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"digit" poems
Eto ako ngayon, nakahiga kama ko isipan ay walang laman kun’di ikaw. nababaliw sa bawat senaryo na kasama ka. Ilang beses ko na naisip at na plano ang gagawin sa oras na dumating ang panahon na kailangan gumawa ng desisyon kung pagpapatuloy ba natin ang ating pagsasama. at ilang beses ko na ding nasagot ang sarili na oo. Kase wala lang naman akong hihilingin kung’di ikaw na nag papatibok ng puso ko. Ang taong pumupulot sa mga basag kong piraso, at binubuo ako, gamit ang ginto. Kase ang mga hapon ay may sining na kapag ang isang bagay ay nabasag ang ginagawa nila dito ay ginagamit ang ginto bilang pang digit. Para sa kanila, ang bagay na iyon ay mas maganda at kabighabighani kesa nung eto ay hindi pa nababasag. Ikaw ang ginto na bumubuo sa mga basag kong piraso. Salamat. Mahal kita.
0
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Kintsugi
A dizzy flake of snow falls, perfectly balanced, upon one outstretched finger's squat end. It clings tight for a second- a sticky, icy second where I hold with fragile care the weak sliver, and my breath. Yet, the next moment, only water my digit holds up. It melts away instantly with the dry warmth I supply, and I find that, always, all the delicate, pretty ones with exquisite tender grace burn out ever the fastest, first. So snowdrop kisses, on the frosty, red nip of my nose now only make me shiver. It's all just skin and ice, and more ice and skin. Peels of snow and chips of freeze make chilled my blood and glazed eyes.
0
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
Snowflake
Alexander of Macedonia this time won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai. At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent, one would dare, taking his last plunge, believing it here the proverbial Well of Life! Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra, drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable: The Zero from the Indian pole. Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all. Every number jumps up in the zero loophole! Then the whole number bows down into decimals, escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios. Plough through at your own pace for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath. Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone. Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone. What do these mean? I too wonder down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance. Both rolled out, hugging each other Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up! 360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle, find the match giving a perfect heads up laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax, simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines. What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth? Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out! Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants. The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water! Let alone any well, which way did this original matter, the first, primeval drop of water stream down Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise? Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?
0
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
Alexander the Great own't U-turn
Alexander of Macedonia this time won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai. At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent, one would dare, taking his last plunge, believing it here the proverbial Well of Life! Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra, drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable: The Zero from the Indian pole. Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all. Every number jumps up in the zero loophole! Then the whole number bows down into decimals, escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios. Plough through at your own pace for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath. Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone. Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone. What do these mean? I too wonder down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance. Both rolled out, hugging each other Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up! 360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle, find the match giving a perfect heads up laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax, simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines. What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth? Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out! Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants. The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water! Let alone any well, which way did this original matter, the first, primeval drop of water stream down Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise? Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?
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34
I was dancing at a dance club Two stepping all about When my thumb, it found a belt loop And I couldn't get it out I shifted and I wiggled I ****** my hips out front in time I bent over and I shimmied I was twerking on the line Now, I ain't no Miley Cyrus You can believe me now or not I wasn't up there twerking It's because my thumb was caught I sashayed and I moseyed And others got up too My thumb was still encumbered What the hell was I to do? I was twerking like a mad man Not knowing how, or  why But the pain in my one digit Just made me want to die Maybe now I know the reason Miley Cyrus did her dance She wasn't up there being slutty She had her thumb stuck in her pants Now, I'm through with twerking And there's is one thing that you'll find That unlike young Miley Cyrus You don't want to watch me from behind!!!
0
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
The Twerking Two Step
I like hearing you talk about Mozart Because it means you’re listening. His piano keys are no different from mine. I like hearing you talk about Mozart. I used to play his pieces before I sleep. His arpeggio is my lullaby; His laughter, a sombre tune to which I tune My keys. There’s no denying that you like Mozart; Never mind his spending habit. I sometimes think you are Mozart. I think Beethoven was fad gone true because He was deaf to his laughter, And Schubert was too old, too young to remember How to step on the pedals While he tried his many operas On his baby grand piano. I think of Mozart in my sleep, in my dreams, On the toilet, while eating. I think of Mozart and his young son And the requiem he stood dying to finish. Mozart became a One night stand, and I am not proud of that. I majored in advertising, God knows why, and maybe Mozart had something to do with that. I factored one and two equals the sign of what digit, And maybe Mozart had something to do with that. I wrote a story once, About a starving artist; Maybe he was the force behind that. I filled my library with fiction, And fiction became a running schedule for me. Maybe Mozart had something to do with that. I’ve grown roots and sprouted horns listening to Bach; I don’t think Mozart knew that. But it was the size of the shoe that never fit me in third grade, And the roots run as deep as a well of Hope grown asunder. I knew Mozart would not like that. And it was holy. We are holy. He was holy. Mozart was holy. Mozart was holy. Mozart was holier than a cow gunned for meat turned to steak And corned beef on my breakfast sandwich. Mozart was holier than a dishwashing paste advertisement That promises oil free, squeaky clean Experience. Mozart was more than a religious façade played in the sala Of some affluent geeky teenager’s house Where no one bothers to eat the garnishing. Mozart was holier than Bach, Chopin, Stravinsky, Wagner. His flute promised a princess to remain priceless. Mozart was holier than Salieri. Mozart knew better than Salieri. Mozart played better than Salieri, And he got the better of Salieri when Antonio himself said, **** that Austrian ****** who plays, lives and howls like a show monkey. **** this court. **** this Emperor who can hardly keep together his fingers to play. **** Austria. **** Vienna. **** this era of opera played in German that hardly sells a ticket. **** this requiem and this boy, This mad man, pint sized and hardly put together like a china doll. **** this piano, and to hell with his lovers.” I saw Mozart once. He waved at me. I turned and looked away because I was listening to you talk about Mozart. And I like hearing you talk about Mozart Than Mozart talking about Himself.
0
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
I Like Hearing You Talk About Mozart
I like hearing you talk about Mozart Because it means you’re listening. His piano keys are no different from mine. I like hearing you talk about Mozart. I used to play his pieces before I sleep. His arpeggio is my lullaby; His laughter, a sombre tune to which I tune My keys. There’s no denying that you like Mozart; Never mind his spending habit. I sometimes think you are Mozart. I think Beethoven was fad gone true because He was deaf to his laughter, And Schubert was too old, too young to remember How to step on the pedals While he tried his many operas On his baby grand piano. I think of Mozart in my sleep, in my dreams, On the toilet, while eating. I think of Mozart and his young son And the requiem he stood dying to finish. Mozart became a One night stand, and I am not proud of that. I majored in advertising, God knows why, and maybe Mozart had something to do with that. I factored one and two equals the sign of what digit, And maybe Mozart had something to do with that. I wrote a story once, About a starving artist; Maybe he was the force behind that. I filled my library with fiction, And fiction became a running schedule for me. Maybe Mozart had something to do with that. I’ve grown roots and sprouted horns listening to Bach; I don’t think Mozart knew that. But it was the size of the shoe that never fit me in third grade, And the roots run as deep as a well of Hope grown asunder. I knew Mozart would not like that. And it was holy. We are holy. He was holy. Mozart was holy. Mozart was holy. Mozart was holier than a cow gunned for meat turned to steak And corned beef on my breakfast sandwich. Mozart was holier than a dishwashing paste advertisement That promises oil free, squeaky clean Experience. Mozart was more than a religious façade played in the sala Of some affluent geeky teenager’s house Where no one bothers to eat the garnishing. Mozart was holier than Bach, Chopin, Stravinsky, Wagner. His flute promised a princess to remain priceless. Mozart was holier than Salieri. Mozart knew better than Salieri. Mozart played better than Salieri, And he got the better of Salieri when Antonio himself said, **** that Austrian ****** who plays, lives and howls like a show monkey. **** this court. **** this Emperor who can hardly keep together his fingers to play. **** Austria. **** Vienna. **** this era of opera played in German that hardly sells a ticket. **** this requiem and this boy, This mad man, pint sized and hardly put together like a china doll. **** this piano, and to hell with his lovers.” I saw Mozart once. He waved at me. I turned and looked away because I was listening to you talk about Mozart. And I like hearing you talk about Mozart Than Mozart talking about Himself.
