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Scott M Reamer Apr 2013
Man life know just set eyes way like young world soul day hunger space mouth earth thoughts ignorance blind things mind knew final moment human creation kind creatures souls high forgotten dream love spoke self existence face holy deep bound think home void say surrender ear forever called held ephemeral red state end shall heed hope edge living waking fall sea wake garden need February thought past wanderer got men page colored tepid terrible **** proudly untitled features point painted faceless box forgot render wild spring splendor  handfuls looking half brain lost torn ancestral  unseen vision inner summer honor mister owned banner save today fear groans wasn't smoke  street fable strange year contrast black years  able pain body spoken word known motion  palpitate reeling nature culture disclaimers  cancer beg attentive frames ****** base profound double remember wholly finger death token  cries continue folk oh fishing form broken true  divides spread ah twas away breathe wait 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hypnotic  walker caps folly treble claim streaks mixtures  swelled interstate elapse teasing spoon mobile  succulent witchcraft borderline fatal 99 temple stacks sups plastics creeps neurotic ills tossed  meek sipping old crack interlock wax alleyway  coughing blown freak clock birthdays societies  slow flashing viscous candy argument toothless  pills cerebral rapt wall bisect lives wheezing  photo kid starter foiled pair saturated self-castrating pre-packed naked uncertainly pill  used came chaos coated reprisal fells wrack  irreverent mirth sickly disinherited proudest  collate wheeze appearance palette disharmony  discontented bastardized emotive bio inhale diction beat spoiled reclamation loudest tempo  totally disembodied matte imperfect shells flat  struck sounding imparts flak origin severance remarked bone walls snared leaflets mocking  hot scripting adjective noun agape seemingly  resistant gawk calamity passage paintings wind  trashcans signings sits cheap makers poetry 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interment paradox bitter heart  devoid jeopardy angry sensation confidential guilty arrogance mercy compliance reprieve  vincent deadening factual sign emotion awe  inhibition shackled butterflies absence actual sciences acknowledgement violent stagnant  spiritual American doors roots lack matted fore  gestures society cause streams intensity hair impossible discord lonely hearts resounding  jest  what's flavored pains closed toxic contented  happenstance scientific knowledge yeah  wizardry shaking stifled withdrawn bloom  jitter dreads settle asocial hulton make  predisposed figurative reflections demeanors  wondered affect hulton's projected sense  morning industry arrays ghosts feeling  certainly endomorphic where's partially wrath  passer mornings jovial unease advertized asking  trash onward wished tempers media mentality connect pasts sharp-toothed scramble great colours trial test salvation continually lent  degree secretly subjection social waned  disconnected colors grimly 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You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?
By
Alexander K Opicho

(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)


Spiritual scholars of Christian Science have a concept that there is
power in the name. They at most identify the name Jesus and the name
of God, Jehovah to be the most powerful names in the spiritual realm.
But in the world of literature and intellectual movement, art,
science, politics and creativity, the name Alexander is mysteriously
powerful. Averagely, bearers of the name Alexander achieve some unique
level of literary or intellectual glory, discover something novel or
make some breakaway political victories.

Among the ancient and present-day Russians, most bearers of the name
Alexander were imbued with some uniqueness of intellect, leadership or
literary mighty. Beginning with the recent times of Russia, the first
mysterious Alexander is the 1700 political reformist and effective
leader, Tsar Alexander and his beautiful wife, tsarina Alexandrina.
The couple transformed Russian society from pathetic peasantry to a
middle class society. It is Tsar Alexander’s leadership that lain a
foundation for Russian socialist revolution. Different scholars of
Russian history remember the reign of Tsar Alexander with a strong

bliss. This is what made the Lenin family to name their son Alexander
an elder brother to Vladimir Ilyanovsk Ilyich Lenin. This was done as
parental projection through careful   choice of a mentor for their
young son. Alexander Lenin was named after this formidable ruler; Tsar
Alexander. Alexander Lenin was a might scholar. An Intellectual and
political reformist. He was a source of inspiration to his young
brother Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, who became the Russian president after
his brother Alexander, had died through political assassination.
However, researches into distinctive prowess of these two brothers
reveal that Alexander Lenin was more gifted intellectually than
Vladimir Lenin.

Alexander Pushkin, another Russian personality with intellectual,
cultural, theatrical and   literary consenguences. He was a
contemporary of Alexander pope. He is the main intellectual influence
behind Nikolai Vasileyvich Gogol and very many other Russian writers.
He is to Russians what Shakespeare is to English speakers or victor
Hugo is to French speakers, Friedriech schiller and Frantz Kafka is to
Germany readers or Miguel de Cervantes to the Spaniards. Among English
readers, Shakespeare’s drama of king Lear is a beacon of English
political theatre, while Hugo’s Les miscerables is an apex of French
social and political literature, but Pushkin’s Boris Godunov, a
theatrical political satire, technically towers above the peers. For
your point of information my dear reader; there has been a
commonaplace false convention among English literature scholars that,
William Shakespeare in conjunction with Robert Greene wrote and
published highest number of books, more than anyone else. The factual
truth is otherwise. No, they only published 90 works, but Pushkin
published 700 works.
Equally glorious is Alexander Vasileyvich sholenstsyn,the, the, the
author of I will be on phone by five, Cancer Ward, Gulag Archipelago’
and the First Cycle. He is a contemporary of Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Alfred Nobel and Maxim Gorky. Literary and artistic
excellence of Alexander Sholenstsyn,the, the anti-communist Russian
novelist was and is still displayed through his mirroring of a corrupt
Russian communist politics, made him a debate case among the then
committee members for Nobel prize and American literature prize, but
when the Kremlin learned of this they, detained Alexander sholenenstyn
at Siberia for 18 years this is where he wrote his Gulag Archipelago.
Which he wrote as sequel five years later to the previous novel the
Cancer Ward whose main theme is despair among cancer patients in the
Russian hospitals. This was simply a satirical way of expressing agony
of despair among the then political prisoners at Siberia concentration
camps .In its reaction to this communist front to capitalist
literature through the glasnost machinery, the Washington government
ordered chalice Chaplin an American pro-communist writer to be out of
America within 45 minutes.
Alexander’s; Payne, Pato, Petrovsky, and Pires are intellectual
torchbearers of the world and Russian literary civilization. Not to
forget, Alexander Popov, a poet and Russian master brewer, whose
liquor brand ‘Popov’ is the worldwide king of bar shelves?
In 1945 the Russians had very brutish two types of guns, designed to
shoot at long range with very little chances of missing the target.
These guns are; AK 47 and the Molotov gun. They were designed to
defeat the German **** and later on to be used in international
guerrilla movement. The first gun AK 47 was designed by Alexander
klashilinikov and the second by Alexander Molotov. These are the two
Alexander’s that made milestones in history of world military
technology.
The name Alexander was one of the titles or the epithet used to be
given to the Greek goddess Hera and as such is taken to mean the one
who comes to save warriors. In Homer’s epical work; the Iliad, the
most dominant character Paris who often saved the other warriors was
also known also as Alexander. This name’s linkage to popularity was
spread throughout the Greek world by the military maneuvers and
conquests of King Alexander III. Alexander III is commonly known as
Alexander the Great .  Evidently; the biblical book of Daniel had a
prophecy. It was about fall of empires down to advent of Jesus as a
final ruler. The prophecy venerated Roman Empire above all else. As
well the, prophecy magnified military brilliance, intellect and
leadership skills of the Greek, Alexander the great, the conqueror of
Roman Empire. Alexander the great was highly inspired by the secret
talks he often held with his mother. All bible readers and historians
have reasons to believe that Alexander of Greece was powerful,
intellectually might, strong in judgment and a political mystery and
enigma that remain classic to date.
In his book Glimpses of History, jewarlal Nehru discusses the Guru
Nanak as an Indian religious sect, Business Empire, clan, caste, and
an intellectual movement of admirable standard that shares a parrell
only with the Aga Khans. Their   founder is known, as Skander Nanak
.The name skander is an Indian version for Alexander. Thus, Alexander
Nanak is the founder of Guru Nanak business empire and sub Indian
spiritual community. Alexander Nanak was an intellectual, recited
Ramayana and Mahabharata off head; he was both a secular and religious
scholar as well as a corporate strategist.
The American market and industrial civilsations has very many
wonderful Alexander’s in its history. The earliest known Alexander in
American is Hamilton, the poet, writer, politician and political
reformist. Hamilton strongly worked for establishment of American
constitution. Contemporaries of Hamilton are; Alexander graham bell
and Alexander flemming.bell is the American scientist who discovered a
modern electrical bell, while Fleming, A Nobel Prize Laureate
discovered that fungus on stale bread can make penicillin to be used
in curing malaria. Other American Alexander’s are; wan, Ludwig,
Macqueen, Calder and ovechikin.
Italian front to mysterious greatness in the name Alexander
spectacularly emanates from science of electricity which has a
measuring unit for electrical volume known as voltage. The name of
this unit is a word coined from the Italian name Volta. He was an
Italian scientist by the name Alesandro Volta. Alesandro is an Italian
version for Alexander. Therefore it is Alexander Volta an Italian
scientist who discovered volume of electrical energy as it moves along
the cable. Thus in Italian culture the name Alexander is also a
mystery.
Readers of European genre and classics agree that it is still
enjoyfull to read the Three Musketeers and the Poor Christ of
Montecristo for three or even more times. They are inspiring, with a
depth of intellectual character, and classic in lessons to all
generations. These two classics were written by Alexander Dumas, a
French literary genious.he lived the same time as Hugo and
Dostoyevsk.when Hugo was writing the Hunch-back of Notredame Dumas was
writing the Three Musketeers. These two books were the source of
inspiration for Dostoyevsky to write Brothers Karamazov. Another
notable European- *** -American Alexander is  Alexander pope, whose
adage ‘short knowledge is dangerous,’ has remained a classic and ever
quoted across a time span of two centuries. Alexander pope penned this
line in the mid of 1800 in his poem better drink from the pyrene
spring.

