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Bison Oct 2016
To love is to wait
for silence, observing earth
This vigil for death

Is all consuming
Life to love to death and back
To the space between

The lines are defined
The church bells ring as the bombs
Collide with my eyes

Holocaust now and
Again, it's a good thing, light
Destroys darkness falls

Crush me in silence
I left my shadow behind
A wingless angel

Permanently still
My impromptu modern art
May you understand

Death is no true end
Overcoming existence
To see love turn truth
CK Baker Jan 2017
Thank you:
for a life not to trade
blessings, in spades
tight spaces
behind laundry doors
packed closets
and open drawers
gator tails, tarnished brass
cracks in kitchen sliding glass
wet towels, withering plants
foundation filled
with carpenter ants
buckets piled with
shoes and tags
village clothes
and saddlebags
peeling paint
and broken walls
****** seats
in bathroom stalls
clogged pantry
frigid rooms
table scribe
and carbon fumes
comfort capsules
empty tank
broken limbs
from children’s pranks
**** finger
double tongue
long goodbyes
and sidewalk dung
cluster flies
chavie’ clique
accompanying
the hypocrite
cracked back
and hidden smiles
chalk on board
with mr miles
atomic wedgy
closing doors
wrotten eggs
and open sores
jaw jack
nasty folk
dinner calls
for pig in poke
penny pinchers
double dip
yellow mouth
and silver tip
brown nose
thick red tape
paper cuts
and pimple nape
gallivants
so out of norm
the joy of life
in basic form
Lithe, pharmaceutical muscles regulating microfiber hairs
Draw from the primitive neglect and sin
A clarinet changes the chemistry of champagne
Inside Humanity again

A stock infection of planets and galaxies
and their debris
Small enough to be e coli
and atomic dreams
Beading with the warmth of breath, persisting,
Naming dragons and archers in the infinity,
The cocktails brew people at the seams
Their sentences clapping the breeze
Into a day, or a season,
or her hand leading
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
A song like King David sang and everyone heard
It’s the sweet song sang in every mother tongue;
A perfumed speech is heard sweeter than nectar
wreaths round each patch of earth as part of a tongue
in all different variations, directions it’s singing!
  
Mathematically comped that rhythmically span
fashion in both or you choose science or arts.
It’s a lyric sang with finest curvy swaying dance
feel the quivers deep down into the atomic level
still the various motions in various directions turn on,  
nowhere near that look drawing a pause!
Graff1980 Sep 19
The night
is a torn tapestry
where celestial bodies
burn beautifully
incinerating
the cosmic stitching
that bind us,

quantum energy
unraveling
all of reality,
as I stare
stupidly enthralled
by the awesome
complexity.

Silvers spheres
of gaseous spirals
spew atomic fury.

Other poets
and painters
have presented it better,
such a sweet
starry starry night
made to delight
all of us,

but this time
I return
my reflections
with the love
and devotion
born of
a dreamer’s
dark predilection
to romanticize
every aspect
of our lives.
Bryce Jul 18
And I will make sure that if anything were to happen,
It would do little to affect you.

It's not everyday
You find a goose that lays eggs
With speckled jewels and golden flakes

The world is full of incongruity
And there's no doubt about the certainty
That something bad may happen,
And we don't want that, do we?

So listen carefully.


The world is a giant carboniferous spicule
Hanging in a nest of hydroxic gas and particulae
Spinning within the gaps of a blackened dome
Of limitless space and out of control
There is no telling what way it will go
There is no prediction that has fortold
Any number of moments in this tumbling slumber
Between the darkest **** and the further horizon

I so deftly advise you with all certification
To please place your bets and fly by echolocation
Your eyes will mislead, your ears will displease
And there is no way we can refund divine warranties

This machinery
has a half life of quarks
And energies that vibrate into other orbits
Trajectories
Retaining the spin and informative piece
Of that golden goose let loose amongst the canopy
Of dark,
off into neverland, straight on
Till new morning,
Beyond the stars

So please good sir don't migrate away from me
I have so much to give and such pain I have seen

Those that fatten their goose with **** till it quacks,
Those ravenous souls who ate their gift for a snack,
And when life finally cuts them down to their last,
They will howl and yowl and pray that goose back.

This is a game,
Have a good little laugh
Don't waste your time or your money
On a daffy Aflack

Policy that keeps you policed to the earth,
No way to fly,
Stuck in the dirt.
That is no way to live in the dream,
That is no way to let death trickle in

So please, pretty please, make sure you have coverages
And a couple extra dollars in the pocket of those jeans
Wander freely, you great big atomic bomb, you.
Do catastrophic damages and I'll pay your dues.

