"centripetal" poems
The onion, now that's something else
its innards don't exist
nothing but pure onionhood
fills this devout onionist
oniony on the inside
onionesque it appears
it follows its own daimonion
without our human tears
our skin is just a coverup
for the land where none dare to go
an internal inferno
the anathema of anatomy
in an onion there's only onion
from its top to it's toe
onionymous monomania
unanimous omninudity
at peace, at peace
internally at rest
inside it, there's a smaller one
of undiminished worth
the second holds a third one
the third contains a fourth
a centripetal fugue
polypony compressed
nature's rotundest tummy
its greatest success story
the onion drapes itself in it's
own aureoles of glory
we hold veins, nerves, and fat
secretions' secret sections
not for us such idiotic
onionoid perfections
Wisława Szymborska, translated from the Polish by Stanisław Barańczak & Clare Cavanagh
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
_Marge_ retrogrades lazily towards the hills;
Her name, printed the width of her cab-over dinette
In crinkled cobalt cursive,
Totters eccentrically as her handbrake fails.
SNAP-AP
Oblivious to errant camper vans (and centripetal forces in general),
Barney speeds maniacally along a deserted city street;
Golden coated and joyously poochie,
His tongue flabbers as fast as his bicycle courier dad can pedal.
SNAP-AP-AP
Mr Blue buys buckets at Bunnings
To match his cerulean suit and shinier-than-shiney satin shirt;
Periwinkle rhinestone shoes carry him unabashedly passed the second glances and sideways looks;
There goes the best dressed DIY-er in town…don’t ya know.
SNAP-AP-AP-AP
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 7:01 PM UTC
Absentminded speech.
You had taken the scissors from the basket
in the darkroom, they were just
still in your hands, the ones
not covered in rust.
It was absentminded, that part
is important. Just absentminded,
like the way you'd play
with her hair or pretend not
to care,
like the way you'd talk with
your hands even when the
darkness spoke louder. The way
you'd nudge me, a "don't move"
elbow, to let me know you'd
dropped your film and I shouldn't
step for fear of stepping on it
like the shadows did.
I absentmindedly twirled a pen,
and you absentmindedly looked
down again and again,
scissors open, scissors closed,
running your fingers over
the little ***** between the blades
as I ran my fingers
over a little ink drawing I'd made.
You absentmindedly followed
my eyes with your own, and then
threw absentminded to the smoke,
up and out the window and gone,
and the smooth blade up and down
your arm.
It wasn't sharp. It couldn't even
cut the film. That's how you'd
dropped it in the first place.
Still watching my eyes, my dawning worry.
Oh, you. Ignorance reduced me
to child and pity before your
knowing eyes, but what do.
You know me, I know you.
A deliberate story now (absentminded
can't be filtered out of the smoke anymore),
of a girl you used to know.
Something to do with little screws
in every pocket of every
long-sleeved shirt she owned.
They had to be from something cheaper,
you mused. Mindedly.
Scissors don't come in bulk.
Little screws. Not razors, not knives.
Little screws.
You thought out loud, but it wasn't
thought. It was speech. It was
words you already knew.
Where'd they all come from?
You asked questions to give me
the answers.
I reached out for those ****
bright green plastic scissors
that wouldn't cut a piece
of film in a darkroom, because
fear gives light great powers.
You smiled at the anxiety in my
eyes. You chose then to stumble
upon the answer. (It wasn't scissors.)
To relieve me, you meant.You
meant to share without telling,
to lighten my head and dissipate
the ignorance like your
absentminded smoke.
You knew a girl...
But when you put knowledge
in this mind it gets picked up
and circled around and around,
centripetal acceleration, exponentially
flying, so fast, so high, what do I
do with it there. I build it up.
It tears me down.
I scanned your wrists for months.
I watched you pull your wallet out
of your pocket, checking the floor for
little screws.
You knew, ****** You knew
your wrists would stay smooth
as a scissor blade, smooth as
darkness. You gave me the story
deliberately, but you gave me the
answer absentmindedly.
You didn't mean to.
You gave me the worry,
you gave me the thought.
