"dissertations" poems
On my way home from work
I passed by a *****
In a tent-sized, plain orange t-shirt.
It was forever-stained
With fossilised fluids;
A chest cavity of spilt milk,
And subsequent tears.
A double-take took me
To the green and brown keratin
That dragged relentlessly over concrete.
His sloth paws were protesting
Every step of grey existence,
In the colourful expanse of new morning;
They were clawing the ground
And submitting to gravity.
He looked right on through me,
Through everyone and everything
As if part of a hologram
That was no happier, but at least
Apart. I re-count his limbs to ensure
Whether he is even human anymore.
I surmise: only partially.
He milks his palms whenever possible
To heal the cracks of wind exposure
And old substance abuse.
This was no doorstep lounger;
He was a stray cat with no freedom,
And only washed his hair when it rained.
Then, as I later adjust my mask
In the foggy bathroom mirror,
Mind preoccupied with dissertations,
Affectations and payment schedules,
I realise that it is I who has lost my humanity.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
mazes of fire and ice
mazes of notes and letters on pages or dreams
re-written at pages seams
slip the triple disked knife
and plow through the world vision
seen as a prisoners gun
using mental capacity to over rule mental castration ,
take the blue pill NEMO!!!!
and swim - in the all pervading ( surrounding )
magnitude forces of universes glow -
making possible all to be known. .
stalling into the oceans
78654610978893836485048262537859694826284949505958585575674652424242416112
Binary code
is the internets verse
throwing up pages and screens that look nothing like numbers
but are in actual fact
the elephant in the room
a magnitude of worlds - exist on inter fabricated planes
plane 1 - 'real life'
plane 2- macro cosmic
plane 3 - micro cosmos
plane 4- number plane ( this is the binary code )
Plane 5 - mental world
plane 6- dream world
sixteen dimensions
further than christian or Buddhist invention
but a plethora of random incidents that seem to have a pattern
that sinks deeper into oceans magnificence
arn't we all fishes ?
arn't we all snowballs?
aren't we all just culminations of distractions dissertations
born and thinking
well maybe we should do something now we are here....
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
Ivory lad,
Ivy grad;
Tell me,
Why is it that you're so slow?
Behind the times,
Stuck where
Even your parents have outgrown.
What eccentric lessons,
What bombastic professors!
To say it is one school
Would be an insult
To the whole of the institutions'
Asserted goals & aspirations.
It would be a disservice
To their alumni,
The attendees,
And those to be admitted.
Prattle off your dissertations,
I'm genuinely interested
To hear of your perspective,
But I won't hold my breath
So keep the air honest
Lest you share a foul stench
Like dioxide so sulfurous.
What hand is up your ***
To puppet the controls as so?
What stick has been stuck
Through your rear-end
Which parades you around on?
What pike has been found
Deep in your bowels
Rendering detachment & disembodiment?
From which war & what battle
Do you think you're taking part of?
Which side & which force
Do you swear allegiance?
What little league team,
What playground do you call home?
What duel with duality,
What fight with nature!
It would be entertaining
If they had only stuck to playing in the mud.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 1:29 PM UTC
Falling about in a shamble of giggles
As the quiver tipped her inside,
The Art Master had passed by
She was interrupted.
Taking the path next to the library
Where students poured out
Their sorrows over dissertations
In the Summer heat.
It had come to her slowly this
Sense of embarrassment
Unable to communicate with fluency
Or look into blue eyes.
Love Mary
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
Is He a Mystery? If not, is He a History?
Can we read about Him in philosophies?
Is He found in mythologies?
Can know ledge of the world unravel His Presence?
Do idols speak of His Omniscience?
Can the images of Him depict His Glory?
Is he caged ‘midst of bricks and cement?
Is He one among the gods of the heathens?
Did He come to the world to establish religion?
Who is He and where was He that the world rejects Him?
Is He a mere human being as the world registers in its mind?
Is He the ONE WAY to ETERNITY of LIFE?
What makes the world deny Him in its heart?
Is He the manifestation of the Invisible God?
Is He the ONLY GOD that the world needs?
What is in His Name that the Power indwells?
Numerous questions revolved around the world’s mind;
So what that its mind hath fallen into the pit of money?
Day and night one never forget to become quizzical of His Presence,
Volumes of His Mystery wake the world up with questions of dissertations,.
Jesus Christ has always been from Eternity to Eternity,
The Name predestined by God Himself.
Faith in every one plays a vital role to believe HIM,
And the Word of God in the Bible reveals HIM.
If anyone lacks faith in Him and His Word,
Then who can save him/her from eternal Fire?
Jesus Christ is the Image of God revealed to mankind,
He was a mystery revealed in History established,
Philosophies do not teach Jesus Christ,
There is no place for Him in mythologies,
Mere knowledge cannot reveal Him to mankind,
Idols don’t think, don’t speak; don’t act,
Man’s corruptible images cannot speak of Eternal Glory,
Bricks and cement are man-made and are destructive,
Heathen’s gods and goddesses are mortal’s imagination,
Jesus Christ is THE WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIFE,
No one can come to the Father except by Him,
Jesus Christ’s Way is not a religion, but the ONLY WAY to Eternity,
Jesus Christ is the Lord of Glory and has been always from Eternity to Eternity,
He (the Creator in Spirit) came into the world like a human being to save mankind from sins,
Jesus Christ is THE WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIFE,
No one can come to the Father except by Him,
Evil desire, pride, satanic devices, worldliness make the world deny Him,
Jesus Christ is the Image of God revealed to mankind,
There is no other God except Jesus Christ to save mankind from sins,
No other Name has been given to the world except Jesus Christ to save mankind,
And that is the Power of Salvation.
Shall we humble ourselves to the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
And become the child of God for ever in His Glory in Heaven?
He is waiting for you!
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 10:56 AM UTC
Are dissertations
anti-science? Given that --
they're unreadable?
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 5:14 AM UTC
------
The peace finally settles begrudgingly,
Wrestled down by logic
a restless defiant twitch still huffing under its breath lingers
I force my self to bestow the usual cruelty,
Indifference.
-------
My mind is now my own.
Dissertations written at lighting speed across my mind scape
Once flashing dire warnings, fade.
------
I breathe deeply...
It's time for me to unfurl, lay myself out like a star
And soak in the glorious day
Melt away the furrows and deep valleys of concern
And focus on a bright future of freedom and whimsy romance
-------
Who the **** am I kidding?
----
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
*Time is relative.
It can yell. It can scream.
But it can't run backwards.*
It takes 8 minutes for the light from the sun to reach the earth,
And hundreds of thousands of this exact timeframe
for the sun's inexistent sound to permeate in permanence.
A solar explosion would annihilate the human force.
Everything we know would sublimate into a vacuumed space.
All knowledge of everything,
Vanished in a fiery apocalypse.
Death would arrive before it even happens.
So what is the purpose of life if death could already be here,
Eight minutes from this moment?
The time it takes to boil noodles,
Take a shower,
Eat a bowl of cereal,
Could be the last spoken,
Thought,
Performed part of everything.
How should I believe time is real,
Death is cheated,
God is listening,
When this minute could be my eighth?
I swing my chainless pocket watch and count each of my five hundred seconds.
And wonder if it would be simpler to exist where time doesn't.
But each child climbs higher on the playground's jungle gym,
Reaching for doctorates and dissertations,
Their watches not as precisely examined as my own.
No worry of things that are all too possible
In just a matter of time-
School shootings,
Asteroid strikes,
Uncontrollable plagues-
While my watch counts nanoseconds as it falls onto Earth's surface,
Their watches spin rampantly,
Drilling into their sandboxes.
I see this,
The same age I was years before,
And these children melt into wheel chairs and death beds alike,
Their children mourning their passing,
While their children's children,
Crippled with tears,
Hold the hands of their parents in desperation
for an agony so ripping.
And all the while I see the sun exhale its time.
The trees ignite,
the sidewalks smelt with the burning grass and buildings.
And just as I peer into the beyond,
My rusting pocket watch clinks with the sanded surface of this childhood play box.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
I probably could write dissertations
On my flirtations
However my experiments with humanity
Have led to unwanted alacrity
To many conquests
That have ended in married chicks and cheap homosexual requests
But my recent love songs
Have righted all the wrongs
And eased what the heart longs
Away from the wrong ***
And to write the right text to get away from being an ex
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
Their natural habitats vary widely, as they are an adaptable lot:
Sometimes a sufficiently surreptitious booth in a bar on the main stem,
Poring over a gaggle of Racing Forms,
Perhaps a convenient light stanchion
Just inside the track’s main gate,
Maybe even behind some lectern
Fronting some staid, stately stained glass,
But, in any case, a tout is a tout is a tout,
Their dissertations and dissection of speed ratings and other holy text
Promulgated as gospel truth
(Albeit tinged with a sotto voce touch of the disclaimer,
That nothing can shake its author’s faith
As long as the weather is clear,
The pace not too frantic over the opening quarter)
Though the nuances of sacred writ lead prelate and pundit
To come to quite opposite conclusions as to the race’s outcome
(Indeed, the disagreements can become quite heated)
Leaving the wagering public with little more to do
Than clutch sheaves of pari-mutual tickets
Close to their chests in the manner of rosaries,
Knowing that as their favored mount
Makes its way to the paddock for that final time,
It’s all too likely the tote board will flash “INQUIRY”
In grave and portentous typescripts.
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
More words have been spilled
Over staying up too late
Than any other **** subject
That ever comes to this tired mind
When the nights drag on to mornings
And I wonder
Why the hell I'm still awake
There's nothing left to do
But turn that angst into words
And slap them down on a page
And pray that at my age
That lyrical Ambien
Knocks me right out
I've written more poems and dissertations about my bedtime
Than minutes
I sleep each night
Than pillows and sheets
I've owned in my life
Than times
I've ever made the bed
Than bedside books
I've ever read
Than midnight snacks
I've tried to sneak
Than my family's cumulative
REM cycles per week
Than my lifetime
Running count of sheep
Than strategies
I've tried to go to sleep
But when the clock strikes
oh-my-god-is-that-the-actual-time
Before I lay down my head
In the end
I won't go to bed
I'll give in again
And let the words flow
Cause staying up late
Is all that I know
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
Loving someone
Is work.
I take the thought into my hands
And run it through my skin.
Until the words fall out
And mold
Like clay
Into dissertations of sound,
Into solemn hymns
A soft prayer.
I will repeat all night and morning
Rituals of romance
Rituals of present tense
Rituals of
I am not afraid of the craft
I was born already loving it
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC