered by the zoological a theology, it was all very strangely slow motion. but imagine chiseling some chinese pictorial into a grave, no wonder the chinese were not ousted with that diabolical proof of failure exposing a people to so many varying non-pictorial representations of the lip tongue and teeth – but as the title suggests… if nietzsche’s motto ‘god is dead’ is really true, then those ten commandments are really just ten epitaphs, and i don’t know who really died on the cross.*

being me, i'm no o'toole, or a richard harris,
my hell-raising stems from
the silence of bookworms gnashing on ink folds,
it's silent, it's "deadly," it's the sort of hell-raising
that accepts the nervous temple tension
of knocking with full blossom of the cracking knuckle;
and when i tell them i put a schizoid
element into my acquisition of the english language
they call my spiritual experience psychosis,
and when i tell them i was almost murdered
they tell me i'm depressed... and then?
o czym ty mówisz, ty głąbie kapusty?
because back "home" my prophetic honour is curbed
by my palette for beer being dębowe prior,
that's at 7%, and not a carlsberg: probably the
best ***** **** in the world;
unlike jesus enjoying all the fun in egypt and not
in babylon from where the magi came,
with old "rabbi" joseph telling him: go back to judea
and mingle with your people, remember what
the egyptians did to us, you dishonourable ******.
and so jesus went back, and the greeks wrote a translation,
while the romans bowed seeing some weather shamanism;
only yesterday it was raining buckets of rippling toads,
i concerned myself with wet clothes in the attempt to
***** up, said it would stop, turned an hour into a minute
and the rains stopped, notorious b.i.g. that isn't an acronym,
only notoriously f.a.t. (remember, the meaning
is in the subconscious, in consciousness the meaning
is scrambled egg & morse & braille).
by way of conclusion - exploring the man masquerading
before his mother, is in no way an assurance
of an abundant biography to testify with saliva juices
of conversation - unless the delusional irony is that
even though i'm not trying to get myself noticed,
i'm also not deluded to the point of not having existed;
but the chinese are safe though, complex pictorial phoneticism,
the latin alphabet took to strain, people went mad,
really wanted to see shaved baboon heads through
the googgles of emptied space after c. columbus
architected the jamaican slum boulevard; or maybe haiti suburbia,
whichever, the world grew smaller, and the universe expanded
disproportionately... on the telly!
Dawn of Lighten Apr 2016
Structures of organizations with rules and standards,
So what is this world that offer a simple touch,
Or embrace with sensibilities of our inner desires.

A joke this life can be,
And laughter of echoed eternality,
Inner grasp by a tug upon our hearts.

These laws that we follow with honor,
Ripped by the people who architected and dismissed,
Or disowned by the powers that may be.

Do they not keep their words they utter,
And do they have no chivalry or honor left,
For all is a voice with empty shell in the dark.

All things in life is but a ghastly shadow,
But your inner truth will be your lighthouse!
All things are a walk in a moment in life, and in life nothing is more honest than your truthful thoughts unraveled by your own journey to explore the moments.
Ashna Alee Khan Jun 2017
In the house of poems
there are no words
only sheaths of rapture
color and puzzle cutouts
on an empty table
mute
composed of shadow thin
aching smoke ghosts
desires
aphotic and tender
twisting souls in labyrinths lurid
*** shake sweet inky *******
that turn earth
to pleasure domes
and shadows
like cimmerian children
in harsh judgment
******* on
purple night shade candies
burning incense and black candles
uncrossing energies foreboding
while subterranean crystals
refract burnished glows
pulsing blood diamonds
in sacred heart manias
throb with warm breathy kisses
on plates of ash
engulfing
a terrace of pink flickering tongues
drooling and biting
that turn mere pleasure
into inflammations of ecstasy
oozing creme de menthe saliva
where souls levitate and flutter
on bilious stained beds
copulating
being impregnated with verse
smelling of warm **** cauldron

fetuses curl
in their little crib's
and bubble tapioca lyric wrangles
afterbirths purged
poems emerge
like sand bars and palm tree islands
from
sopping woven tunnels
and
flow stone stalactites
as pink ballet pastries
with architected calves
caress upturned posteriors
dancing in glitter frilly word tutus
while torrid confessions
dreaded breakdowns
and resurrections
dress themselves in garments
of language re-pleat
quickened by eloquence
in the house of poems
Sombro Mar 2016
What's a palm
Sweating in panic
Or a stomach
Whining as the whistle of alert
To someone like you?

What's a voice
Too clenched,
Or a word
Misplaced
To you?

What's a sentence
Repeated
Or a song
Sung drunker than a foul man,
To yourself, long-lashes?

Flutter-hair.
Architected smile.
Ancient-Greek eyebrow,
Curved
In a musing love.

You found a little else,
Didn't you, a
Little chick to
Perch with you?

Let's jump and find our wings
Let's take feathers for what they're worth
And leave those flightless birds
To the foxes,
With a taste
For emus.

It's no one's fault really
Just slavery
And I'm free when I know you
Popping like sparks onto my knockout vision.
A comment on social standards and truer affection.
dreambeliever May 2014
Can love be defined in one true form?
For this love is the greatest masterpiece
Architected by the moments that stop the beating of our hearts.
This love is the cool breeze on a hot summer day,
the beauty in the sunrise after an agonizing night.
This love is a true release,
the one that brings the relief of all of the tension and heartache.
A reminder of life in the midst of all the pain and loss.
The most refreshing comfort in an uneasy world.
A repair to all that is broken, mending all pain, all wounds.

This love cannot be explained in a moment, or in any given time,
For it is infinite. It is timeless.
Immortalized by the host of my heart.
Joseph S Pete Sep 2018
The architect architected his own demise,
gradually over the liquor-brined years and then in milliseconds.

The architect drank, hunched over every last bar,
as a release, as a habit, as a stumblebum crutch, as a gaping maw.

He staggered one night out of the dark tavern into the SUV
that he click-clicked open without a thought despite past offenses.

He never saw the couple on a motorcycle out on date night,
or so he whimpered to the officer, muttering “my life is over."

Faced with 28 felony charges, he was right in a way.
And yet his life wasn’t over like theirs, no, it wasn’t over like theirs.
Fearless Jul 2020
Love the Lord with all your heart
this is a great place to start
if you love Him the most of all
He picks you up each time you fall
He lifts you up and honors you
and shows you things that you could do
to live a happy, abundant life
not giving in to stress and strife
if you chase after things like drugs
or living life with other thugs
if alcohol is more your speed
trying to fill an endless need
He pursues your heart for Him
releasing you from all this sin
the empty holes you try to fill
following after the devil's will
will only grow more empty still
for they are all designed to ****
architected for your demise
but so enticing to disguise
that they bring you more pain than not
starting small and spreading rot
your brain and body start to give
sometimes even your will to live
you don't know why you're upset
you haven't reached the bottom yet
chasing after girls and boys
treating people like your toys
but if you love the Lord your God
this might seem a little odd
but you find happy deep within
when you're forgiven for your sin
you don't need a thing to chase
it just shines out of your face
and all the things you wanted bad
all the things that made you sad
they don't draw you anymore
they seem different than before
but good things that you really wanted
things in the back that always haunted
they will come straight after you
you won't even have to force them to!
So stop torturing yourself with stuff
never thinking it's enough
stop dulling pain and fear with "fun"
your life hasn't even yet begun
God loves you no matter what
this feeling might be in your gut
but do you love the Lord right back?
this is where we get off track
If you love Him, trust is key
He has better plans than you and me

— The End —