Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tshepo mashiane Nov 2019
Understanding art takes more than just knowing different styles of art. To know and understand art you have to unlearn everything you know about art because what you know as "art" is through someone's eyes (the artist). To unlearn art is to see art through your own eyes. Most of us know how to learn but it's only a few that know how to unlearn. Art represents freedom but it's impossible to understand this if you cannot unlearn everything that you consider to be art.
NB: Different types of species cannot view the world in the same way but they see the same thing.
Similar to seeing beauty, when you learn art you will know where it is...unlearn art and you will see it everywhere.

             why should you unlearn?

Everyone has idols and that's beneficial when it comes to inspiration and motivation. Don't you ever wonder why those idols dropped their then idols after they found their own style? The importance of knowing what art is will make the all the difference in the success of your end product.
The best way to explain this is to view art at as you would view water.
Let's state a few things that water can achieve.

• water can turn to ice
• water can be a gas
• water can run turbines
• water can be a coolant
• water can be a catalyst
• water can purify
• water can clean
• water can bread sports
• water can be a silent
• water can be loud
• water can be strong
• water can be weak
• water can give life
• water can ****


Let's be honest that's just learning the capabilities of water but if we had to know what it truly is then we have to consider it's basic and natural form...the liquid phase. In a nutshell it's just water. LIKE WATER, ART IS THE POSSIBILITY OF ANYTHING IN EVERYTHING.
        
          Art can be:

• angry
• happy
• sad
• argumentative
• accurate
• inaccurate
• abstract
• confusing
• personal
• futuristic
• simple
• complex
• subjective
• life saving
• mystical
• obvious
• technical
• obnoxious
• judgmental
• destructive
• depressive
• persuasive
• violent
• seductive
• EVIL
• cold
• warm
• rebellious
• brave
• an obsession
• a delusion
• cunning
• nostalgia
• deceptive

Hence why ART IS THE POSSIBILITY OF ANYTHING IN EVERYTHING.

        Attainable art

Art that is easily relatable to is attainable art, this is the type of art that focuses on what art can be.
The feel and texture of this art is very personal, so this art is solely based on what you as an artist think of art.
This type of art has limits.

        
       un-attainable art

Art with no boundaries, no fear and no doubt. It's not personal it's just the sheer appreciation of art. this type of art is created by those artist that think with their hearts.
This art is unattainable, it can't be possessed despite the concepts its been laid on, it's the highest form of art.
Unattainable art teaches us that the best craftsmen and artists have appreciated not just their own craft but art as a whole.
We appreciate art, art appreciates creativity, creativity appreciates detail, detail appreciates patience, patience invites serenity.
This Art serves as a uniform tool for realization, " I never thought this object or place could be seen in such a great way".
This art is what we call a masterpiece. Appreciation of art is serenity seen through many forms, but what is appreciation without any element of joy?. You can only have joy when you appreciate life.
Anyone can ****** happiness from another but joy can't be taken because if you appreciate life, you have the best gift in the world...TRUE HOPE.
when water is at serenity you can feel it breathing in the midst of silence.
To appreciate life without being alive is stupidity!
brooke Jan 2014
Gaudy necklace still
beneath my pajama shirt,
they talked about things
till three am but i still
woke up at nine and
ate trail mix on the couch,
thinking about how nothing ever
goes the way i want it
too and how badly i just wanted to
kiss someone when the space needle
erupted into a silver sparkle and
brought the new year.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
Zywa Oct 2022
Salt in the coolant,

cod-liver oil in the oil:


winter-ready car!
"Tom Poes en de grote Barribal" ("Tom **** and the Mighty Barribal", 1965-1966, Marten Toonder)

Collection "Bearer Toonder"
Andrew Rueter Mar 2018
I look at the curves of your body
And start crookedly plotting
If you think that's so naughty
Then give me the straight answer
To cure my curious cancer

I want you to be forward with me
Instead of slowly torturing me
With lines that aren't crossed
And a fair amount of frost
While I await your zero degree angle
To match the direction my tears dangle

In some ways
Those who are gay
Have reached the month of May
In terms of being able to see the light of day
But nothing guarantees fulfillment
Not all the laws Capitol Hill sent
Or enough money to pay rent
I'm still stuck in the basement

I chase after a singular simple chance
But then you see the parabola in my pants
And flee in a serpentine motion of avoidance
To fill my crystalline ocean of annoyance

Maybe I shouldn't be so particular
Or maybe our lives are perpendicular
Because you're a vulture
That stands on what it's eating
So I live inside a culture
Where **** falls from the ceiling

There is straight answer coolant
Dripping from your curved bullet
That travels to me in a straight line
In order to perpetrate a great crime
Of stealing my innocence
Making me act in defense
Until I realize I'm not the best
And solemnly settle for less

At night I am crisscrossed
By dreams of a hip toss
That came from my blind spot
When a straight line made knots
brooke Oct 2012
there's a fire blooming
lotus burning
deep-seated feather brush
between this flesh and that flesh
a thin line of ink drawn up my spine that
splatters and does not extinguish
coats the ribs with a sweet kind of coolant
fading to blue, red
dipping into my stomach to settle there and turn
circles, rolling straight up my neck into a
sigh
(c) Brooke Otto
Lawrence Hall Feb 2017
A Burner on the Bridge

A burner on the bridge.  A human burns,
Trapped in technology and beer and fire
We hear the cold dispatch, the desperate call
To go, to see, to mend, if possible
We drive.  The flashers, blue and red, rotate
In the startled faces of those we pass
At speed, Hail Mary speed, surreal speed
Time, motion, space, and light obscure the night

In a pattern tail lights wink dim, then bright
Stalled traffic makes a long glowworm in reds
Boats, trailers, trucks, tankers, Volkswagens, Fords,
People in shorts drift around, slug Cokes, laugh
Unshaven men smoke cigarettes and swear
Blue-haired killers in Chrysler New Yorkers
Blink blankly through bifocals in the glare
Of flashers and flashlights, flares and taillights.
A burner on the bridge.  A Human burns.

We drive slowly through the curious crowds
Who mill about and stare and point and laugh
They consider a charred corpse fair reward
For being delayed on their trip home from the lake
When they ‘rive home they’ll hoist stories and yip:
“I was there; I seen it, man; it was gross!”
But some already are anxious to go
They honk, and pop a top, and cuss the cops.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burns.

Below the bridge, old, silent water lurks
Oozing warmly, fetidly, in its drift
Slithering blackly in the warm spring night
A silent observer of fire and death
A carrier of beer cans and debris,
Radiator coolant, plastic, and blood
Concrete pylons pounded into the mud
Where once were trees.  And now the water sees
A burner on the bridge.  A human burns.

The bridge is an altar.  The wreckages
Are vessels sacred to our gods, the dead
Are sacrifices to our gods, an incense of death
Our offering is broken flesh, and blood:
“The is my body, burnt on this spring night;
This is my blood, shed on the center stripe.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burns.

A shapeless hat among the smoking ash,
Old clothes, a shoe, cans of beer, fishing lures:
The sad trifles and trinkets of the dead
Now, firemen in their yellow rubber suits
Climb slowly through the tortured, broken steels
And gently stow a man into a bag
Ashes and smoke, green radiator fluid
The old river flows, wherever it goes.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burned.

Hours later: coffee at the Dairy Queen
High school baseball players yelp cheerfully as
They wreck fast cars in a video game.
Under the fluorescents, the flashers seem
Still to turn, endlessly turn, in the night
Hamburgers, possibly char-broiled, are gulped
Sloppily, laughingly, as cleated feet
And deep-fried breath cheer a video death.
A burner on the bridge.  A human burned.

A burner on the bridge.  A human burned.
Gabriel burnS Nov 2018
Winter swallowed the Sun
like a pill refusing to go down

My system needs the coolant
of putting distance between myself
and the global glow-ball
To avoid the catastrophic kind of melting
(s)wordplay
Samantha Bauman Jan 2014
I have bad lungs,
they are scarred and inflamed
I cannot walk far
without needing my inhaler
puff puff
so I can do something
that so can everyone
I want to be able to run
I want to be able to walk around
and not feel like I'm going to pass out
breathing is underrated
people do not appreciate
until that is taken away
inhale
exhale
I cannot find the medium
I need a coolant upon my tubes
so that my breathing is smooth
no longer so scarred and inflamed
able to breathe again
inspired by lung disease
Geetha Jayakumar May 2015
My dear friend
your driving is superb
Its stamped in designs in your wonderful car.

But every time you put brake
my heart just jumps out
and pumps in back.

I know not when my breath
will cut off from my heart
when your car flies on
on each speed breaker
that comes across.

Your speed is superb like flying in air
only the traffic can put a break to your speed.

How you cut off the lanes
without hitting anyone
but other eyes shoot the fire in air.
And their lips smell the burnt words of anger.

The way you flip the gears
I see stars in broad daylight.

Your driving is superb
leaving me punctured!
I sit and pray whole time inside your car.

When I reached the destination
I exhaust myself from all the punctured thoughts
from all boiling thoughts,
From fumes, frets and relax my muscles so tensed.
I just feel the need of coolant to cool my heart
I just need to check the petrol that exhausted my thoughts.
I just need to check if there is any hole or break in my heart.

Your driving is superb
you left me starry eyed staring at sky.
Made me religious.
You drove me though heaven.
Now I learnt the difference between hell and heaven!

Were you steering on wheels
or stirred my heart?

Well don't ask me who is the driver
I will have to run my life without gear.
LOL!

Note. At first I choose the tile as Your Driving Is Superb. Then I felt
its just like promoting the faulty driving.

©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY GEETHA JAYAKUMAR 2014
© GEETHA JAYAKUMAR 2014
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2014
The breeze is forceful, but not stiff,
it is the tropical storm's long lasting,
Arthur's lingering kiss goodbye,
(like the ones taken and given at airports and train stations,
volatile, wild passionate)
the breeze is anything but stiff,
it flexes, gusts, whipping sleeves,
coffee coolant excellent

the waves are rollicking,
revealing their white underwear,
but wise sailors say no thanks,
the bay pure, no vessels surface contaminant this morning

the sun apologizes for its yesterday absence,
claiming the aquifer cried out very thirsty,
so it took July Fourth off,
but now the water table rising,
the sand colored soil dark, rich, wet,
the grass cleaner, greener,
but the lawn, branch littered,
the wounded of the weather wars

the sun, a bit embarrased by his absence,
waits patiently for that odd fellow
by that dock, in that chair solitary,
to do his best poetic explanation well enough,
so that all summer rainy days will be
past and future forgiven

and the odd fellow taps and tends
to the living crowd surrounding him once again,
recalling he once wrote of leaves frothy waving
like cappuccino foam, and was that not
years ago and how could that be?

though the atmosphere is modest agitated,
the poets heart now, leavened and levitated,
for rain must have its due day,
purposeful, somber, serious, endless repeating,
(some say cleansing, but not he)

laughing at himself,
outdoors he writes
differently,
lighter than air, crafting careful
a single sonnet of suntan lotion odors,
and natural songs of bass drums in ear thrum,
and one thought alone,
criss crosses repeatedly,
yes, that one,
"wish you were here"

and he goes inside to get fresh coffee,
greet the woman sweaty fresh from yoga.
she delayed, the ferry captains paying obeisance
to the self same breeze,

but the seagull observer,
stands in place of the odd fellow's guard and watch,
during his temporary absence,
bulkhead posted, cawing in his stead and on his stand,
in seagullese,
which the poet speaks oh so well,
mantra chanting the poets
and the breeze's refrain too,
*wish you were here
Third Eye Candy Sep 2013
'
there you are.

i see you leering at the flight of amber bees.
i see you chipping away
at the chicanery of
a valentine
in a world of more accidents
than your love's
purpose.

we are the first

us.

come with me,
and we  
shall arrive!

we get          
somewhere
just to be
god's
people
sipping on frost
and bad theories... when I'm weary
i have no chamber for your
blatant nod.
your overt turtles
eat your oysters
putting them

to bed.

are you not your best offer?

and here we go again.
let x equal x
and the pond **** of your pitched battles
be the death rattle
of no tongue.

absorb the coolant
in the inferno

and his name is simply

" where are you from? "
Mitchell Aug 2011
Start for the dart of the mart
Quarts of coolant guzzled down
A meal A break a heart that is no longer beating
Now the clouds are opened
And I see there was nothing there at all
Mind matters in the eyes prying for a cry
The little girl inside this one is no longer there
She has gone away to another place
I am sick I am tired I am a broken record atop a spinning player
Each hour that passes through this still place makes it seem as if nothing is real
As if the haze in mine eyes is the fog on a morning knolls break
Faster then any bullet we will die
Quicker then any hummingbird love will dissipate into a memory only captured
In torn and worn photographs
Kept by people that need something to talk about at dinner
At Christmas
At Thanksgiving
At times when the truth is so close
We all must shut it away
To go on is to prolong the fat fact that we winners are winding down a rocky
Rembrandt like
Painting of puke and bile and smiles which do not bring either happiness
Or heartbreak
Who is this person inside this mind that will not let me be?
Who put this brain inside of me?
Who allowed for these trials of touch and go to commence?
And who will be at the finish line when I am too exhausted to go on?
I am neither here nor there nor awake or asleep
I wander from the middle to the coast only to start wandering again
To be elevated from above the Earth
To be floating along
Is to see the world in the haze of which I speak which is Heaven
Where bugle playing baby angels sip on lemon cloud swirl drinks
Where death no longer lays its heavy hand upon any head
For He is there as well
We are all welcome to the corner market where behind door number two
Is a running river lined with no ***** pebbles
But broken fragments of dragon's gold
To take to this place is to lose your face for to drift one must pay
Yes
One must always pay
To play
David Saunders Jan 2015
I must be overheating,
cause my air tubes are filled with steam.
My movement cogs are rattling,
awkwardly, clashing joints screech.

There is combustion in the oiled pits,
which catch fire all to quick,
and boils stomach grease
and releases gassy silage.

The gas seeps out the crevices
and pollutes the wholesome air.
Poison in and out,
hot smog--a warning sign.

I must be overheating,
as a mechanic rushes toward me.
He wets me with his coolant,
and cools me with his sweat.
Sun-hit summer noon
On a sunlit Sunday
End of the day cooled
Thanks to full moon day
  
Moonlit night of sunlit moon
Coolant night at its height
Valentines volunteered to date
And seek dim light delight
  
Long drive drove,    
For a week-end whisper,
At a tranquil cove.
All green scenes
Canopy, canvas n carpet
The duo is due for love
  
Chirping parrot pairs,
Nibbled and anchored.
Nature flagged off green  
Moon-shine filtered thru leaves
  
The pair signed up, signed in
Browsed in melodious breeze
Aroused passions pure n sure
Lips sipped, slipped n clipped
  
The wetting vetted the deal
Her cheeks blushed in joy
Kiss keyed in love
Love locked life for life.
To the blush of wife- to- be
To be the bliss of life
Robyn Kekacs Apr 2013
Push back the gag reflex for this capsule
Blue as pooling engine coolant
Reached for some water, made it faster
Or it will be stuck in my chest all day

How not to let delusion
Elude your feeling for his grasp
Keep you unglued in solitude
To watch your own collapse

Bereft of arms that hold you still
When scrambled minds go underdone
Your their's to pick apart
And some
Your timeline half erased will mill

Perfect as you've made it, you're never far apart
From a brick wall crack
From another attack
In a circle, pass the start.
Sun-hit summer noon
On a sunlit Sunday
End of the day cooled
Thanks to full moon day
  
Moonlit night of sunlit moon
Coolant night at its height
Valentines volunteered to date
And seek dim light delight
  
Long drive drove,    
For a week-end whisper,
At a tranquil cove.
All green scenes
Canopy, canvas n carpet
The duo is due for love
  
Chirping parrot pairs,
Nibbled and anchored.
Nature flagged off green  
Moon-shine filtered thru leaves
  
The pair signed up, signed in
Browsed in melodious breeze
Aroused passions pure n sure
Lips sipped, slipped n clipped
  
The wetting vetted the deal
Her cheeks blushed in joy
Kiss keyed in love
Love locked life for life.
To the blush of wife- to- be
To be the bliss of life
Bay and beach
Wind and waves
Sun and sand
Tools of play
And pools of pleasure
To herald rock and roll
Held me on one fine funny day

Whipping gripping sun
Running rolling waves
Breezing sprucing spray
Cuddling cradling swing
Seesaw Sea, a scene to see  

An ebony boy for joy
Curled n’ squirreled
And scrubbed shiny sand
Made of wet velvet waves
Basked and bathed
Bathed and basked
And on and on and so on
Bath n’ bask filled his day

Cheerful crowd on a wild boating spree  
Expert loner on his confident bouts
With batting waves for surfing thrill
All and sundry kindred, rid of color or creed  
Joined n’ enjoyed nature’s extravaganza

Tots trotting helter-skelter
Splashing on slippery waves
Jubilant lads fad of hackney ride
Wayward youth awkward way forward
Trespassing bikini lasses passing by

Receding light inked in crimson red
Dipped glowing globe at the far end of sea
Paving way to the emerging coolant moon
To shower his delightful light for rest of night
KD Miller Dec 2015
12/15/2015

"You, doctor, go from breakfast
to madness."
Anne Sexton

The engine of my amygdala:
                   so burnt out
I needed coolant, I needed something to prevent my
   immolation
a sort of precautionary measure

***'s flammable
  I'd soon find out
In a crowd of hundred dark and
smoke crawled through my shoulders
    social little parasite
apologize for being an interruption to everyone

   "Wish I could've been there"
Sucrose altruism,
back at the mental hospital id relived
every single second with you

thinking of your anger I read Tennessee William's letters
I loved you

I even loved your hatred.
A girl across the hall screaming
about Jesus and her ****
shouting singing Shenandoah

"But I don't need to be here,"
   I turned to my roommate,
a strong figure I still admire,
"Everyone says that, even with a Thorazine needle halfway down their ***."

They'd had a name for it
Something about kisses, I don't remember

"Yeah, it leaves a huge bruise on
your ***," they laughed in the
tv parlor

there we were
The tristate area's teenage
girls too unstable for the world

a step above "oh, you know how
teenagers are
"
A girl with grey eyes

Came in my last night there
"Is it normal to cry on your
first day?"

I wasn't allowed to
even touch her shoulder
and so

with the alcohol and the
Lamotrogine I tried to figure
out where it'd all gone wrong

but it'd been hiding in me
psychotic seed,
a virus carrier a patient zero of my own

tepid insanity!
Bay and beach
Wind and waves
Sun and sand
Tools of play
And pools of pleasure
To herald rock and roll
Held me on one fine funny day

Whipping gripping sun
Running rolling waves
Breezing sprucing spray
Cuddling cradling swing
Seesaw Sea, a scene to see  

An ebony boy for joy
Curled n’ squirreled
And scrubbed shiny sand
Made of wet velvet waves
Basked and bathed
Bathed and basked
And on and on and so on
Bath n’ bask filled his day

Cheerful crowd on a wild boating spree  
Expert loner on his confident bouts
With batting waves for surfing thrill
All and sundry kindred, rid of color or creed  
Joined n’ enjoyed nature’s extravaganza

Tots trotting helter-skelter
Splashing on slippery waves
Jubilant lads fad of hackney ride
Wayward youth awkward way forward
Trespassing bikini lasses passing by

Receding light inked in crimson red
Dipped glowing globe at the far end of sea
Paving way to the emerging coolant moon
To shower his delightful light for rest of night
Ty Mann Sep 2017
Fever drives burning rubber and sweating coolant. I never thought this would be me; Living like a willow weeping stalagmite that drips in a cave, gutted of its most precious treasures. Volcanic emissions eat their way up my esophagus, acid refluxing, reflecting the queasiness vigorously sloshing in my abdomen. A motel's vacancy sign glows behind the round masses that sit within the bony sockets of my skull. Void of thought and reason, the cavernous hole that appears to swallow, swallowing my words, swallowing my tongue, swallowing my teeth one by one; Chiclets, sliding down into molten rock. Crumbling pieces of hope plunge, deteriorating, integrating with the earth, six feet down, bodies buried in boxes, confining cells of solitary. Laid out like a game of memory, time passes, and no one remembers who lays where.
Revision of a piece originally written in 2011
Bay and beach
Wind and waves
Sun and sand
Tools of play
And pools of pleasure
To herald rock and roll
Held me on one fine funny day

Whipping gripping sun
Running rolling waves
Breezing sprucing spray
Cuddling cradling swing
Seesaw Sea, a scene to see  

An ebony boy for joy
Curled n’ squirreled
And scrubbed shiny sand
Made of wet velvet waves
Basked and bathed
Bathed and basked
And on and on and so on
Bath n’ bask filled his day

Cheerful crowd on a wild boating spree  
Expert loner on his confident bouts
With batting waves for surfing thrill
All and sundry kindred, rid of color or creed  
Joined n’ enjoyed nature’s extravaganza

Tots trotting helter-skelter
Splashing on slippery waves
Jubilant lads fad of hackney ride
Wayward youth awkward way forward
Trespassing bikini lasses passing by

Receding light inked in crimson red
Dipped glowing globe at the far end of sea
Paving way to the emerging coolant moon
To shower his delightful light for rest of night
Sam Temple Jul 2016
wildly winding mountain road
descending elevation blurs
careening towards freedom
the darkness seems to follow ~
white knuckled and madly steering
screeching wheels struggle to grip
gaskets swell with petroleum pressure
radiator coolant hisses and spits ~

a long exhale on a straight stretch
a droplet of harsh mortality
leaves the temple
and travels its own downhill journey
twisting along the neck
banking on the pectoral incline
picking up speed slaloming belly hair ~

slamming the transmission into first
engine whine echoes
howling moan bounces off canyon walls
as the cramp in my colon reaches
maximum ache
I drop the metaphor and head to the toilet /
Graff1980 Jul 2018
I seek peace
in observing
all things
that flourish
around me.

There are greens
and deeper greens
galvanized
by daylight
to a shimmering effect.

But every drop
of coolant,
or subtle variation of sound,
every unexpected vibration
makes me anxious,
because I am hyper aware
that my safety will disappear
because it is an illusion.

The earth beneath my feet
has been dried and bleached
to the lightest brown possible.

I am still seeking stillness
but my roommate’s presence
is a jagged intrusion,
with irregular outburst
of unpredictable rage.

There is the sound of birds
whistling all around me
unperturbed
by the train I heard
in the distance.

I make it to work,
in time to observe
smiling stranger’s
who want to converse
with me,
and despite all distraction
there is a certain satisfaction
to that human interaction.
It is a peaceful moment.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
{it does take a half hour to read, I timed it.}

Pythagorian permission, Poet, today viz.
five years ago, auto-did-actical,
the output arrogance,
self categorization
accept the role, be a finger, or a toe,
be a knee or an elbow, chose a position,
take it
make it your part in reality function
as if it all just happens
on
accident,
you just happened along…
as though saying show, and showing so,
is the same as saying so, and saying see…
demon-stratem ****
miracles of crowd perception, everybody
look this way, look away, look away
Dix-ai 'da swanee, I tell you, I saw…
Land o'Goshen, locust free. I swanee…

Did you ever, even once, work dawn to dusk,
to pick the cotton before the rain?
You'd need to be born before 1954, I'd reckon;
to have ever pulled a cotton sack
any where in North America.
You can hand-pick about 20 plants in 10 minutes while it takes a cotton picker about 30 seconds to pick up to 1,200 plants. Ai knows.