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69
I’m sorry if my body fat triggers feelings of disgust in you, but I hope you’re ready because I’m about to shoot the gun. Please, don’t feed the fat girl in a bikini on the beach. My skin is not an insult, a statement, an apology, or something to be picked and pulled apart by your crisp magazine pages. I refuse to cry over the pale white lines that show I have blossomed from a child into a wide-hipped woman. I don’t need a man to tell me that my body is acceptable, merely by his standards of what his ******** rises for. I’m sorry if my life makes me happy, and your life makes you not, but I choose weight over senseless standards because I can be beautiful with double-digit-sized pants. Maybe you are uncomfortable with your own uncomfortableness and with my security in my flawed skin. And although many of my “sorry(’s)” in this passage are sarcastic, I am genuinely sorry that someone can feel so negative in the only space that will ever truly be their own. Please, don’t feed the fat girl in a bikini on the beach, she does not need bitter and hateful words that will literally eat away at her. She’d much rather you go find someone who actually gives a ****
0
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
I Will Wear My Plus-Sized Bikini
I lay down your creamy expanse unto the marble surface, as if milk made love with the stars in the galaxies. I write you out as pleasant simmer of pulverized charcoal and bloated glycerine. I splatter and spread fine dusts of Carica in temperate motion to touch the sleek edges of the vanilla branches on your person. I hold and dip my feathery digit amongst rose water to grasp the flowers that frames your face, like light morganites that hail from the west. I cast you off as the blue sea engulfs the life from the waters where life swims with stable beginnings and whirlwinds of stories. I finish you by letting molten pearls lither your dark onyx orbs, surrounded by your lakes of gelatinous almond, like shooting comets finding rest on land, as lightning's faint and close but never quite touch. I made you with intrinsic detail and rawness to give you the life that you may never have.
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Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 8:52 AM UTC
Canvas
are feelings of love felt alone, feelings of love at all? or selfish yelps for attention borne of boredom & a sense we only hold on our own of childish - - - - idleness. singularity less; more independence from a whole the only company he keeps is furniture together with the furniture of the house he sits, with seven seats left empty, the curtains tales appear to grin without validation from another he feels like a child standing the school's final bells rung the bustle of the day has droned now dissipated the bustle of the day irritated when it droned, he longed for home for the bus as he waits for the bus the quiet surrounds hold tight but hold cold like a fridge door keeps, it clutches, encloses the school yard empty he stands; singular; out of place in the surrounds the school bleeds terror when empty The laughs & shouts & jeers & footsteps keep the wholesomeness whole empty of shouts a graveyard now the ghosts of the day linger & they finger your buttons they push your tenderness they kneed out they **** (with their cold digits they **** just like the furniture does. just like the furniture in the house laughs when uninhabited it silently jeers 'Why so many seats mate?' it pokes with its linen digit; fuzzy but cold as it continues 'you're alone waiting for someone to come by and pick u up & take u back to home
0
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
in the presence of the furniture
professor Burke and professor Lee two mathematicians who could not agree loudly voiced their differences at half past noon having daily lunch at the Greasy Spoon the subject on the fateful day was Pi and they could not see eye to eye a disagreement on the thousandth digit had Burke turn red and caused Lee to fidget said Burke “No you are off by one!” spat Lee “Your math is poorly done!” Burke shouted, “Lee, you have gone too far!” reached toward the counter for a candy jar but his hand instead encountered pie a hideous gleam sprang to his eye he flung the pie with all his might hit Lee full face, eyes wide with fright but Lee recovered and found more pies Boston Creme took Burke between the eyes apple, custard, lemon, berry pecan, pumpkin, key lime, cherry pies of every kind were thrown plates' radius squared remained unknown the police arrived to break up the fray took the two meringued men away many hours later in the quiet cell with pie for ink and tempers quelled the two stood looking at the wall upon which lay their equation scrawled said Burke, with both their faces long “Well, what do you know. We both were wrong.”
0
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 11:20 PM UTC
The Great Pi(e) Fight
Indigo. I refuse to use That word for blue. Why say digit When toe will do. Indigo:     It's pedantic                   Donnish                   Academic Should I mention It's pretentious. Some use it to explain Deeper feelings Than it can. Sacrebleu!
0
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
Rhapsody in Indigo
"Is there anybody there?" said the caller, "Six ten eight oh one two four three nine?" And his ears attuned to the empty hum Of the long-forgotten line; And an LED on the handset Flashed, for a moment, red, And he dialled the number a second time: "Is there anybody there?" he said. But no one replied to the caller, No sound but the dialling tone Came drifting into his waiting ear As he held that haunted phone; But only a host of phantom listeners, Of spectres weak and strange Stood hearkening to that human voice That echoed around the exchange; And he felt in his heart their strangeness, And his heart was afraid and nervous, With his hand on the final digit Of that number not in service; For he suddenly tapped the receiver And spoke on that line of dread: "Tell them I called, and no one answered, That I kept my word!" he said; Ay, they heard him replace the receiver, And his mumbled cursing later, With the usual subdued but enthused delight Of the switchboard operator.
0
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 6:26 AM UTC
The Caller
Today in class, I saw you writing a spreadsheet Numbering girls looks from 1 to 10 You gave me a 7, told me that was alright But I don't want you to define my beauty with a number To the government, I'm just a digit To charities, I'm a statistic To businesses, I'm only the amount I own I want to go back to the days when you wrote poems about me You caressed my flaws and kissed my imperfections The day you told me I was gorgeous, I looked myself in the mirror "I'm actually pretty" "I'm like all those other girls" I told myself But what's changed since then? When you fell out of love with me, did my importance sink too? With a clear view, do my downfalls and my embarassing body diguist you? You were too insensitive to show the slightest bit of affection So you labelled me, gave me an average and put me in a category To you, I just want to be human To be beautiful To be loved
0
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
inelegance of a number
There is a Professor Robbie, who has a calculating hobby; He delights in asking his pets, with multiple inherent defects, or not too brainy, to be exact. If 2n is more or less than 2-n, and 3x is same as 3 men, then, the study of maths be banned. With that Robbie will surely object, for he makes a living on the subject; He takes not too kindly our slow wit, and chips away our esteem, digit-by-digit. Equations after equations, he blast, until one brave pet, at long last, who sees more value in a candy bar, than juggling numbers to solve algebra. So Robbie, will you be ever so kindly, spare the aging cells of these cuties, singularly or simultaneously. So loose no healthy slumber, by chasing after prime-numbers; And we who have trouble with dy or dx, well, there is always graphic *** If you think this -- dX+2(x^2 - x*y^2)dy=0 -- is cool, to make idiots out of fools, do not be easily trapped, into giving polite claps; or stare at them with awe, for they are nothing more, than saying pluses can turn into minuses, and at times even used as voodoo curses. But Robbie will still caress them tenderly, like they are his little babies, annoying different people, differentially.
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Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 3:12 AM UTC
Professor Robbie
It’s not a ranking or an achievement As if far from the “top.” It’s an advancement Starting from the “first place”; The greater magnitude being a positive progression. It’s not even a race in the “first place.” A dual-digit place marker can and should indicate you’re moving forward. At this point, you meet the requirements and criteria For adult access to many sights, tastes, And times. Of course, that’s not the ultimate cause of celebration For being in [the] “23rd place.” When you’re in [the] 23rd place, you’re in a comfortable position And not necessarily at a crucial extremum of attention. There will be those behind and those in front, So, though you keep your own pace nevertheless, To know you’re no longer in first place, Yet not in last place of your course of path, Means that you have some to teach And still some who may offer pointers, tips, tricks, inspirations, And the gift of encounter, however brief or long. There are many who long to be in first place or last place Because the extrema tend to get the recognition. The important insight is to recognize that, not only do the numbers matter little, But you can make them stand out, like the number 23. There’s random selection, too, amid those spontaneous humor-goers, And then there’s placement and fixation With purpose, sincerity, and intention. You’re 23 not solely based on record Or coincidence; You’re 23 because you lived out the previous age In every way: what you missed, what you learned, what you offered, And what you planted. On your birthday and every day, The newness longed for arrives in a time not desired or unwanted, But at a time just right, which still causes waves of pain and waves of relief Across space anyway. Happy Birthday Devin! You’re in [your] 23rd place! Celebrate this checkpoint!
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
23rd Place
It’s not a ranking or an achievement As if far from the “top.” It’s an advancement Starting from the “first place”; The greater magnitude being a positive progression. It’s not even a race in the “first place.” A dual-digit place marker can and should indicate you’re moving forward. At this point, you meet the requirements and criteria For adult access to many sights, tastes, And times. Of course, that’s not the ultimate cause of celebration For being in [the] “23rd place.” When you’re in [the] 23rd place, you’re in a comfortable position And not necessarily at a crucial extremum of attention. There will be those behind and those in front, So, though you keep your own pace nevertheless, To know you’re no longer in first place, Yet not in last place of your course of path, Means that you have some to teach And still some who may offer pointers, tips, tricks, inspirations, And the gift of encounter, however brief or long. There are many who long to be in first place or last place Because the extrema tend to get the recognition. The important insight is to recognize that, not only do the numbers matter little, But you can make them stand out, like the number 23. There’s random selection, too, amid those spontaneous humor-goers, And then there’s placement and fixation With purpose, sincerity, and intention. You’re 23 not solely based on record Or coincidence; You’re 23 because you lived out the previous age In every way: what you missed, what you learned, what you offered, And what you planted. On your birthday and every day, The newness longed for arrives in a time not desired or unwanted, But at a time just right, which still causes waves of pain and waves of relief Across space anyway. Happy Birthday Devin! You’re in [your] 23rd place! Celebrate this checkpoint!
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39
They float they soar bursting Warmly on her nose, she giggles At The sensation felt, at the Feeling of happiness that now Grows as they drift along. They were her little wings, Gliding through a flurry of Rainbows, shimmering light Glances of perfect bubbles. Kaleidoscopes Bouncing From one to another as little Wings let bubbles Play with The wind, a wonderful sight To be hold. She looked at this little wings, Awe struck upon there creations Upon the beauty of this dragons Two. She wiggled her fingers Playful towards them both As one licked upon her digit Then kissed her on her nose. Flurries of laugher, innocent And true, were followed by A cloud of bubbles, shimmering In the clear blue. She would Always remember this day, as She played with her little bubble Dragons. Do you want to play in The garden with me, bubbles, Dragons and you.
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
Little Girl And Her Bubble Dragons
While sleeping in the water, Sea otters may hold hands to keep From drifting apart. Holding hands, Minds sail somewhere between consciousness And to a sea of thoughts and wonders. We take to rough waters and Tighten our grips And then relax them. My pale body’s dead cold, But my hand comes to life in yours. We stroke each other’s fingers with our own, Each digit of yours is so smooth Like an otters silky coat. I study your hands Every curve And every bend. Blinded by wondrous waters, Touch will find your promised land. As you studied me I thought, “Don’t let me go” Because I was drifting towards love And I didn't want to go alone.
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Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 10:22 AM UTC
As We Drift Away
I was on the way to pick her up, was just about to cross a slippery slope on the front yard of my in-laws’ home. Forget how long it took me to cross, Huh, I had to solve a riddle. A Moon pops up halfway through, right in my way, it just won’t move. I said I don’t need any horoscope, already married, I am not a groom! She goes, I too don’t fancy fussing about. The riddle I got is only an easy-peasy one. Just tell me your W duo—Where and When did you take your first breath? I laugh, isn't it the mum who can tell best, who saw it first when I was born but I can't go back and ask her, she won’t show up unless I return home, picking her up. I said to the moon, o dear, never did I say you got a scar, that a spot on your face is cute, fair, is only a cool shadow of one’s deep-rooted fine lock of hair! I then ran to the expert scientist. He said it’s all vibrating but knows not where the heck, if ever the spin might stop. Again I ran to knock on the Sufi’s door. He seemed to know why I went there, And said in a deep voice, “as far as I know, you don’t have a sister-in-law!” Again the moon asks, in a heavy tone “Tell me the truth,” before it's too long, I said you’re in my way, “I am not asking for an acre of moon. Spare me a digit gap if you could.” Unlike how the lands on earth, she tells, keep changing the hands, owning the ultimate plot is still one’s dream. But no space is left unmeasured in space. You miss by a hairbreadth, no matter how tiny, and you might as well miss it by the eternity. So zero space can I spare says the moon This is it, the dead end, no more room to move. Still, even a closed circle can’t be close, the smallest atom is not the smallest to be closed. The constant spin inside it constantly finds ever more space to move on, because the root pi is cracked open, spills out a new decimal, though none can pinpoint, in this finest loophole the sky can sway and earth finds a mouth to jingle!
0
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
Spare Me A Digit Gap
I was on the way to pick her up, was just about to cross a slippery slope on the front yard of my in-laws’ home. Forget how long it took me to cross, Huh, I had to solve a riddle. A Moon pops up halfway through, right in my way, it just won’t move. I said I don’t need any horoscope, already married, I am not a groom! She goes, I too don’t fancy fussing about. The riddle I got is only an easy-peasy one. Just tell me your W duo—Where and When did you take your first breath? I laugh, isn't it the mum who can tell best, who saw it first when I was born but I can't go back and ask her, she won’t show up unless I return home, picking her up. I said to the moon, o dear, never did I say you got a scar, that a spot on your face is cute, fair, is only a cool shadow of one’s deep-rooted fine lock of hair! I then ran to the expert scientist. He said it’s all vibrating but knows not where the heck, if ever the spin might stop. Again I ran to knock on the Sufi’s door. He seemed to know why I went there, And said in a deep voice, “as far as I know, you don’t have a sister-in-law!” Again the moon asks, in a heavy tone “Tell me the truth,” before it's too long, I said you’re in my way, “I am not asking for an acre of moon. Spare me a digit gap if you could.” Unlike how the lands on earth, she tells, keep changing the hands, owning the ultimate plot is still one’s dream. But no space is left unmeasured in space. You miss by a hairbreadth, no matter how tiny, and you might as well miss it by the eternity. So zero space can I spare says the moon This is it, the dead end, no more room to move. Still, even a closed circle can’t be close, the smallest atom is not the smallest to be closed. The constant spin inside it constantly finds ever more space to move on, because the root pi is cracked open, spills out a new decimal, though none can pinpoint, in this finest loophole the sky can sway and earth finds a mouth to jingle!
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50
This my our journey. Ice... Jutting miles towards the heavens. Above the jet stream. Higher than most airliners fly, Up and beyond, The pinnacle of our love, Is the closet to the stars. I am lured by its magnificence, I am attracted by the challenge. Even though there is a chance, I wont survive. Storm winds blow 100 miles per hour, Pounding it's victims, With triple digit wind chills, And zero visibility. Every climber dies a little. Fighting a losing battle against cachexia, Because above 18 000 feet, Cuts never heal, The body depletes, The air is so dry, A cough literally fractures a ribs. Weathering such unfriendly conditions Is... The ultimate test. There is a 99% chance, That I'll fail the quest. But I promise I'll do, My best.
0
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
Mount Everest.
I'm surrounded by the sounds of ******* idiocy The television that never shuts off or up The moronic laughter at the low brow sit-com Do you realize the sound you emit Your double digit I.Q. on display, gleaming Made almost brighter in the technicolor Not knowing, comprehending that it should clothe and hide Itself Mouth agape, eyes X-ed Until the simple comments on the banal commentary Start spilling out the neck I can smell it and I want to wretch
0
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 4:56 PM UTC
Situational Neglect
# I'm very good with numbers; Always been inside my brain They freely shift and move about; Allowed to dance and play However, one equation baffles and confuses me That one plus one will equal two; This is not what I see It's people who must be confused; Wrong value they give "one" Because the single integer alone can't have much fun It's only with another "one" first one will come to life With purpose, reason, starts to smile; Now feeling satisfied The presence of the second one gives first one happiness When one is standing all alone life has not much to give Can not survive a vacuum; It is dark and empty space No digit there to interact; One's value just a waste Some people disagree with me; Say one is fine alone And doesn't need another one for value to be shown I don't completely disagree but my experience That I feel most fulfilled with life when I receive and give The elegance of the exchange; Where miracles exist Life's greatest gift is that of love but with it there's one twist How it takes two to tango; Love is not a solo dance To give another all your heart is taking a big chance But can't compare reward to risk; The blissful ecstasy Cause "one" is more like just a half but with love it's complete #
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Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
One plus One
Let’s divide the sky, you and I, With Wilco tapping our gut, our eyes, Supplanting the clouds from our grape cigars; We’ve been folded, too creased to remember Those country nights, those starry remnants when I would Always point east with a fettered finger. If I held it long enough, just enough, Horns would bud, deviling my digit, And the fireplace froze over. I destroy homes and fall, fall, fall with them. I play the bench observer, Cigarette **** to people with permanent smiles. ‘Relax,’ you said ‘you need to relax,’ But your lips chapped and bleeding-- They resemble mine in humid daylight, And the sky moistens and melts To the tantalizing tune, yellowed summerteeth.
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
The Bench
Nyirmachabelli The woman who lives alone on the mountain Her wheels she named Lilly National Geographic cover girl Protector of the mountain gorilla Buried now beside her friend Digit In Karisoke, Nyirmachabelli Our Lady of the Mist
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Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
Our Lady of the Mist
*i have six beers and only two cigarettes and no philadelphia digression.* as a pronoun you can dissociate yourself from nouns and common noun usage and censorable noun usage, and find that the deconstructive aspect of derrida is not found in nouns but primarily in prepositions & conjunctions and the timing of adjectives to respect the manual labour of cobblers & tailors is almost arbitrary for the six digit people employed to use two five digit extensions and swing less under par when unemployed on retirement looking for busyness and 6am and the alarm clock’s chandelier at noon.
