"einstein" poems
I was falling
for you
the feeling of
being weightless
the sky and
the ocean are
blue
like your eyes
your eyes and
Einstein’s brain
are the depths
I can never reach
but I will drown trying
to reach either or both
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
the angel amongst us
~for Alexander, master splasher~
*flexibility is important when poetry writing in a warm tub and a long day ahead is scheduled; so willingly accept the autocorrect
for I am both an experienced poet and bath soaker and
believer in wondrous mystery and unexpected fumbles
that lead to to miracle touchdowns
~•~
the two mathematicians examine the angle, measure the degree of difference at intersection and bless it with an identity,
calling it by its name,
perhaps obtuse, perhaps right, perhaps both
two sets of eyes examine the angle,
study its ****** expression
the old man says:
see the angle on the clock formed by the big handle on the twelve and the little hand on the eight?
this is angle of eight o’clock:
time to stop the splashing and start the get-readying
for we have miles to go before the ocean can say hello!
little angel says angle no go
and slashes the water with both
hands to establish the firmness of his views
and change Einstein’s time from present to future
the angle depends on the perspective of the viewer
the old poet comprehends leaving a warm tub is a regretful thing
but he measures the degree of difference at this
intersection
of time and bath and blesses it with an identity
“time to go”
the angle of my angel is now 2 pointed arms, pointed straight up,
at the twelve o'clock,
as he stands up in fevered protest,
my arms sweep his little legs to
a point at eight o’clock,
angel, commenting on his swift flight
disputes the grandfathers physics
"no go now,
now go later^"
though the angle is unchanged
the perspective of time and space
(and traffic),
yet differs
one sees an angle,
the angel sees time
eternally folding in on itself*
that is the angle amongst us
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC
Einstein's Relativity tells us that time slows at fast speeds,
So much so that it stops when travelling at the speed of light.
As you look up at the stars tonight think of this:
The photons that travel across the universe to your retina,
Are created in the depths of a star and destroyed within your eye,
In the same instance.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Love is a ***** soup going stale but steaming like it's brand new;
And I'm Oliver twist walking up to the *** with a rusty spoon full of desire and hope asking for more but getting none.
Love is a Doctor gathering dead bodies and shackling them up in chains;
And I'm a green freak with Frankenstein bolts ****** through my head walking around with only a mumble to muster trying to love people who just want to run away.
Love is a white paper rolled so finely, full of sedatives and drugs;
And I'm sitting by a fire reaching in for a log to smoke.
Love is puzzle made by Einstein and Sam Loyd;
And I'm a child with eyes made of glass and hands made of thorns crying to my mother because that puzzle is a *****
Love is Navy Seal training on a beach covered in cold water spilling blood for a chance;
And I'm a pot-smoking hippie who holds up signs and tells soldiers they’re monsters as I take a puff of death.
Love is a ten-syllable word compacted into one;
And I'm a hooked on phonics children’s thesaurus struggling to find a comparison that I can actually pronounce.
Love is a white egg timer sitting on the fridge set to all nines;
And I'm a busy housewife waiting to cook dinner at the sound of its bell.
Love is a robber with a 45 in his belt;
And I'm an eager dad trying to protect his family with a wooden stick.
Love is hot coffee from a luxury beverage shop;
And I'm a plastic party cup melting away.
Love is a doctor with a PHD in heart surgery;
And I'm a sick child waiting with his mother with no healthcare ******* on a free doctor’s-office lollypop.
Love is a huge pink eraser;
And I'm a graphite pencil struggling to write while me and the eraser fight.
Love is a pickup truck speeding through town drunk;
And I'm a lost puppy running through the same intersection looking for my owner.