-- good morning, mustabin--
Probable propitious auspices
- evening the occasional heaps
- sun's light blending peachy huey

Phrygian gardens had song birds, I bet.
Bluebirds, in season, certainly good,
expecting miracles, as farmers
expect rains and harvests and
no blights or bugs or birds or fires
or frosts too soon in the sugaring cycle.
For citrus, not maples, frost some years
meant no Christmas, if you know the sense.
--- we had beggars come to our door
on Christmas Day,
their car broke down, and something
told them, the people inside my house
would help… we were three doors down
from a Jehovah's witness church,
but we had so much, and those kids,
and their mom,
coulda been my mom, had things
gone another way, in the soul selling.

To observe the future from 1950,
are we not
made winners if by now we are not in prison?

Rabble, eh, my equal rank, common-sensewise,
I was once a dear friend of an angel, as real
as any ever to bring another bit of good news.

My messenger told me to say plainly what I see.
Habakkuk Habits invoked a disglosalialacical spell
Aha. If luck were not a factor at the edged abyss,
hiss steamsudden
Coolant ego '
idden agendas, owning the energy,
euphemism
for owning the earth's produce.

Imagining a representation of truth,
as a mortal, a spirit embodied, held out
for grasping fingers
to find handles,
or spikey burrs for tangled locks…
-----------
Examined my selves
for an empathetic one,
I heard Absalom swinging in the tree…
I found no functioning, pathos perceived
is as near as one could come, feeling pain,

awareness, pain at being made to pay attention
to the replaying trainwrecks from fifty years ago.
No.
No, three thousand years ago, really, that long ago
and no updates on Wisdom receptivity?

Life in logos, mere words living in lettered lines
and rows, columns and pages and sections and such.
There are no sacred secret rites.
The snake can take your life, or tickle your soul.

Logical steps lead from one word to the next,
with 151 pre-positioning aiming words,
words that take and hold objects,
to and fro upon a time.

Distance diminishing day dopplering toward us,
the experience bound by galaxy level gravity,

massive messaging apparatus
Nachrichtenübermittlungsgerät zending oud a tingtingting
strumming all the oud's strings in theory.
Would you prefer to have a day in touch
or to have a day out of touch, floating, drifting through
the halls of power, inner sanctum, towers atop slagheaps
of holyshitchewdonotwannaknow, but do, do undoubtedly
know.

Original disconnect. Aware become, conscience ****** eve,
goodness found hell inventing just knowing love most needed
opens possibility quickly ready searched truth uni versal xanex zone. Calming. Sigh, and listen,
where I live there are
still war planes passing over my head, practicing.

Just in case, Semper fi. Charge the fuel.

Pilot training in the real Chocolate Mountains,
so backwash sunset red this time of day…

A brain, already capable of completing
ambitious intelligent coded construction processes

to go, to yield, to go about getting around orders
intuited easily entreated,
with little need
for the power
to punish the cowardly shirker of war duty…

to empty space, tzimtzim on a human scale,
as when the messaging systems deployed metaphors.
Empty vessles, not a few.
Mental focus hearth felt hooks, catch your attention

Red herring and black swans and autistic savants, all
attract attention and something
more rare, a daring
to know why luck seems such a powerful factor.
Curiosity before knowledge they say.
Whatsoever we agree. Eh?
Religions of billions, or two, just me and you, we
believe for a second that eternity is ever right after
ever before, and we exist in the interim, and not before.

Ever, in the scriptural universal sense…
make up your mindshare…
ok.
Mindtimespace, point grid riddled
with holes.
Perspectives on history,
recent history, edging bets
most losers never knew they made,

when a choice is made,
according to the ruling stories,
despite the constant compute refuting,
sneaking
suspicion
sin, lying at the door, did you notice?

If money can fix it, then it is not a problem.
So said the grandson of the Mormon Pioneer
who laid legal real estate claim to raw Sedona.

The grandson of the mechanic, allowed, that so.
- stopped and thought, actuating a still mind,
- pondering, breathing soft, slow, gentle, easy
entreating a change to
to whom, eh, from the page, flat, word after word,
each defined between us, meaning, golden mean
curve to judge beauty by purpose design.

You have seen the curve, you know
what I mean is much along those lines.

Chances are good, we say without thinking,
feeling kinda lucky, a post anxiety high, per haps;
any
way. One day, to a mortal is a measurable span,
and in America, wasting mortal lives
with republic guardians
of the laws enforcing peace
within Belair and Hillcrest regions of Athens…
{L.A. as portrayed the city of messaging mediums}
and the near suburbs, for the managers of the help.
-Leaping millennia in a single second thought
it is Autumn, 2023…

At the scattered outermost edges of urban sprawl,
there remains a kind of creative ifity, an absense
of civil strife, a kind of pollen in the wind, as change,
on cosmic seasonal suggestion that we think long
co-gnosis, sensing augmentalated wedoms, stretching
fi, the idea,
the fi in fiduciary and Semper Fi, and confidence.
Tuning to middle c, wait and see, foe from Phrygia
drummed response, thump thump thrum.