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Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
the six beers two cigarettes trick
Dawn breaks. Sliver of light through shutters, wakes Sister Blaise, stirs her from sleep. Bell rings. Chimes loud. She sits up, legs over the side of the bed. Bare feet, wooden floor. Coldness bites. Rubs arms, legs. Crosses herself with middle digit, in nomine Patris. Bright light through shutters slices into floor. Prayer said she rises from her bed. Thoughts race through her head. Drab night gown, grey, long. She walks to the enamel bowl, pours cold water, washes face and neck and hands. Et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Lets water run through fingers. Wash me whiter. The Christ on the wall hangs there in His silence. Picture of Christ on her desk, hands out stretched. She runs water through her fingers, wet, cold. Wash me, cleanse me. She dries her hands on the old white towel, rubbing dry fingers, hands, face and neck. Uncle used to. Pushes thoughts of him away, they slip back in place, eel like. Uncle used to touch. Bless me Father. She folds the towel, places it neatly at the foot of her bed. She removes the nightgown. Dresses in her habit. White and black. Mother said nothing. Silence and the turning of the head. Finger pressed against lips. Dressed, she sets about her cell. Tidying, sorting, bed making. Uncle used to touch her. For I have sinned. She opens the shutters, lets light in, opens the windows, fresh air, birdsong, slight breeze. Father used to beat. The Christ hanging from the cross on the wall is silent. Nailed hands, hands curled. She has kissed the nailed feet. Now she stares at the turned head, turned slightly to one side, crown of thorns, wood carved. Sister Clare is in the cloister. She watches her walk. She stops. Looks into the cloister Garth. Flowers growing, neat rows, large bushes. Mother said nothing. Beatings. Lies told about Uncle he said. Sent to bed, no supper. The sun is warm, light on head. She walks from the window and stands in front of the crucifix. His hands curled, nailed, old nails, pins.   Feet one on top of the other, nailed in place. She kisses His feet. Presses soft lips. Uncle used to touch, said our secret, sin to tell, little girl. She presses lips to His feet. Mother weak, said nothing, dying now, cancer, pain, hurts. Father dead. Never make old bones he said. Proved right. She closes her eyes. Touches His legs, runs finger along. Stiff, cold, smooth. Uncle did; she never told again. Father displeased, the beating pleased. The bell rings again. Echoes along cloister. She crosses herself with middle digit. A bird sings. Wind moves branches by window, He calls, must leave, must go.
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
SISTER BLAISE BEFORE MATINS.
Dawn breaks. Sliver of light through shutters, wakes Sister Blaise, stirs her from sleep. Bell rings. Chimes loud. She sits up, legs over the side of the bed. Bare feet, wooden floor. Coldness bites. Rubs arms, legs. Crosses herself with middle digit, in nomine Patris. Bright light through shutters slices into floor. Prayer said she rises from her bed. Thoughts race through her head. Drab night gown, grey, long. She walks to the enamel bowl, pours cold water, washes face and neck and hands. Et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Lets water run through fingers. Wash me whiter. The Christ on the wall hangs there in His silence. Picture of Christ on her desk, hands out stretched. She runs water through her fingers, wet, cold. Wash me, cleanse me. She dries her hands on the old white towel, rubbing dry fingers, hands, face and neck. Uncle used to. Pushes thoughts of him away, they slip back in place, eel like. Uncle used to touch. Bless me Father. She folds the towel, places it neatly at the foot of her bed. She removes the nightgown. Dresses in her habit. White and black. Mother said nothing. Silence and the turning of the head. Finger pressed against lips. Dressed, she sets about her cell. Tidying, sorting, bed making. Uncle used to touch her. For I have sinned. She opens the shutters, lets light in, opens the windows, fresh air, birdsong, slight breeze. Father used to beat. The Christ hanging from the cross on the wall is silent. Nailed hands, hands curled. She has kissed the nailed feet. Now she stares at the turned head, turned slightly to one side, crown of thorns, wood carved. Sister Clare is in the cloister. She watches her walk. She stops. Looks into the cloister Garth. Flowers growing, neat rows, large bushes. Mother said nothing. Beatings. Lies told about Uncle he said. Sent to bed, no supper. The sun is warm, light on head. She walks from the window and stands in front of the crucifix. His hands curled, nailed, old nails, pins.   Feet one on top of the other, nailed in place. She kisses His feet. Presses soft lips. Uncle used to touch, said our secret, sin to tell, little girl. She presses lips to His feet. Mother weak, said nothing, dying now, cancer, pain, hurts. Father dead. Never make old bones he said. Proved right. She closes her eyes. Touches His legs, runs finger along. Stiff, cold, smooth. Uncle did; she never told again. Father displeased, the beating pleased. The bell rings again. Echoes along cloister. She crosses herself with middle digit. A bird sings. Wind moves branches by window, He calls, must leave, must go.
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