In the last century colleges, Universities and high schools in Kenya
and throughout Africa, taught Alexander la Guma and Alexander Haley as
set- book writers for political science, literature and drama courses.
Alexander la Guma is a South African, ant–apartheid crusader and a
writer of strange literary ability. His commonly read books are A walk
in the Night, Time of the Butcher Bird and In the Fog of the Season’s
End. While Alexander Haley is an African in the American Diaspora. An
intellectual heavy- weight, a politician, civil a rights activist and
a writer of no precedent, whose book The Roots is a literary
blockbuster to white American artists. Both la Guma and Haley are
African Alexander’s only that white bigotry in their respective
countries of America and South Africa made them to be called Alex’s.
The Kenyan only firm for actuaries is Alexander Forbes consultants.
Alexander Forbes was an English-American mathematician. The lesson
about Forbes is that mystery within the name Alexander makes it to be
the brand of corporate actuarial practice in Africa and the entire
world.
Something hypothetical and funny about this name Alexander is that its
dictionary definition is; homemade brandy in Russia, just the way the
east African names; Wamalwa, Wanjoi and Kimaiyo are used among the
Bukusu, Agikuyu and Kalenjin communities of Kenya respectively. More
hypothetical is the lesson that the short form of Alexander is Alex;
it is not as spiritually consequential in any manner as its full
version Alexander. The name Alex is just plain without any powers and
spiritual connotation on the personality and character of the bearer.
The name Alexander works intellectual miracles when used in full even
in its variants and diminutives as pronounced in other languages that
are neither English nor Greece. Presumably the - ander section of the
name (Alex)ander is the one with life consequences on the history of
the bearer. Also, it is not clear whether they are persons called
Alexander who are born bright and gifted or it is the name Alexander
that conjures power of intellect and creativity on them.
In comparative historical scenarios this name Alexander has been the
name of many rulers, including kings of Macedon, kings of Scotland,
emperors of Russia and popes, the list is infinite. Indeed, it is bare
that when you poke into facts from antiques of politics, religion and
human diversity, there is rich evidence that there is substantial
positive spirituality between human success and social nomenclature in
the name of Alexander. Some cases in archaic point are available in a
listological exposition of early rulers on Wikipedia. Some names on
Wikipedia in relation to the phenomenon of Alexanderity are: General
Alexander; more often known as Paris of Troy as recounted by Homer in
his Iliad. Then ensues a plethora; Alexander of Corinth who was the
10th king of Corinth , Alexander I of Macedon, Alexander II of
Macedon, Alexander III of Macedonia alias  Alexander the Great. There
is still in the list in relation to Macedonia, Alexander IV  and
Alexander V. More facts of the antiques have   Alexander of Pherae who
was the despotic ruler of Pherae between 369 and 358 before the Common
Era. The land of Epirus had Alexander I the king of Epirus about 342
before the Common Era and Alexander II  the king of Epirus 272 before
the Common Era. A series of other Alexander’s in the antiques is
composed of ; Alexander the  viceroy of Antigonus Gonatas and also the
ruler of a **** state based on Corinth in 250 before the common era,
then Alexander Balas, ruler of the Seleucid kingdom of Syria between
150 and 146 before the common era . Next in the list is  Alexander
Zabinas the ruler of part of the Seleucid kingdom of Syria based in
Antioch between 128 and 123  before the common era ,  then Alexander
Jannaeus king of Judea, 103 to 76  before the common era  and last but
not least  Alexander of Judaea  son of Aristobulus  II the  king of
Judaea .  The list of Alexander’s in relation to the antiquated  Roman
empire are; Alexander Severus, Julius Alexander who lived during the
second  century as the Emesene nobleman, Then next is Domitius
Alexander the Roman usurper who declared himself emperor in 308. Next
comes Alexander the emperor of Byzantine. Political antiques of
Scotland have Alexander I , Alexander II and Alexander III of Scotland
. The list cannot be exhausted but it is only a testimony that there
are a lot of Alexander’s in the antiques of the world.
Religious leadership also enjoys vastness of Alexander’s. This is so
among the Christians and non Christians, Catholics and Protestants and
even among the charismatic and non-charismatic. These historical
experiences start with Alexander kipsang Muge the Kenyan Anglican
Bishop who died in a mysterious accident during the Kenyan political
dark days of Moi. But when it comes to  The antiques  catholic
pontifical history, there is still a plethora of them as evinced on
Wikipedia ; Pope Alexander I , Alexander of Apamea also the  bishop of
Apamea, Pope Alexander II ,Pope Alexander III, Pope Alexander IV, Pope
Alexander V, Pope Alexander VI, Pope Alexander VII, Pope Alexander
VIII, Alexander of Constantinople the bishop of Constantinople , St.
Alexander of Alexandria also the  Coptic Pope and Patriarch of
Alexandria between  then Pope Alexander II of Alexandria the  Coptic
Pope  and lastly Alexander of Lincoln the bishop of Lincoln and
finally  Alexander of Jerusalem.
However, the fact of logic is inherent in the premise that there is
power in the name .An interesting experience I have had is that; when
Eugene Nelson Mandela ochieng was kidnapped in Nairobi sometimes ago,
a friend told me that there is power in the name. The name Mandela on
a Nairobi born Luo boy attracts strong fortune and history making
eventualities towards the boy, though fate of the world interferes,
the boy Eugene Mandela ochieng is bound to be great, not because he
was kidnapped but because he has an assuring name Nelson Mandela. With
extension both in Africa and without ,May God the almighty add all
young Alexander’s to the traditional list of other great and
formidable  Alexander’s that came before. Amen.

References;
Jewarlal Nehru; Glimpses of History


Alexander K Opicho is a social researcher with Sanctuary Researchers
ltd in Eldoret, Kenya he is also a lecturer in Research Methods in
governance and Leadership.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
given the history, all our predecessors held dear,
given the history,

well... i'm starting to think that utilising
italics meant an enumeration,
meaning that utilising italics
gave us non-differentiated stresses everywhere
and on each letter

by that i mean: people italicised entire words to
leave the stresses of individual letters to a continued monopoly,
italicised words meant not adding the acuteness of
stressed correspondance (post-code) to a letter, like é added to e...
it's running out, the monopoly of literacy - but the last
Bastille is on diacritical marks - è, or i ate it / cut it short,
walked from the movie theatre before it ended,
when i collage - ah! ****! found the erzett! ʒ -
the ß of minding a borrowing of ř! in that poem of mine...
woodland bořki - to replace the rz sound akin to ż -
i was looking in the wrong place, looking to stitch
in a plagiarism from Czech - but there it is, the equivalent
of schafres S (ß), the schafres R (ʒ); ha!
to simply change the aesthetic, and i have:
woodland boʒki.

see Communism rising its ugly head with the intelligentsia
once again? ***** pepper shaker shaker, prep talk moan shake
once more... never believe socialist utilitarianism,
the English are the masters of that... never believe it though...
the English, by definition? the utilitarianism bit is correct,
but they also follow the carrot bit of the stick... the carrot
is evidently the capitalistic motto: a Caribbean cruise.

but what this poem really means?
i really feel like punching someone in the face,
preferences like with Middle Eastern
appearances, while Sodomising
western values of politically coerced into
democratic robots... it really feels like that...
wanting to punch someone in the face,
and oddly enough it feels good just thinking
about it rather than actually doing it -