Love is meant for fish;
And I'm a bird.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
This was just published so it is copyright 2015 by Holy Cow Press ~ mce
Poverty is the fence around your life. Poverty wakes you up at 4 AM only to whisper meaningless slogans in your ear. It is the school of Piranha nibbling at the back of your brain. It is two hours waiting in the anteroom of despair for $22 worth of food stamps and being glad to be there. It is changing your phone number frequently because bill collectors are such boring conversationalists. It is the empty space your heels used to fill. It is letting your hair grow long and scraggly and your grizzled beard sprout because you know that although you sleep in rented rooms tonight, the street is not far off, and you want to fit in when you arrive. Poverty scalds the lint from your pockets. It is your private Treblinka within which you rage but are crushed. It is desperate prayers against dental catastrophes, blown tires, surprises of any sort. Poverty is when everything you own is frayed including your nerves from sleepless moments spent trying to solve the equation that will make X number of dollars cover X + ? number of bills, knowing that such math would defeat Newton or Einstein. Poverty is eying the cat's kibble imagining that with a bit of sugar and a splash of milk it might be fine and then eyeballing the cat himself thinking of protein of last resort and trying not to measure him against the microwave door. You ration your cigarettes; whiskey is a fading memory. Passing a diner on the street, you catch a whiff of burgers too expensive to consider and experience a Pavlovian moment. Poverty is trying to keep your head up and then remembering you pawned your neck. Poverty is watching the needle eat your last few gallons of gas. Poverty is the archeology of despair. It portends the death of irony. There is nothing ironic about a car with 217,000 miles and no insurance on it. Facts are facts in the world of poverty. Poverty is the last quarter reclaimed from beneath the cushions. It is too much time and not enough quarters. It is the specious logic of the self-righteous proclaiming that you deserve to be poor because you are, which in Amerika passes for wisdom. Poverty makes each day like the next because nothing does not vary. It is who you are and where you are going, although you won't get far. It is the life you lead inside the fence. It is the sum of what you lack. It just is.
- mce
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
she used to call herself, Laurein
but i love it most calling her, mine
i know it's a bit cheesy,
but she's the love i couldn't define
i tried math
to find the value of her love
but i found indefinite
i tried science
to search and study
how great she is
yet even Einstein complained;
she's more than we could understand
i tried asking GOD...
and was told,
to just hold your hand, tight
with eyes gleaming with contentment and surprise
"love her for the rest of your life,
for the love she have,
is an equation made only for you"
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 4:25 AM UTC
Trump invades Nicaragua;
lights a powder keg to the
relief of everyone; let's get
on w/ it; change the world;
otherwise Nicaragua threatens
to become another Syria w/
Sandanista vs. Sandanista &
drug lords & communists;
mercenaries; contractors
& experimental weapons;
welcome to a world that is torn
completely in two to everyone's
relief for the sheer catharsis;
that is what frenzied freedom
looks & feels like; touches like,
smells like, ***** & eats like;
the madman in the marketplace
is the last person who can spell
Bourgeoisie & Ancien Régime;
Disestablishmentarianism &
Nouveau riche; time & technology
will turn the soil of psychology
churning up some never before
seen creature; mankind is suicidal;
this new Being will have no such
concept; coming in & out existence
like walking through a door; time
is meaningless running in countless
waves in all directions; space is
flexible like clay; women & men
create each other to the limits of their
imagination; Newton laid the foundation
& Einstein painted the ceiling; Pascal,
Hawking; Leibniz & Nietzsche & every
poet that ever lived or never lived; every
celestial siren & songstress who whispered
in a magical scribe's ear & he scratched
the miles & hours & places & people there;
thus, it began somewhere far out in space;
but they've been there all along; peaceful,
loving, able to shape-shift to perform
pleasurable functions in accordance w/
mankind's selfish wishes; mankind thinking
it's putting one over on the new species,
still finds itself bogged down in Nicaragua
long after Trump has built his Presidential
Library & joined the aliens like everyone
else; the poor Nicaraguans & Guatemalans
& Hondurans fighting it out to the death;
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
You
Have
A
Complicated
Smile
He
Informed
Me
Why
Is
That
?
How
To
Answer
A
Question
So
Simple
While
Truth
Is
So
Complex
How
Do
You
Explain
VerMeer’s
Obsession
Light
And
Dark
Einstein’s
Spooky
Action
At
A
Distance
Is
It
All
Intertwined
Or
Separately
Defined
Explain
Pain
Or
Fear
Anger
Or
Shame
Does
My
Loneliness
Look
Like
Yours
Or is it
Unique
In
All
The
Universe
When
I
Think
Feel
Want
See
Love
What
Does
It
Mean
Seem
Is
Be
To you
Is
It
Like
Mine
Or
Will
My
Dark
Conflict
With
Your
Light
Will
My
Truth
Scare
You
Off
Or did my
Smile
Already
Tell
You
All
You
Need
To
Know
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
O come buy doughnuts
doughnuts
doughnuts
doughnuts for sale
sweet ones, ladies
and yummy ones, gents;
precious doughnuts
you’ve never seen in your lands
I made them with my own hands
each sugary and yum to the core
round and hollow in the middle
each doughnut like Einstein’s universe
O come buy doughnuts
doughnuts
doughnuts
doughnuts for sale
colorful doughnuts
I have for you gathered here
I climbed the skies
to steal a color off each rainbow
that appears and disappears –
so have a blue doughnut,
a red or pink or green or purple
any color you will
or a psychedelic one if that please you more
O look at this love doughnut trick:
it fits your fingers like a huge wedding ring
and your beloved bites through
and then gets to your finger
and has to lick off every drop of sugar
and then kisses you on your hands
and after that
O, modesty forbids me to say anything beyond –
it’s all up to you…
Or would you prefer a doughnut bangle?
O come buy doughnuts
doughnuts
doughnuts
doughnuts for sale
O beautiful ladies
and gentle Sirs
please
make all my doughnuts
disappear within the hour
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 11:57 PM UTC
Someone collect all the hatred,
and all the vehemence too.
then don't recycle or reciprocate it.
turn it all into something else,
rich and green and full of kindness.
distill it, remove the impurities,
coagulate it away from it's cold
tungsten tensile titanium.
some of us only have to try,
it can be done. Einstein said so;
and Mother Teresa and Gandhi,
and Martin Luther King Jr.
and brother Nelson too.
Someone collect all the hatred,
and all the vehemence too.
then don't recycle or reciprocate it.
turn it all into something else,
rich and green and full of kindness.
distill it, remove the impurities,
coagulate it away from it's cold
tungsten tensile titanium.
encase it in concrete and steel,
bury it with the radioactive waste.
let it lie for it's half life,
in over 40,000 tears.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
They expect me to be as smart as Einstein
To have the body of an Olympic athlete
Show kindness to everyone even if they have hurt me
Deal with my own problems
To shut the hell up when I curse
They say THEIR world doesn't revolve around me
But they don't understand that right now MY world revolves around them
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
Like some goofy lisp.
Like left over from Surrey to Essex.
Lycan, Omish, with some Roudy Rawdy Piper.
Like a WWE event, no ropes in the ring and a whole
bunch of cheerios.
It sounded like chweer wee ohs.
I got England to laugh out loud.
We were all laying on the floor hoping
fuhat bassthard would gooh on a diet.
Like Van Gogh and his buddy whats his...
knuck knuck. Painting pictures of Marshall
Islanders for a vote or veto. Paul Goin and Vincent
Van Gogh sharing a lisp.
Sthounds like..... Ah gawd!
Shut up you sobbing limp noodle.
Try writing something we all can laugh at.
Humor me Socrates with Albert Einstein.
E equals MC squared.
One part energy, a mass constantly squared.
Cheerio old chaps.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
To Struga Festival Golden Wreath Laureates
& International Bards 1986
Stand up against governments, against God.
Stay irresponsible.
Say only what we know & imagine.
Absolutes are coercion.
Change is absolute.
Ordinary mind includes eternal perceptions.
Observe what's vivid.
Notice what you notice.
Catch yourself thinking.
Vividness is self-selecting.
If we don't show anyone, we're free to write anything.
Remember the future.
Advise only yourself.
Don't drink yourself to death.
Two molecules clanking against each other requires an observer to become
scientific data.
The measuring instrument determines the appearance of the phenomenal
world after Einstein.
The universe is subjective.
Walt Whitman celebrated Person.
We Are an observer, measuring instrument, eye, subject, Person.
Universe is person.
Inside skull vast as outside skull.
Mind is outer space.
"Each on his bed spoke to himself alone, making no sound."
First thought, best thought.
Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.
Maximum information, minimum number of syllables.
Syntax condensed, sound is solid.
Intense fragments of spoken idiom, best.
Consonants around vowels make sense.
Savor vowels, appreciate consonants.
Subject is known by what she sees.
Others can measure their vision by what we see.
Candor ends paranoia.
Kral Majales
June 25, 1986
Boulder, Colorado
5.5k
Aquarius, why must you make **** hard for yourself? What are you trying to prove by not flushing the ******* toilet? No one cares. You call yourself a rebel, when in truth, you're just a water bearing fool with preposterous ideas of some futuristic utopia that looks a lot like Yu-Gi-Oh! Because of your idiotic rebellion, you seem to smash on about nothing really, declaring the world is in shambles, while scrying your turds for all the answers to humanity. And with such rebellion attitude, the "I don't care, I'll **** in the woods!" *Again, no one gives a **** If you'd rather **** in the woods and run around naked like a feral child poser, be my guest. Why don't you change your name to Nell why you're at it and forget your native language altogether since your such a rebel. I hate to break it to you Einstein, but it's all been done before.
Advice: What's the point? You're not going to listen. Have fun ******** in the woods and remember, we don't care if you know who we are. Truly. Ur **** is waiting, chicka chicka chickabee.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
"Many a physics graduate student has gnashed her teeth in frustration over the mathematics of general relativity. Perhaps she should try envisioning a flat, boundless desert, with rocks of various sizes scattered across its surface, whose mass creates dips of various depths in the sand. A sturdy canopy looms over that desert, stretched tightly over a skeleton of tent poles linked by bars, matching the rises and dips in the sand beneath it. The desert is all the matter and energy in the universe, while the canopy is the geometry of space-time. The poles and bars are the equations of general relativity, connecting the stuff of the universe with the shape of the universe. As Halpern writes: “Mass and energy warp space-time, telling it where and how to curve. The shape of space-time, in turn, governs how things move within it.”
-------------------------------------------------------
My mass and my energy are both warped, so the where's and the how's and the eyes of my curves are the poles and the bars of behind which I relentlessly cease to exist, only to seize what lies beyond the constraints of time and space, as eye wait for the bus to stop in the No Standing zone
The Bus Poet
Stop!
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Anybody that is anybody knows the most fabulous and trendy accessory are socks.
Crew, No-Show, Knee high.
The ever versatile socks are the most righteous thing.
The Ancient Greeks may have had some dark ages, but they were the first people that we know of that thought,
Hey shoes are cool, but what if we made them more flexible and soft.
Thus the mighty sock was born.
Now there are some of you who may think completely different about socks.
Maybe they are boring, or annoying.
You are feeling the Albert Einstein side of socks. (He didn’t wear socks because he didn’t see the point, tragic huh?)
Well friends, though you may be genius you are completely idiotic.
Socks are little hugs wrapped around your feet. All day. They are like butterfly kisses that mae you smile every time you look down. What is better than that?
The answer is nothing.
Queen Freaking Elizabeth loved socks and went to the inventor of the knitting machine (which was originally created to make socks) to have custom socks made.
Not only are socks just incredibly wonderful and stylish, they were invented to help save the world… from sticky feet.