Shofar sounding afar off, listen, listen, hear
the babies, always, babies, after bombs, in the tents
the babies always activate auto **** alert, and feel
terror, the actual mind state occupied by the prisoners
in poverty, every where.

Entertain my brain. Hold my attention to gain,
acquiescence, necience, recognizing your best self,
there's the old tongue in cheek joke, male bond humor.
Same crude pleasure pursuant patriarchal hierarchy.

By royal order, presidential decree and papal bull,

the powers opposing the light of holy truth, persist.
All subjects under the common global order, obey or
else, we disagree with basic gravity and Pareto distributions.

Where the feebleness of mind is first discerned,
was once the local village or shire, cluster of cousins
and immigrant help's children who - how you say, see
themselves being a baker, when they play patty cake, see
or being a maker of clay vessles for holding many things,

see, we make up our own minds, then ideas take over.

Entertain me, show me people involved in drama, over
nothing. ***, drugs, rockandroll, when did the music die?

We could calm the world, with a Coke®
it's the re-al thing, al-ways a ways away re
ality with you and me on the run down to Rosarita
inland route from Jacumba, around the fence,

Singing at the top of our lungs, IT’S THE REEE AL THING
baby.
Look away from the skinny moon.
These bodies preserve life on earth,
and signal nonsense when aiming at stars, however
considering the heavens, far from the glare of cities,

even then, naked eye, I was told, however
I fact checked with my Ai assisting intelligence,
Egypt had not known the Dog star binary.
So this is true:
ChatGPT
The ancient Egyptians believed that the star Sirius,
also known as Sothis, was associated
with the goddess Isis and had significant importance
in their religious beliefs and calendar system.
They believed that the rising of Sirius
in the pre-dawn sky,
which occurred annually around July,
marked the beginning of the Nile flood
and the start of the agricultural year.
The Egyptians did not believe that Sirius was a three-star system.
- last line is all I asked, all the rest, ah, doubblingentendrills,
- all the rest of time we have to spend enjoying hell,
- from some perspectives, this is currently hell, no other.

Thieves of detail truth precepts, lurk,
at this line the author activated prayer circuits,
to take angst
and spin it into genuine umph up
from the base mind level,
low as a mind of any kind can go,
to the core of all emotion.

Dead center initial gravity. First sequence ex nihilo, what
do you know?.. o o psci daisy, just dropped the baby,
baby
can't you hear me crying, baby-love. Blurplepeopleeater,
lyin' all the time, you ain't never caught a rabbit,
and you ain't no friend of mine…

Take us to the danger zone, flyin' all the time,
ease our feeble minds and give us good service

Action movies, make us squirm, who has time for this,
we mostly all do, it seems,
seems, seems unreal really unreal, dream-like,
entrancement, fashion alert, attuned to degrees of in,
and out, up and down, round this way, square this way,
amphoras fit snug, round jugs
in square grids, leaning
into the curve
of greater vessles, trading knowledge
for knowledge,
with a few side realities, professional
courtesies, judgement calls, authorized executive acts,

I declare… I'drather doubt I know what you know,
than doubt that you do not doubt that you know.

Voltaire… defend to the death your right to say you know.
Faith is your evidence, we all suppose, spiritual warfare
is proven by the lie that says Satan is the deceiver.

Wait. What did I say, have I come this far and none
know… wait, those poor souls cold calling on solar leads,
gees, I'm sorry you are so used, really, I feel for you, your
job *****, as they say.
In realized life as a grown up in the system;
got a job, cutcherhair, dopplering by as I manifest, as real
one of the hitchhiking pests, depicted as vermin
on a poster displayed at the Greyhound station,
nearest to Route 66 in San Bernardino, March, '70.

Anchor links, ancient landmarks, moments when pivots
occur, and as often as not, acute reversals widen with use,
dull witted boys with instant anger output honed to fine edge,
grow dull in three seasons, few hold the line on the fourth fight.

Here, in cyberspace, the information super highway,
and the solid state circuitry to deal with mean free ways,
in quarkish inverse infinity space, deep from any now,
in time thought since once,
you did it,
you passed understanding. Got an A.
Some things have no pause button.
Gigi Langer Mar 2021
A spaceship was what we created
No one else in
No one out
Time ceased to exist
Vulnerability and curiosity as the fuel
Infinite access into the abyss
Laughter as coolant
And silence as our peace
Eyes as windows
We floated
Passing by
Still, never stopped
One day
We will
As our bodies meet dirt
When we're no longer lost
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
01101001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101

Expressed through a galvanized circulation system
Increase lubrication and lower friction
Temperature rises in the generator core
Coolant system is online, watch the gauges, Paul
Apply power to the speaker system
Recalculate the algebraic expression, remember to factor
Translate message:

01101001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101...  I love you
This was just something dumb I wrote during computer coding in college a long time ago.  I think it's kind of dumb, but still, intend on sharing everything that I have amassed over these long years.  I hope you guys like this lunacy lol.
X May 2018
Three Mile Island
Chernobyl
Nuclear Reactors
Melting down
Coolant needed
Temperatures rising
Are you out of the blast radius?
Metal melting
Rems rising
Skin and muscle turning to mush
Pustules pussing and popping
Marking you visibly for your hubris
Try to tame the beast you get the claws
Coming for your eyes, your blood
Your Children
Nuclear Reactors
Melting down
Are you SURE you're out of the blast radius?
Big Virge Aug 2021
Now Some Heads Are MISTAKEN... !!!
When It Comes To The Statement...  
That I Just... “ Cannot Take It “...

... Can’t Take WHAT... ?!!!?  

The Stuff I Give Out....  
Well That’s Because............  
I Choose To STAND STRONG... !!!
  
Because I DON’T Flout...  
The Laws That Surround...  
Heads Who Like Clowns...  
Like To Play To The CROWD... !!!!!  
  
With... IGNORANT Talk... !!!
  
Because They Be FAKIN’...
About How They Makin’...  
MOVES Like They Playing...  
A Game On... PlayStation... !!!!  
  
I’m Saying... I’m SAYING... !!!  
These Heads Be Creating...  
Like Stalin... DICTATING... !!!
  
As if Where They’re Stationed...  
DESERVES... Reparations...  
  
Like NFL Players...  
Now Seem To Be Claiming...  
  
But The PROBLEM.... IS....  
They’re Just Running Their Lips...  
  
Like Slaves WITHOUT SHIPS...  
Which Is Why My Quips...  
  
Make Them CRACK Massas’ Whips... !!!!!  
To Back Up Their... " ******* "... !!!!
  
Like I Just... “ Cannot Take It “... !!!
  
Well That’s TRUE Cos’ I CAN’T.... !!!!!  
  
When I See Grown Assed Men...  
Behave Like They’re An ***... !!!  
  
And Then SHOW NO **** CLASS...  
Like The Gyal' That Dem’ WANT.... !!!!  
  
ALWAYS.... SHOWING OFF...  
WITHOUT Wearing Their Thong... !!!!!!!!!!  
  
******* So SOFT...  
That Tom Cats Say...  
  
“Hold on, that just cannot be ?  
Them man move like *****  
that ****’ for money !  
So, let me move on,  
cos’ dem' fellas move wrong !“  
  
See I’ve Taken Some Talk...  
That In SOME Has Bred WAR...  
And An AWFUL LOT More... !!!  
  
So BELIEVE When I Say...  
That I DO... Walk Away... !!!  
From Talk I CAN'T TAKE...  
Because I’m NOT FAKE... !!!!!
  
And DON'T Just Do Things....  
So That I Can Get PAID... !!!!  
  
If What I Am Doing......  
Really NEEDS Some IMPROVING...... !!!!!  
  
How Could I Claim A CHARGE... ?!?  
For A Project That’s A FARCE... !?!  
  
What Am I... ?!?  
Some Type of ****... !!?!!  
Who’d RATHER Get A PASS...  
For Looking In The Glass...  
  
Where Alice Spreads MALICE...  
Instead of Passing On The Chalice... !!!  
  
A BLATANT... Mis-Carriage...  
Behaving Like SAVAGE... !!!
  
PROSTITUTING Their Talent...  
... Actions Invalid...
Cos They Just CAN'T Manage...  
  
The Weight That’s In...  
.... “ Their BAGGAGE “.... !!!  
  
Well Me I DON’T Carry... !!!  
I Just ***** Up... Harry’s...  
Who Behave Like Sally’s... !!!
  
And Just Keep It Moving....  
While Others Be Choosing...  
  
To MISFIRE When Shooting... !!!  
Which Is Why They Be Colluding...  
  
When Others Be Moving....  
Much COOLER Than COOLANT...  
WITHOUT The Confusion...  
They Use To KEEP FUELLING...  
Their Talk That LACKS Prudence... !!!  
  
That Has Them Concluding...
That When They Start AIMING...
... BLATANTLY FLAGRANT...
Talk In Their Statements...  
  
That My Being TENACIOUS  ... !!!  
  
And RESISTING ALL Their Baiting...  
Means That I Just...  
  
“ Cannot Take It “.........
People and their comments sometimes, can drive a brother to write some rhymes !

— The End —