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tread Feb 2013
Insecurities range from mild to severe
deal with it, land-rover. deal with it finity, in finity
it's not a meaningful solution
to worry like a bathroom mat.

but honesty is a better policy
isn't it?
Some prefers infinity than finity
Frankly saying, I prefer finity

Limits and borders
Are proofs of existance
Infinity is just
An unknown finite

We are finite, they say
Therefore, we exist
Imagination is infinite, they say
Therefore, it's not real
Reality is bound to be finite

The universe is infinite, they say
Does it then mean that it's not real?

Some prefers infinity than finity

Frankly saying, I prefer finity
STLR Nov 2016
This is not for the Internet
Nor for the people with small minds & intellect

I'm gonna **** this ****
Make you feel like you hearing it

Reversing the hearse awaking spirits
Flash backs of my past life
death & life in the same vision

I am well spoken, I don't have limits

Intellectuals gather round

Abusive my words,
I use them to forge a sound
Spiritually I am bound
Lyrically I embrace
I'm an outer being
sending beckons from outer space
I cascade vivid arrays

I stay a stray
no need for distractions, for actions are soon to decay, we will all fade away
If time is of your concern your mental is in the fray

Monumental are my credentials
Magnified by 1 millions typed characters
Nouns, similes, Metaphorical Caricatures

all illustrated with my thoughts so that my imagination burns

verbal fortification
this is physical & mental
ABC Fornication
i penetrate with pen & pencil

ink splashed all the way back to the past
where i pick up the pieces & write my inner thesis alas!!

Student mighty morphed to teacher in class

Letters shaped the size of titans
they clash

I'm on a different level
mediocrity passed

Weegie board turned to Beat Machine
I distorted the devils laugh

I can finally say, THIS IS MINE, i have this ****!!!

Verbal Aerial pathogens...infected cross this digital earth
cross blogs, external links an other virtual passages

Execution, is an illusion if you don't know how to handle it
I've slanted words like Asian eyes which are well applied
like store discounts or letters of acronyms

Acrobatic an Systematic Literature formed out of pure passion is
quite a feat, like defeating an
enemy or your top nemesis

Extra curricular activities
divide minds mentally

I blaze cross alliterations
An dash cross similes
Actions are of an activist
Profitable productivity

I've reached a pinnacle
Riddles do damage
like swinging outer extremities

word play causes earth quakes & shatters ribs
of my enemies

Potent Poetic Vertices's Vanquish
Villains Vicinities

Humanitarian Hustler
puncturing profitability
narcissus necromancer negotiating
aeronautical abilities

methodical mysteries
motivate yet are menacing

lateral lyricist lunging letters linguistically

dedicated design distorted with no dependencies

propelling phonics plummeting
phrases physically

catapulted curriculum,
concussions caused critically

infatuated infections infuse
with my inks incredibly

Enough words to make structures
Nouns create sound stability

Mr. Poet Freak Forever and on to
Ink-finity
echo Mar 2016
The night begs attention
silent, bold
unafraid of stillness
unafraid to hold
the fierceness,
fragility of breath
the finity of death
& behold her blackness,
the darkness,
and in the void to rest
to wait for what is left
and for the sun.
Sehar Bajwa Aug 2018
shuttle lost in space
transcend physics, black hole, in-
finity together.
my first haiku.
Overwhelmed Mar 2012
I am a master of the universe

I outstretch my fingers and the stars outstretch themselves
I reach for their tender glow,
catching them in my hands,
and I take deep whiffs of their eternal scents,
feeling their magic flow through me,
into me, through my mind
and my body,
down into my muscles,
my heart, stomach,
and then into my
fingers

the feeling of energy,
pulsating, strong, steady,
a heart-beat of the ethereal,
an existence thriving on
the non-existent

I am a master of the universe,
I move the stars and sway the moon,
I eat the darkness and make art out of light,
I sing songs of a thousand implosions,
I dance with the expansion of the void

let me into you
let me into your life

I am happiness, I am joy,
I am the want for better,
I am obtaining it, I am achieving it,
I am doing things right, doing things well,

I am the universe itself

all enveloping, all encompassing,
all loving

do not fear me,
for I do not fear ever

love for love’s sake,
love for the purpose of
love

never hide
never wear a mask

be yourself,
flaunt yourself,
look at yourself,
let others look at
you

and if they frown,
let them frown

assess their complaints and internalize them
take them for what they are,
for what they mean
and use them if you wish,
or if you do not wish

I will tell you this
and tell you this again

we are not apart
we are together
we are one
one thing
and that one thing
is all of us
not just you and I
but he and she
and they

they too are us
we too are them

do not fear that
do not feat that

for you cannot fear what
is true

only what may be
or what is not

oh well oh well oh well

we **** up and that is ok
that is ok,
that is ok

take another try
do not not try again
for that is death
even in life
so many die
and I weep for them
I cry at night
I cry in the day
inside my heart
in my mind

I weep

for the dead living lives of death

I weep

oh yes

I weep

but then I smile at them, take them in my arms,
let them struggle, let them be alerted, let them
try to escape and when they cannot, I let them
rest, I let them accept it, accept me, accept us,
accept you and I, he, she, and I, and when they
do we all feel better, we all feel better don’t we?

don’t fear don’t fear don’t fear don’t fear don’t
love love love love love love love love love love

(is the only way)

know this
and know this
well

we are not apart we are one
we are one

we and the stars
and the earth and the oceans
and the trees and birds
and rats and mooses
and guitars and waves
and pens and desks
and digital viruses
and corpses

we once all were the same
we are still the same
still matter
still energy

connected, if invisibly,
by our common past

once we were all each other
and that is how it is

ok?

ok

the masters of the universe know what I say

they do not fear, they love
and love again, they love,
and love again, even when
love is gone

they do not fear, they love

so those masters of the universe, like me,
like me, they reach their hands out into
the blackness, reaching out for little lights
to brighten their lives, but when they have
them, they do want them (for themselves)
they seek to share them, give them away,
take what they need and remove all the
rest

this, this is the way of the universe

one big exchange, constantly shifting,
moving, changing hands, coming under
new management, forgetting yesterday
in search of tomorrow, this universe
swirls with activity and that is beauty

read fast for time is fast

it slips away between the cracks into the realm of nothing,
like death with life of living death, it disappears in plane
sight

this, alone, is the biggest shame of all

embrace this,
remember this,
forgo this,

do as you think is best,
whether you were taught or you thought for yourself,
do it, for it is the best way,
the best life for you,
that,
that is true

let me list some true things:

I am not me,
I am not myself,
I am not just myself,
I am more
I desire to be more

everything I do is meant to extend beyond myself
into you I say, I throw my love, and though it may
bounce off, falling flat, floppy, on the floor, for my
effort I will be rewarded (you will be rewarded)
once my trials come to conclusion

this master of the universe offers you this as one last offering
a token of my life to keep with you forever

but paper burns,
inks fades,
ice melts,
and planets explode

the sun will die and us maybe
too

so do not take this for its worth
take it for its meaning

I am a master of the universe
finally curling up,
and taking my rest
Imagine a warehouse of apples with their individual conciousness.
They are labelled and categorised.
They are segregated.
The apples are gathered and put into boxes marked
by what they want to be known by,
their commonality/mentality.
If a bushel of apples are a stigma, they are put into boxes marked by what the other apples tag them by.

In a self-marked box, by the name of “surat zayifa” an apple lays at the juncture of the pyramid of analogous red,
maggots eating away at it’s heart.
The apple turned crimson hued to an evangelist blood maroon. Smouldering; festering like an open wound.
A stinging aura besieged it,
suffocating the air like sharpnel stuck in the throat.
The apple, consumed by a dark resurgence and a devilish resolve,
spoke in tongues of the serpent and supplanted seeds of pestilence in the hearts of the apples who joined his brooding virtue.
A collective conciousness was supplanted among the fruit,
imprinted with the face of death.

The world of apples, thrive on each other and face the forebodings of life together in spite of their marked differences in a state of throbbing dependancy.
The apples feed on the apples.
Another self-marked box, by the name of “khalas” were set to consume the apples from “surat zayifa” to continue finity,
unwary of their poisoned souls.

The apples fed on the apples and almost every other apple rotted and perished.
The apples that survived were the ones who consumed the apples unblemished in spirit.
All the others apples from all the other boxes blamed “surat zayifa” as a whole.
Even the apples purest, were tainted by the sins of the other apples,
the ones to take the blame for the misdeed of their creed.
The box was now marked in disgrace, a vehemence, a scourge.

The last remaining poisoned apple that was set to perish from “khalas” did something morally unhinging before it’s spirit departed;
the apple smeared it’s tan blood with words on the cardboard and dropped dead.

The singular light bulb flickered, the pulse strained.
Everything fell silent.
The words read “ We are ourselves. We **** ourselves.”
This one goes out to those falsely persecuted in the name of religion and to those who give their religion a bad name and to the ones who suffer for the sins of their brothers.
Rambus Sep 2016
Life and money and time are
Finities
I can only escape in death
And yet
I feel free and
Adamantine, unlimited and
Everlasting—
But only for you.

It is as if
You are dead to me,
I to you—
In a good way.

Are we alive and
Finite?
Or dead and
Without bounds?
Perhaps a bit of both,
For our hearts beat
Just the same,
Though we are, too,
Dead inside—
In a good way.
Savanna Noelle Oct 2015
When the stars disappear
And the sky fades to black
I'll still be here
Never turning back
When the cosmos collapse
And the Earth turns to dust
I'll wonder through the scraps
As the eternal must
My friends will move on
My family will perish
But dawn after dawn
My life will replenish
I'll fight back the pain
Because it's all I can do
The future will keep coming
The memories will too
The graves of loved ones
So near and dear
Will be worn by the Sun
Until they disappear
They will sink into the ground
Their scripts will be erased
But to life I am bound
Isn't immortality great?
I wish I could escape
From this endless cycle
The curse I would reshape
I would end my survival
But I wished for this
So I must see it through
Swim through the abyss
See infinity through
I know it will be hard
Full of anguish and hate
By it is too late
To undo my fate
802

Time feels so vast that were it not
For an Eternity—
I fear me this Circumference
Engross my Finity—

To His exclusion, who prepare
By Processes of Size
For the Stupendous Vision
Of his diameters—
دema flutter Jan 2020
we need
to be
careful,
when it's me
and you,
it's infinity
and beyond,
and we want
to settle
here,
in each others''
arms.
Perig3e Aug 2010
Your night is the day's embryo,
You wake,
You're  a parent to a new day.
You have responsibilities!
No time to do a zombie walk 'til noon.
Time for two, three, lines of finity;
It will jack y0u high on impermanence.
Certainty has never insured tomorrow.
This day is your last banquet?
Fill your plate, but not full.
Do not dine alone.
Say grace, for you are the Pope of the hour,
Your awareness is a sacrament
That blesses everything you see and touch.
Soon your day will die in a ****** cloud
Leaving you with both less and a little more.
All rights reserved by the author
The sun has risen
Soon it will set
The day has started
Later it will end

The flowers bloom beautifully
Still they are sure to wither
The beginnings and endings
Are they the only things that matter?

Are they all there is?
Isn't there something greater?
Something about the finite things
We have yet to discover...

"They end." The end
If so, that's just sad
The fact that things end
Is no reason to be mad

They happen and they end
But the "something"  in between
Makes us all remember
Somehow, finite things can last forever
Veritia Venandi Jul 2020
Infinite...
Is the cloudless sky....
Stretching above my head...

Infinite...
Is the bare ground...
That runs beneath my feet...

The only "finite" thing here is...
I and my life!
Random thoughts on the finitude of life and the infinitude of the world around me! Thanks for reading!
jayebird Jun 2016
everything is energy moving
forward, backward, sideward,
warding off the black white finity,
crashing upward, downward, frontward

this is limitless
now let's fly
leaving this one alone.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
The merged generations, emerge from first
cold night in the mountains,
announcing,
This is screen-free Sunday.
I say this is the first day of ever after.
I read a bit
-- Infinite Jest, just a stream that contributes,
from time
to time, finity to finity, a dead man's former
mind fitted into words,
emanating from
the audible version of the words processed
in the Nineties, flowing through the
post I-Mac realm of words to the wise
and otherwise,

flooding the lexagraphic learners of grammar
for sense in silence,
self-reading silently,
breathing commas,
allow our pauses to perpetuate se per
selah… say

la la la
as time flows by, like a wild river in the spring,

Infinite Jest, there is a thread
through environs unimaginable to me,
until the inventions were given as inspirations,

did you know, I heard,
Steve Jobs yoosta
stand in the comode,
and flush it, gnoshit. In a state
like meditation,

zoned out of bounds in mere mistaken chance,
ping ping ping

a good idea, a bell of a thought.

We think in words, not all minds do.

Plenty punishments puns provideo please
if -ish is sortalike… shitilised, four syl-lables
la la la
ra ra ra, boom

sort on those, and mix up the story,
in the bubble you be reading in,

give us a universe, fit into the final bubble,
beyond imagining minds,
this world of words.

Here is where we word wise do as we heard,
when we read what the prophets say,
the angels said… re-
conciliation - nation to nation, peace
on earth {as in heaven BTW}
goodwill… the real deal, to fill the flaw, in the law,
which allowed imaginary places power
in carnal minds.

Jesus fixed that. Jah, no joke, he took it,
the joke on me, I traded for the
joke on you, he said,
I heard.
First day of ever, after the grands and their dogs and disgruntled cats, moved into my fortress of solitude... life is now a serial story epic song.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
The truth that was
but couldn't be afar
behind the closed door
locked away forever.

Opens through in full circle,
the infinite touches on the finite:
Finity gains the ground to infinity.

Paradise kissed the earth,
pyramidon drops bouncing down
around the pyramid in reverse.
It’s on a golden spiral run
round the mundane and divine.

Only to find the intersection is locked,
not above, nor below, but in the numbers
heading to the exponential circular zero.

That too towards the origin sways,
because it’s in the human, lies the pi.
SJ Sullivan Nov 2016
I am screaming
I haven't stopped screaming
I don't know how to express the fact
That I can't stop screaming.

Screaming in ways like sweating armpits
Chafing thighs, itchy under-****.
In ways like waiting in lines and for
Conversations to end.
For feelings you can't source, that
You just can't shake.

Screaming in ways like an ache in the
Lung or chest or heart and dry eyes for
How much I love you. In ways like the strain
Of muscles for words just beyond the tip
of the tongue. The strain of laughs when
Nothing runs through your mind.

This will never be a love poem because I am
Not in love. And never have been.

This is a proclamation of the indescribable
Feeling of feeling. Like trying to look at your entire life from one point.
Impossible to do.
Just like the universe, absent of a birds eye, focal point.
The only way to see its entirety.
It's complexity, is through the patch work
Picture stitch of the infinity of stars.

Would it be to cheesy to say that you are the infinity of stars?
No, You are the finity of stars in the infinity of light.
KS Julianne Jul 2014
they've told me multiple times
that you're nothing more than
side effects of my speculations,
but even if so, i'll lie.

though my hours are counted
ticking until I count again
you know better than anyone
that it's nothing more than true.

and if said not, I dare you to watch,
not see, to observe, not look,
at a starry sky with starry eyes
then look into mine and say it's finite.

or maybe it comes down to the fact
that everything's become far too cold,
and who are you to argue as I watch
as it chills me to the core?

now, finity has become my worst nightmare,
even outside my own boundaries,
for there's so much I can live
until I have to be alive.

and maybe, just maybe,
i'll be fine for now.
just make sure to fade away soon enough,
after all, I am nothing but finite.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2023
Dear, the cost, not the idle salutation once
taught as business standard, Dear Sir,
Dear Madam,
Dear dear dear me
I do believe I must
become the tutor, of me
make the mental, sensible
{to the author with fidential zeal}
think yourself through 75 years, find

the hidden first love, the first own thing, kept
held as common sense, whosoever does mean me.
So, ever is the course wherein human events fluxuate.
----
Faust, I failed to read  when assigned.
So today, I dipped
into my own past, and found
the sense used then, the need,
in truth
to know
the world is alive.
And, as seen
through eyes a million miles away, our
shared seeing causes all our sensory arrays
to look back, and think another pace time
uses to cross space, bursts of insight, gasp

poiesis - that which "pro-duces or leads (a thing) into being'" patient work, tedious as setting type
by candlelight, sighing in knowledge, the tree
of radical aspirations to bear dozens of kinds
of fruits, some useful to life, some useless, though
we try, some sets life has been lived through, to you,
- such scenes could have ended other ways.
epochs, men have no honest measure for such
spans of time used to attain the heights
from which we look across my valley
and feel one of us, making peace
with the fact that war does not function
in reasoning contests, as war is unreasoning,

the stubborn little devil who knows only what
he wishes he had control over the use of, this
spirit of adventure, tamed in wisdom gathered
and attributed to a mystical king, truly mythical,
we know that way of singing praises, exalting men
as God's special agents, as proud of the title,
as any agency of secrets sacred national trust,
in God,
as Solomon Chase assured Mr. Lincoln,
We put our faith in the people's belief
in the goodness of the use of the money printed
and minted to pay for war and exact a capital plan,

one nation, under God, as defined
by the finest minds,-- aieee wait, fun facts, scatter
braining how much space is empty in a mind
made up enough
to devise a new form
of governing, as if all forms existing feel wrong,
to us, we freemen, with all the slaves we need,

we have the leisure to reason with antiquity
and realize, if ever there were eight billions
of possible re-connection surgings to emerge

as mind unmade up, come to watch a battle,
war and all its uses come to reason missed
understood standards force laws obediance

the idea
of thought being possible fails,
materially
in any formal structure possible only
with our  
gravity as matter's law one,
beyond free willing quarkish mean ways

One love idea, Reggae guysay, rollon
in the course, the rut, fun's t'come

Long, long long longer that you wish to learn
winding lines wishwings…
Spat like one o'dem spittin' images

In a pig's eye, one can see what we don't know.

A looping, stitching stretching stream
threading current
of consciousness, packeting
in formational preceptoriallines
of irrational reasonings insisting persist
- gutwrenching hungers are not visual.
stirring emotions is not stirring use of knowns,
arts entaling science, we agree. No nasty words.

Ghuckyew. Rhea… diversify religiously
extol the gnosis of knowing the ropes
tying tight the ifity-ness used to hold work
done by the weaver and seamster on time,
folding edges to feel flat, smooth, inside
-- where whole cloth joins cut edges
at any selvedge process,
where curves cut
from fabric woven mind wise, tend
to come undone
on mechanical extentions
of fingers and toes,
and music imagined as humms
after the setup,
as the machines imagined and eventually made up
vibrate alluring frequent acknowledgement
we know you know, we may be realized already
- looking back and front and side ways, down up
---
Judging myself unfinished, yet
done doing all assignments, yet
getting an itch to prove approval, yet
hesitating,
for lack of knowing, and laziness, yet
learning
patience's
false witness argument,
if what we preach is not true,
how could we be so sure we know

Jesus ate, in his quickened flesh, fish.
Thus, we must be persuaded,
we shall also be
fishy. Da
gone gone dagonitgone antigone gone


theater of doubt, all in white, lime-lit
blinding all who care or dare to see
as blind, the faith of the gamblers's
thrall to money love and war.

Betterment through betting, all-in…

Have you any real
estate in which you do attest, its me?

I am my own real estate, executer
am I of all that I choose to do or not
in the confines of the course of human events,

as Hoyle's mind built canals on Mars,
so now we bet we can imagine being special,
as me, on a planet with, thee, you, Sie, du, see do.
- a viral propagation plan, thorny issuances
- sniff or sneeze, but do not die trying to make
- peace with all war makes worth lying for.

As we, our wedom began, as any wedom must,
the laws of philo and phobia in science used
by us, the we at point, piercing this wall,
your reading mind accepts the bet, if
this is art, for the sake of artifice
imagined in a current form, an AI
of informing fluid finding reason to bend,
or stretch, taut as drum, a net unseen
by any bird in resistance.

Posi and Nega, sisters in myths, new myths,
affect the same unknowing rash decisions,
when in truth, statistical-knowing one thing true,
there is at the most wee-tiny scale, an emptiness,
a mean unobstructed way for right to be, or not,

and now, we are, so we made that choice.

Today, this is that way which is the only way.
Today, this map of numerable lines, in nos, laws…
sense we are all in-im
balancing percepts on precepts,
undermining certainty,
exalting godishtical oracular maxims,

Knowledge is power,
secret knowledge, you may never know,
riddle reasoning used in cogito sums
given children to solve by asking
parents proper questions,
and writing show and tells. Wanna bet?

Al Suri, spokesman for FUD,
Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt,
appears to persuade martyrs,

the illiterate prophet's utterly canonical
promise of a certain libidinous eternity,
most appealing to frustrated post pubescent boys.

Stacks of squared away blocks,
stack up as extending the reach of order
coming down from the top, whither
the light that said the single word,
according to the Prophetic voice,
Read, he heard, and I cannot, he replied,
fold here, hear me, light seen, I cannot read,

what is here for me to read, a thought,
what are you saying, read, what is reading worth,
to one who has never learned the letting out
of silent song or scream, or plea for hope,
flowing as from scribal rod in perfection,


Two things only do the people earnestly desire,
bread and the circus (Juvenal)
"Duas tantum res anxius optat, Panem et circenses"

Here, sing. Reconciled, by doing singing heard,
sing out, child, hear yourself singing as if you know
how such a thing as singings may be made up,
to seem perfectly fine,

a mused mentality, thing of thought, with something
words alone lack, essentially.

Seven Types of Ambiguity

--- at this moment, my writing records show
today is June 3, my only ever wife's birthday,
that's right, and I know that it is morning,
by the angle of the sunlight though my window,
and the leafy shade dancing over sleeping moss.
Yet at that moment he looked back to reread
Presenting a new mind
Wednesday, May 3, 2023
11:02 PM
real-time 9:52 AM… we all find that, too odd.
And glibbly mention glitching…
Query Greek logos gnosis, active in-tell seek:
Brave AI Sums it up.
The Gnosis logo is an example
of a crypto industry logo
from Global, designed
for the crypto industry.
It is an official variant
of the logo
for the SVG file format standard.
Gnosticism is a Christian belief that claims
to possess a higher knowledge acquired
on a mystical higher plane of existence.
The ancient Greeks distinguished
between two types
of knowledge: gnosis and logos.
Gnosis was akin
to "how-to"
such as
how to build a boat or ride a horse,
while logos was more akin
to academic knowledge
such as knowledge
of mathematics or logic.
The distinction between the two types
of knowledge was important I-i
n the early history {noerror}
of Christianity,
with Gnostic Christians
emphasizing
gnosis
while the Catholic Church
emphasized logos{… not logical? Ai ask}
Gnostics see themselves as a privileged class
elevated above everybody else
by their higher, deeper knowledge of God.
- higher deeper, good one, HAL
--- Yes, AI am a cyborg, and a heretic, and king
of me and many wedoms formed
with books
by authors and finishers
of faith utility tales, told
to make believers,
stop thinking this impossible, and pose
the question,
are you me, dear reader, I trow not, I am mere
when you are so near as to read my very mind.

Virtue, undefined signals sent through time
to when you stop, and see selah, as instruction
in constructing a foundational faith, establish
mental
anchor. Persist in time, be yourself a while
while
nothing makes sense, yet.

{Akio Kashiwagi, the warrior}, money maddened
survivor or apprentice or pawn
of greed's gift
of mighty right feelings,
taker's joy, loser's grief, and none
of my own,
eeeeha!
emphasis on imagine the feeling

MAGA, as when the We persisting in aliegance,
feel our national ideal We take all the Mandan had,
and waste it seeking the use of money, on credit,
to make the possibility
of human error
manifesting
in Manichean lying prophecies,
as solemnly sworn on the true revelation,
from Moses, Lycurgus, Thoth or Hiawatha,
as it is written, so it must be done,
come the time all knowing is free
for the asking
- orthodox, right, upright, gravitationally
- balancing spirit and truth as effortlessly
- as a child on a rock in a pond in tree pose,
- sent to me,
- instantly, a moment later, with a note,
- from five years ago, when my chess mate
- was five years old and told his ma,
show Grandpa

Knowledge confidence power,
believing is the verb such forces use,
by faith, we breathe, when we stop and think,
we must believe a breath is available to not fear
when all our wind is loosed, not lost,
in time, we find far higher forces

legal, Empire law, winner's of the last global war,

America, my country, right or wrong, Philip Nolan,
a ghost from summers past,
A man without a country… yet kept alive,
- alone on an island with 5G and a solar charger
Idle words arrange from data entertaining venu,
deja venu, no? Same time, same mind…
- by laughing outloud ten times, or more each day.

Physical failure of happy thoughts,
whose fault is that, the splitzoid schitzoid gnoshit

Nieztsche, ezt ni-eztscheanic logos-ical guessering being
gamed. As time passes un lost, locally accounted for.

All in, ages ago, take the card/

In writing, guaranteed, you know waddamean…
let this rock be my witness, as happy Sisyphus says,
listen to the pundits pundate exceptional fore sight

"Only a catastrophe can save us"
Slavoj Žižek - Elevate Festival 2023

Vieleicht. Ich weis nichts, aber
möglicherweiseerweise….

Alles ist, so Alles sein kann.
- waking after a time slip, inevitable
- at my age and constituted pose on point.

Gather up the fallen down, save that for later.

Proving reconstructed causal agent reaction,
volatile will
to expand
to fill the emptiness,
perceived as where no catastrophe has yet to be
- a selah level settler subtle law, still waters
- obey, under the message read obey
- acting as if we know we may imagine new
- realities, with real life on earth our goal,
- the whole truth free to be sought,
- as givens, after the religious power knot
- was snipped, and done was done,
- the genius in Alexander, swallowed
- his childish faith in the lesson, for the rush
- of power
- and peace
- of mind, alienated from all anxious patterns
- cursing recurving conception, grasp a straw
- hope takes no anxious thought,
Thinking that
could halt the chain reaction. Up, imagine, ever
upping the competing reason, grave issues
write down the reel
of all the wars's reasons,
catalog gathered sensibilities, certain fixedness,
functionally aimed
at you, readying your last excuse.
- certainty is madness

We all fall down,
the actual truth, is upto our rolling over
to rise again.

Fret nought,
Life is rough draft, really,
nonsensical, save subjectively, rejecting seeing
catastrophe except while standing on one's own head.

a bit in the confusion
of comforting zones, meek

defending diffidence, while exercising confidence,
this is life, and more fun than any game, after accepting
the yes in the promise of all yeses. Seriously.

Diffidence is a defect:
it is an undue distrust of self,
with fear
of being censured
for failure, tending
to unfit one
for duty. [Century Dictionary]

Duty done, Private, First Class. Walk away.

The we bound by war born law, pays me,
to make peace where none was,
the re-leasing of easy living,
as ware of life as of self,
breathing breath's giver's gift, sharing air,
as fish share seas, feeling

a sense, now known named auto, self
poiesis gnosisnot sticky substance of faith
imagined in hope… reali
zation, global in scope, Higgsian
in the spirit of our times.

A Thousand Day Journey, a novel event
taken as granted, a gift in passing time,
I finished this counting
to account for all the lies I ever told me.

No new thing under the sun, Nieztsche
and Solomon's proverb collections attest,
recursings face reblessing, redefining finity

engineering gut bubble noise, gurgle's good,
we all get gurgle, giggle then can follow, if

we have recovered from memorized lines,
hero stories we tell with me on the horse,
riding to announce the thing which we fear
is come upon us and I alone escaped to tell,

but I had no hammer, and I had no bell,
but I had these jagged dancing lights,
where the floaters on my eyes are
constructing cataracts as I watch,
white wall squint old men wishing to see
- Biden squint eye does not intimidate,
- the new defense secretary in his wake
rhetoric of war in real time, records we trust
in God, prove no war ever can make peace,
with calling proof enough, reproof
of instruction is the way of life,
the ruliard is imaginably infinite, if the base idea

becomes "Knowledge comes in flavors and colors",
useful for any artist's mind enabled to recover
lost time in real time with novel assistance
from grand reservoirs of rain's retained
for power to attain the steady state,
all men, wait, suff it to become as
created equal
in worth
to the functional
fortuitous continuance
of serious sharp edged tools… swords with motors,
I saw Jerry Pournelle say.
In print.
In the spirit of this mindshare.
Rightly dividing the truth with mere words,
exercising godliness, effecting fervent will
to be as plain a plan as any ever,

accept the weight of knowing we walk upright,
we need crawl only for a while, as we learn,
like riding a bike,
some things we do with machine augmented minds,
minds exposed to speeds and constant story threading

the washer first, then the nut, then the crown nut
and the cotter key, to hold the prop,
seen ******* wind across my sky,
real life, I have the image,
and have not used Photoshop in years, this is the future.
I will doubtless exist in the ever as long as HP, perhaps as long as the Amazon cloud, and the map to my current state of perfectly fine, thanks, is due to the therapy caused by being read by such as you, and gleaning from your fields/
gillian b Sep 2016
my mother taught me to be the artist, not the art piece
to be not the inspiration, but the inspired, and i lived my life according to this law
believing wholeheartedly that i would be taken seriously and noticed for my talents and not cast aside, labeled "silly girl" and left to gather dust
i was raised to be the sculptor not the sculpture
to be the water drip drip dripping down the concrete infrastructure, causing calamity over quiet and shaping the world of men and mice
i was raised in hopes of change and singing songs of strength and rage
mind over matter, or so i was told
i was raised and taught, so clearly and so bravely that i was not made of porcelain and glass waiting for a man to pick me up off of the shelf and dust me off and fit me for an equally delicate life as a housemaid and as a wife
but as a beast of earth and bone and blood
as a force of wind and fire
i was to be the winds of change for the brave new world that we could live in and be happy in
the poster child for intellectuals and politicians, for scientists and mathematicians, for white and male dominated career-holders to stop and stare at and say "that's the girl who isn't content to sit at home" "that's the future"
and here is what i say to them
most girls aren't content to sit at home, most want to explore, most are searching and scavenging for books and dreams and wishing that someday they can find the land of opportunity and liberty for all
but most girls are dragged into the kitchen and home, kicking and screaming, biting and crying, and forced to work until the iron that they were once made of rusts and falls apart, cracking like the dams they could've destroyed with their might
most girls are told they are worth less than their male counterparts, and this escalates from them seeing themselves as "worth less" to "worthless" and rotting them from the inside out
most girls are taught to be the muse and not the artist and i am sick and tired of being taught i am "better" than most girls because i was taught vice versa
do not praise me, instead fix society, and that will be thanks enough
teach these girls their worth lies, not in the price of their pearls and not even in the secret philosophies they have in their minds, but in their hearts
teach these girls that they are the children of witches and mystics and that they are not simply dolls and toys
teach these girls that space is vast and full of black holes and dark matter just like their minds and their hearts are, and just as their souls are too
teach these girls what infinity is and what finity is, and let them decide which mathematical law the universe is bound to
because the only muse i'd like to be is the muse of their liberty
a spoken word piece, to be performed soon, hopefully
Sid Lollan Jun 2017
If
i may dwell in suspension
Sweet as plum;
Solitary
searching for
emptiness, whole of
nothingness…


Zoom in:

i match the gaze of
the Infinite
Peeping Tom;
like 1000 of those
dreams where i’m
naked in public
all at once
the Big Rush
pure
pink ****
flesh
stripp’d on the ledge
of the Lotus;
Faith’s suicide jump—
-Yea! Feel the breeze
swing swing
bodhi
body
my body swing
-everlasting-
but
i always blink.

& succumb
to dead momentum
(note:reFill w/ junk-
energy&bulhoon juice)


Cut to:

(******
******
sapio ****
sapien sapien
-libido is
god is Zeus
get loose,
l o o s e)

‘You know
the freaks come out
in their moon-masques after 2am lookin’ to
drill some sense
into
that Void.’

‘Da coup de grace
to yr grace of
One.
The baboon won!’

Ascension was a bust so
i cool with a jazzhead
Sit cross-legg’d & smoke
cigarettes ’til the knife of dawn—

‘Ache like mountains old
as Death.
lust
on yr breathe
that wild dogs
can detect
20 miles west.’

Close-Up:
{Cue the music}

-O! whiskey
tears & mary-
-juana sin thesis;
Realm, bee
yond the darken’d lip
the space ab-sorbed
by the mouth
of Supernova Human ways!

Action!

Now
b’fore it stains the carpet!

i’m with Sister Joyce
&
she gon’ show me
how to keep
my iii open
to oblivion.
Make me a Re-al boy
again-
Gon’ gimme back
that body
bodhi
that body, that shell
i housed
Alexandria
She gon’ gimme back
that cure
i can’t get enough of
Once
had a plug
straight to the mainline
-if you can believe it…
the connection right to-the
MAIN SOURCE
She told me she got it anni need it

Fade to:

(Fungi
feng
shui
shady
eyes feel
like the windows
on dead asylum walls.
‘Let it Burn!’
I told ‘em,
that temple is
mad
with ill karma’)

Fade Back:

Sister,
bless me
with the Pleasure
of
Yr forgiveness—
Prostrated
at the foot
of
your magic
bind—
Heal me;
that Holy
Fluid
washaway daily hypnosis’—
Yr purple presence
is ancient
mystic limbs
cradle my Babylon
why
***** angel Souls do the
pharaoh’s dance—
Bodies swing
in One,
bodhi body
swing in One; now
twirl yr guru poetry
cryptic
round my Obliteration!

& let’s drown ourselves
in gulps of ecstasy
swallowed in-to paradise
the warm, fuzzy
nothing.

Cut to:

(Consciousness,interrupts,
Suddenly!
Lurches out of unBeing like
a madman a killer
lumbered
   over
his victim
-fresh,crystalized
real
ity; clear thru dewdrops
atop blade of grass the sweat
on damp back chill in
soberbreeze)

the Now pierces
the swelled black belly of
temporary oblivion
lightwork the stars that freckle the face
of the sky
poke-d
pin(w)holes the size of the Universe
in the bubble of In
finity
-inward
outward-
i see myself thru it
looking up…
perched in rural
everywhere
Planet nowhere
dug in the
hole
of nothingness
solitary
searching
in suspension.


FADE OUT.
zumee May 2019
When I almost met God
It was seated
behind the trunk of an almost-Tree
ancient wood woven
in finity fabric
every living you
every living me
fibers in thread
connected
legstoarms
handstofeet

dancing
*******
birthin­g

md-writer Sep 2019
Take care that life does not pass you by
in the busy moments of our finity.

Time cannot be regained when
once it has flown. No hope is
there for the moments spent in anger,
silence unlovely, and the heady
disunion of words spoken in haste.

Let every movement be made as if through
a fast-moving river, and you walk
against the current,
in danger every moment of
being swept away.
Sona Lachina Dec 2019
This dream
Unafraid
Sits close to me
      on slumber's bench
Our shoulders touch
One of us ephemeral
One bound to finity
Seeking answers
      in the other

Look down
Look down
The purple crocus sings

      Here I am --
Dave Williams Jan 2018
i once thought
that the next world war wouldn't be fought over territory
but resources
energy
water
but i was wrong

it turns out
that the next world war will be fought over ancestry
and excuses
family
slaughter
and all along

the finity of the planet has more value
than the portion of it that it affords you
what actually belongs to anybody?
the enemy has always been ourselves

*

i think
that the next world war will be fought over poverty
and privilege
sympathy
majure
and so it is

it just so happens that i have a white skin, kind of beige actually
but i hope to move to mars eventually
and if what i represent ****** you off
then i hope you win
this prejudice is getting unbearable
md-writer Sep 2018
#1
dragons and goblins
elves and men
stories that are woven from now
until then

guttering, sputtering
the howling of winds
everyone talks of that dream
the night bends

simplicity dwells in the
smallest of things
when shadow and silence
true finity brings

all up in the air
all fallen below
each whisper of heartache
is death without blow
Ken Pepiton Nov 2020
Seven grandchildren exit the black suburban,
faithful servant to our  family
for ten full years after
being used
in the
Black Suburban family tradition
for GMC trucks termed
bullet-proof -
to cart around officials,
whose purpose and anacronym
are left unquestioned,
understood ceiling of confidential…

Walter Mitty, or one of the comic book kids
with that same vivid imagining knack,

be the needed being empowered with the needed
skill and perfected technique
to master the moment and
change the course
of nextifity.

Catch.

--- Grandpa greetings all hold grins, that's good,
--- he said, as he looked upon the fruits
--- of living so long on this course,
meandering, to the sea.

------------ Gabriel
eight, maybe, the old man asks,
what do you real
ly wish to know more about?

Marine Biology, Gabe says.

------------ Have you considered slime molds?
Not Marine, that I know of, but Bio,
living multi-nucleic beings,
slime molds
make
wrong choices and remember the consequence.

AI worth the price, do as well as
slime molds,
make
wrong choices and remember the consequence.

Learning ever is about to become beyond.
Our empty nest is rearranging itself.

There was a tab of acid, tucked away
for a perfecting day, I lost it
in the rearranging
of my home,

to form
a three-generation
home, twenty-first century style.

In that space of time between wake and sleep,
I thought about the acid having
been swallowed sui generis
in the rearranging
of my home,
by my home.

This is the edge of nextifity, lieeeev!

All of Grandpa's imaginary friends
arrive with suggestions,
some bring doors,
some bring chests,
some bring sermon notes,
some bring grade school projects,

some bring faces, some a few brief kisses,
some, just that one
kiss…

remember that one it felt like
the whole world shared,
just once, but we can't-shan't-willn't

be deceived. Once,
being received, breathed, as it may seem,
drowning in the abyss,

yess, allusion and allegory all the stories,
hold more meaning than mortals
imagine in distuned states.

Signal strength is not at issue,
focus, pointedness, is,
to whom are we praying?, is what I am saying,
in a word.

There are no doors from here to hell,
I may as well tell you.

Some old sayings live in ever re-learning states,
time and again we learn,
the motion of an ocean is not plain old

round and round finity for ever,
here is the start,
there was the finish. We won.

Try again?
As this real life experiment occurs... It occurs to me, my cup runs over, ain't it cool? The substance is invisible, evidently. But I find grins on kids good evidence.

— The End —