Socks help prevent your human sweat drops from seeping into your shoes, making a perfect nesting place for the teenage mutant ninja turtles. Disgusing
In conclusion, nothing can or ever will be more awe founding or perfect than socks
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 8:53 PM UTC
Excerpts from “Travels with Einstein”
by Michael R. Burch
for Trump
I went to Berlin to learn wisdom
from Adolph. The wild spittle flew
as he screamed at me, with great conviction:
“Please despise me! I look like a Jew!”
So I flew off to ’Nam to learn wisdom
from tall Yankees who cursed “yellow” foes.
“If we lose this small square,” they informed me,
earth’s nations will fall, dominoes!”
I then sat at Christ’s feet to learn wisdom,
but his Book, from its genesis to close,
said: “Men can enslave their own brothers!”
(I soon noticed he lacked any clothes.)
So I traveled to bright Tel Aviv
where great scholars with lofty IQs
informed me that (since I’m an Arab)
I’m unfit to lick dirt from their shoes.
At last, done with learning, I stumbled
to a well where the waters seemed sweet:
the mirage of American “justice.”
There I wept a real sea, in defeat.
Originally published by Café Dissensus
Keywords/Tags: Einstein, Adolph, ****** Berlin, Jew, Jews, Arab, Arabs, Palestinian, Palestinians, Vietnam, Vietnamese, American, Americans, Yankees, Domino, Theory, Dominoes, Jesus, Christ, Bible, Christian, Christianity, Slave, Slaves, Slavery, Israel, Jerusalem, Tel Aviv
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 4:11 AM UTC
"Bago yan ah" aniya ng makita ang converse kong pula.
Wala eh, wala nako maisip para makuha ang antensyon mo, mapansin mo.
Naubos nga lahat ng ipon ko para sa sapatos na to.
Balita ko kasi mahilig ka daw sa kulay pula at nangongolekta ka daw ng mga branded na sapatos.
Ako yung tipong hindi maganda namay porselanang kutis gaya ng iba.
Hindi katangkaran, pero pwede nadin para sa isang kolehiyala.
Walang bag na ang tatak ay Guess,
At magagandang damit na galing sa Mall.
Simple lang ako, laging may hawak na libro.
Nalilimutan mag suklay dahil baka maiwan ng jeep papuntang terminal ng LRT.
Hindi naliligo sa pabango na padala galing abrod.
At higit sa lahat, hindi nag susuot ng ibang sapatos bukod sa pinag lumaan kong rubber shoes.
"Converse yan diba?" Dagdag niya ng hindi ako sumagot sa pag pansin niya.
Ang totoo ay hindi ko alam ang sasabihin.
Hindi ko alam pano ibubuka ang mga bibig at sasagot ng "Oo, buti naman napansin mo".
Wala ako lakas ng loob.
Tanging pag tango nalang ng ulo ang kilos na kayang gawin ng katawan ko.
Kumaripas ako ng pag lakad papunta sa silya sa dulo ng masikip na klasrum.
Nag simula ang klase.
Hindi ako maka pokus sa sinasabi ng Prof patungkol sa "Theory of relativity" ni Einstein.
Tumititig sa wall clock sa taas ng pisara na kinatatayuan ni Ma'am Montemayor.
Sa wakas biglang tumunog ang bell na nag sasabing tapos na ang klase.
Palabas na ako nang muli mo kong tawagin.
"Hi, pwede ba ako sumabay sayo mag lakad papunta sa Math class?alam mo naman ayaw ni Sir. Henry ng late" pabiro **** sinabi.
Wala nakong nasabi kundi ang mga katagang "Okay lang naman".
Tinatago ang ngiti na gusto ng mag kumawala, habang nag iisip at nag papasalamat sa Converse kong Pula.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 5:07 AM UTC
Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
Dry bones of Moses painted on my button down shirt screaming,
“to be or not to be” is not an English word.