the universality of the Cartesian phrase -
non-factual, never factual, never to be factual,
the Iranian volleyball team taunting
the Polish volleyball team,
if a terrorist attack happens in Poland,
i'd be surprised if piglets fly further than plumbs,
and we get French braids on beards rather than
the hair plantation - of the lowest caste
i obviously emigrated -
i had some intelligence to shine through,
to a degree agreeable more or less,
remember i'm working on fame from
the basis of myth (a marathon) as in endurance,
rather than on the basis of being photogenic
(which i'm not) and the short-lived held breath
100 metres... the Olympics is really a barometer
of life otherwise... the Iranians are really fond
of getting braided beard from Poland...
i guess the English are too impolitely politely nice...
Thesaurus Rex would solve a all rhyming clues
with its catalogue of synonyms -
also... i'm a poet, critics of poetry in English
know jack-**** from Jack the Ripper...
i did't steal the language, i merely epitomised it
differently, you merely wrote an analogous epitaph
that was so ******* boring everyone applauded
when you spoke it the sake at a funeral
as you spoke it on a Bar Mitzvah... oddly enough
western society is lactose intolerant the year round,
but when someone dies the fondue set is out,
everything orange including the Essex
suntan is out and oiled to a greasy joke
that only gets a pig's grunting worth of encore.
it's odd, but the best way to write poetry without
English teachers telling you left is left
is by imagining someone being punched in the face,
bleeding nose squished cherry -
it's the violence that we're not allowed that we're told
about about our ancestors who freely exercised,
it's harsh... you're tingling with the anticipated wait for
expressing it, in the end you're turned into an atom
bomb of passive aggressiveness;
a bleeding nose squished cherry - even so, you want more,
more, more, you want the actual ferocity of the act,
not some cinema ****** of passiveness...
there are thieves around us, ghosts, not real thieves
wanting your belongings of handbags,
i mean the real sinister thieves... in one generation
the people of Empire and colonialism were turned
into the people of Globalisation and brothels...
well the brothels bit is currently debated whether
slaves ought to experience paid pleasure,
or whether slaves should just serve warm macaroons
for bourgeoisie opinions to be debated a Tartar stakes,
i.e. never really leaving the saloons of Gucci skirts
and the cancan dance of indivisible politics.
Flow May 2019
Logically, if a tour guide tells you what to expect when walking through a haunted house, he first must tell the tour group when the monsters will jump out and how to handle situations like these. The guide must give strategies to the group to help people deal with what is ahead, and by doing so, he can prepare his group to see the haunted house in an uncommon way. This is an insightful way of giving people a different perspective about the experience of a haunted house. This way of experiencing a Halloween thrill allows people to be comfortable with what is being shown and can offer them to analyze it much deeper than just the mere experience. This is how a guide brings people to another dimension of understanding.
For centuries, philosophers and other logical master minds have been formulating models about what logic is. Defining terms to understand logic, philosophy, religion, and contradictions will provide people with the tools to grasp their own beliefs. This will show individuals what is clearly going on with people in Western Society. There are many things to address in people’s beliefs systems and the models that they use to understand logic. For example, a phone call and a further in-depth Interview resulted in a chance to ask questions from a professor at a well-known
college in Florida. This Professor specializes teaching philosophy and defining terms. This is what Professor Luke C. Rogers insisted:
“Things work, that's logic. If there's a mechanic that we figure out behind things whether it be math, science, the fundamental mechanics belong to logic. Logic is split into deductive and inductive branches” (Rogers).
I compared the definitions of deductive reasoning to a Philosophy professor and a Philosophy website that had multiple terms. This is a simpler definition of what Deductive reasoning means:
“Deductive reasoning, or deduction, is one of the two basic types of logical inference. A logical inference is a connection from a first statement (a “premise”) to a second statement (“the conclusion”) for which the rules of logic show that if the first statement is true, the second statement should be true” (“Deductive Reasoning”).
In other words, deductive reasoning goes from a general statement to a specific statement. Inductive reasoning is the opposite. Logic is reasoning. If one defines it based on common models from math, science, etc. They will accept established theoretical concepts. Math, science, and philosophy are forms of logic to classify and formulate opinions. If someone stated that math is merely a model of reality, would it be something temporary? The answer is controversial and can be understood in various ways. When formulating logic, one must first acknowledge what logic means. Some people need common models to understand what is called physical and non-physical reality. These are philosophies intended on explaining these forms:
“Philosophy is defined as the love of wisdom. Wisdom comes in two forms: truth and value/meaning.  The ways in which we get at truth and value/meaning constitute philosophy. Logic, for instance, is the direct study of truth and all the methods that human beings attain it” (Rogers).
Many times, common logical contradictions about beliefs will spread throughout the world. Contradictions can be common which is why a definition of what it means is vital for understanding if common beliefs are logically consistent. This was what Rogers has to say about the meaning of logical contradictions:  
“A logical contradiction would be a pair of statements where in both cannot be deductively true. That is, if one is known for certain to be true, the other can be known for certain to be false. A belief system that contains both such statements is shown inconsistent due to this contradiction” (Rogers).
By creating clear definitions in any theoretical discussion, one will be led logically to explore reasoning, either deductive or inductive. This will guide people to see how beliefs and reality can coexist. An example of this dichotomy lies in any discussion of religion.
Christianity is an example of how a belief system within which logic is only applied sometimes; many events that were believed to occur can lack logical proof. This shows how people can overlook logic when faith is involved in someone’s belief. Another example might be when someone definitively defines something to be healthy because it was tested and proved in a controlled study. Common belief systems and logical models like these are inherently flawed because change is consistent and must be inclusive in beliefs. Contradiction of beliefs are common in Western society and must be acknowledged to notice logical flaws. Throughout history, this has occurred multiple times. The founding fathers of our country owned slaves during the time they were enforcing equality. In the 12th hundreds, the series of holy wars took place to purify what was done by Christians.
Why would a group of people believe in Biblical stories that aren’t scientifically proven, and still believe in science? Many stories in the Christian Bible express what is called the “Word of God”. Contradictory beliefs are a phenomenon in Western society based on facts from the CIA. About “46.5% are Protestant in the United States” (“The World Factbook”). The majority believe in something that isn’t factual, yet people still believe in it anyway. Sometimes, people overlook what appears to be logical to worship a different belief. A portion of text from the Christian bible says:
“Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided…” (Exodus 14:21-31).
If people have enough faith in a story, then they will believe it under any factual, science-based understanding. However, this is contradictory to what some people believe because in this case, some people believe in science but only sometimes. To believe in science sometimes, is merely taking a logical model of reality and then making it convenient to what you believe in. It is also an example of how faith, logic, and beliefs can all be manipulated. By observing beliefs systems like these, one can show how contradictory our beliefs are to maintain our precious belief systems.
The effects of possessing blind faith can be both rational and irrational. Faith without proof is an indication of trust in the unknown. Some might say that faith can be proven through biblical scriptures. However, that perspective in based simply on interpretations of translations.
Is this sentence “This statement is false” true or false? This has been an ancient puzzle that hasn’t been rationally solved. Famous Greek philosophers have died, without solving this disturbing statement. An article from the “Curiosity” website explained further: “If the sentence is false, then it must be true. That's what makes it a paradox. It's an argument that leads to a self-contradictory conclusion.” (Hamer 1). The paradox that is from the sentence “This statement is false” has many answers and continues to be open for a rational answer. This is to show how contradictions have existed in history for decades. The issue it has on how we handle contradictions affects how we handle dilemmas throughout life.
How does one know which foods, liquids, and supplements are healthy when different studies contradict each other? It is important to realize that in Western society, the internet with many online sources and accessibility to them are being exposed to more people who are interested in being aware of what is good and bad for you. An online video that was hosted by Olivia Gordon, a member of a YouTube channel with 5.6 Million viewers titled “Why Nutrition Studies Keep Contradicting Each Other”, addressed studies that were proven wrong. She then further explained how randomized controlled trials take place. In the video, a study was cited about the health benefits of wine:
“In 2012, a randomized controlled trial by Hungarian researchers found that adults who received resveratrol supplements showed an improvement in a bunch of signs of cardiovascular disease” (Saleh).
This correlates with wine because it contains a compound known as resveratrol which can lower cardiovascular disease, according to this study. By this time, it was a fact according to many people, and created an epidemic about wine being good for your cardiovascular system. Gordon explained how both science-based test groups and some people’s belief systems were proven to be wrong, according to a study calculated in 2014. Gordon then replied with: “In 2014, an observational study of adults in Italy didn’t find any effect of resveratrol on signs of cardiovascular disease of mortality” (Saleh). This shows that studies can be contradictory, whether someone wants to believe in it or not. It is important for people to see what appears to be fact as an unrestricted model of what was found. When scientists discover something new, it doesn’t mean that it’s conclusive. People who finalize their beliefs from a new conclusion in science aren’t open minded to what can happen in the future. Logically, this is key for understanding beliefs about nutrition and health because thinking that one study is definitive, eliminates any other viable possibility. History proves that change is consistent. Acknowledging how some people create their belief systems, can help people who are aware of this have a deeper and meaningful life. Most importantly, believing in something doesn’t have to be definite because evidence can change the outcome of a study.
The understandings of philosophy and logic helps people question facts. Logic is understood by following models that are based on reality from facts, studies, and sources previously mentioned. We use models that leads to our understanding of our physical and non- physical reality. However, change is constant and can alter many things that are perceived to be fact. This is important to discuss because including this factor in one’s belief system may guide them to explore their own and analyze the system that creates it. Being aware of how people in Western society maintain their beliefs takes it to another dimension. Flexible thinking is an efficient way to adapt to the change of new facts and studies. Belief systems are very diverse throughout the Western society. There are serious flaws in belief systems which can lead to a commonality of irrational thinking. The primary topic mentioned in this paper revolves around the contradiction of beliefs. When we cling to our beliefs, logical consistency becomes nebulous. We prefer illusions to retain our beliefs. Even if you wear a mask, is the truth still there? Or, is it okay to believe in an illusion?

Works Cited
“The World Factbook: United States.” Central Intelligence Agency, Central Intelligence Agency, 1 Feb. 2018, www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/us.html.
Saleh, Nesreen Abu. “Why Nutrition Studies Keep Contradicting Each Other.” YouTube, YouTube, 18 Apr. 2018, www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPIQ7YhE4cE.
“Deductive Reasoning.” Philosophy Terms, 25 Oct. 2018, philosophyterms.com/deductive-reasoning/.
Rogers, Luke C. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2019.
Hamer, Ashley. “The Liar Paradox Is a Self-Referential Conundrum.” Curiosity.com, 19 Nov. 2016, curiosity.com/topics/the-liar-paradox-is-a-self-referential-conundrum-curiosity/.
“BibleGateway.” Exodus 14:21-31 NIV - - Bible Gateway, Biblica Inc, 2011, www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus 14:21-31&version=NIV.
A final paper for a college English class :)
judy smith Aug 2015
Since a wedding is said to be the most important day of a woman's life, some brides-to-be are prepared to bring out whatever it takes to ensure that their big day is nothing short of spectacular.

A new documentary from the UK titled 'Now How The Rich Get Hitched', a provides a glimpse into some of the world's most lavish weddings.

The programme follows the glamorous goings-on at Knightsbridge bespoke wedding boutique Caroline Castigliano, where, for most customers, money is no object.

According to Daily Mail, bridal couture queen Caroline, who lives in Surrey, has been creating breathtaking intricate gowns for 24 years, cashing in on the £10 billion global bridal market.

But while the average UK bride is said to spend around £1,000 on her dress, Caroline revealed that one client, a Saudi Arabian bride-to-be is spending £40,000 on her dream gown - the same price as the Duchess of Cambridge's Alexander McQueen dress.

Despite the eye-watering prices, the 55-year-old designer claims that for most women this is one of the most important things they will ever buy.

She said: 'They buy into the overall power of the dress. I really truly believe that since they were very young they have dreamt of this day.'

Caroline's clientele aren't just drawn from the global elite, however. One of her clients, Jordan, 23, is a hotel heiress from Durham who has spent the past year travelling 300 miles with her family for fittings for her £9,000 dress.

Jordan's gown is made from one of the most expensive silks in the world, which costs hundreds of pounds a metre.

Jordan said: 'For a girl the dress is what everyone looks for. People would rather spend more money on the dress and look perfect on the day.'

Her mother Helen, who is helping to pick up the bill, added: 'I think once you see your daughter in something so beautiful and she's so happy you do stretch that extra mile.'

At around £9,000 Jordan's dress is almost half the average budget for UK weddings, which now comes in at an astonishing £21,000, but the day itself will set her family back far more than that.

The no-expenses-spared bash is being held at one of her family's hotels and costs include the £7,000 on importing 6,000 flowers from Holland, the hire of a 20-piece brass band and a Victorian carousel to entertain guests.

Gissa, 29, an Iranian socialite, who is planning a lavish ceremony in Turkey, journeyed to Caroline's boutique just to try on veils to go with her bespoke gown, which is embroidered with 200,000 sequins and 50,000 beads - and was one of the most expensive dresses in the shop.

The bride-to-be explained that her fiance was very amenable when it came to splashing out on her dress.

He said "I know this is the most important dress that a woman is going to wear in their lifetime so if you really like it and you love it, we'll get it."'

However, some brides look further afield for their dream wedding location and one of the boutique's clients, Katie, 29, was planning her ceremony in Southern Spain.

Katie admitted that she had fine-tuned every element of her wedding right down to her proposal.

She said: 'I'm a bit of a control freak, I think I emailed [my fiance] a picture of the ring after about three weeks of dating, so subtlety isn't my finest point but he's done really well.'

Katie visited Caroline for a bespoke wedding dress costing between five and six thousand pounds that has taken five seamstresses 200 hours of sewing and 250,000 beads to complete.

Another of Caroline's client, Kashmir, revealed that she took two years off work to get married and her husband is now determined to prolong the wedding celebrations with lavish gifts.

She and her husband also paid £75,000 to commission a portrait of Kashmir sitting in a chair in her strapless lace Caroline Castigliano dress, which was then unveiled at a party in the designer's boutique.

However, as any prospective bride will know a dress does not a wedding make and any ambitious bride-to-be will enlist the help of a wedding planner, with none more knowledgeable than luxury wedding planner Bruce Russell.

Bruce caters for the most ostentatious and demanding of weddings. He said: 'If it's physically possible, we'll make it happen - it might come at a cost.

'If you've got the money and you've got the budget to spend and you want to spend a million pounds why not spend it on a wedding it is the most magical day?'

Bruce's finely tuned expertise and impeccable taste come at a cost and he revealed on the show that he takes around 20 per cent of the wedding budget as commission, which rewards him with a £30,000 pay cheque for a £150,000 wedding.

The show followed him as he took one of Caroline's clients, Erina, on a tour of London's famous luxury five-star hotel, The Savoy, as a possible venue for her dream day.

Hosting 350 guests would set her back at least £70,000 and to stay in the Royal Suite, a further £10,000 a night - although it does come with its own butler.

But the documentary revealed that for women who want to up the 'wow' factor on their big day - and have the budget - couture jeweller Andrew Prince is the man to call.

But Andrew insisted that elegance is often confused with showiness: 'Glamour has changed. It became, at one point, very shiny and that's really not glamorous that's flashy. I like opulence.'

Andrew's creations may be an indulgence but for him there is no better way to spend your money.

He said: 'It's a celebration. We can be really sort of smug and factual about it, and say "oh no one should spend the money on something more practical", but what's more fun than just having a wonderful day?'

Many couples will argue that such extravagance is a waste of money and resources for just one day, however Caroline says that these are memories to last a lifetime.

She said: 'The most important people in your life have come to attend this day. It all comes down to the same thing, it's what you want to spend money on and what matters to you and how much money you have, it's all relative.'

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
The diverse assortment of enrapturing conviction
Is but cacophony to most other than me,
Discord to the passionate,
Defending concepts they find true
Clamor to the indifferent,
Those value peace and human happiness
Above factual correctness
For years they’ve all, with incessant attempts
Given their utmost to indoctrinate me,
The most easily swayed of all—
But I’ve found in the rupturing of the fervent,
All ideology, ethic, doctrine,
And in the serenity of the agreeably pacific
I’ve found faith, hope—I’m sure that’s my own,
Art is by no means meaningless, I find,
Especially so when inherent by human ability
And ascribed to this lyrical poem I’ve crafted
Consisting of what I, by my means, find true
Diverse conviction is beautiful.
Alice Burns May 2013
My encounter, although mistakingly enlightening
Leaves me more baffled than before.
Do my words inherit the glow, similar to my daydreaming movements?
As if they were prematurely made, a banner across my silhouette.
Attached before the words can escape my mouth.

I wonder tonight about the necessity of freedom of speech
Curious to understand the rate of which our minds have developed, or been manipulated.
Is it our human defect of guilt the thing that encourages us to open our mouths?
Merely to humor our lowly human selves.

But I fumble
As words escape my lips, and enter your mind,they cannot be translated.
You cannot read my genuine emotion, as the life and purpose is ****** out as they are inscribed across your palm
So I write, and I materialize these things before they are evaporated.

Yes, I am confusing, and I apologize if I am further misunderstood
But, , my friend, I do love you
Purely, true and eternally
Yet I cannot give you what you desire.

Newton was both right and wrong
Love cannot be created nor destroyed
This energy flows continuously, passed from friend to friend
youthfully and innocently as friendship is meant to be

But, what he did not consider was the love of truth and purity
Which in the end is no energy, as they would have us believe
This love is an essence, similar to that formed the blood flowing through our family
Yet has something more

This love I speak honestly of,
Is unselfish
Is no medal of achievement
It bestows upon you the drive to be the highest you
It is the essence for the creation  of the one thing that they can never offer
True love, and true love of yourself.
Daisy King Mar 2014
Did you know? Cashew nuts grow on flowers,
   and they grow one at a time.

Think of the distance between railway tracks:
    this traces back to ancient Rome.

To know the true energy of the sun: imagine it
   covered all over with postage stamps,
      each square inch a bomb,
       each exploding with power only comparable
        to explosions in Hiroshima. Energy like that.

Think of this: how time once was unknowable
   for being different to everyone, until trains began
    and the post began arriving on time.

Did you know? Facts are enough to make a poem.
Where do poems grow? Do they come one at a time?
When did poems first set down their tracks?
What is the power of a poem? Does it explode?
Are poems different to everyone? Will we ever know?
Barton D Smock Jul 2012
i.

a father doing sit-ups on the uncut lawn of his neighbor.
the father’s two children pushing a broken thing past him.
the shop the children map from the inside. its keeper
who is also the neighbor and knew their mother.

ii.

the grace of a thing could be a frog pushing off.
I am alternately sad in the legs, the body, and the head.
my father regards the misshapen wheel of our manmade
pond- bangs on himself and begins to float.

iii.

small one she wins a rubber thing at a firemen’s ball.
some flying creature her grandfather becomes.
his top teeth tremble like worried pilots in a silent plane
weighted with unknowable freight.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 9
we are all liars.


in the endless combat battle of our internal infernal eternal
wills,

we lie-kid-delude ourselves with futuristic promises,
false pretenses,
oaths and rosy predictions
in bold and bareface thoughts,
all lies, as they pass from the conscious
to the part of the brain where
guilt is stored and storied

our success leads to extensions,
the big white lies we tell others
from shame, or kindness,
and trip so easy off our moistened,
tongue licked lips, that we are continually
amazed
by our ease telling
lies.

I read the words *
factual liberty” in the “newspaper of record,”(1)

regarding some political figures who oft
do tell short and tall tales
with great frequency, are
feel free by taking
“factual liberty”
and so
my
heart

skips a beat:
hostages released,
lies well dressed
and redressed
in prom attire lies well
dressed poems birthed
for the arbiters of
worldwide
propriety,

have granted me
life and the
pursui of happiness,
and most importantly
liberty, from those terrorizing
the
factuals

Sun~Day
Jun9
2024
8:55AM
_in my hometown~
(1) New York Times
Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
I can't sleep.
So I flip through my waking dream.
Making it better makes it worse.
I see the hurt in the joy
But it isn't real
And my mind is projecting the world
I could never have
Onto the back of my eyes.
Is it beautiful or is it decaying?
Is this fiction or future wishing?
Who knows?
Who cares?
jeffrey conyers Jun 2018
Immigrants, **** more when in coming to America.
Strange, the Peachman still flying by imaginary facts.

American, are the best shoot and **** folks of the world.
The best murderer for various reason.


We see this on the news.
The proof is within the pudding.
Not the Peachman-of-Chief.

So answer this?
Is he truly a billionaire?
Or someone playing with his own numbers?

Nothing he states is factual.
Be factual.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
the only shame i feel: muslims hold a single book to be synonymous of a library.

apologies, this is why i wasn't fully integrated,
i hold enough respect for the English ethnicity to keep
the reins on my Slavic origin, and its ancient history,
i want to see the Graeae cauldron
of multiple-ethnicity and culturalism:
what with former slaves learning
rap to topple the slavish shackles?
no one ever heard my story under
the Germans, Russians and Austro-Hungarians,
all those to topple Israel already toppled me
to migrate and leave my mother *******
toward an an export: until the black gold runs
out you sand-******... until the oil runs out...
until the oil runs out...
you're the one abusing it because you have it...
until the oil runs out sand-******...
you gonna take the slang out of me?
what is it now? global or feminist tactic?
Chine ain't about to give Dagenham back,
like they're not giving Ostrowiec Św.:
first division in 1997.. extra-class...
yummie piggies at the trough:
money was created to pacify and let
rich boy girls' spend...
      Lwów / Lvov was still in poker hands
of Roosevelt... so much for ******* H'america...
     biker-clan-glandular-rhaps (or plural of odes):
****! i hate belonging to come or some thing...
i always thought about comedy prone enlarged *******
for the geography between left ****** antarctic and
right ****** arctic in tune with the jiggly fatty-bergs..
no... factual-bergs...
but you'd never disintegrate into a 0a.d.
given the colonial history narrative that doesn't
involve the old testament and ***-kissers and
hefty conservative ***-pleasers like the book
of Antioch proposed... made that up...
got mixed up thinking on the necromancer of
the year that was actually 1997-8
17th *KSZO Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski
, tablature
pld.     pts.        w.   d.     l.    f.      a.
         34      24    6   6 22 24 47...
piggie piggie: got the giddy giggly ***** ****-a-doodle-do...
and i know i would too...
small town Polish town, a big Russian
would-be clever-pincer attracted to ******-pinching,
and all the milky drools, down the Nile toward
Cairo, so long as you wife is an Oasis of hamburgers and
strobe-berry epileptics, i.e.: blink 182's what's my age again?
i speak the ******* sprechen and i don't even belong
here... it's like i'm apologising for something that
was coming... thankfully i'm resolved to integrate cognitively
but in the domestic realm have nothing to do with
this language...
     i don't want to speak it to my mother,
i don't want to speak it to my father,
i can't afford to rent a house and prolong a university
bachelor lifestyle, the arabs and nigerians bought
all the flats out and are renting them out...
hopefully to Somalian pirates for: essex tan orange
sake in terms of: if i figured my tongue was an
axe in the first place... i'd lace my life with
many more people applauding...
i never understood this desire to integrate without
having the right to censor what i'm about to
embrace... a contract, much of smallprint readied
on the fidgety hand...
       it's not that i suddenly chose to
ethnically suspend my origins for a need to respect,
i kept my mother tongue for times such as these,
when i can't be approached as white and as inheritor
of colonialism... if i say i'm German they'll *******
clap, i remember once they asked me as if i were
going to do an app. for the caliphate asking me:
you German? no... Polish... huh? what's that?
somewhere in between Germany and Russia...
now i can't claim the ethnicity that my's right hand
of use with tongue... and now i can't claim the
tongue that isn't the ethnicity but is otherwise my
limb-for-limb... 5p.m. tea 100 years later is
a hijab on the streets of Birmingham...
no secret... i just see why i need to be involved like
some James Dean "wannabe" schizoid spice...
there will be no news from Poland concerning
the migrant crisis, no talk of a Muslim takeover...
ironically, as Monty Python would have said:
everyone was expecting a Polish Inquisition,
or as the crowds chanted: Evangelism! not the Quran!
happily are those: seeing America involve
itself in this slogan... me? as ever, the Pontius Pilate:
i said it once, i'll say it again:
panic is worse than fascism...
   panic is worse than fascism...
you don't expect panic, hence the beasts' stampede
in urban areas... fascism? you know it's
coming, and you know it's not good...
             fascism is panic realised too late,
fascism is panic organised... you knew it was coming
and you did nothing to prevent it...
  the only thing that could have prevented Trump
winning the presidency was acknowledging an unequivocal
membership of the union... Cracow wasn't built in
one day... trigger ******* happy panic button: press!
press! oppress! that special relationship of yours?
yeah... ye'ha! rear 'em in with that quiff of yours, cowboy!
ye'ha!
please don't get me involved, i know how to
impale a turk on a rotten wooden stump, rather than
crucify a Syrian on a geometric of mahogany
amid sacred words: so descended onto a mosque's minaret
and the hippy-hair-debate, and no hair and the hajj.
i know, people are apprehensive you're not a businessman
employing 100 slave Mongolians enlisted to blowing
up 1000 helium filled balloons an hour for birthday
party contracts... and none of them are properly trained
in ventriloquist's chipmunk!
              james dean was the original schizophrenic...
who treated society as an asylum,
and the asylum as a garden of Eden...
                                       lucky him: mono-linguistic...
   i sometimes wish i had that luxury on inherent
cleansing of ethnicity, so i could be left with only
a culinary boasting akin to the Persian quote on
falafel... but then you never know who's side you're
gonna be on...
i might as well quote him akin to j. franco post-doppelganger:
you're tearing me apart!
                                   and they say people think...
nonetheless: whether thinking or not,
they are... a welcome aversion in finding pleasure in
zoos; esp. the times when they're sweating like sardines
stashed in vulvas on underground trains: ventriloquists'
suggestion? moans: foetal moans... get me out of here...
otherwise groaned? harder... mm... deeper...
make your pelvis kiss my pelvis! mmm... baby!
first your read the Marquis to get a hard-on,
then you ****-off that hard-on...
and then you do a hand-job to someone else
and pass on the Oxfam motto to some other "hungry" Afrikaan.
Kairee F May 2012
trust** (verb):
the action of placing faith, belief, and confidence in another;
something I don’t do anymore

truth (noun):
a statement that corresponds with what is factual or certain;
something no one tells anymore

love (noun):
very strong feelings of affection toward another;
a lie that I don’t believe in anymore –
how they get you to give them everything,
you and your life and your heart,
and you’re completely okay with doing that because you think they are doing the same;
a game; an illusion I don’t look for anymore

love (verb):
to make a commitment to someone;
to give your heart completely and unconditionally;
something I avoid admitting, because if I do,
I can no longer protect my heart from the crushing boulder
that’s taken refuge in my chest for the last year

to be myself:
to simply void myself of emotion;
to distract myself with work when I can’t numb myself anymore
RyanMJenkins Jun 2012
I know, that I am mostly untrusting,
combusting with thoughts and was lusting for the attention that I know I wasn't gettin'.  

But whatever this is it's not set in stone.  

I think it's getting close to the time where I find a new home.  
I've released all those those attachments that made me feel less than I was,
cuz throughout all the *******, I've risen above.  

I'll show you love, without you making the first move.  
Aint nothin to do but continue ridin' on my life groove.  
You're in or you're out, but that choice is mine 'til I know what you're really about.  
Potentially remove you from my doubts and travel new routes.  

What the hell is this a competition for, it aint fun.  
It's like you're keeping score but don't even know the numbers, with that I'm done.  
This isn't the first time and surely won't be the last.
The way you run from your problems...yeah you really are fast.  
Try scoping out your true identity and then you'll see what's really meant to be.  
I don't know what it is you can't see.  
I think it's about time you set yourself free.
Hanson Yang Jun 2018
the grasps of my **** as the holder of time to the scales, as if it was my *******: desired inclined of all women of latter time as it's extension of the scaled respective independent selfish ******* as length in time as metered to overtaking body erradicating speed as colloidial motion distressed dementia slowing of all intensity asto contrast of haste of carried love as given of best length as best muscle wide ribbed real phenomenah constituted factuality enters the member of divided all penetrable imaginable intensity of the attitude assertive attentive of the yearn-craved-of all the famish as if actual shared intoaslike reality factual forlorned of the ****** engagement as the cunninlingus hunger of your taste lipped to each attention assertive command of the tongue to sense of even ambrosial scent as if dripping from tongue as licking of even like the contact of the mouth encumbers soul erogenous eroticmentality of the attitude inasif heat intensified feelings of desire attentive controlled of lust as this finality driven to of the seen as actuality of time as desire and as to it's **** as if normalcy actual constant submissively yields to the haste in time as both too and including of all bodies to greet my being as this sexuality superior with my body and **** englistened measured as twisted entertwined range of aim of all bodies to lust of thisity whatness of all to mynest time in relativity of all to feel me as my body pushes up and down ******* eager motion arched to back dig palm ******* as to the ensimultitide  momentum as all here chosen existent pristine envinciation of as invincibility is sacrificed for as if ****** to ****** pain  pain without ******* in all of every real time experience enverbatim and seen enwombed married by what just written;
Shiv Pratap Pal Jan 2019
Questions Please
Put up a question please
Throw me a question please
Question, any question

Burning or sensational
big or small or silly
easy or tough or absurd
hypothetical or factual

All questions are invited.
Only and only questions
No Answers at all
As I already have answers

I have answers to all the questions
that ever existed, but ceased to exist today.
I have the answers to prevailing questions
that are making us crazy day by day

I even have the answers to the questions
which are still in the future's belly
waiting to be born one day
in this beautiful and ugly world

Questions please
All sorts of questions
May be from geography or philosophy
Or from religion to defence studies

It may be from medical science or history
Or from space research too
Animal husbandry is no taboo
Questions on skydiving are also welcome

Politics is my all-time favourite
although I can answer sports or adventure
Questions on corruption are also solicited
You can ask on oceanography or calligraphy too

I know everything, literally everything
but neither I am 'Google' nor 'Bing'
I am not even 'Duck Duck Go'
nor I claim to be 'Baidu'

I guessed your question.
You are wondering – "Who am I?"
It's very-very simple Man!
I am a nasty spokesperson from the ruling party

I may be found mostly in television debates
as a panelist, as a debator, as a joker
as a disturbing element, as a liar
as a person making hue and cries

You may or may not like my answers,
but, please like me, please love me
Raise slogans for me, Praise me
Make me famous, make me a celebrity

But even if you dislike me
I don't care, I have my media
I have my own followers
I also own a troll army

I train them perfectly
I pay them heavily
I spend too much on
News media and Social media

I have my own trustworthy mob
who is always ready for violence
anytime and anywhere
at any cost whatsoever

Beware, I am from the ruling party
I inherit a complete readymade system
of Investigating agencies, Ready to book anyone
on false and frivolous grounds.

And it will take years to prove innocence
Innocence may be proved, may be disproved
This also depends on Money, Power and Links
Or the nasty arithmetic of alliance with us in future

So if you still chose to dislike me
It's your choice, but wait
I can still become a minister
Or even a prime minister

I have the quality to lure voters
I have the answers to all the questions
That ever existed or are existing
Or that are stilling waiting to be born.
I have all the answers  so please throw a question to me.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2017
rose at the wee three hour,
to verify the factual, "they" have cancelled
this particular Tuesday in NYC due to celestial inclemency
named
ma Bella Stella

the guv and the mayor,
a creator's doctored note received
from the supreme being of their choosing,
** ** **, whaddya know, we city folk and grownup kids get a day off,
cause we got a special kind of cold, called a nor'easter

sho'nuff, an atmosphere perusal
shows a whiteout sensual ensual,
through a sleepy bedroom window,
visible the commencement of 18,
maybe 24, inches, can't be too sure

but it's all about safe over sorry which is why,
really good poets rewrite a new poem countless times

rose at the wee three hour,
a snowy add-on found to our raging winter,
a poem~note^ from you, patty girl,
about transition and juxtaposition
which leads me here, here being on the
writing couch roundabout the now wee hour of four

for the juxtaposition of the blizzard external
and your early-morning poetic missive
has transitioned to blizzard inferno internal,
visible the commencement of 18,
maybe 24, lines, with poetry, one can't be too sure

you can lead a horse to water but not make him drink,
you cannot lead a poet to certain words without making him think,
you phrased me a phrase, so consequential, guilty you are of
robbery in the first degree, stealing my mind in furtherance
no mas sleep

the providence words you provided shot off
so many alt-poem routed roots that I must now provide
a trigger warning to you dear reader, that I am near to
dangerously drowning in an internal blizzard of very
l e n g t h y poem possibilities

transition and juxtaposition

dumbstruck

are not our entire lives consistent of transitions
by the elemental random juxtaposition of
consequential accidental, just happen to happen happenings

to all my friends here,
how did our juxta-wooded paths happen to cross
we are citizen~strangers of the planet
Never Met
who exchange secrets and confidences as if we,
transitional, friends but, of one family born

dumbstruck

now past the five,
my torrential impulse powered thoughts
have slowed to tortoise speed
and someone has mercy on my soul
calls me back to the
snowed-in blissful bed

but this my parting pattyshot

if i ever get the shoulder tap,
"kid,would you like to update the
Five Books?"^^

I know instinctually intuit,
the first book, no more
Genesis

the first chapter of the
nattyman version
**Transitions and Juxtapositions
^" I decline
to align
my spirit or word
preferring instead
to tread
upon rules
CREATED
by
FOOLS

But the alignment of body and soul
defies
transition and juxtaposition,
as prayers unfold.
How beautiful is poetry
a raging rant or fervent plea,
expressed exquisitely.

hugs
patty m

^^the Five Books of Moses a/k/a the Old Testament
5:45am
march 14 2017
-------------
Storm Stella whips the US Northeast. The monster snowstorm, expected to bring winds of up to 60 mph and reduce visibility to zero, put 31 million people under a blizzard warning and has already resulted in the cancellation of over 7,000 flights and the Falcon 9 rocket. CNN predicts the heaviest snow between 6am and 9am ET.
xei Oct 2014
delicate and limp
they lie between the spaces
amongst hard print on factual papers;
occasionally unrealistic figments
of self deluding fantasy.

“they’re luxuries”, you mumbled,
a lament towards their rare materialization
in your few hours of slumber;
the soft impression leading souls
up the garden path,
misleading for they were
not all that pleasant.

midway after sunset
your heavy breathing is the
silence i hear; your silhouette
limp against the amber lights.
they came once again,
desperation had come
once again.

you squinted into the distant darkness,
“oddities veiled by a coat of blur,
though a fantasy felt as tangible
as the touch of skin;
i’d fall endlessly down the pit.
most of all, pathetically i had no one to
catch me.”
I smiled
And you smiled back
At times
We laughed hard

As Usual
But hope this feeling is mutual

We chatted
Like we used to
Seem acted
You're in the movie too

Unusual
But hope this feeling is mutual

You speak
With your eyes in silence
While I breath
Yet my heart is quiet

Unfactual
But hope this feeling is mutual

You loved
In privy
I love to be loved
More lively

To be factual
Hoping this feeling is mutual
Common is uncommon nowadays
#mutual or #one-sided
Erenn Nov 2014
Aligned to unite
With others who lost their way
It’s a mess we perceived
To those in dismay
These lines create dreams 
For the broken
For the ones never spoken-
Of Love & Courage

Conjuring up notions of time
Structuring of desires preludes
To pursue what’s lost 
To preach and beseech truth
Faith denotes eternally
Surviving pain and deceit
What speaks only bleeds
To fabricate amity

Not fazed by power
But to denote greed
Greed of Love & Passion
Exhaling Hate & Deception
To succor the pillar of fate
To exist in this factual state

Your heart's a fragile thing. 
Everyone’s heart is. 
Don’t ever contaminate hatred
Contaminate love instead.
We're only humans. We're not perfect.
We come in different colours.
Don't hate on things/someone you don't know.
Don't erase a race/religion with intent of hate
Contaminate love instead.
Somewhere in your wardrobe, I'd be willing to bet
There's a t-shirt probably bearing the silhouette of Che Guevara

He was revolutionary, yeah, he wore a cool hat
But behind the design I think you might find it's not quite as simple as that

Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe,
I think... apparently.. who knows?
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe

This is my song in defence of the fence
A little sing along, a anthem to ambivalence
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it, doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference, when you're sitting on the fence

Somewhere in your house, I'd be willing to bet
There's a picture of that grinning hippy from Tibet - the Dalai Llama

He's a lovely, funny fella, he gives soundbites galore
But let's not forget that back in Tibet, those funky monks used to **** the poor, yeah

And the Buddhist line about future lives is the perfect way to stop the powerless rising up
And he tells the poor they will live again, but he's rich now so it's easy for him to say

I'm taking the stand in defense of the fence
I got a little band playing anthems to ambivalence
We divide the world into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and ****'s
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And the things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into status quo and scary
Yeah we want the world binary, binary
But it's not that simple.

And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
Yea your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And so does your baby, maybe you oughta trade HIM in for a Prius-
ROCK!

I'm taking the stand in defence of the fence
I got a little band playing tributes to ambivalence
We divide the world into liberals and gun-freaks
Into atheists and fundies
Into tee-tot'lers and junkies
Into chemical and natural
Into fictional and factual
Into science and supernatural
But it's actually naturally not that white and black

You'll be
Dividing us into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedos
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into parrots and canaries
Yeah we want the world binary, binary - 011101!

The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference
Cause it's not that simple...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUZIqfHf4c4
If distance were a metaphor,
its synonymous yet factual depiction would be itself.
Its shear complexity stretches over multitudes,
and from its belly flows rivers of emotions;
anger, frustration, regret sadness and not forgetting self realization.
Inadvertently it separates people and yet brings them closer.
Without doubt it's an enigma of life, call it Einsteins quantum theory of light.
Until one can comprehend the subliminal message deeply coded in the core of this phenomenon,
and without hesitance decipher its elaborate meaning,
one has no choice but to matriculate into it's class and take it's lesson.
Call it school of hard knocks 101.
Charlie Chirico Oct 2012
“After hours of evaluations, our doctors came to the conclusion that he was paranoid, but speaking with family and friends, they stated that there were no obvious signs of mental distress. No one expected him to go through with the ******. He had a lot of faults, but most were thought to be harmless. His idiosyncrasies were overlaid with a well thought out patience and understanding. During the evaluation he spoke of compartmentalization, and his lack of emotional comprehension, which he explained should not be misconstrued as “apathetic behavior.”  His words were inveigled, and when he wasn’t applying his charming disposition, he was implementing a passive aggressiveness. This was a man who did not hide in the shadows, but he knew them very well. Darkness was shown through his eyes the longer we spoke, as his pupils grew larger, and his determined stare, a menacing stare, pierced people’s souls.” – Dr. Rebecca Altwater

Thursday

On the train. Not awake. It's not too crowded, around me at least. There is a group of black students, yes, I said black, because that is the color of their skin, and, well, I’m white, and I’m fine with being described as white. This is all factual. So the black, students, high school students, are creating a commotion. (I have always hated using the term “African American” because it has always made me feel prejudice. When I say it, I think of it as a label, and I’d rather not go further into what I mean by *labels
). The train smells like ****. The smell overpowers my coffee. The coffee is weak. My body is aching. I’m starting to develop a headache. (The students are now beat boxing). My head is mutating. Temples pulsating. Veins exposed. Eyes closed. The beat boxing continues.

I reach into my leather shoulder bag. I’m not looking for anything in particular, more or less trying to look busy. A woman three seats down is watching me intently. My eyes are fixated on my bag. I can feel her eyes examining me. It’s hard to rule out the theory of having a sixth sense, especially in situations as these. My fingers delicately brush over a novel, the novel I decided to read during the train ride for this work week, to which I haven’t started reading, and completely forgot I placed in my bag — (It was an impulsive purchase) it was now another item that would solidify the self-realization that I am a procrastinator, and considering that this novel was for the work week, and it is now Thursday, just proves my point further. The novel will be shelved, and another novel will take its place in my leather shoulder bag. Although I may not follow through with my intentions I am still a person who stays very consistent. I will swap novels. After work I will stop at Borders books. I’ll need a new novel for work week number thirty out of fifty-two. After a week it will be shelved, and I will start again: buy another novel, and continue to not read it. I’m a very consistent person.

Saturday

My alarm went off for thirty minutes this morning.

Sunday

Glenn, my brother, calls me early in the afternoon to invite me to dinner. A family dinner. And he informs me that our mother will be there. He graciously asks me if I can attend, but I know he only invites me because he is dreading our mother’s visit. Very seldom do I see or hear from my brother and his family, but when our immediate family is added to the equation I am the first person he calls. I am (and this is how he put it) his “emotional confidant” when he becomes too overwhelmed. The reason this is, is because it has always been a one way street. His perception of me is not the most desirable, but he trusts my word. The term that comes to mind, when him and I converse, is that I am self-destructive. It must be easy for him to give insight to this speculation when he is just as irrational as I am. Our only difference is that I have embraced the idea of negative and positive spontaneity, whereas his neurosis comes from self-induced pressure and stress. When I die, it would not be in vain if it happened without warning. I am reckless. If he died unexpectedly, it would be of great shock, but it will most likely be the cause of a brain aneurysm.  It’s funny how irony works. You know, us being brothers, and him seeing us as total opposites, when in reality our similarities outweigh the obtuse differentials.

Wednesday

It’s the halfway point of the work week. I have my new novel, untouched, in my leather shoulder bag. For the last three days (including today) I have arrived at the train station an hour earlier than usual. I made this decision Monday, and have found that it is a more logical time. Although I have an hour to **** before work, I avoid my headache (the black students) before sitting at my office desk. Thankfully, there weren't too many pros and cons that came with this decision. It was fairly easy. I could have continued to deal with an excruciating head pain, one that would stick with me throughout the day, or sacrifice an hour of sleep. The latter was the correct choice. When I came to this conclusion on Sunday I could not rest my brain. My mind was at ease, I felt relieved and content, but I was apprehensive nevertheless. Monday came and went, (slowly, because of minor sleep deprivation) along with all of my anxieties from the past week.

I never thought I’d say this, but seeing a therapist helps. There hasn't been much to articulate yet, concerning my listlessness, but my insomnia was discussed, and I was optimistic. My problems could be far worse, and when they are, maybe leaving an hour early is the answer. My next appointment is in two hours, at four, and I’m going to leave shortly. I don’t know what I will do for the extra hour I have allotted myself, but I do have a novel I won’t read and a newspaper that was left on my desk, with the headline reading, “Crime Rates Rise: How To Maintain Your Sanity During The Recession.”
Janek Kentigern Oct 2016
Sadness
it's strong stuff...
I've had so much I can't walk
without falling
I can't talk
without stalling
And slurring
Can't think
without blurring the lines
between problems
and mere actualities.
Lacking the faculties
to sort factual reality
from the masochistic fantasies
that lurk at the back of me;
Passively, I watch them attacking me
ransacking stacks of ****
that once brought me happiness
laughing mirthlessly, cursing the birth of me,
tormenting, caressing,
augmenting the worst of me,
Cementing self pity, bitterly nursing the urge
to revel in misery. Rolling in muck
and mire of recent history,
desiring nothing.
In anger I pander to these base demands,
Mistaking mere sickness
For something more grand
Avowing the charge of my own propaganda,
Allowing this world that I loved
to be slandered
Cowed
My friends are pulled down to an
unflattering angle. From here they appear
(no matter how dear)
to be traitors and thieves,
with knives up their sleeves.
I'll believe every lie my sick mind can conceive.

Don't give me the keys
'cos I'll drive off a cliff
Don't give me a pen
Cos I'll only write this
There's nothing unique in the words that I speak,
and this piece is nothing but
cliches,
mixed metaphors you've met before
similes sing of sick malaise.
Tongue out of cheek,
Dazed.
I'm released from policing
my verse,
Sad soul knows no quality Control,
As the heart beats crazily, I proofread lazily
sentimentally, hazily.
Without a **** to give
I chuck away the voice that says
“Don't write if it ain't great.”.

Days achieving nothing
but self inflicted *******
Gouging self-inflicted chasms
between loved ones and I,
apoplectic rage in spasms,
fits of fleeting normality
Bridge defeat, despair and insanity.
Weaponised hatred for all of humanity.
A small inconvenience
becomes a calamity.
Then revert to intertia perverted by vanity.

Next, corner a companion and
complain away the pain and drain your glass again and again without restraint

Explain the ways that your to blame, oh the shame the shame,
Dissect regrets, reflect until you've bored yourself to death,
(let alone the poor sod who kindly nods and slyly checks their watch, before they stammer out excuses,
Hints which I'm too hammered and useless to hear,
Too wrecked to check myself. They've done their duty as a mate, but remember,
steer clear of the fate,
Of getting ****** down into the vortex, of depression and regrets.
We've all got our problems. He's out of cigarettes.)
Whilst here I  reading aloud
still sore texts, to detect traces of affection.

Sad ****, sad drunk, alone again,
Get my coat, forget my phone. The inconvenience provides some light relief,
From the background grief.
Now tomorrow's replete with distraction s and tasks to complete.
The horizons' brightened with the prospect of splashing some some cash, and so much to choose!
Afternoons busy spent perusing reviews,
Megapixels, memory, which brand do I trust?
But I know I'm just
buying time,
Before the consumption high subsides
and I'm back with this background mosquito pitch whine saying "maybe I'm better off dead".
Bite you lip, hold on, its temporary. and whilst it feels scary, remember
Your not sick, you're not dying, your just heartbroken,
trying to move on, and maybe occasionally crying.
And that's healthy.
The weeping ain't that bad,
It's the cold light of day. It's the misguided logic. That's says "you had the best time of your life, now you've lost it,
All that was worth having,
Is behind you, and may I remind you,
You ain't getting younger, it's starting to show,
And times flowing towards the end, the time you spent on earth was wasted, getting wasted, not facing life head on and you'll never change. It's not strange that she's found someone better"
etc etc

You've been here before and each time it gets better. If you could write a letter to your younger self you could share a wealth of knowledge about Dealing with horrors from within.
Emotions invade us, but we can repel them. But you have to embrace them before you expel them.
So whilst it's not fine yet
And whilst I still pine, yeah, I'm resigned for the time being,
seeing the bigger picture.
And we're designed to recover then remove the stitches. No plans go without hitches. At last, whilst they might not go as fast as we like,
In the night take respite cos
Like the drunken high, and this ******* Hangover
This too shall pass
And one day you'll wake up sober.
Mike Essig Mar 2017
You seem to remember robust days of anarchy. Heroic limbs. Tungsten nerves. Oak-like tumescence. But they may have been fictions imagined beneath dripping choppers or among Tennessee wild flowers. Your feathers now reject flight and time has pressed all blossoms. Everyday chaos directs your steps. The anaconda in the mud puddle only a curious worm. Shrunken shoes, but reminders of mortality. Where does light go when it’s dark? Why these dreams of deserted airports? Where has lust absconded? The universe looms a question of questions. The mute shades know all, but it’s difficult to comprehend nothing. You miss the caprice of logic. Confusion rains. You stagger beneath the headlines of oblivion besotted with sobriety. A corpse in Argentina guards the labyrinth's portal. Kale refuses to surrender its secrets even under torture. The fangs of women drip enigmas. Even the slugs have abandoned reason. The antennae of the night sing silence. You await a message from reality announcing the invasion is imminent. Do nothing until you hear from me. The sun shines, having no alternative, on the nothing new world.
brandon nagley Aug 2015
The irony of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
As being a European, a foreigner to this land
Not a native, as the original people who art still here,
I shalt speaketh truth, on a topic, the European's here
Don't speaketh of;

I seeith politician's, speaketh of building a higher wall
As tis their art already wall's, lining Mexico and the united states,
I seeith wall's, to tryeth and keepeth out, the original people's.
As tis so many I'll heareth, so many sayeth the quote: ( illegal alien's, art coming over here stealing work) huh? Illegal alien's didst thou sayeth? As if their from another land? Or planet?......

