I see Beauty in a *******,
Whose feelings you cannot convolute.
I see a Businesswoman in a *******,
A **** with brains, destitute
she made a business plan.
At least she did business studies and
accounting at school, sells her body to earn,
A living.
I see a princess in a *******,
because no man can resist her.
You know when she starts curling her hair
Even Pastors *******,
then we bring the Saints Holiness into debate.
Have you ever seen a ******* aspirate
"I want you" ?
****! Her voice alone gives ****** healing,
Arouses ****** feelings,
Pumps vessels, frightened by the spark in her
eyes, hormone adrenalin give your heart rate a
fast accelerating beatings.
I see charisma in a *******.
Married men,leave their wives in bed and
creep to the streets corner just to cuddle with
prostitutes, it was I who said, there's beauty in
a *******.
I see Beauty in a *******.
I've seen Loyalty in a *******,
Yes I did. How? What do I mean?
Because she ***** all men in the same manner
and charge them all the identical amount.
That is Loyalty man.
I said, I see Beauty in a ******* and
I wasn't lying.
There is Beauty in a *******,
The Beauty that makes Preachers at church
retire,
The Beauty that make married men divorce,
The Beauty that makes Jay Z forget Beyonce,
The Beauty that makes Julius Malema forgets
his political position
The Beauty that makes Jesus Christ want to
come back, to save his descendants from sin.
The Beauty of a *******,
Men have seen it.

A root of confusion in math
is not knowing whether a term
is a noun, verb, adjective, or adverb.

An equation is nothing but
a string of nouns.
But I may think about these nouns,
by their adjective or adverb
alternatives, for example,
which convolute the matter.

Verbs in math are really the outliers.
Thus, I've been thinking wrong
with "math is a verb" mentality.
The most common math terms are
nouns, which function alone
as subjects and objects.

What I think of as "doing math"
is akin to "doing porch".
It entails a deck, railing, stairs,
a chair, a roof.
So too, does math include these
things.

I walk on the stairs and deck.
I sit on the chair.
I enjoy the roof's shade.
So too, the things of math are
used via terms which are not
included usually in math terminology.

Almost the only verb used in
math is "think" which is convoluted
by the subjects/objects which I
employ during thinking.

Dear Pianist
The writer wrote
I drove to California on my own to try to get myself sad enough to write a new album
I prayed and prayed for a salve that would heal the pain in my heart
Once the wounds held together, I ripped the stitching apart seeing the blood flow from the stitching like it were a cavalry of demons in retreat, promising to leave me alone
They are liars
It’s like the Lord answered all of my prayers and I want my questions back
To search for ways, despite his grace and get my old gods back
Dear I cant pretend that I didn’t thrive off of the emptiness that I felt inside before the spirit invaded the void
Just like I asked him to, and shared with all of you

I stepped out the front door and tossed up my keys to find myself in a closet
Stuffed with all my insecurities and all the things that I’m ashamed of and every broken memory that I keep to cut my wrists
So be at vain or be at pity well I know that I still bleed and I keep the shards of mirrored glass to see my expression as I seep out onto the carpet and stain my bare feet, in a puddle that I’ll drown in 8 quarts deep. The release is never as satisfying as the promise to fix what’s been sewn.

We got bottled up like the alcohol gets bottled up and then we bottle it up in us, and I search for ways to define myself by some skeptical lack of trust, because if I can’t trust in anything, then I’m not to blame for my lack of movement, and I can abuse everyone’s pity, and I can convolute it.

When I was a little girl, my daddy told me to unclench my fists hold out my hands flat like this and pray
Like a picture of letting the Lord take my fears away but he forgot to loosen his grip when it came time to practice it, and the thought got convoluted the day he went away
I drove alone along the Western coast to try to write a poem someone could relate to I reopened every wound and bled myself dry just to try to feel the same way that I used to.
I drove past the city at night with the windows down to watch the lights and get so cold that I’m uncomfortable
You know I do it to myself
These headphones could be playing something else but we’re at the bottom of everything like the songwriter sings
And I make myself shiver until I bleed
I know every word to every song about despair, and I keep the albums on repeat to keep me there
At the cross of Christ I know that despair has been removed, that it drowns beneath the crushing weight of hope as found in you.

Will I always fall asleep to dreams of mending up my wounds, then wake to spend the day reliving every bruise for the sake of a sad song, or the sound of sweet repose.

He hit that first note and that note set me free
Well I fell in love with his sadness before he fell in love with me
But the best letters are the ones written in tears that smear the ink so he played the keys and I started writing
I wrapped that sorrow up tight like a noose around my neck, stood tall on a flimsy card table and kicked it out from underneath my legs
And I’ve been hanging in a house of cards for months on end, swinging back and forth beneath the creaking rafters with the winds everywhere
I always forgot to close the windows so that I could let in the cold knowing discomfort and disappointment were the only peace I’d ever know
I had excuse upon excuse for every broken bone, but in the end I broke them all myself to give the pain a home
Dear Pianist
I’ll love you more than you’ll ever know
I swear your smile saved my life
I swear you touch made me whole
But there is not an end to the self-condemning lies I have believed
And there is no depth that I have not known in an attempt to drown myself or set myself free to the point of pushing you away from me.

I drove the country on my own in an attempt to break my heart and I opened my heart to every fleeting hope in an attempt to fall apart
He said we fall apart and into our gods but God meets us where we are
What a thought to live a life that’s free but we are such a self-destructive bunch aren’t we
Writer you are a part of me and there is nothing you can do to set to flame the fabric that has woven me to you
I will not be your broken heart and I will not be your empty oath look with our hands laid flat in surrender I swear that we will both let go of the chains that choke us, that wrap their hands around our throats.
As blood flows and puddles to cover every self-inflicted bruise, ****** becomes salvation, the resurrected truth.

And I will play you a new song
And the lyrics that you wrote will accompany the melody and every word he spoke was a land of milk and honey that I thought I’d never know
I drove to Washington on my own to sorrow in the rain
But we danced over every puddle, and joy washed the pain away
And it road down and out beyond the pungent sound, out beyond its shores to a whisper beyond the horizons
With The cross of Christ I know that the bonds of sin are broken, that they bar the gates of hell for me and heaven's doors are open as wide as my sweet Savior's arms were stretched out when He died.
Love has defeated death with a life for me to hope in.
To be forgotten and thought of no more

To cross the line of painful resistance;
this is as they call ENDORPHINS.
To cross this line ten fold is to rip the muscles beyond were people would normally give up.
Which also allows you to prolong strenuous activity for hours:
"As too called STAMINA".

: Pain is weakness leaving the body- Marine Corps

: Pain is the sensation that lets you know your alive- Navy Seals

Pain is pleasure- A Masochistic Mind

To go beyond your natural ability,
to enhance what you know,
feel, and to gain that extra push in strength,
speed, and reaction.
This is the chemical within the body called ADRENALINE.
To control this sensation and manipulate this impulse is to harness this chemical and make it stronger;
to make it succumb and bend to your will;
This is the power accelerator that lyes within all of us.
For there is a select few that Convolute this impulses of the brain
( mind) , and Body.

: Stop imprisoning your soul, let it flow free.

: To fight with your mind in a cage, you just convolute the natural impulses of the body.

PUSH YOURSELF BEYOND THE LIMITS OF YOUR POWER/ABILITY;
YOU NEVER KNOW YOU MIGHT LIKE IT

Strike a mark on a sun kissed shrine
Cheek bones, dance within the sand's light -
Lambent spore sprig -Rot - beneath the mine
Lay the tourniquet fused, marble eyes.

Center stark stork - wracked to atomic bliss
Forked tongue minotaur, auric troubadour -
Machinations of bellowed amethyst,
Composed the flowered Aum, raising thy *******.

Arachnid's webbing - strung of turquoise beads -
By what are the viscid lines severed clean
That they convolute binaural progeny,
And lure the soul to breathe?

Today I pondered Oblivion. If the stars will collapse on themselves, if the nothingness between the asteroids and the dust lining the moons and the inhuman complexity that is Time will all convolute and dissolve into existential chaos, then what is the point? If space time does not have an infinitely stretching edge like an anti gravitational sea eclipsing the earth, then neither does humanity. So Europe and America and Africa are tiny islands in an everlasting ocean; single ants in an interminable universe. So my home is even more exponentially tiny: my state is a mere indention in an all-embracing dirt path so I am a receding footprint in a fossil of human existance. My poems are specks of dust on a planet of amorphous matter.

oh how coincidental is this fate
to grab a seat within a new classroom
between my current and my former mate?

who knew that destiny could calculate
the weaving of three strings upon its loom?
oh how coincidental is this fate

the swinging of the pendulum so great
within the grandpa clock before the room
between my current and my former mate?

my senses convolute when both create
a rare concoction of combined perfume,
oh how coincidental is this fate

when memories flash back and forth in state
my heart from extreme ends being consumed
between my current and my former mate?

eventually they'll meet, communicate
the sign of the beginning of my doom
oh how coincidental is this fate
between my current and my former mate?

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

Side worn glances draw the skin pale. Half dressed inferences hooked on a nail.
Spiteful nostalgia picked from the nose, of Tom Waits while holding a rose.
Serpentary train of thought, inevitably back to the same spot.

Revert to responsibilities of old, and return to reveries told.

Spectrums of light tumble blindly, refracting in through open panes,
     Opaque shadows cast from blind spots left by stains.

Trying to be poetic for poetry’s sake, resolute in resolve, discovered as a fake.
The lexicon’s been tossed aside, for depressive angst most should hide.
Tachyons convolute the art, allowing the removal of heart.

Starry skies stripped of worth, sanitized sacrilege straight from birth.

Tentative steps, pushing the precursor forward as the floe begins to melt,
   Nudge the idol in, and return to shore without talent, but svelte.

my mind will finally be hollow when explosive entities of its existential warfare finally self destruct.
until then,
Recondite rifles are ruthlessly reloaded with unanswerable questions regarding the purpose of seemingly non purposeful things;
lack of resolve wrecks me.
Unanswered ammunition degrades cerebral cells, intercepting normal neural connections:
I cannot think properly in the midst of pellets of panic

until then,
Selfless soldiers employed by future uncertainty battle against selfish soldiers of MY physical being, employed by my diminishing desire for sanity.
They engage in trench warfare: digging desolate ditches, hammering holes, all of which eventually collapse and contribute to the constant compression of my cortex.
But Compliments and Hope fracture into particles of sand that are ****** into the openings in my pupils by amorphous wind which is structureless anyway
these particles are vacuumed down my optic nerves and pile into pillars of petrifying plant-based picket fences that try to guard against the existential warfare plaguing my mind
But more explosive entities enter through my ears and reproduce in my temples waiting to self destruct

until then,
Forces convolute: existential warfare compresses my cortex into inevitable flat nothingness, while pitiful pillars of disillusioning dust collapse because the wind that whisked them inside NEVER EXISTED ANYWAY
Eventually i will implode

Until then,
numbness gnaws at my heart to balance the bullets
waiting to implode
until then,
Existential Warfare bombards my brain with bullets of black metal

Love has wasted my time
Partnership has strengthened me
I don’t think I’ve seen Love
I have seen a beautiful partner
Someone to make me stronger
Redefined happy
To convolute love
To self and us
And make love constitute us.

what switch might lay above me,
that I would write forever?

you're no stranger than me.

I'll convolute as long as I see,
with the sea- a shining quarter.

I'm in Heaven, now.
With words.


Don't bother searching,

      we'll all drift well enough,

and breathe,


             and breathe be-yond.

My words cannot write you
the way I wish they could.
I can write about the day we met.
I can tell you about the cold Winter afternoon you met a young mother and her son in the park,
and how you endured the brisk winds for hours just to see me in the flesh.
I can describe the green plaid jacket you wore,
hoping it would keep your bones from chilling.
I know it didn't.
You're a Summer man,
and I can write about that.

I can retell our memories,
paint idyllic pictures of beach weekends.
Our skin glistening from the heat,
wind pouring through the windows of your car that's as old as you,
hoping it would keep us cool.
It didn't.
That Summer you taught my son how to love the water,
only to have the fear return threefold a year later.
I could write about that in two words: you're persistent.

My words can retell every fight we've ever had,
breathe life back into the 'he said she said' of our history.
We've apologised (mostly me)
and we've forgiven (mostly you).
With my words I've already told of your persistence.
Words are beautiful like that.
And I've birthed beauty through them,
but I've also bred sorrow.
This I know through your words,
but mostly from the things that speak louder than any combination of letters ever could.
Your expression.
Your tears.
Your silence.
Sometimes silence is too loud to bear.

I can write in vain about you,
and I do,
more often than I'll admit.
Hoping for redemption, maybe,
or justification.
Long words only convolute a story further.

But I can't write about you
the way I wish I could.
There are no words.
No words for your smile.
No words for your laugh.
No words for your quirks or your sense of humour.
No words for your flaws and imperfections.
I can write in vain about all the things that make up You,
but there's no words for love.
I'll keep trying though,
and I do.
More often than I'll admit.

I'll try my hardest to refrain from mounting this phony high pony and preach to you,
and to keep from using ******* rhymes and fancy lines that do little more than convolute the truth,
but the fact remains that there's a certain amount of irony inherent in all things,
and I can see it clearly raging inside of you.

Blah blah blah.
These and other platitudes.
You're struggling and you're sad and you're lost and confused.

Don't you realize that you're just climbing up and sliding down the eternal staircase that the rest of us have already grown accustomed to?

Of course not,
and that's why you're smart.
Giving up on the race before it even starts.

What do you want?
No, really.
Out of life,
out of love,  
with hell below and the stars above,
where exactly are you aiming for?

You don't even know,
and somehow,
that's what makes it beautiful.

to truly listen hear and understand
takes more than just the human ear  
required are those intractable elements
that hide somewhere beyond the outerinnersphere
adding the unwanted and too often unnoticed filters
designed to convolute what should be crystal clear
so that others perceive us as something that is more or less
than the way we aspire to see ourselves or wish to appear

again we see no end to connections that tend to override
unseen as any certain or uncertain sets of circumstance
A sharp conflict exists among notes it emotes that never floats
falling instead to B Flat as if dead on that floor so no one dances
where invitation becomes invasion so walls suddenly appear
  to block out light and inspiration as a way to halt any advances
all because we choose our view in direct relation to what applies
to our eyes as we're convinced we see all by quick sideway glances

but it takes more than eyes to realize that which is not there
so convinced we become incensed those reasons we cannot find
that somehow somewhere someway or another someone else
has pulled some kind of magic trick that then did inflict the mind
of all those who cannot see what it is that you believe it to be
" SO THE WHOLE DAM WORLD HAS GONE BLIND BLind  blind
as for all us who accept the truth you hear with more than by ear
see by more than just eyes to think requires more than just your mind

may have the makings of an empath mind if you find you're so inclined ask yourself if you truly TRULY  live up to your OWN expectations
to invest by this simply impossible test taken without time constraints
once able to refrain from creating the walls that block out inspirations to endure the painful cure by could never would never no way I'll ever
change my mind that are self fulfilling prophesies of your inclinations
so that day comes when you realize but know not when the test did end
to accept the grade you give yourself will depend .. ( congratulations )
when you have long talks with those who won't accept their own box
does exist and you persist and are sure you've not built yourself a box...
of clear glass....then friend you have just passed.    
now go find yourself a way to make a difference.     PEACE & LOVE

Florida wants to show
Its hateful, nasty side
By lashing out at gays
With zeal that it won't hide.
Governor DeSantis
Will not be outdone.
He wants to make a case
Where there's really none.
But who cares what
DeSantis has to say?
Turn his words around
And don't be afraid to say gay.

Other states will now
Attempt to follow suit
With explanations that
They will convolute.
It matters not to them
What is right or wrong.
It's just a culture war
That nudges them along.
When states try to put
Their bigotry on display,
Turn their words around
And don't be afraid to say gay.

Using toxic words
Like "groomers" to suggest
That anyone who's gay
Is on a lecherous quest,
Backers of the bills
Frequently beguile
Voters with the use
Of words like "*******."
When fanatics try
To bully you this way,
Turn their words around
And don't be afraid to say gay.

Autocratic rulers,
Backed by troglodytes,
Despise tolerance
And stomp on human rights.
Don’t let other people
Intimidate you. No!
Just be who you are,
And tell them where to go.
Love is love is love,
So don't be led astray.
Turn their words around
And don't be afraid to say gay.

-by Bob B (4-11-22)

Every time
The trees sigh,
I feel
A slight wind blow.

The sky sings
With whistling birds,
Swooping
In the falling snow.

A taste of lime,
A sprig of mint
Floats
Atop a cold mojito.

Twinkling rings,
Headlights glint
Briefly,
In an ebb and flow.

Luminous lies
Shine light on
My mind,
My eyes are windows.

Simple things
Convolute, in the
Face of
My writhing ego.

The day flies
On the wings of
A black bird,
A single cawing crow.

Wallowing, no,
Relishing in
This feeling,
Like watching a plant grow.