In the daze of the thoughts of Neurology, I saw a man kick a bucket full of Starbucks giftcards down the avenue street. He screamed in pain as he watched the bucket tumble and roll down the street, blessing every Bohemian with a slight cold.
Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
I dreamt about a land before man where the Oxygen that sprang from the pores of flowers
sang a sweet death. Where dishwashers are saints, for afterall, man will not be if not for food.
Where books are written not to be read, but for the sake of Orange trees that will grow in the future.
I once wore a poker face to a funeral and laughed at the man in the casket because the souls he had underneath him were two left feet.
*We all once had naked pictures of God on our nightstands but lost it after Einstein
Lost the fried chicken war of 1812 to Isaac Newton.*
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
If I could be a fly on Einstein’s wall
I’d buzz about from chair to curtain
watch him check out plans and gadgets
and scratch remarks on his papers.
When the clock edged to noon
his stomach would growl,
he’d fold up the prints and say,
“It’s a relatively short walk to the café.”
With Albert out I’d take the run of the place -
practicing banks and dips and vertical lifts.
I’d munch on scraps of Brie and fowl
left fused to the edge of his table.
When the tumblers turned
I’d buzz back to my wall, eager to witness
whatever this sage would chance to say.
He’d go to his desk to file reports
and stack them neatly into a tray.
Without warning he’d rise from his chair
scattering papers across the floor.
“MASS AND ENERGY ARE ONE, ” he’d shout, -
“CRUSHED TOGETHER BY TIME! ”
I’d buzz and swoop and fly circles and loops
and taxi in on his collar.
I’d beat my wings to cool his brain.
But wait…Whose voice do I hear?
Oh, it’s you gentle reader.
“Stop, hold it right there, ****** pest!
It couldn’t have happened that way!
Have you no shame or respect for God’s truth? ”
But I’d stare you down with my compound eye
and scornfully twitch my wings.
Consider this, troubled sir,
you’re the one scolding a talking fly.
July, 2006
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
Space is curved.
The straight line
a Euclidian fiction.
The very fabric of space,
the skin pulled in upon itself,
Light follows this curvature.
Nor is time the heartbeat of angels,
as we once thought,
but our own shaky construct.
The galaxies that we imagine
to be real prove to be
archaic images,
things that once were.
When we look into the heavens,
we look back in time.
When the light of our star
has traveled in one vast
cosmic arc
and returned to its source,
we shall know ourselves.
In that dawning
light will fail,
the stars dim and flicker.
Time itself will falter
and the voices of angels
will be heard.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
*i once had a girl from poland over,
gave her the tourism of london,
a daughter of my mother's friend.*
i suffered sun stroke one day out
with her, blonde hair and all,
i was bound to feel the cold shivers,
went to a party with a school-friend
of mine and her...
i was left in a bed shivering,
he later said he didn't want to say it
but did, that they kissed...
like i didn't know the shorthand for
oral ***
now i'm drinking a beer, write
one poem weeping, another like this
one laughing prior, slapping myself in
the cheek...
two slaps to the face i didn't receive
from prostitutes **** your moral
relativism, you people only
know that theft and ****** and ****
are equal in the cauldron of einstein's
space-and-time, i accept physical
relativism, but i loath moral relativism,
it's like giving an umbrella to the man
under a champagne waterfall -
and an anorak to a man under a waterfall
of cow **** -
yep, slaps outside the brothel,
the kind women became knights' sparring partners
for the oath undertaken,
it was a practice among knights to get
a handkerchief to ease the sting later...
but when prostitutes don't slap you
for trying to sort your life in order to provide,
you sort of become two knights,
twin siamese, you slap yourself because
all that st. thomas gospel wisdom went into
sex-augmentation procedures and cheap
cancer victims with pill-for-pill profiteering...
leisurely ladies of societies made rich
by easy money, watching operas
but still preferring to notice what
their neighbours were wearing,
the peasant snobism who are more distracted
by what others wear rather than the music...
a herd of wilder-beasts could ease out more tears
at an opera than these "precious" ladies of the new
post-aristocratic society of easy money...
you drink beer, laugh, slap yourself silly on the cheeks
for more laughter... your brain
becomes a monkey in a cage gone mad
rather than turning docile...
so she came over and enjoyed my company,
spotted a fox in an alley to a surprise...
but then i got rudely told that oral *** was a kiss...
well **** me there's a cataphract -
let's ***** slap him silly so no byzantine philosopher
cared to exist.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
*No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant,
and the small one a mouse*.
Eve
I'm sure red's a better color for me.
M. Monroe
She has a face that could sink a thousand ships.
Ulysses
*Now that Hawking's dead, I'm the smartest
guy on Earth.*
D. Trump
You're too Jung to understand the Superego.
S. Freud
No. You keep it. I have enough.
B. Graham
Are you sure that's the Delaware?
G. Washington
E=Mc Donalds.
A. Einstein
Go pound salt.
Gandhi
What day is it?
Roosevelt
That's one small.... oops!
N. Armstrong
I don't remember any of my dreams.
M.L. King, Jr.
Hey, John, I can see your house from up here.
Jesus
Beaches, fields, streets, hills. Did I leave anything out?
W. Churchill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course I wrote 'em all.
R. Starr
It's just too big to wrap your brain around.
S. Hawking
Don't lose your head. This won't change a thing.
Robespierre
Before I was fined, I walked the line.
J. Cash
Could you lengthen the title and shorten the book?
Tolstoy's editor
What if we put the workers on conveyor belts?
H. Ford
I have a splitting headache... hmmm, interesting.
Oppenheimer
I've never liked orange juice.
N. Brown
Really? You want to blame me?
******
He stings like a butterfly.
S. Liston
#timesup #metoo
A. Boleyn
Mr. Watson. Come here. Spare me a dime?
Bell
Roebuck said he'd be back in ten minutes.
R.W. Sears
To be or to do be do be do.
Shakespeare/Sinatra
*When you call me Whitey, I get cotton pickin ****** off.*
E. Whitney
We're the team to beat!
Toronto Maple Leafs
Don't call me a Mother!
Mother Theresa
Is that a Cuban?
M. Lewinsky
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 6:50 AM UTC
The Beauty Of Wisdom And Intelligence,
You are seen in the Cosmic Reality herself,
You are the female part of Christ, called Wisdom and Intelligence,
Your Cosmic Math's is a beautiful thing to behold,
That a unlearned person like me who loves sports like me who is too unlearned in the world's eyes to understand the beauty of the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
So only the real genius mind's understand your true beauty in the Cosmic Reality herself,
But I was good enough at math's at college to get a 98% in a test score and student tutored a girl in class called Bev.
But Wisdom and Intelligence; you really enlightened great minds like Newton, Einstein and Hawking's?
So Wisdom and Intelligence hear my simple math's plea, I am alone and the math's of Wisdom and Intelligence say's its not right for man to be alone?
So make the one alone into two and then the two become one again?
So my math's is simple and unlearned by Wisdom and Intelligence's mathematical eyes; but its the most beautiful sum in the Cosmic Reality herself?
So Wisdom and Intelligence says I've done the math's?
I've marked your sum; I have graded your test paper A+ and gifted you a younger sister bride to be the sum of sums for all eternality,
This younger sister bride will never divide her love for you,
Because one divide into two should stay two, but by theoretical mathematician's the two become the perfect nought number of one raised to nought or zero power nought or zero is one for all eternality,
You shall always be one in body, heart, mind and soul,
You will always have Wisdom and Intelligence tutoring you about the beauty in the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
But never forget to look up at the star's, nebula's and galaxies together and the two who are one see the Math's of love in each other's eyes and the math's of love in the Cosmic Reality herself.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC