"collider" poems
I have been to where
the lonely go, and I’ve
seen their luring towers,
A call to the hopeless, to those who come
from far away to see
if coming was a mistake.
Will we ever know
who doesn’t go?
and what of those that go
but remain unknown?
Perhaps they go at night.
The horror of it.
To not be able to see the end
but still it comes and quickly.
A silent floating moment
in a winter of regret,
a springtime of longing,
a summer of sunshine,
Or a fall to the end
of the world in 7 seconds.
A super cosmic collider of
meticulous destruction.
Whether they stay or go
its all the same,
multi-layered levels of
brokenness,
no one is immune.
No one is immune.
Some spend time putting
things back together,
the spacing between levels allows it.
Others break over and over
and over again,
not enough space for repair
while the pull of the towers,
the flaming red towers and
the fog rolling down
from the west promise silence.
When I stood at the edge and looked over,
the noise was deafening.
The ones without space
cannot hear.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC
*Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall
I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."*
- Matthew the Apostle
I
Seventy-seven bottles of gin
lie in the guts of sensuous men;
seventy-seven I forgive you's dissolve
in a fanatical mind's resolve.
II
What offence occurred under Saint Constantine's priggish eye?
Was it specious as a Samian's thigh?
Or Sumerians receiving alien diplomats?
Maybe somewhere far under Moscow Putin's massing cloning vats...
III
Whatever discursive and belligerent milieu
church authority finds most tried and true
seems to be the most important decider
in the future of things like the Large Hadron Collider.
Perhaps, unfoundedly, they find it funny that Higgs
(though it seems much like calling the Liberal Party "Whigs")
is a name shared by a man and a theoretical particle
(though it be libelous in any journalist's article),
and thus label similar advancements as "blasphemous".
I guess that this is what it is: believing just because.
IV
Who can know blasphemy from piousness?
Maybe all Luther did was obfuscate a prior mess.
V
Seventy-seven palm-branch-adorned, donkey-riding kings:
an automatic-ring-making-machine beleaguering proselyte rings.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
Drip yourself into a cup
Fill up your body with antiquity
Let the collagen insist
An allegory of Capricorn
Memories crystallised
Settled in
Forevers harvest
Insensitive
Misconstrued chemical
Collective symmetry's sin
A condition, livid
Fleeting in Human imagery
Ships break
Loop our tongued
Hands, tossed in Dramamine
Whittled in a succession of malleable fashion
Talent spilled spread in supper
Collate our atrophy
And drink from baroness
Flavours tarnished
Super-collider
Blood soaked in Gematria
A garden of totality
High brow comparison
Entitled in your vacuous stigma
Forever burning
In the lesser key of Solomon
28 daemon
Tessellation in trigonometry
Temperance towards an infinite
Champion of mind, complex
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
The Standard Model is full of sticky, quirky Quarks,
perky little Fermions, and the Boson Higgs,
the reigning King of Mass of towering might;
who, by spontaneously falling off in any old direction,
gives ad hoc Masses to nearly all, and to all a birthright.
And for all normal matter in creation,
the Boson Higgs is the physicist's salvation.
Alas, we could have learned more,
but a Weasel ate through the Collider core.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
He was a good runner;
And one hell of a stunner;
Your stop-glass picture for a lightning vision;
And a start-pass winner, a stunting gold finisher;
A heart cold hunter, he was my knock-out hitter;
He was a K.O. Rider--
He was a collider: on one collect collision course;
Of course, the beginning was when it began:
Between the specific sheet of force
With a good measure...
Had me landing on all fours,
Reveling in it again;
To rev up was the plan.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
Electricities ,a mystery to me
How a switch can just turn a lamp on,
And I always thought The Periodic Table
Was where my sisters kept their tampons.
I don't understand Higgs Boson ,
Can't fathom out that Hadron Collider,
Or , if an apple a day keeps the doctor away
Why can't fifteen pints of cider?
I was reading a book in the Science Section
And the Librarian gave me such a frown ,
It was called "The History of Helium "
And I couldn't put the f***** thing down.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 8:26 AM UTC
I know this is what
I was born to do
Electronic, Classical
Analog or digital
Do we understand their meaning?
I find it pivotal
WAKE UP KIDS
From this crazy mind-fuck!
We never have to grow up
Collide, collide, collide
Cause when we come together
We’ll blow up space in time
Cause I know my crazy mind
Rules this space in time
Science, binding energetic mesh
Orb of fervent, atoms, matter
Forever brings the universal commander
Kaleidoscope dreams too heavy to stop
What’s the **** argument
Let’s raise the frequencies
Then drop
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Loading my hadron collider
With hampering Hadrian Wall.
What on earth am I doing!?
I know nothing at all.
I add some tea to my sugar,
Putting the kidneys in stone.
Getting chased down by a cougar -
My wishful thinking at home.
Feeling betrayed by my conscience,
The time is quarter to three.
In a world full of pretence,
I prefer to be free.
October 2013
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:53 AM UTC
It looked all right through the windows of
Our cosy sitting room,
The day was light and the sun was bright
But the house was like a tomb,
The other rooms were as cold as hell
With their stalactites of ice,
That dripped from the bedroom ceiling down
To meet the stalagmites.
I’d settled Eve on the couch and spread
A blanket round her arms,
I didn’t think I should tell her, just
In case she became alarmed,
She’d spent a week in the sitting room
For she wasn’t feeling well,
How do you say, ‘We’ve fallen into
The Seventh Circle of Hell!’
They taught us the laws of physics were
Impossible to change,
Gravity, mass, and basic math
Had a certain, definite range,
But men of science had interfered
With the particle known as ‘God’,
They’d built the Hadron Collider and
The results, they said, were odd.
I could have told them how odd they were
When I went outside to see,
My car was covered in mushrooms
And a train sat up in the tree.
A whale was floating beneath the Moon
And a porpoise lay in the park,
The light was bright in the sitting room
But outside, it was dark.
Nothing remained the way it was
For all the colours had changed,
The lawn, the colour of strawberry jam
And the sky was rearranged,
The stars were falling like sequins in
A cluster of drops like rain,
And ice was forming up on the eaves
That tasted like champagne.
I went inside and I slammed the door,
I turned on the News at 6,
They said there’d been an apology
But it wouldn’t be hard to fix,
They’d run the Collider backwards to
The way that they’d done before,
And hopefully, the ‘particle God’
Would be as he’d been once more.
I sat with Eve as the sun went down
And I tried to keep her still,
Away from the hallway mirror so
She wouldn’t scream or squeal,
The lines were deepening on her face
As our lease on life had lapsed,
I hoped she wouldn’t go out today
With the world outside, collapsed.
The sun rose up in the morning as
It had for a million years,
And everything was familiar,
They’d run the thing in reverse.
The News went back to the good old things
We were used to, from before,
Stabbings, murders, infanticide
And that good old standby, war!
David Lewis Paget
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 6:25 AM UTC
Cars collide and I wake up,
Dressed in someone else’s skin,
I don’t know which way I was going,
I couldn’t tell you where I’d been.
We talked that night in broken pieces,
Or was it all inside my head?
You asked me if I was sorry,
And I asked if I was dead.
I walked along the empty hallways,
Lost in poison, fog and mist,
Desperate to find some meaning,
In memories that don’t exist.
You said I’d been trying so hard lately,
But sometimes this is how things go,
My mom told me to keep my guard up,
My dad called to say he told me so.
Now all alone in some apartment,
And still surrounded all the same,
Trying to find my sense of balance,
Or lose everything that I became.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
Infinite these halls of time
These corridors of vast expanse,
Eternity of Universe
No preamble to the dance.
No start, no pause, no finish line
No courtship in this velvet sky,
Jewelled stars in vastness pass before
This cosmic, ink black curtain high.
Einstein touched, to reconcile
Gravity in quantum thought,
Interpretation’s multiverse
In parallel dimensions sought.
Postulations spectrum bright
In rainbow, cryogenic sky,
Now humankind, in wonder gasp…
Too insignificant to cry.
M.
On the eve of the re-commissioning of the Large Hadron Collider
In man’s effort to prove the existence of parallel dimensions in the actuality of an infinite, everlasting universe.
26 March 2015
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
The hadron collider showed an unknown influence affecting subatomic particles.
“Is this proof of a higher power in the universe?” asked Marianne Williamson.
“Is this Will, is this magick?”
Yes Herr Nietzche, there will always be unknowns in human science as the scientists should have known all along, instead of substituting the most recent names of observations as the replacement of God.
No, there probably isn’t free will but we seem to be life in the unknown with more power than any other around.
This universe may just repeat on and on but what do you do with that knowledge? Can you even help to choose what you choose?
All these past influences and instinctual impulses lead the charge. But there's that spark. That mystery if we can ever really know and comprehend it all with limited senses, time, and minds.