You didn't tell me where to find
a ******* screwdriver.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
Sine waves, perpetual motion
Centripetal force, density of the ocean
Associates, Bachelors
Student Ambassadors
Register, register, schedules, grades
Grants and scholarships, tuition is paid
No snooze button, turn off the alarm
Losing some sleep. It's ok, though, no harm
Friendly teachers and **** instructors
Digital logic and semiconductors
Homework, classwork, essays, papers
Last minute class of procrastinators
Get up, get blazed. 'Fore school, 'nutha blunt
High while accepting student of the month
Higher than you, and my grades, too, are higher
How smart would I be if I put out the fire?
Gen. Ed., English, Mathematics, Psychology
Now on to the good stuff, much richer chronology
Top of my class, highest grade in the program
In just a few years, I'll have money in BOTH hands
This hand-to-mouth **** ain't for me
I'm tired of living week-to-week
Broke, tired, and hungry day after day
But when payday comes, it'll be here to stay
You don't have to do as I do
But my feet are too small to fill these big shoes
If you think I can't fill them, then surely you're trippin'
But do whatcha do, cause my burgers need flippin'
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:51 PM UTC
i am over without the easy|
sometimes a cup without a saucer|
often shoes without socks|
but mostly i am legs running and arms whirling
in a hurry to escape the day|
in a rush to fill my head with bouncy thoughts|
in a flurry of wishing flat words into fantastic stories|
of turning grey into cerulean, and rust into claret
i am questions with more than one answer|
questions which play on my mind|
answers which go around and around|
like petals of eccentricity whelmed by an eddy|
and trying to escape the day in a hurry
Oct 14, 2021
Oct 14, 2021 at 6:46 PM UTC
Sewer rats bottleneck into a Carnival of Depravity. Due to the bizarre circumstance of their fingers, they allow their limbs to become limp. As Valkyries, they are aware of the juxtaposition of their clown pantaloons and their hobnailed mudboots. In this benefit carnival, a ferris wheel runs amok. Within it, GI’s holler their way through the vermillion skyway, zippoing the dented carapace with their M16s. In a true practice of youthful bliss, the 5.56 returns to the cosmos. However, the bullets, streaming out and homewards, are soon constrained to the circular path of the wheel itself.
“Centripetal farce!” goes Lance.
“Hey what, man?” whimpers Mr. Clean.
“Well, y’see: centripetal fOrce makes an overwhelming amount of sense. So much so, that when superimposed on the Carnival Cavalcade™, it must make no sense, for it’d shake us all up something mad.”
“So, the bullets aren’t real?”
“Oh, they’re plenty real. Just touch it, it’d melt you, starting with the neurons, cat. Other than little blue reality though, it’s out there. Its dancers are not chained to any concrete block of nature.”
“Oh, they’re sufferin’?”
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
I first would like to apologize for getting rather mad,
calling you a stupid *****
and saying it was a “hit and run” to the police,
also in hindsight spitting at you was not cool.
I feel bad about it now,
and it will haunt me for a while,
or at least until something else comes up.
You shattered my wings,
granted they were glass wings and
when you’re throwing yourself through the narrowest possible canyons
getting hit is almost certain still, it *****
the wind out of you, even if just for a second.
I love jumping through
canyons daring gravity to do its worst, but I was playing by the rules,
respecting nature
or at least I planned on not breezing by the sides as much.
I guess its habit now, to risk getting shattered for
the freedom of movement in a restricted space.
I swear when I hit the ground I was ready to walk away
I was intact.
Ready
to continue on my way and saying “yeah I’m fine”,
learn nothing and find smaller canyons.
but when I saw the bird you hit, my brain
sprinted for the worst.
That knocked the wind out of me.
Instantly I thought it was completely ******
and while I still do have my wings,
you shattered part of my glass illusion.
Thank god for repair shops.
You see you own the skies your kind controls
the canyons walls, make them zig then zag that way.
Sure their are bigger gods,
but they only show up from time to time. I’m part of the skies
but my only possible responsibility is to not
hit the birds.
The rules say I need to act like you,
but the rulers let us fly our own ways.
The bigger gods understand or just don’t care.
So next time just know that the rules
are not the ones in physics textbooks, those are
often confusing and require years worth of reading,
of understanding billions of acceptions of knowing what
the hell centripetal force is, and being able to solve painful
multi variable calculus problems
the way physics actually works is what happens when
the winds take glass
and you, being a god got careless and broke the laws of physics.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
I pick this Earthly slide into Summertime, this season to begin, propels forward in all sense of Time, history retrograde, etched in Stone for Centuries, Coded in DNA, programed Circadian bodies, impressions applied geometric thickly glazed coat, generously slathered across my Retinal Screen.
Setup complete for me, attuned to Solar frequencies, aligned to cohesive Cosmic driving motion spiraling Syncopation with all partaking rotational bodies, all timers set to synchronous, all ties to everything celebrating their teamwork well done.
Activity accelerates, as does the heavy heat, both inseparable, together climbing ****** into sunburnt sweat, steaming, sizzling Sunday barbecue to reflect the Flesh boiling together in sympathetic Celebration of our Seasoned Sun.
Longer days accommodate for memories and fun, commemorate the Force of Season, into swing, will soon be swung, centripetal to glaze a different gaze lathered across my retinal screen, reverberate through Atmosphere, redistribute composition, smooth bottlenecking, flowing out yet emptying to take fill of what flows in.
No change of Season, nor change of Heart, no redirection ever knows emptiness, no moment leaves a Void unfulfilled.
No moment when the smooth Transition stutters to a Stop. The sync is in the constant movement bringing balance in equilibrium by shifting tides, Spinning Stars locking in, programmed by Primal Cause, the Synchronicity in Everything, so Summertime comes, this Time in which we rejoice, knowing it's all been planned, beautifully executed by mechanics of Nature.
Trust in understanding a Power much Greater is in Control, we are here simply for the Experience.
...Not to much more, just in attending to the Transitions of Ourselves.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
There is a fascicle
Of anticipation in
Labour inside my
Brain – where
Hope can spurt
And spit through
Chance. Though
I see it I can no
Longer nurture
Matters of disgust.
There is a funeral
Inside of my eyes
Which sit like the lazy
Cup of tea on my
Table. And it whispers
To me in the warning
Of a night so coldly
Scarce of cheer.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
Sometimes all the love you give
Is returned with a resounding deceit
Believing all the while, you are the cynosure
Yet, the centripetal force keeps you moving
Apparently, in sync with the lovers heart
When you realize, the asynchronous beats
But words are betraying the innermost deceit
Cracks appear, yet we turn a blind eye
Until it’s too late, when we stare at a wide chasm
All you want is to plunge into the darkness
Emotions run chaotically around the heart
Ripping away the veneer of love
Falsifying all beliefs, redeeming hurt
Eroding away the base of the relationship
It’s all there, in the saga of pseudo love
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
Like two foci of an elliptical, your eyes entice me cause my cardiac muscles, to palpitate
As I estimate the distance between us
I have arrived at the conclusion that you are sitting approximately 5 feet and 11 inches away from me, 7 and half millimeters closer than yesterday.
As you sit there and I calculate your potential energy.
I find myself wishing I could change Y= mx+b into Y=you next to me, you are my complementary angle.
I long to whisper that newton law was just created for you.
Of course that not true, but logic doesn't matter anymore because my feelings for you are growing exponentially.
Like radiation you penetrate through my skin, you watched my veins branch like fractals
Like absolute zero, all molecules within me halted in that movement,your centripetal force sent me spinning when they say opposite attracts each other.
It figures seeing as the probability for you noticing me is exactly 1 in 10,032 but I long to coined my name on a love letter, you are my pascal behind my triangle.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 5:08 AM UTC
“Oh hell yea, they’re suffering! They’re believing that they can go home, but aren’t getting any closer to the Entropoid Valley which leads to Kubla Khan, by whom they were cremated and born. Instead, they’re here, whiling away their days for boys who are bringing the death of days.”
“Hold your thoughts, lad!” Yells the Cameraman of the Head.
“I’m here, I’m in your head ImhereImhereImThere. You’ve no right to chastise the boys who have not kissed the horror. They’ve seen it, yes. But they haven’t captured it, you see. I am the camera, in my ribs are the film reels, the oscilloscope in my uvula, the trigger rested in my right earlobe. I tell you, there is strength in their brutality, I can bring you the tribal taste.”
“Man, we was just talking about centrifugal farce.”
“Centripetal.”
“No, was it?”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Hey! I believe-“
“Can’t be”
“Shan’t be”
“Oh, whatever. Those bullets find their way to the ***** anyhow.”
“Anywho.”
“Hey, grab your Coca Cola, Clean. We’re ‘bout to miss the show. The cameraguy could record it if he wants.”
