"fps" poems
*My helmet was seared then,
But I guess that protected me.
I got hit on the left cheek-bone,
By some metallic stick-like object.
The onlookers froze on their vehicles,
Nobody could slow it down to 6000 fps.
They saw him collide turning to his right,
And I was the colliding object unfortunately.
All of it blurred, froze and blacked out for me,
Then I don't remember any pain which I suffered.
But my cranium is of diamond probably for itself,
Because someone special was written in my destiny.*
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
One more silver dollar
buy another time a chance,
it was a time, not a dream, and
now has been, after that ever since
wisdom swept over me, my reality,
yours, in the same time, our reality
on starship earth, where the ancient
spells have been found to loose oath bound,
if you read this far, I wrote this far, and loved
the company in a same yeast state, define
state in states where war is made possible,
by treaty, representational power,
aimed at the child in the old man
being given worst, worsted wool's my first
right twist to be available in culturally npc
blend, walk by, that guy 120 fps
You could always see first he was not there.
Jul 22, 2023
Jul 22, 2023 at 11:33 PM UTC
Mrs Malaprop got away, a way, I mean, a way
wit words
she can say shitistic stuff as if stuffit were a joy,
when she says it, while
telling
still silken legs crosse demurely,
the delicate ankle
that made monks blush and blurt out
confession,
MY GAWD,
rolling, clockwise, as she sees it,
counter to my
FPS POV, but we both see the direction,
east, the earth is turning east from now
to then when
you become wel here in now.
Recall the lesson of flat land, whoever taught it
coulda been AE Wilder-smith hammered
Jael's nail home,
Couldabin, mightabeen Sagan made the killing blow
young earth shattered.
Fossils seeped their living substance into stone,
petrific, ter ific magnetic trick of missed percepticons
fired fully of the intention, I must mention,
stretching truth to cover conjecture when ideas
like what happened in the "Cambrian" being being
explosive become
purposeful in minds of men, wombed or un---
--- once
--- before you knew, that hapt.
--- and, god, did men make up storys.
on track. Back when men first imagined doing
making, art arose and
we all know
a rose, by any other name is a rose.
That's the idea in self evidence. It's a key to
the Declaration of Independence making sense,
at the level of we, the people, who know
self-evident non-thingables, when we hold them.
At first, they feel like sleepy puppies. These
truths we hold selfevidently right.
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC
My Life is Fortnite my home is fortinite so when i get home every time yo I get my wins and my wins are 3000, my FPS is like 2000 my ms is like 600 yowl and this is my life yowl so thank you for reading my poetry.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
One day I hope to feel
Not so lost without you, not so
Broken into pieces, scattered too thin across creation
My heart weeps to read your silk but it has been so long since you have written
I will stop checking, I will stop refreshing your page like something will materialize, some confession about that wild boy you decided to start missing
Like you'd suddenly grow new sentiment, years later
I swear I will pick myself off the floor
I won't see you in everything that smells like summer
One day I will move on
I will be okay without you
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 10:07 PM UTC