"circumferences" poems - Hello Poetry

Our parents are always telling us , you have to go to school, that you'll learn everything you need to know before you're ready for the big world, and that'll you need it to get into your dream job But now a days our education isn't about learning, its about passing Our education now isn't the same as it used to be It teaches us that if you're not at a certain grade level, you will not succeed That if you don't meet a certain criteria, maybe you're not for fit the course This education system doesn't teach us whats really important for the big world It doesn't teach us how to live, how to do taxes or how to survive It never taught us the living expenses or how to buy a home Never taught us what to expect once we leave for college or how to balance our schedules No. It only taught us homework, about a plant cell, about tangents and circumferences It taught us that homework is more important than family That it's more important than being a kid and having a life It taught us that if you spend time with loved once and didn't do your work, you're setting yourself up for failure They pile us with work it feels like we cant breath They never once thought of the other class assignments that must be due not even 24 hours later They make us memorise things that will no longer be important when we apply for a job We study for hours in hopes to pass that final test that we'll soon forget But what are we suppose to say when someone asks us how we're feeling? We were never taught that We never memorised an equation to help us find the answer We were only ever taught to keep our mouths shut and do our work Its quite funny what we learn in school now Things more than 80% of the students will never have to use let alone see again School was suppose to prepare us for our future For the job choice we pick Instead we meet and learned quadratics and plant cells We were taught homework is what your focus should always be on We were never taught about the future and what to do And most importantly We were never taught how to love ourselves and the things we should be greatful for They've turn us into sad, mindless robots that's are more concerned about grades and passing than whats going on with the family We lock ourselves in our rooms doing homework for 6 hours than talking to our mothers or fathers who wonder about us We were never taught the importance of family before it was too late Every single highschool student wishes they can turn back the clocks, but it'll never work We were taught the hard way that you don't really know what you have until its gone Something we weren't prepared for They never prepared us for the future Instead, we prepare our self for the possible failing outcome How are we suppose to make a living for ourselves when all we have learned was the stress over homework and family? The depression over a failed test or assignment? The lost feeling of the lost time? How are we suppose to love ourselves when all we do is put yourself down because of school? This education system never prepared us for anything Instead, this education system officially has broken all of us.

0

Jun 3, 2016

Jun 3, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC

cari-hannaford

Our Broken Education System

Our parents are always telling us , you have to go to school, that you'll learn everything you need to know before you're ready for the big world, and that'll you need it to get into your dream job But now a days our education isn't about learning, its about passing Our education now isn't the same as it used to be It teaches us that if you're not at a certain grade level, you will not succeed That if you don't meet a certain criteria, maybe you're not for fit the course This education system doesn't teach us whats really important for the big world It doesn't teach us how to live, how to do taxes or how to survive It never taught us the living expenses or how to buy a home Never taught us what to expect once we leave for college or how to balance our schedules No. It only taught us homework, about a plant cell, about tangents and circumferences It taught us that homework is more important than family That it's more important than being a kid and having a life It taught us that if you spend time with loved once and didn't do your work, you're setting yourself up for failure They pile us with work it feels like we cant breath They never once thought of the other class assignments that must be due not even 24 hours later They make us memorise things that will no longer be important when we apply for a job We study for hours in hopes to pass that final test that we'll soon forget But what are we suppose to say when someone asks us how we're feeling? We were never taught that We never memorised an equation to help us find the answer We were only ever taught to keep our mouths shut and do our work Its quite funny what we learn in school now Things more than 80% of the students will never have to use let alone see again School was suppose to prepare us for our future For the job choice we pick Instead we meet and learned quadratics and plant cells We were taught homework is what your focus should always be on We were never taught about the future and what to do And most importantly We were never taught how to love ourselves and the things we should be greatful for They've turn us into sad, mindless robots that's are more concerned about grades and passing than whats going on with the family We lock ourselves in our rooms doing homework for 6 hours than talking to our mothers or fathers who wonder about us We were never taught the importance of family before it was too late Every single highschool student wishes they can turn back the clocks, but it'll never work We were taught the hard way that you don't really know what you have until its gone Something we weren't prepared for They never prepared us for the future Instead, we prepare our self for the possible failing outcome How are we suppose to make a living for ourselves when all we have learned was the stress over homework and family? The depression over a failed test or assignment? The lost feeling of the lost time? How are we suppose to love ourselves when all we do is put yourself down because of school? This education system never prepared us for anything Instead, this education system officially has broken all of us.