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
The Mecca is the trifecta of the vertex of the epicenter of the apex
But we just use that as a reference point
We refused to be swayed by centripetal force
And peeled back the layers of the mind to find the inertia that had given us the centrifugal force to push us in our quest to find the ultimate reality
I saw a vandal giving in to voyeurism
When a watershed moment happened
He had a sudden premonition
There were nervous virgins about to take the plunge
There were people giving hi 5's to each other and making pinky promises they swore to keep
There were poor soul's trying to quit cold turkey
Eating molten ****** cakes
I looked to the East and visions came to me as well
I saw kids having fever dreams of pitching fits and fever pitches
I saw liberated lesbian librarians eating their feelings and playing
**** one, **** one, marry one"
I saw the extinction of guilty pleasures
I saw a man being caught up in getting up to speed with
I trifling teenagers
Low on money but high off drugs
I saw myself checking in to check up on the check out line to pick out and pick up a new catcher's mitt
I caught a case
A call
And a cold
I saw the love of my life running towards me on a soft white beach
As she came closer I could see her beginning to decay
Her skin melted
Her organs and blood fell from her
Her eyes and teeth dropped out of her head
Her hair fell out
And her skeleton came into my arms and I heard a whisper
"I will always be with you, my uncrowned king"
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
My life nowadays is a circular motion,,
centripetal force towards studies...
My confidence is like the pulley block system,,
consider both( gravity and vacuum)..
I projected at 45° ,
fear is, being resisted by air...
I'm at work despite,,
being at rest...
Hope I keep the same momentum,,
overcoming the friction!!
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 7:38 AM UTC
I used to have a little black book
Where I wrote this crap..
Out of sync with a flow,
Devoid of a rhythmic stroll,
Breaking centripetal circles
Like those long *** commercials..
Now I just write it in thin air and
Hope for nothing.
My eyes can only see so much.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
A circular motion
of everything
centripetal force of what
keeps the world together,
yet the weak spots
where hatred is spread
innocent misled
there mobs gather
unbridled
uncontrolled
some sit and stand
others walk and talk
some enjoy
others ploy
some come and go
others break the flow
then the machines fail
for moans and cries....
( Badly moved by the Amritsar Tragedy)
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
One thing we can say about the insanity everything, is that the plan at hand has a mad man pulling on the strings.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
I embrace the sweet scent of Strawberry Stride. Eyes
shut, hands moving with the melodic motions of your thighs.
Your arms rest on my chest, as we sway away, slow,
graceful to David Gray. So much to say, you already know.
I step rhythmic with the intrinsic beauty of your design;
centripetal forces of some divine watch over as we entwine.
I caress the texture of your dress with slight pressure;
feeling curves that deserve more than simple words of pleasure.
Seconds ticking away, escaping our clutches as we run out of time –
a cancer to the music, murdering a moment so sublime.
I'm curious, if I could conjure a cure, make eternal our endeavor,
would you hail me as your hero and let me hold you forever?
Or, when the hands of the masses detach, and laughter erupts,
would we be the last to let go? Would you retract fast and abrupt?
Tell me, that when the song fades, your smile will stay the same,
that you're too feeling a flame that's worthwhile to make a name.
If this is worth a chance, stick by my side and fight with me.
But, for now, don't make vows, just dance into the night with me.
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 12:26 AM UTC
~~
How is it!
My world revolves around a circle, my darling
If I go, was forced to return,
I can not go beyond the boundaries of
A visible tension,
All those separated from me, darling
Attracts towards the center point
I'm far away from you
Sure end position outside of the ring,
Centripetal force does not let me go
A Mist,
A Shadow,
Drags me always as a Classic Music
I'm a prisoner,
A prisoner! my dear
An imprisonment set boundaries,
Set the Time also
I have your picture in the sky,
Smell in the air,
Forms in my eyes,
I think the eternal words of yours, repeatedly
So, I'm a prisoner forever, darling
You are not in front of me
There is a long time
You do not keep in touch of mine
In the darkness
I see a silhouette of yours, dear
Call me
Say Love,
Sing a forever love Song,
My long sighs grew smaller,
Turn to very breath of-
Phase of loneliness as a prisoner is released
I dreamed again-
And discovered myself in your arms!
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:12 AM UTC
You are my centripetal. You are my catharsis. You are bonafide. You beckon me.
How shall I eulogize my Yahweh that he forged a human like you. He contrived you for me so that I must caress you with the profound love.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
Hook:
Hero’s and foe’s.
Assigned to roles.
Hero’s and foe’s.
Where Divide and conquer rules. (X2)
Verse: 1
Uh, check it!
Centripetal force coursing through the veins,
Mixed with henny, speeding through multiple lanes.
Rudimentary devil, spewing coarse language defying parental guidelines.
Villain of the century, swooning hearts whilst dismantling traditional racist designs.
Such craftiness, isn’t it wild?
That our worlds filled with such nastiness.
Bringing truth brought forth from past experience.
Yet people still look at me like some incompetent child!
But I’ll continue fighting,even if I end up like John Coffey from the Green Mile.
Plunging propaganda down the toilet,
Expunging paraphernalia that has left us exploited.
That’s why you shouldn’t underestimate an apple.
Classiness defiled, how vile, engulfing youth into the Bermuda Triangle.
Barracuda coming for ya,
In order to scramble the status quo.
A hero seen as a foe,
Misunderstood like Edgar Allen Poe.
A hero seen as a foe.
Misunderstood like the edge lord shadow.
Hook:
Hero’s and foe’s.
Assigned to roles.
Hero’s and foe’s.
Where Divide and conquer rules. (X2)
Verse:2
Chaos stems from abuse of power,
That will burn us like a fire power up flower.
But once that power is stripped away,
All your left with is scared little cowards.
So, why do we continue being submissive to these rat ********
Why don’t we question their status of master?
That wasn’t achieved but ascribed to fit dominant factors.
Making slaves of those they deem as common denominators.
Thinking they are the Luke skywalker’s of the story,
But are actually the Darth Vader’s.
Thinking those oppressed will simply forgive them if they say sorry.
Well, sorry but come back when your ready to change policies.
Ready to change racist terminology.
Ready to tax the wealthy and give it to the rest of our struggling economy.
Ready to make the curriculum honest.
You want our trust.
We want laws and legislation to not be racist and biased!
Ultimately, we are calling for justice!
We should no longer be foes.
Don’t ya know?
It’s not to late to become a hero.
Don’t you know?
We are all just misunderstood like Edgar Allen Poe.
Don’t ya know?
We are all just misunderstood like the edge lord shadow.
Hook:
Hero’s and foe’s.
Assigned to roles.
Hero’s and foe’s.
Where Divide and conquer rules. (X2)
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
You've got me thinking of the word "COMPASS",
and of all the ways it registers.
Like the first time I
used it as a device (because you know what Goethe
said about all things transitory)—
—It was the dawning of a new centripetal
system within me, and
I can still feel the relief as it surged
over my skin staring up at my 'mental mechanic' in
awe and gratitude and wonder at
how any of this was possible.
"You mean, my body will instantly reflect the intuitive
awareness of what will and will not
nourish me?"
(...they are mere metaphor.)
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
I know the world like no other
the centripetal force that
catapults me into the concrete wall
at my back which leaves
lashes of gravity
and welts and wounds that
remind me
the tides will turn and
I will careen towards
a blackness not even I can comprehend.
I know no middle ground
I live only in extremes
no gradations in my existence
leave me no steps
to descend the sheer cliff face
that I toe ever so recklessly
tempting that gravitational force
whose mere presence
fills me with righteous
distilled
rage.
There is no grey here
or is it gray?
-ey
-ay
I don't even know the orthography
well enough to describe
how the two sides of
me
the wraith and the goddess
could perhaps be intertwined
effervescent power
the cream swirling
in inexplicable patterns
until the coffee is a
calm
warm
and no longer bitter
on the tongue of those
whose life is not lived
only on the fringes
the afterthought
of a leather jacket
fallen out of style
decades ago
and yet still worn
as a reminder of the days when
I danced until my movements
fell in sync with the Earth's and
I stopped being able to
distinguish where
my root feet ended
and the moist midnight soil
began.
I know black
I know white
I know wintry obsidian nights
the darkness so thick
that even my sharpest blade
could never penetrate its
foreboding mass pressing in on me
I know truly endless summer days
when sleep is a forgotten virtue
and sunlight pouring through my window
warms me
and I photosynthesize joy
take all my nourishment from
the ambrosia of the sun.
In extremes there is no need
but want.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Oh, Kai Guy
How I love to pick you up and spin you in circles
To watch the overwhelming bliss that comes to your face
From centripetal force
Then I set you down on the floor
Back to reality once more
You stumble and even fall some times
Tumbling to the ground in childish wonder
But you always come back asking for another spin
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC