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Knit Personality Aug 2015
I wish to be that rarest kind of artist:
The greatest artist of my ilk and age.
I wish to be that one who flies the farthest
The paper airplane made of ink and page.
I do not wish to be this flying ace
For medals or for glory or for fame:
I wish to tell the eons of your grace,
And loop the sky forever with your name.
But I'm no clever paper engineer,
And flawed design will keep my plane aground.
No matter how it's thrown the crash-site's near
Because its whole construction is unsound.
My plane won't fly because it has no wings,
And good intent can't fly the lightest things.
Bill Johnston Aug 2019
Coats of paint well applied
externally and color coordinated.
The trim contrasted properly
with no smearing.
An individual work which does not
clash with the neighbors, yet
is an open invitation.
An open house built upon good
foundation and sturdy structure
which is a signature to the craftsmen
who built it and dressed it.
The nobility of trades
Hapless Writer Sep 2019
Sweaty palms
And shaky knees
So nervous
For what’s in store for me
A new world I entered
Spontaneously
Today’s the first day
Will I succeed?
Äŧül Nov 2019
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
Rallying in hordes of horses,
Assassins from malsI pillaged us,
Maraud they did our temples.

Merely by converting out from Đhärm,
And reading the Satanic Verses,
Never you do forget your roots,
Demolish the original temple they did,
India is Bhāräŧ and will always be,
Right now the Hïnđū people celebrate.
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
My HP Poem #1806
©Atul Kaushal
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.  

As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Re-post
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2014
When I enter,
the black holes of myself,
they are located,
transcribed upon the
blackboards of our
unified bodies,
the magnification of energy
transversed,
principles demonstrated
by the unconcluding
conclusion of the expansion of
creation,
the rebirthing of one universe
never ending

When I enter a woman,
the discovery sought,
the definitional needed,
the proofs equational,
the factors constant,
not the variable
truths,
the demonstrations positive,
the constants of the universe,
combinational, all within,
a single point glistening

to gentle comfort this
knowledge of my wasting,
the foresight of my limitations
from the day of birth
my matter,
matters,
my energy
neither destroyed or created,
illimitable,
my decline inevitable

and yet

cannot alter my atomic structure.
my future guaranteed,
my inner light,
traveling so fast,

it has yet

to arrive

When I enter a woman,
the laws of physics
become special theories
of relativity,
we are motion in time,
force and energy
nucleotides rawest refined,
elemental and particle nuclear,
packets of light
exclaimed

When I enter a woman,
organic, chemistry,
interdisciplinary
my body and its life force
shaped as
electric current transceivers
crossing galaxies,
there can be no deceivers,
there but and only
the birthing of heat,
a byproduct of
interjection, conjunction

she is my proof
long after the
log normal of my nerves,
now parceled to the
invisible of an oscillating
log natural,
fertilizes the sea grasses
that so intoxicate,
flying, carried,
by the invisiblity of the winds,
all-where I have chosen
as my shifting shape,
when this container
leaks and crack'd,
rentery orbit,
the nearest garbage strewn
construction-dead
lot

When I enter a woman,
physics far beyond
the commonplace,
physical transition
to knowledge
of life ever after

death and fear are
time sensitized
passing notions,
crushed by the
consolation of physics,
the eternality
of a time
once begun,
cannot end,
and therefore
this,
my one theory of everything,
is the God
I worship
The phrase "the consolation of physics" was taken from a novel,
City of Thieves by David Benioff. The other nonsense is all my fault.
11/23/14 8:30am

for my blonde Big Bang theorist
annh Apr 2019
I do opine that a constant life, although agreeable in its construction and longevity, may render its subject without two sympathetic words to rub together.
‘Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?’
- Jane Austen
Morgan Mercury Jul 2013
Time sails around us,
leaving the present left to rust.
All my love is written below the earth
and spaces between the stars,
in the oldest language.

And we lay on our backs
crushing the grass.
You told me to wait,
but I can't wait forever.
so you said, "come along and travel
among these childlike places with me."
I said I'd follow you as far as to the moon's oldest side.

And then all at once, I'm a child again.
A child who would waste their time playing
in the naked creeks and thought of the unthinkables.

I was always trying to find my way to you
yet I was never scared of getting lost
for I followed the stars you mapped out for me
on the back of an old construction paper
that you scribbled across with stardust.

And on the night of the blue moon
I found you on a piece of paper
written 70 years ago.
you wrote to me telling me to always
keep looking and wait patiently
for the days that are to come.

and wait I did.
Doctor Who
Eleven/Amy
2013
Zizaloom Dec 2018
Peculiar speckled stones
on my lids, in them
When eyes are locked and closed
See yellow see yellow
Vision obstructed
Beams of sunlight slicing, sharp blades
Grasping before dusk
What was left to see
The carpenter shrugged, shook his rug
Early at night, late in the morning
Half of the worms underneath
Underneath underneath, far
Were crying soil and cinder
Flesh puncturing
The depth turning black
Boiling magma farthest point
Unreachable destination
Could it be a goal
Could there be a path
Is there supposed to be one
Dislocated elbows
Shoulders fractured twice
To remember to remember
Atmosphere in the womb
Trapped in a jelly fish
Ashore under the heat
Blaze scorching
Melted slime in the ears
Think you are fading
Disappearing to the world
To everything and everyone
No body prints on the sand
No scratch of jelly fish
Gleaming through water
You were here before
You were here then
You were
When is now?
ryn Sep 2014
Me
I am the entourage
Of a fantastic mirage

I am the agent
Of my mind's figment

I am a believer
Of mythical creatures

I am a builder
Of splendid architecture

I am a drunkard
Tripping on futures so absurd

I plan construction
Of my own destruction

I am the feeder
To dreams of grandeur

I am a magician
Of wild, potent concoctions

I am a tycoon
Of emotional typhoons

I am an adept
Skilled in exploiting concepts

I am a parasite
Brandishing fangs that bite

I play host
To a monstrous, hideous ghost

I am an addict
Of thoughts derelict

I am the dreamer
Incapable of anything lesser

I am a diver
Sinking deeper and deeper

I am an insatiable thief
Claiming trophies without grief

I am an emotional hermit
Hoarding my all in a bottomless pit

I am a weaver
Fabricating tales that meander

I am a Neanderthal
Adopting behaviours and habits that appall

I am an ape
Mending wounds that gape

I am but me
I'm blind, fighting to see

I am rhymesmith
I lie through my teeth
Getting hard to breathe
Heart to words, I seethe...
zebra Dec 2018
come here with the jackknife and see what I'm made of
i'm **** candy she said
taffy and blood
a steaming deli
doomed chicken of the sea
doll parts, splayed pomegranates
femurs left in a ******; wish bones
eviscerations to admire
peaches and cream sprinkles
skin like cold grey soap
barbed wire ******'s spas
like a toilet flushing
spirographic squiggles
at the museum of modern art

video girl
video girl
video girl
like
butter flies flutter bye

dead movie star dancing
a matinee cyclops
everybody wants a glitter ****
incandescent candy store
a piece of her to take home in little bite size chunks
in a heart shaped pink box leaking red meat
enshrined crucifix; kosher
an **** of heretics like me
and maybe like you

god is whatever is in your heart

i pray to modernism
to be saved
by *** death and resurrection
and a bigger ****
impregnation ghoul
like a solar ******* hero
*** heroine
a Bedouin and a Jew ******* each other off
in a New York City
Holiday Inn
while the Kabbalah and Koran read each other

I packed the suit case
with a yellow mucous colored rubber tube, a razor and stockings
I don't know what ill do with it, but ill think of something

God spins death
so why cant you; or are you to good for that
albeit a narrow construction
to carve my fate in such short order

ill get into my short short funeral skirt and girly bobbles
ill go up and down on you like a yoyo
sea Venus foaming *******
til you flip me over
a deli sandwich
and cut me in two
splattered ketchup
on the blue plate special; extra mayo
while a huddled sabbath of *******, extra ******
groan like Pisgah turned to mulch
indigo shards suicide note
ending in
i don't mind
and precise instructions
please chew slowly while I **** on your teeth
stuck rot
while still kissing you
better bring a napkin and floss

you know I would get hot,
seeing my one way ticket next to your return one

wish we could
**** candy
pastel chew
blood bubblegum
melts in my mouth like quicksand
hissing fruity drops looping
you go down like squid
clawing your way back up half chewed with that hurt look
making wet mud holes blink
dark vapors tear my eyes

you wont need a head stone
your feet will look good sticking out of the ground
with anklets
a fashionista
except upside down
your funeral; a foot kissing ritual
religion; follow dead feet, to paradise

head down *** up
you know; the position of power

your the new aeon
grave stone arches with toe ring twinkles
rectitude striving
hot head buried in dirt
antagonizing worms
because your to hot to chew
like molten core
a zombie ******
velvet tabernacle
smooth leg art
and pretty pointy toes
ascending
where glitter lights shine
pickle brine
green
in a
Promethean ******* ballet
phantasmagorias dark embrace

this is no ordinary love
dialog of paraphilias
surreal horror subversive
a poem about the non-rational sacred
untethered poetry
song of a shattered world


Across the spectrum of religious experiences—from the archaic and chthonic experience of sacred power to organized religion—surrealism arises in that elusive threshold between the sacred and the profane, between the illuminations and of everyday life and the more formal expressions of the sacred. The mysterious, contradictory nature of this liminal zone is embodied in surrealist literature and art: matter becomes metaphor; the ordinary object becomes extraordinary; and images evoke emotional disturbance and ambiguity rather than specific ideas. The ambivalent force of the surreal resists conventional rational categories of intellectual discourse. Behind its elusive potency of mood and charged associations lie the fundamental ambivalence and non rational power of the sacred.
—Celia Rabinovitch, Surrealism and the Sacred
Kathy Leigh Mar 2017
Have no restraints,
No second thoughts,
We are two saints,
Tangled in knots.

I am broken,
Still under construction,
So out-spoken,
With a niche in dysfunction.

You are perfect,
Everything of my dreams,
So very worth it,
Tearing at the seams.

No matter where we go,
I could never forget,
You helped me grow,
You carried my debt.
DivineDao Jun 2016
Mantra thing is fascinating
But you cant get very far
Without strangely checked
"I love your sound scapes"
Construction sessions
Visual pleasures and
Free form completed
Dance of seemingly
Frozen participants
Makes me think of
Your hands, eyes,
The smell of your
Effectively artistic
Manly mane

When you whipe all the black inky tears I'd love to disappear. Be prepared. Next week under the bridge.
Through it, from the next year's water slide. On a bench.
Michael May 2017
I've got the rip down just right
The soft tear, grated misnomer
Perforated here in my middle
Like I was meant to come apart
Out of view
Hot with friction
Hot with longing
Kinetic energy
Shredding
Dividing
The low sound of cutting construction paper
Thick with each blade passing
A sharp kiss
Maybe
Gripping like this
The right tool for suicide in the wrong hands
I have hands like those
******* I'm dissolving in a tear drop
It never left the eye
The sting feels like drowning
Waterless
and
in pieces
Like paper.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2018
“…you’ll love this riveting memoir.”

One longs to see a memoir riveting,
Setting in place with tongs the hot red steel,
Bucking the tail, and quickly pivoting
For another – a worker’s life is real
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

My vanity publications are available on amazon.com as bits of dead tree and on Kindle:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
FrankieM Feb 2018
Under construction.
The foundation was set too quickly, molded too carelessly. We were meant to build something state-of-the-art, not tear each other apart.

Sidewalk closed.
Take another path, the one I'm on is too hazardous. Cracks, potholes, blackened gum. It's far easier to take a different one.

Detour.
It was right that you left, take a right and two lefts. I, too, am still trying to fix myself, I'm still a work in progress.
I thought of the hazardous years I spent with you as I passed a construction site the other day. I'm glad I took a different road, there were better things to be built for the both of us.
Derek Yohn Nov 2013
Where the sea meets the sand
is the battle for the land;
a war for territory,
the everlasting story.

The tides that soak the beach
are always slightly out of reach;
Sol chases them away,
but the moon is here to stay.

So plan for the destruction
of man's every construction;
for eaten it will be,
by the hungry sea.

But forever is the sand
that marks our borderland;
eternal it will be,
unlike you and me.
Zoe Mae Jan 2018
My skin is transparent
My heart made of glass
My lungs are construction Paper
Not built to last

My bones are just straw
My veins merely string
My spine is a willow branch
That can't hold up a thing

My brain is a flower
My nerves are pure ice
My soul is a memory
Caught in a vice
KiraLili Apr 2015
Industrial work camp construction
Where nothing is light and everything is heavy
Leviathan's and Titan's move rock and earth
Steel structures are stacked by crane like Leggo blocks
Grinding noise and flying sparks are everywhere

These are remote locations where men from everywhere work in the middle of nowhere
Trailers in geometric shapes serve as homes and offices
Handshakes and high fives are replaced by fist bumps
Gatherings of people in smoke pits stand in for water coolers

Days worked are measured in shift weeks , sounds smaller
Schedules drive the pace and weather fights the progress
Overtime is daily, it's just a matter of how much
Everyone here comes for the pay check inflated by the locale

There is only one answer people say to one question
No matter how often they are asked,    " how are you doing?"
Tired eyes always raise and one things ever heard
All is said is , " livin the dream..."
Sachin Subedi May 2018
A man is like a flower
Starts with a bud
Blossoms into its nature
Natural ecstasy and perfection
In time it wears out too
Finally falls off the tree
A natural process
A natural phenomenon
Naturally the man
See as a flower
All the nature of being
To the base is the same

The intelligence the man puts into saying
That he is only the creature of importance
And everything in the world are the resource
Resource to be consumed by himself
Is the false flag he is raising
And is in the denial of the very nature

Anything which is resonant
And synchronous to the nature
Has the time in nature to the eternity
Whereas if not
In accordance to the nature
Sooner or later
On the verse of decay
On the verse of extinction

I see the human race is in the path of extinction
As civilization denying nature rather than glorifying
Human beings are far from the true essence
And are not synchronizing in the heart
Of the very nature
The so called intelligence
is what humans praise and glorifying
A lot full of ****
And it is a shame

We see the population of human species
To rise and rise
So may presume the statement
I just stated to be false
But seeing the thought processes
And so called intelligence
Is setting the human species
To a sense of decay
The step to the human race to demolish its own race
Is a unjustified intelligence in itself

The truth and laws of nature
Being in shade
Humans incorporating thoughts
As a tool of destruction
Rather than construction
In the field of criticism rather than motivation
In the field of extinction rather than sustainability
In the field of destruction rather than collaboration
And effort in maintaining the continuity
Of equilibrium and resonance with the nature

On the contrary
Making critics and complain about the others
Not realizing all are the part of the whole
Is creating a challenge to the nature
Going off beat with the nature.

We shall know
Anything not synchronous
And not resonant to the nature
Nature wipes out sooner or later
We cannot accept the very fact it is true

Even seeing our own life
As a child
The bud to the flower
The youth
The perfection in being and entire existence
The new ideas and new world
The fruit of generation brings about
The generation to come
To fertilize the seeds of the existence
The old age
To be renewed thoughts
Nature wipes out as per the plan
of its own
Accept it as a reality
As it is the truth

The sharpness of flower
Remembered as the youthfulness of flower
The bud is treated emotionally
With care as it is to be the perfection
In the time to come
The flower to be wiped out is respected
As it was once a perfection
Once roared the magnificence of itself
Upon this very world
The being-wiped flower doesn’t ask
For its claim in the now world
And indulge the new with its now state
But appreciate the perfection once it had  
Make believe the youthful flower to blossom
And accept its own existence in the present.

Every species and beings
Are in the nature of being
We are no different from the other species
We are no superior and at the same time no inferior
To the other species
And not the other species to us humans

Everybody and everything
Is the part of the whole
The whole is the nature itself.
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