44

under the sludge of this depression, I am awake. it’s morning outside but that doesn’t change a thing. tiredness takes me to quiet places. I follow like I’m devout. this forest is new. there’s a drumming of a heartbeat within the trunks of these trees. it thrums under my fingertips. blood rushes forward to touch this rhythm. songbirds nest, plume against plume for love and for rest. the birdsong is sweet as saccharine. I taste the sap on my lips, its nectar, thick with agape. a salve for myriad laments under the roof of a single bell jar. the indigo sky convulses, telling of fortunes. the clouds retch gilded roses. blades of grass fence the circumferences of leaves in gypsy winds. the forest warms like a flame. my body sways in solipsistic wonder. the crescents of my nails are crusted with lichen. my limbs are drawn into its boughs, like gravity. like the bark is starved. my mind is foliage and my crown is littered with inflorescence. my sky is finally cerulean and lilac. each gall is an ancient hurt. each wound is a knot. I breathe my mourning. I wait to bloom.

0

Apr 24, 2020

Apr 24, 2020 at 3:07 AM UTC

phantasmagothica

dreams of a dryad

under the sludge of this depression, I am awake. it’s morning outside but that doesn’t change a thing. tiredness takes me to quiet places. I follow like I’m devout. this forest is new. there’s a drumming of a heartbeat within the trunks of these trees. it thrums under my fingertips. blood rushes forward to touch this rhythm. songbirds nest, plume against plume for love and for rest. the birdsong is sweet as saccharine. I taste the sap on my lips, its nectar, thick with agape. a salve for myriad laments under the roof of a single bell jar. the indigo sky convulses, telling of fortunes. the clouds retch gilded roses. blades of grass fence the circumferences of leaves in gypsy winds. the forest warms like a flame. my body sways in solipsistic wonder. the crescents of my nails are crusted with lichen. my limbs are drawn into its boughs, like gravity. like the bark is starved. my mind is foliage and my crown is littered with inflorescence. my sky is finally cerulean and lilac. each gall is an ancient hurt. each wound is a knot. I breathe my mourning. I wait to bloom.

13

Where Is Shelter? depends on the location of the storm… so oft have I queried the gods and you? Where is Shelter? *to which, my response, while surrounded so well (!) within my moated island circumferences redoubt, always was a simple: “Here, Here is shelter! But so human, thus so prone to delimited vision, always, we scan the skies outward, fearful of the hurricane and storm that approach, from without, appearing, and the brewing sky’s danger is visceral~visible to the naked eyes, when, it is disguised within the chambers of the body, festering, until it is pestering, and shelter, sadly, is not injectable, transferable, easy remedial, and the hunkering down with four walls not the solution, for the walls themselves are damaged by decades of waves of innocuous gently lapping that* still *erode igneous granite(1) and fissure the self, this secretive, enemy insidious…* so it comes to be, that my own daggers have pivoted, the pointy dangers pointed outwards, well entrenched in their own defenses, now targeting the whole of me, my outer walls breached, and fired upon by cannons of cells, a treacherous attack, bombardement par l'artillerie et les drones, of the Fifth Column (2)… so once more, say no more, but ask the brief of demand, Where is Shelter? the answer is as of yet to be decided, but the forces arrayed for and against are equally determined! W.S.

0

Jul 29, 2023

Jul 29, 2023 at 3:30 PM UTC

whereshelter

Where In Deed is Shelter?

Where Is Shelter? depends on the location of the storm… so oft have I queried the gods and you? Where is Shelter? *to which, my response, while surrounded so well (!) within my moated island circumferences redoubt, always was a simple: “Here, Here is shelter! But so human, thus so prone to delimited vision, always, we scan the skies outward, fearful of the hurricane and storm that approach, from without, appearing, and the brewing sky’s danger is visceral~visible to the naked eyes, when, it is disguised within the chambers of the body, festering, until it is pestering, and shelter, sadly, is not injectable, transferable, easy remedial, and the hunkering down with four walls not the solution, for the walls themselves are damaged by decades of waves of innocuous gently lapping that* still *erode igneous granite(1) and fissure the self, this secretive, enemy insidious…* so it comes to be, that my own daggers have pivoted, the pointy dangers pointed outwards, well entrenched in their own defenses, now targeting the whole of me, my outer walls breached, and fired upon by cannons of cells, a treacherous attack, bombardement par l'artillerie et les drones, of the Fifth Column (2)… so once more, say no more, but ask the brief of demand, Where is Shelter? the answer is as of yet to be decided, but the forces arrayed for and against are equally determined! W.S.

38

are the tattoos I etched to mark my recovery. And boy, did it hurt. The white squiggles at my hips wink at me every time I look down. Don't look down! As if. I swear, they conspire with each other. I'll never forget the very first one. Shiny. Indignant. I hugged my skeleton and wept. Now I've grown accustomed not to the deliberate finality of dropping my gaze mesmerized by my slow evolution, but to looking up. I look at eyes and mouths instead of the impossible circumferences above my knees, the ever shifting law. Stretch marks are the tattoos I etched to mark my recovery. Do I regret them? Oh, a little bit always. But it's sure as hell a story worth remembering. I take up more colour than I used to, and these- these are the lines that will never be filled in. I earned them.

0

Mar 30, 2013

Mar 30, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC

mure

Stretch Marks

are the tattoos I etched to mark my recovery. And boy, did it hurt. The white squiggles at my hips wink at me every time I look down. Don't look down! As if. I swear, they conspire with each other. I'll never forget the very first one. Shiny. Indignant. I hugged my skeleton and wept. Now I've grown accustomed not to the deliberate finality of dropping my gaze mesmerized by my slow evolution, but to looking up. I look at eyes and mouths instead of the impossible circumferences above my knees, the ever shifting law. Stretch marks are the tattoos I etched to mark my recovery. Do I regret them? Oh, a little bit always. But it's sure as hell a story worth remembering. I take up more colour than I used to, and these- these are the lines that will never be filled in. I earned them.

28

- for the first time since i could sort the cutlery on my own, you've cast me as the bent or dented spoon, the chipped ceramic bowl; let the dog eat out of it, toss it in the trash -- - and there are too many little dashes perforating the circumferences of clocks, and no one to cut around the edges -- with little dull scissors and colorful handles; the kind you used to piece me out of your scrapbook. - i'm sorry this is so passive-aggressive but i just don't know of any other way to cope with the fact that you just don't have time in your life to be there for me anymore, that there isn't room for another episode, that i need to keep control -- - like it's as easy as deciding to have tea, or at least not coffee, but regardless of my order you're not the ********* barista in this analogy, so kindly get the hell out from behind the register. -

0

Apr 1, 2013

Apr 1, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC

foxsuitpoetry

to honor the day i became a liability

- for the first time since i could sort the cutlery on my own, you've cast me as the bent or dented spoon, the chipped ceramic bowl; let the dog eat out of it, toss it in the trash -- - and there are too many little dashes perforating the circumferences of clocks, and no one to cut around the edges -- with little dull scissors and colorful handles; the kind you used to piece me out of your scrapbook. - i'm sorry this is so passive-aggressive but i just don't know of any other way to cope with the fact that you just don't have time in your life to be there for me anymore, that there isn't room for another episode, that i need to keep control -- - like it's as easy as deciding to have tea, or at least not coffee, but regardless of my order you're not the ********* barista in this analogy, so kindly get the hell out from behind the register. -

30

twin gulls at the ready! resting and fidgeting atop a rock outcropping sister galactic spaceships from cowboy bebop ancient cutters of the sky, cloud divers and dividers efficiency is key, swiveling in crisp circumferences feathered razorblade acrobats mother nature’s surplus fish-killers spend their days as lazy air athletes never in the sea deeper than their beaks

0

Dec 26, 2016

Dec 26, 2016 at 6:00 PM UTC

z-m-scholl

Kaw!

twin gulls at the ready! resting and fidgeting atop a rock outcropping sister galactic spaceships from cowboy bebop ancient cutters of the sky, cloud divers and dividers efficiency is key, swiveling in crisp circumferences feathered razorblade acrobats mother nature’s surplus fish-killers spend their days as lazy air athletes never in the sea deeper than their beaks

9

Allude across form Describe dimming Rhythm wrinkled dust Torn to terrorized pieces A shot In the dark Is still A shot Whose war have we Stumbled stiffly into This time? An arbitrary anecdote Awarded after the first hand For freedom rises Forming first that no man Will willfully ever choose to be last Soldier's of sacrifice Hollering hum drum Whistling for Wendy's crotches Notoriety noting only Reasoning to write to be read Where genius is measured By the breaking of borders And one's ability to live through A notable drug addiction Cards care-free in their massacre Wink while the waitress spills Her high-ball on the suit pants Of an ***** obsessed lawyer Sure to be sued one day By the government The outside world Is highly uninterested In whatever problems The ego may have Conjured up this Monday The artist whines as the Dirtied laundry of childhood Dries stiff, fading into a Stain reminiscent of a dream The mirror reflects the sun Into my bedroom as I wake To the sights of a world bent On creating its own Armageddon Helpless At the moment I think about rent The cost Where to get it And head back To my Bed

0

Aug 6, 2012

Aug 6, 2012 at 4:10 PM UTC

ashby-brown

The Small Circumferences of Big Problems

Allude across form Describe dimming Rhythm wrinkled dust Torn to terrorized pieces A shot In the dark Is still A shot Whose war have we Stumbled stiffly into This time? An arbitrary anecdote Awarded after the first hand For freedom rises Forming first that no man Will willfully ever choose to be last Soldier's of sacrifice Hollering hum drum Whistling for Wendy's crotches Notoriety noting only Reasoning to write to be read Where genius is measured By the breaking of borders And one's ability to live through A notable drug addiction Cards care-free in their massacre Wink while the waitress spills Her high-ball on the suit pants Of an ***** obsessed lawyer Sure to be sued one day By the government The outside world Is highly uninterested In whatever problems The ego may have Conjured up this Monday The artist whines as the Dirtied laundry of childhood Dries stiff, fading into a Stain reminiscent of a dream The mirror reflects the sun Into my bedroom as I wake To the sights of a world bent On creating its own Armageddon Helpless At the moment I think about rent The cost Where to get it And head back To my Bed

52

The months ahead are meant for the living constructs around us to echo colour and depth The air smells full, feels warm, surrounding our cellular circumferences with a relieving presence The plants look alive, saturating their greens, showing a perceivable difference from the bricks The animals that talk absorb their culture, using community and collective expression to enjoy well... just being Even those that aren't sure where they'll go when the sun goes down Forget that the night is coming for a while Some of the animals want to live among many, be it under the sun or the moon They talk and smile and laugh, absorbing the eyes and messages of others They walk and ride metal boxes from place to place, drawn to experiences of shared culture Ending their days with aching legs and fulfilling memories Other animals want to live with those few eyes that come comfortable, extroversion less natural They sit and read in a body of grass, sit and drink on a wooden backless table They draw warmth from the vivid reality around them, and the presence of those they know well Days drifting off with a cushion of contentment, sleep coming quicker Whatever kind of animal each individual is, whatever skin or gender, personality or perception they wear The subtle empowerment of the sun The eyes and mouths of their brothers and sisters The blooming coloured cells and sweet smelling transparents And those times where the animals stand side by side on mass for something they feel drawn to Give em a chance to breath in deep, feel the warmth And enjoy

0

Jul 26, 2012

Jul 26, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC

martin-rombach

Summer

The months ahead are meant for the living constructs around us to echo colour and depth The air smells full, feels warm, surrounding our cellular circumferences with a relieving presence The plants look alive, saturating their greens, showing a perceivable difference from the bricks The animals that talk absorb their culture, using community and collective expression to enjoy well... just being Even those that aren't sure where they'll go when the sun goes down Forget that the night is coming for a while Some of the animals want to live among many, be it under the sun or the moon They talk and smile and laugh, absorbing the eyes and messages of others They walk and ride metal boxes from place to place, drawn to experiences of shared culture Ending their days with aching legs and fulfilling memories Other animals want to live with those few eyes that come comfortable, extroversion less natural They sit and read in a body of grass, sit and drink on a wooden backless table They draw warmth from the vivid reality around them, and the presence of those they know well Days drifting off with a cushion of contentment, sleep coming quicker Whatever kind of animal each individual is, whatever skin or gender, personality or perception they wear The subtle empowerment of the sun The eyes and mouths of their brothers and sisters The blooming coloured cells and sweet smelling transparents And those times where the animals stand side by side on mass for something they feel drawn to Give em a chance to breath in deep, feel the warmth And enjoy

21

Each room has a glow a basking room, an aural one if they were circumferences would they arc beyond the horizon? and by unfurling my imagination why would I not choose to unloosen my certainties? a certain light quality permeates only to find a hallway even more intense an antechamber in a prism.

0

Mar 27, 2014

Mar 27, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC

Antony_Glaser

Calling son et lumiere

Each room has a glow a basking room, an aural one if they were circumferences would they arc beyond the horizon? and by unfurling my imagination why would I not choose to unloosen my certainties? a certain light quality permeates only to find a hallway even more intense an antechamber in a prism.

10

A cherry fencing: Croton hedges. Pile wood and bricks made up the circumferences: I have seen rooftops rusting after weeks of heavy rain Shirtless cyclist speed passes the old brick house Where no children seem to exist on the main road; Where the lambs can be seen grazing on dry lawns, As the sun ray reflects on your camera lens: I promise to call you back later before you drift deeper into a slumber. Depression, confession and denial, Reality never seems to exist in your world There is no solution for chronic unhappiness: only daily words of kindness to ease the madness *Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom. Quote - Rabindranath Tagore* Did you deserve it, did you deserve to be treated this way You should have marry the good daughter, She would have eventually Turn out to be the good wife: I am in another town Thinking of you day by day, hour by hour Composing a poem while observing, the good, the bad, and the ugly Of what family does to each other mental impairment? A family in harmony will prosper in everything As the stories were told Where the beauty used to grow now hatred follows by the village carpenter putting bolts on the front door To keep the enemy within: as it was broadcast in the recording: “There wasn’t any bolts were on the front door Burt, you said”. The law is that nothing should be done so on the property” The rose petal crumbles back to the soil, as she said that he was sick in his head: just like the dead locks on the carpenter head The garden hose slowly rolled back in a circle. By the sound of her voice The suffering was so obvious, the abuse was publicize You drifted back in time: To a place where you felt happiness You drifted back to me: back to lovely memories Never mind our outlook on life leads to two different journeys Broken hearts, and disappointments We encounter so many injuries and they heal But broken hearts never mend: The more I begin to suspect there is no such thing as unhappiness; there is only ungratefulness.”

