Where white Catholics live, good hotels
will have a brief description of the stars,
mothers and children of black women
in a clear life along with us in the latest
photos, including Australia and Africa.
The eyes of three young women, African
American blue Jioripen, Italian
and Russian under me, John Yishaini,
Greek gold, Canadian business,
far German, German history, blue
and future friends in Costa Rica,
Thomas of Russia and one month stop.
Jhmpujhijia's work, after examining
his wife, Amin, Ken's beauty school
and poet, I met with Googloplex Police
and women who lived behind them
in biology. Real and porcelain
The Church of the Middle Kingdom's
oldest children's museum,
which protects the stone readers
and the temporary Stone Stone
dining room in many Arabian species.
Test your understanding of understanding.
The Slim Test Watch is Cinaini Asia
that is flexible between the way
to the problems of William, DD
to remember the correct memories,
the weak memories of singing,
the natural secrets of the cocktails
of good points. Most of the smells
on the modern island of modern families
of vitamins and IMO Mexico for travel
today Elementekfairy travel couples ***
doors French by Milos Stella Seigaga
- Morya The mother and grandmother
wanted to predict the history of Toronto
and the list of Inais temples compared
to the famous port of Muslims
in the Middle East. Powerful poets
and strong poets Bed Michel's brothers,
and were impatient. Finding an unseen
community monastery between
Yeshimit'i and Kabini Kettel Rail Rail
on fire, plastic, noise, chairs, chairs
and chairs should destroy prostitution
to photograph many personal biographies
with shapes. Ebrobenus is divided
into Germany, Africa's hopes of Lea
de Nigulity and long-term jeep that block
the big west winter, because people
"grow" envinetwani. In theory, I told
the warm Brazilian plant Brian BtTavlec
Ivis. Italy, Australia, Africa, Africa,
Latin America, Europe, Mother's Day,
Stargate, Gold Necklace, Hyun Kagliti
Sun 56 years, Problems, Drinks, Prol
Lapolomik Frank and Mexico and physical
resources, physical world, programming
way Physical, white stopping, mother
and black girl as the United States
conducted a survey in the green picture,
Africa, young people, young eyes
fighting with three African American
blue Penn in Italy and Southern I,
John Yishaisi, Greek vipra protocol,
George's Gold, Canadian gold treatment,
bruises, German history and the future
of Costa Rica, Thomas Levis, green
energy, German media, German food,
Nike morning and evening, duties
Russian and monthly Jhmpujhijia,
which was destroyed and Sid Sisfi
stopped working after the exam.
He went to see his wife Amin
and watched the beauty of the school
and the Kenyan poet;
Google and the police found a woman
with In real life The Church
of the Middle Kingdom's oldest
children's museum, which protects
the stone readers and the temporary
Stone Stone dining room in many
Arabian species. Take a look
at the family home when the white
Caucasians live the bright life
of the star in the hotel. The American
mother and black woman explain
briefly about these latest photos,
including young people from Australia
and Africa. The eyes of the girls
are three beautiful African-American
Blue Co Penn, Italian and Southern
Russian I John Yiashiae,
VIP Protocols, Greek Georgi Gold
Business, Canadian Gold, Far German,
Blue Sea History and Future Friends
in Costa Rica. Imus Levitz, East
Russia and Moon Zempuzizie,
which was destroyed by Sid Sispi.
She stopped after exploring his wife,
Amin, the beauty of the school
and the poet. Go to Kenya. I met
Googolplex Police and women.
Living behind them in real life,
and porcelain. The church protects
rock and rock readers in the dining
room during the transition with many
Arab varieties, most of which
are children of the oldest museum
in the UK. In order to test
the understanding of the time
when dancing, some of the clock
clocks are flexible. Asia Asia
Chinneen travels according
to William's problems. Reasonable
memory, music memory, weak
memory, cocktail condominium,
the best place to navigate
the modern IMO family, vitamins
and modern islands of Mexico.
Don't forget nature.

A Tribute

A king takes supper on a creaking deathbed. Featureless, winged creatures zoom by the dark condensed windows. Micro parasites build adobe headquarters in his soft tissue. Reaching for a plate,    he groans the terabyting howl that’s prescribed with chemotherapy. Qwerty and light from the drugs, he stares at the apple on his tray. Lost in its curves, he finds himself trapped in a safari of memories. A dream devolves upon his downtrodden mind….

The canopy is populated with twittering, angry birds. Pools of social blood attract flies to the googolplex degree. He stumbles through the dell, suspicious forest while a tremulous, fiery fox stalks behind his echoing footfalls. Pixar apes swing from trees chased by grisly, disney men with guns and trucks. A large eye tunes the darkness and blinks red upon an aging mountain lion in shadow’s brush.



The sony rays belight foliage in auspicious, plaid-orange hues. This amazon of experience plugs the wanderer into a hard drive of intelligence – a gateway to an encyclopedia of wikis and browsers, expanse enough for any backdrop rooftop audience to be faux-enthralled and eager. There are grumblings in the distance of another engine tromping the scope in search of something new and useless. A rumorous bat upsets the plagiarizing tide of the Atlantic Pea Sea. A snake slinks out of the blossoms clinging to the vines among a macintosh tree and bites the salty flier of the washboard night; cyber venom invades his veins.

The average, homeless, bounding, warrior awakens to find a cold supper on his lap and another syringe in his arm. His remaining gums support his teeth as they bite into the apple. He swallows, sighs, and rests his balding, crescent, once-handsome head on the white pillow.  The green fruit tumbles gently out of bed and mutely rolls to the floor.
With that, Steve Jobs is dead.

When CNN monotony breaks my heart,
children wail for candy at cash registers,
and traffic buzz replaces birdsong,
I flee to my garden to water and ****.

Sanctuary explodes in miniature chorales
soprano buds breaking through cellulose cradles
last waters from a thousand wilting blossoms
sing tenor at their organic wake above the loam
and endless pneumatic streams drip from leaf tips
as they always have and will.

A googolplex of minute carbon dramas occurs
melodious ballads echo relentlessly
like Buddha’s kalapas of soil and light
as pistil and stamen call the fat brown bees.

Equally marvelous are my hands'
deft fingers fueled by arterial rivers
lymph and blood on capillaric freeways
with off-ramps for neighborhoods of dividing cells
built into my DNA,
this machine of loving grace.

Even the leather of my gloves
once lived thick on a bull eating grass
that waved on a prairie where the soil  
let the sun in
drank the rain
and that meticulous ensemble
plays still for the wolf and the eagle.

With the last seed sewn
I sit transfixed by the garden gate
knowing every blossom in every random patch
will arise and pass away like the pointless TV news
and I hear the machinery of this impermanence
crackling like spring frost
when sprouts push through
and Gaia’s eternal trumpets ring.

Its mystical fog rolls in and out like the tide;
calm and restful or merciless and destructive,
this sea can be a blessing to man,
but it has also hardened many hearts.

In this serene state I can comprehend how long the universe is,
the time involved in eternity,
and the grains of sand in a googolplex,
serenity unmatched.

The windswept countenance is breath taking,
a stepping stone to the heavens,
the exhilarating panorama exalts me,
then humbles me because of its magnificent beauty.
It demands reverence for it is glorious.

For the longest time, words were like bricks in the mouth. Weighing down, suffocating and harmful.
For the shortest time, words flowed like so many rivers headed home through drying basins, rising rivers, past gargantuan sheets of ice and through the town one may call home.
                                                                ­                   Sealed shut.
                                                           ­                The words build again.
Thoughts, memories, ideas, the resentful wave of hiemal turquoise waters crashing upon the furrowed brow of inconsequence. To tell truths would be dignified, one isn't always able to choose such an ideology. Often an ideology is ****** upon the undeserved. Perhaps through social conditioning or other such time honoured institutions. History should not and yet does often repeat itself.

Although each generation is different,
as is every single person that,
does walk this planet,
has walked this planet,
and ever will walk this fine planet.  
                                                       ­                Cosmos over Chaos
For those that choose to read, the world is yours, the plants, the animals, every Microorganism, each and every grain of sand that litters the shorelines like a googolplex of fine jewels for an undecided amount of monarchs, rulers of lands and emperors of distant planets that in no way resemble our own. For you are such people.
For those that choose to love, amour you shall receive, every kiss that screams of desire, every touch of heavenly organs, every man woman and child that has ever felt the imperious desire to hold another body closer than is physically possible.  In this dimension at least. Every time one embraces another you shall feel love. You shall experience me as I experience you. Worlds apart, countries apart, towns, villages, houses apart, metres apart... atoms apart.
                                                       You will be of one ever tender consciousness.
                                                  ­                  The truest of all consciousness.
                                                  ­                                         One.

Diamond planets on layaway
Stellar corpses thrown away
Purple ribbons of DNA
And silver spoons in mouth

It may look white, but it's blue and red
A race of oranges on a narrow thread
While satellites mess with our heads
The sun dyes our hair

They're selling space to the googolplex kids
With golden grahams of fake eyelids
While android hands place their bids
Ignoring their embedded denial

Fifth dimension sure looks green
Entropy has gone obscene
My solar twin must be quite mean
But there's not much we can do

If you're blue
You're bleeding through
If you're blue
I'm bleeding too

dark and darker:“my old friend”

another crack’d faint appearing, in the destruction of us,
this one of the unconscious variety, added to the angle of
my leaning tower

how we used to compete in a morning ritual of who loves
the other more, a morning game as I departed, employing
terms of trillions, googolplex, infinity and ridiculous measures
such as the Big Bang; the game now over a year or more,
the text messages just  another long forgot: and I no longer
write love poems in buses and taxis

the cracks lengthen and laugh; a mocking screech of me
and my capabilities of denying, refusing ‘that’ conversation,
one day the noise will make my hands gone from eye coverings of see-no-evil to hearing it too loud, too clarity clear

but then she slips up and wishe me a goodbye, calling me out
“my old friend”

incision unconscious
for she cannot recollect it
two days later

but I can

it is a huge cut upon my chest
where open heart surgery is
currently underway

my ny heart is a transplant candidate
its replacement, a hardy artificial utility that has no capability
to ferry love beyond mine own borders

she only cut my hair but did not stop there

and reminds me again of:
the pain dance of wreck and ruin, destruction and death


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1518614/f-f-1stmost/

If you take a standard deck of cards
And you shuffle that deck
And you look at the order that deck is in,
You have just seen a combination of those cards never before seen in the universe.
The amount of ways to shuffle a deck of cards is 8.06e67
That is an 8 with 67 more numbers after it
That number is astronomical
There are more ways to shuffle a deck of 52 cards,
Then there are seconds in the age of the universe (13.8 Billion Years)
There are more ways to shuffle a deck of cards
Then there are grains of sand on all the planets in our galaxy.

This number is difficult to comprehend. Let's scale it back

1000 seconds, is 16 and a half minutes.
10,000 seconds is 2.7 hours.
100,000 seconds is a little over a day
1,000,000 seconds is 11 and a half days

Let's make a jump

1,000,000,000 seconds is 32 years
Let that sink in

That number is huge. 32 years is a long time
But that number is tiny.

1 Trillion seconds is 321 millennium.

Funny how big things can get.
Think about this next number
A Googol.
A googol is a 1 followed by 100 zeros. We can do better.

A Googolplex is a 1 followed by a googol of zeros
That is 10^10^100

The point of these numbers is not to show how big things can get
But it's about how small we actually are.
We as humans think we are the leaders of the universe
We think we know most of what there is.
96% of the universe is unexplored.
Hell, 95% of the Earths oceans are unexplored.
We really don't know very much

We've got a long way to go.

she was,
"catch of the century"
one in a ball game of,
a googolplex of pitches
and I catch her
every century
of love's timing
like,
    a meteor
          among meteors
                 riding the waves of
                         a supernova on the rim
             of the event horizon
        of our star-crossed fates
marks the spot
home base
we were in love
as earth and moon
in dance
in trance
in eternity
upon the thin ice of space
curling with the flows of time itself
we were the continuum of love
unfurling into dream
budding romances anew
like orchards
caskets of poetry
fermented odes of promise
     to one anther
uncorked,
every summer of our lips, entwined,
open to the experience of being
      conjoined between our hips, locked,
            and interlocking, for hours
              letting our waters flow up
        and
    down
                 stream
             past
the
           point of living
                  for the sake of sweat forbidding
panting breath
stealing motion from tiring
       treading life through rest
                we tread not flesh but the waters
of love itself
      drank from each other
             the secrets
of our love for each other
until none were had
and only that
                        which was truth, remained
and the secret was us, our love, and its fire
the passion aglow
in the magma chambers of the furnace being our future
calling us into the union of what was
      into the future of what could never be again
             that being, our
         loneliness,
                           our time apart, and our time together
                wed into our time
all our time was ours, as I lost myself to her
and she
              lost herself to me, and I forgot her
           as
               I could only remember myself
                            and she
in forgetting me,             could
                          remember       only herself
and I, in remembering myself, only knew her, my lover, herself
and she responded, "My love. I will never forget you..."
                                    "You are memory, and to forget you..."
is to no longer love her,
                                         and since
time has answered our yearning
for love need be deeper
than wood root
deeper than word
                                roots of iron would rust
                                and love needs air with water
                                iron would melt, forgetting itself
                                in the heat of such love betwixt us
                                envy would poison other lovers
                                so, worlds apart from other lovers
& their passions
we needed space and time
and the answer came, in that twilight of memory,
lost to the abandon of all life, we transpired the love of
all things other,
all things not us,
                 not we
                 not true love
I forgot, how her father beat her,
               when my touch, could enter her womb
               grasp her ovarian limbs
               and tell her mother she was safe with me
               and all her mothers became the song of letting go
               for my touch was that without harm
                                                       without sin
                     my touch was that which sought hope
                                       brought meal to her heart
                                       quilt to her nerves
                                       time to her wounds
                                       comfort to her fears
                and myself became distinct from all that be "men"
                                                           ­                    in her eyes
                                                            ­         glad, her heart became
                                                   her man I transcended all otherwise
                                          to be
                                                   the answer to her wanderlust
                                                      ­                                          for lovers
                                          I became her sole lover
                                                           ­       Only, was my name
                                     she was mine - already
                      and bound, as two wedding rings, became our roots
                      I knew her deepest pleasures,
                                                      ­   pain became my enemy
                                                           ­                     in her name,
                                                           ­                     my adversary
found love, in me, she had
and Love became our messenger,
                                         itself the tree, whose flesh was truth; us,
         whose bark was no animal speech,
                                       no madness compeled it
                                       no age marked its passage through time
only secrets of truth wound its coils of being
only truth spoke its limbs, chorused its fruit,
                   sighed its leaves in autumn
                                               chaste its death from winter
                                          its canopy was the spring
                                                     of all possibilities
and we were the plume of being
        the evergreen oasis of marriage,
                                                itself of our founding
                                                        ­      our purpose
                                                         ­            perfection
              eldritch in              cthulian tembre, our love,
                                 unsightly, in the eyes of
                                                              ­             hate's beholders
        the glare of the blindness unmasked
        their ignorances,
                                     absent of the light of knowing
                           truth absconded,
                           they were              set aflame by revelation
                   the rapture of guru, sage
                                            mystic, gnostic
                                            yogi, and all holies,
                                            suckling the fruit of
                                            mysteries long beheld
                                            at the foot of God Himself
                                            plucked from the tree of itself
                                                          ­                              the
                               ­                                                         understa­nding
itself, the wisdom granted, as if
                                                as if 't'were holy water,
                                                as if they wert gossamer cotton aflame
          no constitution for the raw love of wisdom itself
                no breath for humility
                     no peace for surrender, even, could they bear
the audacity, beheld in them, was them
all that
            was left
                          of shame
                                          transfixed, crucified, undone by experience
                          approaching, not of its arrival had they perished
             of its approach, unfit for the wisdom,
                                          in the understanding
                                          of our love had they cremated
                                                        ­                       in themselves
                                                      ­                         all hope for life
                                          they perished of their own futures
             and became the everliving of themselves
that no future beheld them, for the past
                                                            ­         became the limit
                                                           ­          of their potentials
             she and I became, that love untouchable
                                                     ­         imperishablee
                            even unto
                      us,
                           except in the perfect approach
                              hermeticized, canoes set as pyres
                                 where death goes to live
                                     we die by giving to life again
living anew in love
perfection, the price of being
and to fail, death again,
                    absolute, in failure,
                                     death be, my love, me
for adultery wouldst be, my silver bullet
due her, every moment
                she, the scorpion
                her tale, of another's bed,
                                                            ­ like Hailey's comet,
the shaft bore
                        in my soul
                        gored by weeping
                        my frailty, my honor sundered
                as Jericho, bore by powers untold
                but told, all the same,
                                                       she be my death,
                                                       my living be her demise
should faithlessness be her love
i be ******
                      till never I be
                                              in life
                                              never I
                                              be
for to breathe
is to live for love
and my breath
she taketh
in love,                 and surely
the I be                 dead
                              without her love, spent of breath is my life

                              for my life is her love
                   the death of our love
                   my life be undone
                                                   partake, of my grave
                                                           ­        my supper
                                                          ­         my last meal
                                                   when the fox
                                                             ­        was the hen
                                                             ­                       all along...

Eternal
or
nearly so.
We see
what we
see.
Nothing more.
We
speculate
on the
rest.
Vastness
beyond
our world,
unfathomable.
Universe to
multiverse
to eternal,
or nearly so.
Universes
budding
one from
another.
Never ending!
How long?
First one,
how long
ago?
Googolplex years,
perhaps
more.
Essentially
“Alway was,
always
will be”

Incomprehensible.
Beyond
human scale.
Look deep,
deep
into time.
Through
the beginning,
through
the darkly
orb to
another time.
Then again,
again and
then
again again.
Limitless.
Scales
incomprehensible.
Human limitations
legion.
Scurrying
around
self righteous
so important.
Insignificant.
Dead realities,
empty voids
one after the
next.
Deep time
frozen time.
Ultimate voids.
Limitless voids.
Googolplex
voids.
Endless before.
Endless to be.
Human scale.
No such
thing.
Don’t blink!

Generation.
Universe
generation.
Universe to
multiverse.
Always was,
always
will be.
Black hole
formation
generation
one to
the next.
Countless
spring up
one
from the
other.
Never ending
sequence.
Once begun
infinite
generation.
Always
will be.
Always
generating.
How long?
how old?
The process,
when
did it
start?
How
did it
start?
Generations
of events.
Countless
rabbit holes.
One to the
next.
Looking back,
how far?
Googolplex
far?
Infinitely far?
Nearly so.
Beyond
conception
far.
Rendering
how, moot.
Always was.
Always will be.