Maybe you don’t have a choice in your life, but you can have the feeling you do. The feeling you can shape your world amid the destiny you feel in your heart.
Practice being a yeasayer to life because that just might be your fate.
Amor fati each time around.
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 9:10 PM UTC
One of my year long sophomore subjects will be physics. At first, physics seems to be a menagerie of big, boring universal ideas and immutable laws rendered practically unimportant by their scale.
Peter, ok, let’s call him my boyfriend - just as a place-holder - is working on his “Doctorate in Applied Physics,” degree. “Will you help me with my physics homework?” I asked, hopefully.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” he assures me, wiggling his eyebrows suspiciously.
Peter got to visit the Hadron Collider, in Geneva, this summer. When I FaceTimed him he was as animated as a girl at drama camp. He was all, “proton collisions, Higgs bosons, top quarks and massive particles, bla, bla, bla..”
“That’s ok, I said, “If you’d rather not talk about it, I understand.”
Seriously though, I get it. Physics teaches critical thinking and problem solving. Fluid dynamics and pressure-volume-resistance relationships apply to the circulatory system. Pressure-volume curves can apply to lung function, heat transfer is applicable to frostbite, hypothermia and fevers - nuclear physics applies to nuclear medicine (SPECT, PET scans and radiation therapy and lasers) - yatta, yatta yatta.
But why ME, oh, lord?
Aug 10, 2022
Aug 10, 2022 at 12:41 PM UTC
(after Sarah Manguso)
The darkness of your eyes is a curious darkness.
I mean when I close them. Old dances are equal
in distraction, like the shifts in subjects in a song.
That's just the different voice in a choir, I mean.
I mean, I mean to mean: Meaning from the random
statistical patterns of this... "world"? Is it right
to call everything "this"? "World" seems to mean "here" and yes,
with "us". Like the positivists told the scientists, "yes"
this thing with our eyes-- expansive eyes,
microscope eyes telescope eyes large hadron collider eyes mathy eyes
--these eyes are "I". Would I be comfort,
--and yes, the substance of that word and not the action
that entails the substance being a thing that can be
--would you be comforted by the thing that sees
being the thing that sees you as you? Imagine
some other singer singing that no other such thing
exists besides ourselves. Is that comfort? Is that
a person or a poem? Is everything in that the same? Wonder
with me back to empiricism. Knock on the table
and think of it not as Idea (that beneath our own
that we wished to wish). Wonder
with me on this song, back-of-the-envelope
calculated tipsily, alone, at the edge of a party
--okay, the party of (this) life. Wonder
with me, there, here,
always. And open
your throat.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:48 PM UTC
I was immersed
In Ray Bradbury
and a cup of Tea
Suddenly, my bubble popped
wrenching me into
the real world
On the television
there was a commercial
for the new Ford Fusion
I find myself
again
in a new world
It's last year
in a Friend's car
approaching a red light
I say "If we just drive fast enough the red light will be Blue Shifted to green"
Amused, she inquires "How fast would we need to be going?"
"Oh, I don't know. Probably approaching the speed of light"
with a chuckle she says "What is they had a particle collider, but for cars"
not missing I beat, I shoot back "Oh they do, it's how they make the Ford Fusion" I continue laughing "You know a CARticle accelerator"
We Laugh
Back again to the present
I'm basking in the thought
of friendship
Her voice just as real
our laughter just as warm
the feelings just as real
That vivid moment
had felt just as real
if not more so
I can't help but smile
and let out a little laughter
at the significance of the Ford Fusion
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
I am a Hadron Collider,
Colliding my life particles together
deducing the common denominators,
finding the parts that define me.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
We were in love, successful, and happy,
We had a graphic novel series and a hit CD.
We did everything together, I stood tall beside her,
Then some insecure scientist turned on their __LARGE__ particle collider.
Right was blue, and light was square, and time was east,
Now she's married to another man, and I got no teef!
Apr 17, 2021
Apr 17, 2021 at 11:52 AM UTC
I got a large hard-on collider.
Speeding with the speed of light.
Right out on the old Milky Way.
I got a large hard-on collider.
Comes smashing right into.
A big black hole one of these days.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
"I love him"
hit like creation in a particle collider.
Not the words or motions,
just a big, deep, gut punch -
all of a sudden
free falling.
And i'm elated, excited
and ******* terrified.
As I flail, clumsily
in my fall.
Taunted by
the sharp what-ifs & maybes
that litter the ground
But he whispers
"baby, we're not going down"
Now i'm clinging
to this new air/warmth/light,
but afraid that i'm gonna cling
too tight
I just got a little panicked
love, when it hit
you kind-of exploded me,
a bit.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
In a lattice-lit dorm room sits a writer.
A discarded chemistry book lies beside her.
because ideas are hitting off her, like a collider.
Why does writing make her feel alive-er?
Cause it helps sort out the feelings inside her?
Repose is something grinding-study denies her.
Now, rhyming isn't her primary desire
the connections form, almost, despite her
poetry’s at it best when it comes unaware
“Oh,” she thinks, like, we’re going there?
What she writes might eventually be shared
with that awareness she vowels with care
picking words when they seem the ripest
shaping phrases like some sort of stylist
she may be less of a poet than a typist
Her default is to narrative - like you read in novels
cause let’s face it - cold-poetry is as dead as vaudeville,
as buried as silent movies, letters and opera,
have I come to dig Caesar up, like a fossil?
.
.
cold = straight up
Mar 27, 2024
Mar 27, 2024 at 10:58 AM UTC
living in this life of tomorrow
where drowns fill the skies
and will serve us food soon
where robots build everything
and food is harvested by machines
and what has to be made
is made in sweet shops
hard work is no longer done by us
it's always the Mexicans you see
how lazy we all have become
and we wonder why
work is hard to come by
cars that can now drive them self
computers that tell you what to do
and how your deepest secrets
can be caught by your smart television
you think that's all
well you don't have a clue
if you drive or have a cell phone
you all have a microchip on you
pin pointing your every move
your TV that went digital
that is so the government can watch you
as long as it's plugged in they can watch
no privacy
camera's on every block
imaging that can go through brick walls
and listening devices can hear you from mile away
the bank card is going away
and you will have a micro chip put in you
your grocery list you will no longer have to right
your basket will guide you to everything
bagged and prepaid while you read a book
you want more
no one has ever heard of 'stern'
a super collider
that is where they want to produce matter
energy that we don't even understand
and they are playing with it
**** we we go to space
have a space lab
looking for life on Mars
and yet we have an ocean
we know little about
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
Inevitably
We collided
Like particles
Creating matter
Out of light
And miniscule black holes
In our conscience
Into which
We were pulled
And thus split
Once again
In darkness
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
Is it God out there in the woods tonight
Or some weird, unhallowed troll,
Uprooting trees in the scorching breeze
With a dread that shreds my soul,
The sky is glowering red like blood
For a warning, in advance,
Since ever the Hadron Collider fired
And swallowed half of France.
A planet, black as a pit of tar
Has appeared just up on high,
Has popped up out of some x-ray realm
And filled up half the sky,
The earth is teetering on the edge
Of a black hole, forged in space,
And threatening us with extinction,
What’s left of the human race.
It was all for the sake of science, so
They told us, overall,
To add to their fount of knowledge like
The new God Particle,
Though why they wanted to raise it when
There is no recompense,
As it ravages half of the planet,
What did they use for common sense?
There’s a hole down deep in the ocean that
Is swallowing half the sea,
The earth it quakes, and volcanoes
Are erupting frequently,
While we lie low in our cottage home
To the growling in the woods,
From some atavistic animal
Unwrapped from its hellish shrouds.
The ones who unleashed this savage beast
Have all been swallowed whole,
Are floating in some dimension in
Their Hadron hidey-hole,
We should have had them arrested long
Before they hatched their plot,
Lined them up with their arrogance,
Their science, and had them shot!
David Lewis Paget
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
A bluebird came streaking violently out of Central Park,
it blurred over the lanes of traffic towards 220.
I flinched in anticipation of the impact,
but at the last second it darted directly up,
as if caught in a sudden wind current.
“Did you see that?” I asked Lisa.
She didn’t, her phone was jiggling.
My boyfriend left yesterday
He had to leave before New Year’s eve!
he has to work and cannot play
he finally gets to run the hadron collider
go get em’ tiger
but I’ve decided
you can’t fight the zeitgeist
that when the cats away
the girls will have their day.
Someone start the music please,
because it’s NEW YEARS Eve!
Happy New Year’s Eve everyone!
.
.
Songs for this:
There goes my baby by Kelly Jones
Back on the chain gang by the pretenders
Dec 31, 2024
Dec 31, 2024 at 11:48 AM UTC