I didn't mean to distract you, upon first interaction with you, I saw the sun lights refraction shining upon human polka dots
I have a thought that I won't say,
Ill write you In the plot of a book, that takes place far far away
Most times I speak with haste, life is no computer, but I can still copy and paste, my thoughts in a manner that properly compiles grace, and with some glue, you trapped your hands upon plastic keys, and played for me, a melody, and said I've been waiting my whole life to do this, I am alone and I am free, and I will stay that way for a while, so don't look at me with smile, and as quickly as it was created my memory can be cut and pasted into a file you keep beneath your bed,
The cold is coming, and I hope you wear hats upon your head and scarves upon your neck, for I hope you realize I am a sled, I don't stop until I reach the bottom, of a barrel filled with luck I live my off of,

filth compiles
with the lights on
all these letdown sunday nights

what's in this dust now
a forgotten name
that ruined my life

there was just no other door
to walk through at the time

i stayed and stayed
called your name
forgot i was a woman too
when my savior came
to save me, i didn't go with him
he wasn't you

i stayed and stayed
called your name

until i was nothing
until i was no one

he was my stolen sun,
a stolen sun , a savior came
to save me, i didn't go with him
he wasn't you, no he wasn't you
forgot i was a woman too

until i was nothing
until i was no one.

there is saturated optimism

lurking in the threads which weave

between our blanket's thick long sleeves.

every layer compiles rich warmth and graceful weight,

the tendencies and favors constantly accumulate.

this compatibility tends to near motivate

the crawling shivers which slowly evaporate and

the pessimism to dissolve.

then, steadily accelerate.

if there was ever optimism

inside the threads i've long woven

where our blanket's warmth had suddenly frozen,

then the shivers which constantly knit across my heart

have been stitched inside out from the very start.

the words inside my mind are jumbled and i keep seeing images of us kissing and me laughing and water gun fights and afternoon naps and showering together and long hugs. and i can't stop this jigsaw puzzle of memories from taking over and infecting my lungs, my heart, and there are ten thousand people in a room and i've never been more alone in my entire life. sunday nights are akin to skinny dipping in the ocean in the middle of January when you're shaking and rattling and it seems that the cold has seeped through to the tissue that compiles your bones and then i remember one am at the lake and walking around at the beach and looking at the moonlight reflecting off of your pool eyes and god, i wanted to tell you right then that i loved you. but i didn't, and i never did, and i never have and you told me that you love me as your best friend when you broke up with me two months later, and that friendship is the most important thing and did i always want to date you? and that's a slap in the face because you wanted me so badly, you were frantic to have me and i caved too easily, letting you absorb into my bloodstream and caress my deepest thoughts. maybe i never did love you, or maybe i did, and i think still that love should be given freely even if you've known someone for two days. and you must know that i feel cheated and played because you've left me, you've gone back to her and i pray that she doesn't take you back but we all know that life isn't fair and you were never mine in the first place. but understand that i gave you everything i had and that still wasn't enough to make you stick around, and i am beginning to rethink everything i ever did for you. never in my life have i been rude to you, and i am so hurt by your carefully chosen words and they cut me and slit my throat and it isn't the best to be called pathetic by someone who called you beautiful three weeks earlier. i'm not sure where your anger towards me comes from but i will continue to say that i'm sorry until you scream at me to shut up because i am sorry, i am sorry i am sorry please come back and be mine. i don't know what I did wrong and everything hurts and you can't make me feel right but you can sure as hell make me feel worse.

Unknown threshold
Randomized synchronization,
Cries of the dying kiss,
Amidst the friendship in that bliss,
Reasonless misunderstandings lie above,
Never fading, priceless moments dying,
On the curse of happiness,
Serene moments serenely rising and smiling,
Haunts of cherishing melodies,
Amidst the addiction are these symphonies...
Quiet silent darkness smiles,
When our rare synchronization compiles,
There the friendship of our dies,
Only for the sake of unexpected love rise...
Chants of the operas,
Sipping the dying light,
Oh where the **** is the plight?
Between us, it merely died.
In the abandoned chills of this day,
This momentary moment will be reminiscent of your birthday!

13th March 2014

The Quantum Poetry Theorem

from a long time ago,
a thousand poems a priori.

Dedicated to you, Albert Einstein and the cast of TBBT, special thanks to the OWS movement.,
But especially to the few, the brave, geeks who write poetry in word and in equations.

Scruffy, yet ennobled,
my own 99% invade and
occupy all my senses,
in my eyesight encamped

sensing opportunity,
the 99 demand
that each shutter eye snap,
all nominal exhalations,
every quantum minutia perception,
be live streamed,
direct tv to you

Everything I witness,
transformed into an
acoustic guitar rocking vision,
a levitation of poetic expression,  
set to a primitive three-chord
rock & roll overture,
and my iPad,
appointed Recording Secretary,
compiles exhalations as ecrivations

a preservation society of the verb,
strings of words emanating non-stop
within my head, from a guitar playing
twenty four seven, ironically,
expressed mathematically

Street strolling,
busy brasserie bar,
a Pinot Noir arrives,
a large pour of
stanzas and a
napkin upon to scribble

mind in ferment but
A Capella smooth cool,
my bossy brain requires
incident reports,
a "write me down, please,"
and

no matter how much I drink,
ain't anti-matter enough to
stop my eyes from seeing
every human interaction
as a poetic, probabilistic,
verbal equation,
quantum expressions of sensory upload

The brain revels and reels from overload,  
no mas, no more,
poetry fatigue incurable,
caplets and ointments,
string theory,
can't cure or explain
the compulsion I feel,
and the 1% of me
protests my
overtaxed mental capacity,
and

hear the, see the, masses,
the shouts, the placards,
outside my home,
shut it down, no one cares,
no one wants your transplanted mechanics
in their eardrums

Huzzah, found in my gut,
a Grand Unifying Theory
to coordinate, gauge  and harmonize
my internal asymmetries,
yes, a coupling factor required,
but still,
one equation that explains everything!

my fatigued, pointy, index finger
refuses to tap any more,
my Theory of Everything,
and my poetry, forgot, overlooked.
in my library buried,
black holed, forever silence-stored

..............there’s such a clamour
         so much choring
    memory thread
I sit
armchair
rocking head
receiver of motion
    bleaker of putty trauma
                creator of mammary craving

.....best take up knitting or wood carving

the fortress of thought
(in strict connivance with a bewildered host)
compiles the 'person idea'
protects the fragile calculator
               from biting at its own exposed
                  and useless self mating psychology
               from glutting on its own tail 
                   and merry going mad
                        in a tune of hoops...

..stammering to achieve valuation

for our decent management
projector
may you continue operations falser still
defeating our own polygraphs and making fools of our internal courtrooms

i sit on this chair
things go still
thoughts occur elsewhere
am i left to not be ?....................