Yet the fact is;
Who art the real quote: ALIENS!!!!
Us, the European's, as tis not mine fault mine parents hath cometh here, as not the other European's fault
That their parent's hath cometh here,
As tis I hath Cherokee in mine blood as well, from mine mother;

Though fact is, here's the truth;
The disgusting fact, noone want's to speaketh of, in
Politic's, in religion, in media, nowhere, is this fact..........

The European's and rich men now leading the country
From the quote: founding Father's, which may be other's founding father's, verily not mine!!!!!! Hath built wall's,
To keepeth out the alien's as many calleth them, in actuality us European's art the alien's, the one's who stole their land, built walls, and fences, and hath polluted their water, wherein water was once blue and green here in the river's and stream's,
As for example; in the town I'm in now, Rossford Ohio, some left from the older generation around here in their nineties Or 80's told me and mine family, the river that sit's behind mine place, native river called the ( maumee river) one fifty years ago people swam in, it was blue they told us, thou couldst seeith the fish inside of it, as children wouldst swim it... Guess what? Now that same river, is brown, is polluted, is poisoned, with the glass factories mess , and dump from work site's, into that river..... It's sickening... As tis the land once was open, free, no border's, no fences, here's the good part, see, the chief's all along this great nation, they all hadst vision's, vision's of these white men coming, as they saw it in spiritual shamanic ceremonies, as they saw the land being stolen, their people murdered by the thousand's, they saw destruction, from what? Men thou calleth thine founding father's? Thieves that hadst cometh here, to build walls? And killeth the native people's who were slaughtered, brought disease, and put on plot's of land a mile big? If even that... As tis they used to roam free, now forced into gvt debt, and the quote founding father's ancestor's and politician's hath given them medal's, as if that wouldst healeth them? No!!! As tis even the natives won't speaketh on this topic much. Though some will.... Fact is , àll went downhill, since the quote: founding Father's raised their flag... On a land not their's, on a land, not mine....though noone speaketh of this harsh truth... History channel hath now shown, with other archeologists, that the original people, now in southern Mexico, the Aztec people, once cameth from the north... Northern America, as in Wisconsin, see, in Wisconsin, their art pyramid's down below a certain lake, rock lake is it's name... The pyramids match the Aztec style as tis there art writings to showeth their presence their.. As come to findeth out; there is a map, sent into a famous Mexican archeological historical advocate, the map showeth on it something the u s gvt hath hid, as they do such much hiding from all of us... The map showeth on salt like, in Utah, is known place for the original Aztec people, purely factual, the story was told, the chief of his clan Aztecs, told his people, that he kneweth the men wouldst cometh to steal the land, so he told them they wouldst stop where the eagle eats the head of the snake...... Wanna know something ironic about that? Well here's proof of that, where the Aztecs now reside, southern Mexico, well Mexico hath a flag, like all have flags... Guess what is on Mexico's flag? An eagle eating a snake head... As chief saidst.... As in old map found in Spanish letters written next to salt lake Utah, read the words ( aztec territory) yet hidden in history purposely, these are harsh truth's, some may not be able to handle this, but when thou calleth one an illegal alien, thinketh who thou art... We art the aliens... as we aren't meant for this land... Though not our fault we were born here... As we must go with the flow as they say... As I loveth this great land, though reality is, I don't belong here.... As tis mine religious  beliefs state anyways, this world is just temporary anyways, noone owns this planet... God does..  Not man...its sickening seeing seeing mine own leader's, building walls to keepeth out ( illegal aliens) as they calleth them, yet were the aliens.... The irony... All for their greedy purposes and power control trip....as the native population hath decreased over fifty percent..Or more then.... Yet we tend to think, this is our place.. . as tis the u.s gvt hath stolen native gold, from their sacred places.... Places not meant to be touched, or dug into, though it's the good warrior's like Geronimo who decided and decides to stand against more such thing's..... As a European, it saddens me to seeith what mine kind hath done... And in this great beautiful sacred land what they still do....... That's harsh truth.... Much truth noone sais . yet I'm one who will......as the man who hath received that map of the Aztec's didst sayeth, he put it perfectly, he saidst ( border's art imaginary, border's art only in ourn mind's) how such truth..... And we wonder why there is differences....

That's harsh honesty.....



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Know this won't be a popular one to good Americans, as I love all americans but truth is stated here... and harsh to some ears.. So before anyone decides to judge the poor Mexican farmer out in the field picking tomatoes for a lousy few bucks a day to send back to his poor family so they can eat... or a native American... Think of where your land got the corn u use daily.... And think where your at... That's truth..., as stated. Borders only exist in our minds.   Their are no borders.. Other than what man has made
Simon Oct 2019
Stinging with rage! The skeleton would say. Not figuring out anything if never having layers is a good thing. Why must I have an upkeep in social deficiencies, if I can’t learn myself enough? The skeleton contemplated extensively. I’m too gray! Too…Tooooo… Poised! Being poised is a dampening effect. One revolutionizing logic without circumstance. Circumstance without valid reasons to erupt circumstantial balance. Deeming to involve constraints upon your own systems processes. Strife filling into those processes. Putting a bony skeletal hand to its bony chin. I’m a skeleton. I’m all strife! My bones don’t just sting. They rust! RUST!!! It said yelling with two skeletal arms moving clenching bony fists in the air. Try having rusted edges without completing desirable functions! Releasing edges without rust involved. I move one step, and SNAP! OOPS! Edges be screaming my velocities down the rut! Velocities pit my joints moving with other joints in an unbalanced poised expression. Poised is great. Having good flexible positions in the making. Except for the fact I sent the rusted edges. Which once again, is a catch of being too POISED! Maybe I should have asked for layers when wanting to become poised? But without favor. Favor of not having to worry about any deficiencies. Self deficiencies? It said opening it’s mouth wide. More like social deficiencies! I can’t go anywhere feeling my form is off completely! Skeletal arms in the air while staring up into the atmosphere. Mouth still open wide. What do I DOOOOO???!!! All the sudden, the skeletons stinging edges started to rust more. Huh?! Looking down at its skeletal body. Surprised and a little alarmed. The skeleton notices it wasn’t thinking. Since you sometimes don’t realize you just started thinking without one’s volition. The rusted edges were thinking. Or something sizzling with charisma? Charisma with claim, purpose, and factual statements. I don’t, UHHHHHHHH!!! Pausing deeply. Feeling something burn with rage! The stinging…! It’s getting more intense. I-I, I can’t stop myself from feeling it too much! It wants to envelope me. Wait? The skeleton stops. The stinging stopped all together. Not feeling the burning rage anymore. Whoa! Weird. W-what just happened? Sizzling effort of rust kept on thinking with sizzling charisma. OHHH! I get it now. The skeleton retracting its movements back to its original posture. I’m freaking out! Calling for what it seems to be. I’m detracting my own surface from its original desire. Bony hand against its chin. A claim without focus. The skeleton snaps it’s bony fingers. Feeling the sting rupture between rusted joints sizzling with claim, purpose, and factual statements. Away from the thinking. The skeleton seeing it’s joints become more flexible as two of it’s bony finger tips made contact with one another. Seeing is believing after all. It said smiling wide. Feeling the rusted edges absorb it’s smile into it’s thinking base. More stinging raised multiple alarms along the entire bone structure. The skeleton shook violently! Not feeling despair, concern or fear. But warmth. Warmth giving it an excitability it never sought out before. Probably because it never had to. Until now. I think my social deficiencies will start disappearing now. Feeling calmer. Along with my perfect poise that only existed in this bone structuring stage. I’m awaiting something newer. More affordable now that I’m beginning to understand.
How I would feel when moving without contempt for my own volatile commands. Making myself think being stuck in a rut for too long, was actually a good thing. How wrong was I.
Alin Mar 2015
The Sun Is Shining Today
The Storm Has Finally Stopped

a statement says:
<we have done something yesterday
nothing like our best
just something
to stop that storm>
the statement returns true as fact

inconsequent gestures of nature
we weave
to serve an unknown wish
-made of numerous physical and non-physical senses-
so that fabric of a network  
evolves  itself
materializes sense
sense to fabric
fabric to sense
scientifically improbable it remains

an infinitesimal loop
unwinds when you are not there
runs within an ideally operating closed circuit
remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives

an etheric vitality
materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste
and some of yet undefined ones
- possibly  assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable-
executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only.

So then Only then
When You Combine the patchy Network
of Things
of Beings

You Can Dance Them
Sing Them
Play Them
Make Love To Them
Become One With Them
Compose Them

but

All these on condition that
it remains as an unpacked gift

Without telling to Yourself  
or to Others
or to That Storm
because
You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm
All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow

But again

How important is it really that biking tomorrow ?
I mean when sighs and cries whirl around?

a statement says:
<you can’t stop wars by fights>
the statement returns true as fact

And

if I know that
you can stop storms by touches

touches to smells
smells to lights
lights to metals
metals to elements
elements to stars
stars to flights
flights to a breeze on my fingertips
breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss

then

I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow
so that I can be blown away on a broken December day
and let my long hair collect dune corrals  made of cosmic ray

Huh So Yeah

I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some!
- not because I need to for my own sake or think about it.
...as written on 11 Dec. 2014:  I think some poems have capricious spirits! This one did not allow me to post it until I would bike to the beach. I have done it now after my winter procrastination and the sun was shining this whole weekend :)
Cat Aug 2013
My idea of a good night is staying in
And technology serves as my friend
With a glass of wine or bottle of brew in my hand
Talking to a list of favorable foes on the web
Where conversations boarder between flirty and scholarly lines
And typed dialogues lead way to theoretical thoughts and inspirational designs
Pondering ignites a spark that surges in my mind
I’ll begin to research the fast array of thoughts that run through my brain
Fixated on scientific data, predicted trends and worldly traits
Eventually it’s not enough for my thought
I’ll try to fight the inevitable feeling that starts to form in my gut
Leading way to the breeding ground for butterflies
Factual documents begin to get lost in the shuffle
As my attentions now caught by an excerpt or rousing photo
New tabs are opened over the old
And I always find myself ending at the same place
Looking up poems about love and images elapsed from past days
Claudia Jimenez Nov 2018
An introverted saint

An introverted saint named after a saint
Who died for rebirth of faith
A ******* is very intuitive and alive
Like poem
But that’s not who you really are
You are running away from your past
Your pain you took risk to give rot to a friend’s innocent body without why

The way it glows how the light holds you in silence, taking care of you
Experience the energy of where all life began when you met a friend

And yet you keep it so close to you
So you don’t have to be afraid of who you are... you might lose your mind you refuses to take it factual. A ******* wants to spend the cell with who he is.

A ******* sees an angel for the first time is a friend when he told a friend is an angel without a *******’s feeling in unclearly to complete desirable to be aware
Know your purpose feel your birth
Hear at first faintly then distinctly is a friend’s a state of harmony
The sweet strains of our union
Our friendship heats up the cold universe,
And give your tired desperate heart you lost your introversive
Purified by our kisses, are eternally healed.
It’s destiny by the way it’s weird feeling
It is magic?

A ******* is a weak man that he is extremely hazy
the way narcissism made him lack.

Your brilliance
Your heart is very weak because of flattery
You are not afraid in the world you get hidden away from a friend’s sight as light that from your introversion compare with extrovert in experience
But you can’t cook to save your life for who you are, you are so desperately to erase in anything with good thing come in your timeline to move to make sure you are safely where your home is with you
To believe in something that’s all around us
But hidden from our sight
The gift of the faith that destiny is willing to create us to be purpose to meet in happenstance that who we are
Life can be kind and zealous

Because you are beautiful. —They move me.

An introverted saint
I wanted to let it go our past drunken mistake we did thing to us we didn’t realize we lost our souls and friendships and my trauma
Charlie Chirico Feb 2013
It starts to happen when the bad days outnumber the good days. At least that's what I'm told. Or maybe I have told myself that.

I've had this peculiar tick since I was a child. I rub my hands. It has become more prominent as I've gotten older. I'm sure it goes unnoticed, but I'm also sure that I'm not sure of much these days. On the good days I don't think of my hands. On the bad days I seem to be on the verge of clapping. If only enthusiasm came from this anxiety driven mannerism. On the really bad days I know that rubbing my hands together is keeping me from pulling my hair out. The really bad days are the days I get my headaches.

"If you're going to excessively ask questions I'll need a new server," Dante stated, purposefully avoiding eye contact. You don't make eye contact with the help, he was once told.

The shades are covering the windows of the restaurant, and the sun that gleams through the oil stains looks fresh. The coffee I ordered smells burnt. It may or may not be the fault of the server. But seeing as how I received two creamers when I specifically asked for three certainly leaves me to be speculative. A bell jingles at the entrance, I turn my head, nod to my friend, and pour my two creamers into my coffee. Two should suffice, although I did ask for three. It's the principle.

Being introspective and witty, and being objective and authentic was once seen as a form of normalcy. To clarify: if the latter is factual, it will usually coincide with the former. We are a parasite to information. Our senses are forces. We are forced to see, to hear, to taste, smell, feel. No matter how we perceive our sense, we are forced to experience it. How do you satisfy yourself, when one, there is too much to consume --mentally omnipotent, perhaps, considering our infinite curiosity regarding research in the field of neuroscience (Over the top sarcasm). And two, when the ability to retain information is slowly escaping our grasp; or becoming obsolete due to the convenience of technology. Narrow thinking. Black and white. Left or Right. Right or wrong. Our sense is our higher power. Maybe, just maybe, that feeling of being watched, the possible "sixth sense," is why we seek solace. Answers evade us, and we become irritable rather than theoretical. Is there a God? Is religion formidable? Are we God's children; are we the abandoned children of a martyr that is still seeking resurrection and resolution? Maybe our specie is the homeless man looking for sanctuary resting atop the church steps. Kneel at the altar. Seek Christ. Stare at the cross. An everlasting reminder that we have failed as a whole. We look for a sign, while we craft them to gain attention, or recognition. Are we the homeless man? Or are we the worker that pays to sin? What are we now? Where are we?

What are we now? Where are we?

Ignore the cracks in the sidewalk. To Hell with the sidewalk. To Hell with the path of righteousness.

Our days are borrowed.

Wednesday is lent to us. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

{MW} exhaled in annoyance. "Where's all this coming from, man? I get having an opinion or being bias, but c'mon. Some things you shouldn't bring up in conversation. You know people say there are certain topics that are never good to bring up, and I'm sure religion is in the top three."

"Don't you send weekly emails to politicians?" Dante asks passively.

"What are you getting at?"

"Nothing, forget it," Dante says, trying to pull himself out of the hole that is already dug.

"No no, continue with your point. Unless you need time to conjure one up."

"I don't need time. I believe I have everything well thought out. But you...better to instigate than participate."

"Get to the point." {MW} says.

"Okay, listen. What I am saying is that being blunt is now regarded as being closed-minded. If you say or write anything that conflicts with a person's morals you're going to be seen negatively. Sent right down the ******' river. People are sensitive. And we're conditioned to be this way. Our governments need order, as do we, so we set our own codes to coincide with black and white moral issues. As for religion, the only concept I can agree with is The Ten Commandments."

Our server walks by our table. Our eyes follow.

"That's it?" {MW} asks.

"What do you mean that's it?" Dante asks in return.

"Mr. ******' opinion and you give the most vague answer."

"Thank you peanut gallery."

*You become close with a person over time, now speaking first hand, we can sometimes adapt to their nature.

That is what I saw her doing with me for a long time. Simple as repeating things I've said in conversation. Her drink taste, until she evolved into this retroactive aristocrat. There were a lot of things that I had seen. I am guilty as well. I became interested in her reading habits. So, I started to read books she liked, little things like that. And so it goes. I would excel in social situations, and she would inadvertently expose me to a lot of great literature. I was always attracted to her books, and to her features, I suppose. And after time invested, concerning our friendship, it seems like in this situation there is a connection. Now, I know we just handle our relationship differently. And that's how I know we are different. There is a difference between not being empathetic, and being apathetic. I'm content. She's in a gray area.

This is far too complicated for me to speak verbatim. As bad as that sounds, I think after I explain myself you might be more sympathetic toward me.
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
It's a miracle that when I hit the proverbial wall I didn't split my skull right up the middle and spill it all
Not able to gain full control, a factual portrayal of self betrayal as usual
Once beautiful, evidence of it not admissible, miserable and hypocritical
A little dysfunctional don't ya know
All the scars that don't show are what slow the normal flow
Out of my mind cause its inhabitable, so I turn to a radical but experimental cure that'll baffle the medical field because its all hypothetical
What if I didn't hear my call to greatness or maybe I just dropped the ball
I could make a voodoo doll and place him at the finish line so I could win after all

Instead...

My fall hit terminal velocity before I stained the city streets and still survived impossibly
Low visibility so there's no way to see what's right here in front of me
All the money in the world couldn't put humpty dumpty or me together again indefinitely
They just don't have the technology to put me back the way I otta be
There's a high probability that I live in a realm of impossibly
To actually believe that I could ever be a normal man in this society is lunacy
But do I even want to be a part of this idiocracy? I mean really
But it's easy to get lost at sea, holding on so desperately to a buoy as the waves that represent the calamity of life pummel me savagely
No key to the shackles that bind me
I'll be lucky if luck ever finds me
Try not to give a **** but life always reminds me
So I gouge out my eyes to permanently not see

Now...

It's only darkness as I regress to a familiar residence
A yellow envelope taped to the door, no more light access, only dark witnessed at this address
Under constant duress from the excess stress and an abundance of B.S.
The absences of a conscience is the best plan to make it easier but I must confess
That this chess game is at a stale mate, zero progress
I don't even know what progress feels like, seems like I only digress
But I still obsess over a success that will never be reached due to being far to careless
Nevertheless, I continue the process even though I don't possess any finesse
Like a bull in a China shop, I make a mess of everything with nothing but my presence
So in essence you could make a case that my existence here, by every measure, pointless
And you might be right, at the very least it's a good guess

©2018
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2018
a short poem

<•>

kept women

my words are all kept women;
an old fashioned term
that has no currency today
but true for me

they but be the heart of my hearts,
when they leave my employ
keep them well, these yeowomen,
good fellows all,
for they will always be your
one true reciprocating lovers

keep ‘em

please

<•>

lie

how many gray April Saturdays are inventoried,
that we be bequeathed yet another this dull day of the 7th of the 4th month,
of errands and tax preparation and poem initiative-nationhood

the city backyard is a dulled green, energy ****** by one three too many nor’easters in March that  “Sherman-through-the-south”
came marching double time,
leaving the leaves, airport-delayed
and the spring poem planting, struggling

buy milk, lie and get a refund, do stuff and
don’t forfeit forget to
do laundry and
lie

write the longest short poem in history
that green-shots nature won’t provide,
so Me absinthe wills into existence

<•>

this English Woman

tomfoolery’d me continuously,
nature comes to her on knave-bended knees begging for
a verbal sword tap upon each shoulder for a knighting of a periodical glorious poem.  

She provides.

Does woman live in a glen, upon the wetlands,
walk moors
in moons grasp,
or upon a table way in the back of the pub, drinking pints of imagination?

man will die disconnected for so many “reasons”
but if his passing precedes an answering to where,
wherever she locale composes,
man will haunt her residential terrain  happily

<•>

Seven Hours

the clock implies that the body sleet-slept, probed deep-dark for seven hours.
disbelieving, then recalling the dues Frodo-Friday eve paid:
three and half hours with two thousand others at the Opera,
hours of Placido Domingo,
extracts from the body
emotional  countenance,
homage to artistry exemplary;

the pharmacist denies having this drug among the sleep aids
so to the opera must return to earn my occasion occasional dreamland refreshment

a well worthy trade: innervation trust rest from enervation must

<•>

idiosyncratic

all my idiot life wanted to be
syncratic
unique something special different

then I realized that’s what
everyone wants and we are all idioticsyncratic

so much trying, exhausting life,
it’s wonderfully human and classically

idiotic

<•>

* Postfaces*

Postfaces are used in literary works so that non-pertinent information appears at the end, to not confuse the reader.

this very short poem was born, birthed, on a salty grey Saturday, April Seventh, Two Thousand and Eighteen,
precisely between
Eight and Nine O’clock Eastern Standard Time

The opera was Luisa Miller at the Metropolitan Opera,
Lincoln Center, New York City.  

Everything Everybody is a factual fiction of your imagination.
Short Poems are copyright, copied write from the tissue of a man who is epistemologically incapacitated in a life incapable of writing a short poem, post facing forward.

(Too **** bad for you).
Catrina Sparrow Jan 2015
he always insisted
i needed something to believe in
     yet he scoffed
          attempted to laugh it off
when i promised that i built stonehenge
     and the great pyramids
    
     ground his teeth as i whispered
that the world found cuneiform by my hands

     and he dropped me off
when i elaborated on the day
i walked away from babylon's tower


so
     off he galloped forever
          destined never to understand the factual weight of one's dreams
zzzzz.


sleep sweetly, kittens.
Dani Greaves May 2012
You've got the right image,
but you've got the wrong form.
I never said I wanted perfect,
wasn't lookin' for the norm.

The pictures didn't have to match.
I wouldn't mind a subtle clash.
But if you want it casual,
then dude, I will be factual...

This lady's got a heart to give.
Free for all ain't how I live.

Not that there's much
wrong with that,
I'm just not down to ride a train
on an unclear track.

But I'll quit the stubborn efforts now,
and wipe the sweat off from my brow.
'Cause while I'll hate to,
I'll admit
that you, sir,
you're just not it.
First draft written February 12, 2012. Work in progress.
Barton D Smock Aug 2013
you write like a tricycle that hasn’t been touched in thirteen years.*  as an infant, you were no more than a dot denoting an absurdist birth.  adolescence was in the blood left to your mother.  self harm is the gateway wound to pilgrimage.  you can’t say god is everywhere in the presence of god.  factual events have ruined the world.  you are here because hating you is forbidden.

— The End —