0

Mar 1, 2017

Mar 1, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC

darknbeautiful-1

The Enemy Within

A cherry fencing: Croton hedges. Pile wood and bricks made up the circumferences: I have seen rooftops rusting after weeks of heavy rain Shirtless cyclist speed passes the old brick house Where no children seem to exist on the main road; Where the lambs can be seen grazing on dry lawns, As the sun ray reflects on your camera lens: I promise to call you back later before you drift deeper into a slumber. Depression, confession and denial, Reality never seems to exist in your world There is no solution for chronic unhappiness: only daily words of kindness to ease the madness *Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom. Quote - Rabindranath Tagore* Did you deserve it, did you deserve to be treated this way You should have marry the good daughter, She would have eventually Turn out to be the good wife: I am in another town Thinking of you day by day, hour by hour Composing a poem while observing, the good, the bad, and the ugly Of what family does to each other mental impairment? A family in harmony will prosper in everything As the stories were told Where the beauty used to grow now hatred follows by the village carpenter putting bolts on the front door To keep the enemy within: as it was broadcast in the recording: “There wasn’t any bolts were on the front door Burt, you said”. The law is that nothing should be done so on the property” The rose petal crumbles back to the soil, as she said that he was sick in his head: just like the dead locks on the carpenter head The garden hose slowly rolled back in a circle. By the sound of her voice The suffering was so obvious, the abuse was publicize You drifted back in time: To a place where you felt happiness You drifted back to me: back to lovely memories Never mind our outlook on life leads to two different journeys Broken hearts, and disappointments We encounter so many injuries and they heal But broken hearts never mend: The more I begin to suspect there is no such thing as unhappiness; there is only ungratefulness.”

42

Circum/stances (slash) foregone circumvent forebears circus-schisms of the forefathers circumferences foreordained . . . Abrahamic inferences Feminine foreclosures Unfabulous infibulations Equivocating equivalencies . . . Childbearing foreborne Preposterous paradigm Gender agenda return to sender Hebraic / Pharaonic / Moronic . . . Abracadabra Presto change-o !

0

Apr 27, 2018

Apr 27, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC

connecthook

Skin in the Game

Circum/stances (slash) foregone circumvent forebears circus-schisms of the forefathers circumferences foreordained . . . Abrahamic inferences Feminine foreclosures Unfabulous infibulations Equivocating equivalencies . . . Childbearing foreborne Preposterous paradigm Gender agenda return to sender Hebraic / Pharaonic / Moronic . . . Abracadabra Presto change-o !

14

In the infinite zero gravity of nothingness comes a symmetrical cylindrical formation alpha and omega baptised circumferences spirally downwards into abyss breaching cataclysms of illusion reducing giants into mirages of magical creatures harvesting the mind and all its hallucinations of depth and dreams. Once in a while the outer skin is breached and broken and the telescope seeks inward resilience as the topsy turvy weightless objects roll and tumble in precise formations cascading through tunnels of energetic figurines appearing and disappearing seamlessly into reality and out of it. So it is with us creatures trapped in prisms of dimensional space unable to comprehend metaphysical existence within a sphere of a simple lifespan. we move from point to point mere dots of insipid reason ruled by simplicity. Author Notes The binary digits are just 1 and 0. Zero is nothing and 1 complements it and gives it value. All of the digital world revolves around this mathematical understanding. Without the 1 or the 0 the entire world becomes a useless unexplained theory ( or so I think). The matrix revolves around this simple theorem. There is a nothingness and there is a 1 or an I ! Within this context , all of the action takes place. You cannot have just the I because you have to have the 0 to make sense of reality. I see this as a philosophical spiritual understanding of existence and compare this equation of Everything/Nothing, On/Off, This/That, Alpha/Omega,Beginning/Ending as different understanding of the basic theory of existence. My poem plays on the the infallibility of the 1 and the 0 together. Metaphorized as a spiralling staircase descending into nothingness it goes up and down at the same time in a perpetuating cyclical, cylindrical form. Infinity does the same thing. We are all 1s ( I's) and the 0 or O completes us a 10. We are the Matrix. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

0

Jun 26, 2014

Jun 26, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC

marshall-gass

0

In the infinite zero gravity of nothingness comes a symmetrical cylindrical formation alpha and omega baptised circumferences spirally downwards into abyss breaching cataclysms of illusion reducing giants into mirages of magical creatures harvesting the mind and all its hallucinations of depth and dreams. Once in a while the outer skin is breached and broken and the telescope seeks inward resilience as the topsy turvy weightless objects roll and tumble in precise formations cascading through tunnels of energetic figurines appearing and disappearing seamlessly into reality and out of it. So it is with us creatures trapped in prisms of dimensional space unable to comprehend metaphysical existence within a sphere of a simple lifespan. we move from point to point mere dots of insipid reason ruled by simplicity. Author Notes The binary digits are just 1 and 0. Zero is nothing and 1 complements it and gives it value. All of the digital world revolves around this mathematical understanding. Without the 1 or the 0 the entire world becomes a useless unexplained theory ( or so I think). The matrix revolves around this simple theorem. There is a nothingness and there is a 1 or an I ! Within this context , all of the action takes place. You cannot have just the I because you have to have the 0 to make sense of reality. I see this as a philosophical spiritual understanding of existence and compare this equation of Everything/Nothing, On/Off, This/That, Alpha/Omega,Beginning/Ending as different understanding of the basic theory of existence. My poem plays on the the infallibility of the 1 and the 0 together. Metaphorized as a spiralling staircase descending into nothingness it goes up and down at the same time in a perpetuating cyclical, cylindrical form. Infinity does the same thing. We are all 1s ( I's) and the 0 or O completes us a 10. We are the Matrix. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago

36

i see textures landscapes moving fluid organic alive the sound isn't a song it's a piece of art colors and hues bouncy meshy gradience the sound isn't an album it's a collection of circumferences there is no math being done those who calculate the soul are musicians i don't calculate it's just there the sound isn't a note it's discovery ~,x'~ i hope someday i can show you what i see i gotta say it's a beautiful day here

0

Dec 13, 2018

Dec 13, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC

Durow

organic landscapes {explanation a1}

i see textures landscapes moving fluid organic alive the sound isn't a song it's a piece of art colors and hues bouncy meshy gradience the sound isn't an album it's a collection of circumferences there is no math being done those who calculate the soul are musicians i don't calculate it's just there the sound isn't a note it's discovery ~,x'~ i hope someday i can show you what i see i gotta say it's a beautiful day here

22

Hurtling through space and time, but these thoughts not worth a dime, just geometric shapes in a black and white, but this jumble is quite a sight. Running running, can't stop running, something behind me just keeps coming, so I run the parkour course with it's twists and turns, looking for the resting spot as my muscles burn. Jumping and climbing all the time, from each shape and each line, circumferences of the circle made, leaping to the free floating Ray. Now up the ramp of a triangle, vaulting to the rectangle, sprinting toward a massive gap, now flipping and flying some arm swing ***** Landing on the squares edge with a tumbled roll, on the move once again, surprised that I'm still whole, but the danger still lurks behind,. so onward I roam, suddenly a dark barks and I wake in my bed at home.

0

May 9, 2018

May 9, 2018 at 11:20 PM UTC

jed-johnson

Geometric Dreams

Hurtling through space and time, but these thoughts not worth a dime, just geometric shapes in a black and white, but this jumble is quite a sight. Running running, can't stop running, something behind me just keeps coming, so I run the parkour course with it's twists and turns, looking for the resting spot as my muscles burn. Jumping and climbing all the time, from each shape and each line, circumferences of the circle made, leaping to the free floating Ray. Now up the ramp of a triangle, vaulting to the rectangle, sprinting toward a massive gap, now flipping and flying some arm swing ***** Landing on the squares edge with a tumbled roll, on the move once again, surprised that I'm still whole, but the danger still lurks behind,. so onward I roam, suddenly a dark barks and I wake in my bed at home.

20