"dimensionally" poems
my **** is like a monster
not dimensionally speaking
it's a monster like a wild little dingo
with a huge appetite
and some really mean *****
like kamikaze surfers waiting for take-off
with their engines on
when i see you
you are blond like something i might regret
you are pretty like something i always knew and loved
and your voice reminds me of a girl i used to care about but never actually met
your voice is perfect and always sings in tune
its midnight, really
and the band plays the last song
and they play it like its their last ever
and you say you always wanted a double-bass player
in your band
but i say i can play the banjo like the world is coming to an end
and "baby its cold outside"
yes it is colder than it ever was
but its OK
you got a bike
i live around the corner
so its goodnight from me
me
the out of order gentle ****** predator
the ***** watchman that just switched-off the lights
the good lieutenant of the debauched night shift
me, with a heart as big as the Pacific
and a smile that says **** me pretty please
goodnight
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 4:49 PM UTC
i. you will miss him in drizzles and monsoons, in swells and tsunamis. you will listen to his favorite song for hours; it will hit you every unexpected moment. it will hurt, stab, ache, and you will suppress constant screams with strained lips.
ii. you will collect everything he gave to you and wonder if it is dimensionally real. you will sleep in his shirts, retaste saltwater kisses, and reread conversations as if there's something you missed the previous thirty times. absence does not make the heart grow fonder; it rips it apart and you cannot stitch the ragged halves with no thread.
iii. you will feel his touch presently in everything you do. it will be soft and cruelly comforting. it will constantly and inescapably linger. it will haunt you in early rainy mornings and dark lonely evenings.
iv. you will read endless musings on love and philosophy. you will entirely understand foucault's prison. you will live in steinbeck's tide pools and stars, and relate to simon bolivar trapped in his labyrinth. you will wonder why everything is like this, ugly and broken (and also if you are becoming delusional).
v. you will drink tea that scalds your tongue and stand outside on freezing nights, numb and overfeeling at the same time. you will ask the silent moon a thousand questions. you will see him and blink, head swimming, heart pounding in surges. the stars will wink and the wind will mock you.
vi. you will have blissful afternoons you forget and sorrowful nights you remember. it will still consume you in bouts, devour you in spells. nighttime will become both your enemy and remedy: it will wickedly remind you, yet help you heal.
vii. you will try and fail to make sense of him (and the universe in general). you will grapple with reality and yourself. perhaps you will never know why he stopped loving you: you will keep wondering how some things can just be left broken.
iix. slowly, slowly, you will sprout on your own; you will be tender and nearly whole. most importantly, you will realize his love brought you an entirely different kind of happiness.
ix. you will stop worrying and trying to piece together an empty puzzle. even the deepest scars find their way of fading. your mom was right: stop picking at the scab and your wound will heal.
x. you will learn to love yourself in ways he never could have loved you.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
A room.
Need to displace to move.
Arrangement of places you’ve been
******* you in like some Kansas twister that swept you off your porch
just after you open the door for the first time today.
I awake from a dream.
I don’t remember what was said.
Clumsily laying letters over felt footsteps.
A semblance of something too big to tell you.
I cannot move it but I’ll say whatever to mean it.
A body subject to the wind
ringing against the world, accenting the edges in sharp cries
like a dinner bell that never rests.
How’s the sky taste Major?
You think Bowie really cared for karate?
Only superficially because in some perverse way it was a form of art.
A Darwinian heyday exhibition for the human condition.
I’m alive ************ let’s keep it that way.
In every way.
Don’t want to be too narrow.
Need some space to move.
The past that comes to us now,
first came from our future.
Even the ones that wilted under the shadow of satisfaction.
Even the objects flowing through this wicked light show of so much contained in three tiny axis’
Please chart your love according to x y and z without dimensionally reducing the picture.
Don’t worry darling I’ll wait, remember it’s there we first met.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
Seeing you drops me
into a roiling hot-spring (extra-dimensionally speaking) where
the insides are known to welter—their opalescent phospholipids
doing the wave at lightspeeds. Faster. Creating
a ring of light. Now the sound of light. From inside, creating
Me. You
make me light.
Oh the way you came towards me in that vermillion cardigan!
The color was not as fierce as your eyes! But I saw, too,
their softness behind—their yolk. And with mine I asked
as you passed me by
what would happen if I broke the shimmering membrane?
Would your water leak to blossom
the spell-bound violet amaranths that sleep their promise
in Borges’ living garden?
Or would it spill thick in crimson?
The hot sweet density tasting
like a wound freshly opened.
The taste I’ve come to know
when women’s eyes have made me light.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 12:32 AM UTC
Through a broken mirror I see your recollected smile
To the depth of a vision’s reach I see your tormented soul
Lost soul waiting to come out the materialistic exile
I see you reaching out your hand but the mirror is too cold,
You are trapped, who would have thought we could switch places
Though I feel your broken heartbeats
****** tears dripping down your shattered faces
I’ll stand by you, dimensionally, if your soul fits.
Your remains lie in your illusionary window
Until the end of time your existence remain a story untold
Your soul continues with no hopes of tomorrow
Your dull destiny was long foretold
I’m looking at you through this broken mirror
All I see is loneliness and false happiness
Dimensions repel me from stepping closer
While your soul falls down the infernal abyss.
*Well well, here we are again
Gazing upon you as I revisit your brain
You haven’t changed since our last encounter
Well I had to see you again as we open this new chapter.*
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
Avoid to analyze the brighter side and devoting the time to sheer demise does reprise the roll of shine in any eyes
yet appointing the energy towards the level of degree dancing against the apathy shall decree your presence is gliding into a free sea of unity. Combustion from duality, divinity through unity in reality it's impossible because dimensionally we eventually consciously know it's not here. It won't ever be here. Bridge it over and disappear. From 3 to 4 then onto 12 unless you prefer to see a realm such as hell. Purgatory, or whatever it may be called is not only your mind with walls, but a body whose physics residing in limits denying the finish and a spirit within the disharmonious limbs of reflections so grim from falsifying hymns.
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 3:53 AM UTC
Flowing
through space
and
time.
Wandering
dimensionally
through
ethereal
realms
and back.
Sliver of
reality we
live,
oblivious
of all that
exists.
Writhing in
the bog,
clawing to
survive.
Looking up
looking out,
like babes
in the
crib.
Wandering,
wondering.
Mysteries
wrapped in
mysteries,
never to
be known.
Undaunted,
pressing on.
Pressing on
to a future
unknowable.
To places
beyond
belief.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
How many complete pathways of choices are there?
OR
How many choices are left to achieve completion [!]
Either offers an accurate divisor into the number of possibilities "n" roughly at whatever is the above determined level which is a power called "m". n^m, roughly...divided by either the # of pathways or the choices that are left [!] to completion.
Either divisor will serve by ridding us of duplicate iterations of over-multiplied possibilities inside of roughly n^m.
Put another way, simple estimations of "n" at the indicated power level do not recognize that
1) more than one path arrives to a conclusion;
Nor do simple estimations at indicated power levels recognize that
2) apparent particulars from which to work toward completion are actually not different particulars--half of them are double counted at the level of being two choices from complete due to the dimensionality of the whole becoming complete.
So the impact of having a divisor is strongest either when:
1) working toward completion from levels that already include almost all dimensions of particulars or else
2) whenever operating at low levels of power which have only a few pathways.
Estimations of possibilities are easily too high if not considering the adjustments for cases 1) and 2).
These are for occasions of having more than one possibility.
However:
The number of complete outcomes that are reachable, divided by all choosable pathways = n/n = 1 .
Or else, any one outcome chosen from its penultimate particulars through to completeness = 1/1 = 1 .
Thus,
Singular possibility is by definition, complete, whole, created, ultimate, and embraced in all of its dimensions. It is both one easily won and/or one, fully, dimensionally itself.
(Whatever is not and is not divided,
or, is nothing left unchosen
= truly naught and something not found = 0.)
Sources: Closed dimensional choice paths (the geometry of the powers depicted) and Pascal's Triangle
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 5:50 AM UTC
Monsters are depicted one dimensionally
Paintings illustrate the difficult decisions
This is the observer's farce
Blood on one's hands paint the canvas
Fingers comb through the valleys
Defining the geography of pain
Trauma sets in, and out goes precision
Distorting one image to reflect another
A change is needed in perspective's pallete
Hands soak to wash away the day view
The crimson stain nevers leaves,
Vibrant ideas left to wade in the murkiness
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
We met inter-dimensionally,
traded cosmic runes
on our fingertips.
I tasted your liquid dreams,
you stroked me delicately.
In deep space realms,
we seeded
our fractal hearts,
jump-started
the flat lines.
On sunshine,
we believed
in the lost arts,
kindness reemerged,
immersed ourselves
in fiery sensual desires.
Those fires are
never quenched
inside the mind,
we're splintered,
you & I.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
It was another retrieval-order,
he’d been missing forty-eight hours,
tracker beams calculated his
last known whereabouts
in the Tharsis quadrangle.
I didn’t relish this mission,
red dust had been swirling for days
& the winds were picking up speed,
measured at 100 m.p.h.
It was crazy for Snyder
to have gone out in the first place.
I remembered his friendly face,
his jovial demeanor & gracious smile.
I felt sad knowing I’d never seen him again.
He was one of the hardest workers.
All the company could ever talk about
were profits, profits & even more profits.
We all knew the risks,
it went with the territory.
Out here on the perimeter,
on the edge of tomorrow,
we lived our lives three-dimensionally,
another day, another dollar, another ***** shirt.
It was the same **** here
as those days we had
back on good ‘ole planet Earth,
working for greed.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
I think I can hear my heartbeat in my ears
in the corners of my eyes
when I look down at my hands
they shake the soup from my spoon like childplay.
I’m cold.
not physical mental dimensionally cold.
I’m a wall of ice and stone.
my thoughts and feelings sink into concrete
and harden into my bones
thicken my exterior
I’m dreaming of a way to get away
from the sins I’m bound to commit.
to you
to me
to god
my spine does so much work
for a still lifeless form
When will I fall apart ashes to ashes
rust through rust
I can’t seem to feel more than tin emptiness.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
When reading through previous works, it is obvious from the number of times i refer to myself, that i am selfish. I'm sorry for seeing things so one dimensionally. I wish you health, and a long fulfilling life, filled with Joy and Love.
Most of all, if you read this, i just want you to know that i'm sorry for everything.
I wish you all the happiness and luck in the world. God knows, and so do i, that you deserve it.
Yours,
One who will regret no more.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 8:01 PM UTC
Breaking my reality,
When I thought of a place in this plane
What is sane?
The scarcity of sanity,
Is a question to humility
A cosmic understanding of the Grand Land
When I am dimensionally an infinitesimal being
I shout at my face,
Where is my place?
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
The last moments of dusk,
final glimpse of the light
when all lights come to shine
and the world is so
(three dimensionally)
bright
Through this smudged, ***** pane
at the world out, I creep,
with its citrusy lamps
and its teal coloured sleep
and my mind is so dulled
and my body a-flight
I remember again,
soft, sweet dark of the night.
May 29, 2011
May 29, 2011 at 2:54 PM UTC
More serious things to take to heed
Let's drink and **** and make them bleed.
Trash the house smash all the dishes let the garden go to seed
Spurn those neighbours puerile wishes
Burn the sequestrations we don't read.
To always get the last word like some tight self righteous *******
Ever forwards never backwards
Beat at the heels and hooves of fools and ********
Like it matters, like it really ******* matters.
All aboard for this adventure for this veritable adventure
With the sick the sad mad sufferer's of dementia
Although but barely over forty odd,
In another dimension they could be god they could be god
Or an invention of the media.
All Innocence lost
Think of the cost
Think of the exorbitant financial cost
For all those who could do good
Inside they brood
Inside my radioactive neighbourhood.
Now feel remorse.
Feel remorse for all the insects
All the dead insects
killed by my hand killed by my hand
Still inconsolable indiscernible,
trans-dimensionally faded
Sick and jaded
And all the ******** that I really really can't stand.
Void of compassion
Void of passion
Tip back handing
Hip with branding
And a simple contractual understanding.
Now come back into the fold
Get on the path or face old
Neptune's wrath
Remember must
Be kind to mammy
Or face insurmountable tsunami
With a tea spoon and damp dish cloth
Use protection
Buy the election
Rich mans disease
Poor mans affliction
Dry your tear ducts
Sick to the guts
And as ever
We have again eaten very strange meat products
Unpronounceable indigestible
Full with bile and virile hate
The noun has won the noun has won.
But hate is such a strong word
To use against the truly truly absurd.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
The moon’s fingernail
pushed over the celestial dark fluid
that overflowed nightly.
The midnight blurred
my flattened, forgotten universe’s
center rather greedily.
The world ended
at the edge of my car’s windshield and
moved forward quietly.
From the highway
the faint heartbeat of Kansas
throbbed two-dimensionally.
Her heart cavity
collapsed under the infinite stretch of sky
and pulsed irregularly.
The fall of Atlas
forced all the beauties of the world to be
buried subsurface perfectly.
But my mind spitefully imagines mountains
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
In a single moment. A simple poet, wrote every single component. He was the closest thing to Moses. Indeed. Watch the speed. Reaching infinity. After you're done romanticize over the lies. Open your eyes. Dimensionally polarized. These are sober times. Focus your mind. See they have trouble sleeping. Their souls bleeding for withholding secrets. Without honor, life has no meaning.
Break away.Break away. Break away.
Beneath the elliptic plane. Retrograde. We don't think the same. Observe the earth. Do your own research. A forest starts from a tree first. Only after physical rebirth.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
long in the past
all mankind
went naked;
so in the future
all mankind
will go naked;
it may not be
pretty; but
they'll be ****
spiritually,
physically
& mentally rude;
& given human
culture, they'll
probably
give their own
reflections
equal rights
as dimensionally
challenged
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 12:25 PM UTC
Structure.
Cosmic
structure.
Floating
through a
different
world.
A world
like no
other.
Different.
Somewhere
in a
unique
place.
Just as
real yet
not the
same.
Separate.
Dimensionally
segmented.
Drift.
One
to the
next.
Similar
yet not.
Countless
variations
on a
similar
theme.
So near
yet infinitely
far.
Running in
parallel but
indiscernible.
Multi worlds,
parallel
dimensions.
Infinite
realities.
Beyond
conception,
bounds of
understanding.
Such,
is the
nature
of creation.
Jan 12, 2023
Jan 12, 2023 at 10:16 PM UTC