Ride the road coast to coast,
Fly a bird 'round the world,
Take a truck till you're home,
Find a love you can trust.
Find a place where your egg
And your legs seek nowhere else
Lay down those roots,
It's Eden or bust.
in complete melodies
the frequencies i hear
can not be contained by anything
love is drifting through the hills
and you are home to its trills
she dreams of light, the fire bright
and full of crystal skulls and eyeballs
dozens of monuments are built
just to mark the moments
when we could have said i'm sorry
merge with the mountains
find the source of fountains
shine the diamond compass
if that's what you are really here for

broken dams are our business
feed the swans their luminescent lunch-boxes
duck for cover, its a wonder that we are all together here
that's clearly redundant
the tendency to dream
is the most important human faculty
its a tragedy that the lack of nuclear power
showers the atomic world in rainbows
as forlorn teenagers in the ice-age of America
govern our equipment from their parent's basements
and carouse with comfort upon chairs, cushions and couches

a million times the victory
a million miles of rope to weave
a million are the paths to ***
and a million more are the souls
who've learned to cope with tragedy

i come cherishing and bearing gifts
figures of speech are my playthings
i am furniture remodeled daily
and intuitively placed around your home
the finer things in life are free
so see me there upon your television set
i am electromagnetic static
within the black and white of advertisements
i am figures of forgotten speech
so record the unwatched programs
in your mind’s virtual memory
the hard drive of work and play
creates hundreds of new retirees each day
hundreds of haunted expatriates
knuckle-headed people
that couldn't tread lightly
even if they wanted to
so will you please untie me
and remove these binds and chains
it's time to free the lover from the psyche
for that is all she wrote

i am a silent p
i am a violet apogee
i am a cosmic minority
i am a message in your tea leaves

but if you stand too long in my shoes
you’ll likely drown in solitude
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
Someone is singing a song, it's somewhere written.
The ocean breaks in billowy dances, the seas open up
Get it off the chests, put a notion through onto the cloud
that won’t just fall, won’t just stop and drop: it will float
to the measured moves, only then will it roll in,
pop into the million blooms, wreathed rosy lips,
set out bowls of colours before the one is pouring in!

A song like King David sang and everyone heard.
It’s the sweet song sang in every mother tongue;
a perfumed speech is heard sweeter than the nectar,
wreaths round each patch of earth as part of a tongue.
In all different variations, directions it’s being sung!

Mathematically composed that rhythmically spans
fashion in both, or you choose science or arts.
It’s a lyric sung with finest curvy swaying dance.
Feel the thrills deep down through the atomic level.
still the variety motions in various directions turn on,  
and nowhere near that looks, drawing a pause!
Karijinbba Sep 28
Cheetah me running free on the savannas of HP.
~~~~~~~
time and space are modes by which we think and not conditions in which we live
~Albert Einstein~
…...
With Bohr’s standpoint,
that a space-time description is impossible, I reject a limine. Physics does not consist only of atomic research, science does not consist only of physics, and life does not consist only of science.

The aim of atomic research is to fit our empirical knowledge concerning it into our other thinking.
All of this other thinking, so far as it concerns the outer world, is active in space and time.
If it cannot be fitted into space and time, then it fails in its whole aim and one does not know what purpose it really serves.

When the dust settles, time whatever it may be could turn out to be even stranger and more illusory than even Einstein could imagine. Time May Not Exist',
I do not define time, space, place, and motion, as being well known to all.
I have tried to read philosophers of all ages and have found many illuminating ideas but no steady progress toward deeper knowledge and understanding. Science, however, gives me the feeling of steady progress:

I am convinced that theoretical physics is actual philosophy. It has revolutionized fundamental concepts it's about space and time (relativity), about causality (quantum theory), and about substance and matter (atomistics), and it has taught us new methods of thinking (complementarity) which are applicable far beyond physics.

Let me describe briefly how a black hole might be created. Imagine a star with a mass 10 times that of the sun.
During most of its lifetime of about a billion years the star will generate heat at its center by converting hydrogen into helium.
The energy released will create sufficient pressure to support the star against its own gravity, giving rise to an object with a radius about five times the radius of the sun.

The escape velocity from the surface of such a star would be about 1,000 kilometers per second. That is to say, an object fired vertically upward from the surface of the star with a velocity of less than 1,000 kilometers per second would be dragged back by the gravitational field of the star and would return to the surface, whereas an object with a velocity greater than that would escape to infinity.

When the star had exhausted its nuclear fuel, there would be nothing to maintain the outward pressure, and the star would begin to collapse because of its own gravity.
As the star shrank, the gravitational field at the surface would become stronger and the escape velocity would increase. By the time the radius had got down to 10 kilometers the escape velocity would have increased to 100,000 kilometers per second, the velocity of light.

After that time any light emitted from the star would not be able to escape to infinity but would be dragged back by the gravitational field.
According to the special theory of relativity nothing can travel faster than light, so that if light cannot escape, nothing else can either.
The result would be a black hole: a region of space-time from which it is not possible to escape to infinity.

The quantum is that embarrassing little piece of thread that always hangs from the sweater of space-time. Pull it and the whole thing unravels.
Where does Space-Time come from?
Is there any answer except that it comes from consciousness?
What is Out There? T’is Ourselves?
Or, is IT all just a Magic Show?
They are radical.

Henceforth space by itself, and time by itself, are doomed to fade away into mere shadows, and only a kind of union of the two will preserve an independent reality.

The whole fabric of the space-time continuum is not merely curved, it is in fact totally bent.

I am fascinated by the mystic spinning of planets satelites,
I am sure you do too?
The mystery of space stars the universe and thus I feel compelled to examin my own life as mother and a wife who couldn't be found in worshiping light in my graceful complete surrender finding in no husband not a protector but shameless foe
and instead was caged up
set aside destroyed forgotten
misunderstood! Even by nuns as an orphaned girl devoid of basic rights most of civil right violated
I marvel at my spirit soul zoaring
and finding joy in life and loving people sacrificing it all for the wefare of even my enemies;

sadly I compare part of my life experiences to a wild CAGED Cheetah's wasted life
Think, for a moment, of a
cheetah, a sleek, beautiful animal, one of the fastest on earth, which roams freely on the savannas of Africa.
In its natural habitat, it is a magnificent animal, almost a work of art, unsurpassed in speed or grace by any other animal.
Now, think of a cheetah that has been captured and thrown into a miserable cage in a zoo.
or smoggled to another country
( like I was.)
It has lost its original grace and beauty, and is put on display for our amusement even sold
(like I was by a nun.)

We see only the broken spirit of the cheetah in the cage, not its original power and elegance.

The cheetah can be compared to the laws of physics, which are beautiful in their natural setting.
The natural habitat of the laws of physics is a higher-dimensional space-time.

However, we can only measure the laws of physics when they have been broken and placed on display in a cage, which is our three-dimensional laboratory.

We only see the cheetah
when its grace and beauty have been stripped away.

What binds us to space-time is our purest mass, which prevents us from flying at the speed of light, when time stops and space loses meaning.
In a world of light there are neither points nor moments of time beings woven from light would live “nowhere” and “nowhen”
only poetry and mathematics
What makes the theory of relativity so acceptable to physicists in spite of its going against the principle of simplicity is its great mathematical beauty.
This is a quality which cannot be defined, any more than beauty in art can be defined, but which people who study mathematics usually have no difficulty in appreciating.
“But in the binary system, lets point out, “the alternative to one isn’t minus one, it’s zero. That’s the beauty of it, mechanically.” “O.K. Gotcha. You’re asking me, What’s this minus one? I’ll tell you.
It’s a plus one moving backward in time.
This is all in the space-time foam, inside the Planck duration,
don’t forget. The dust of points
gives birth to time, and time gives birth to the dust of points. Elegant, huh? It has to be.
It’s blind chance, plus pure math. They’re proving it,
every day. Astronomy, particle physics,
it’s all coming together.
~~~~~~~
By: Krijinbba-Scientist me
All right reserved
WHEN ALL THAT IS LEFT ;AND WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME THERES STILL STARS SONG FLOWER LOVING LIFE AND THE MAGICAL WISDOM OF THE ONE WHO ALWAYS FINDS ME AND SAYS MY ESSAY IS TO LIKE IT OR LOVE IT
AND THE ONE WITH THE GRASSY BLUES BENDING MIND AND LIGHT
MY ***- LIKE -E.T.
"PHONE HOME"FIND ME.
Bryce Jul 25
Fold you up like unwanted fat
cook you into a rocky stew
placed beneath a mantle of ice
far enough away to be misconstrued

You are old laminated time
And pillowed rock of incomprehensible
Earlier than any lime
Or sand, or sediment, or any kind
You are the grandfather rock
of mine

When I step with my inconsequential feet
living but transiently
I cannot help but be erased
that even you hath but one resting place

All the plants
and sands
and ever since the very first
we have always been ******
to this earth
walking upon your bones
I am sorry we cannot do more
but you know your creator
Speak in the same language
in amalgamators
of which we have forgot
and for that I can say
we are envious; are we naught?

Build softly, and carry us upon your thick
crust like pizza dough, cooking
and you let it sit
Let us win, set us up
drift us apart, leave us crushed
build us,
make us,
break us,
fill us

I want to be restored into your
stony belt and be redeemed
I want to become my own atomic fossil
to connect with the universe through long-lost
plotholes
and once again
hear the story
as a young lad
the way it was meant to be told

I want to eat dinner with my grandfather again
my real sweet stony-chiseled cheeked
father again
to be loved a boy
and a girl
and the whole world
a soul touched back into the deep
left unshackled
by a ***** or a queen
please,
take me back soon
rather than let me turn into

Laurentia
or Baltica
or Gondwana
alack
smacked into new rock to form
Urals
and Tetons
and Moher
back

Carbonate or Silicate,
and the end its the same
It won't be the end
for that fate rearranged
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