"graphical" poems
What is deep house. Many people think that deep house its just a rhythm. Noo! Deep house is a rhythm that speaks to our soul and flow make us dance. The spirit of deep rhythm touch our soul. Other people says I love this would yeah is because of love of music. The brightness and the light of deep will never be dem. Escaping from no rhyme to rhyme. Is luck success. We say we've been bladed by other hide spirit of the deep rhythm inside. Life without deep house music is like light without switch. The light must be bright to bright up the would. Deep house is the beat, deep house is a spirit ,deep house is love and joy ,deep house is untouchable love. But you can feel it I've been hiding my feeling of music inside hard core of rock they used many materials to can removed the graphical feeling inside the rock. But they failed wise man said let's spin the deck and put speaker next to the rock push play button .the love of deep house explode out. They call me hidlacore deejay graphic. I'm on lucky I'm blessed by the love of deep house music the love I have is unconditional
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
Shooting myself with another needle of cutting edge,
my desire for the latest and greatest continues my addiction.
Where's my IV!? I need more electricity.
Without constantly being jacked in and distracted by others,
I’m left with the one thing I can’t bare to endure – myself.
Who needs dreams when exist
virtual realities of dazzling graphical effects,
unreal visuals that I’m actually conscious of.
Screens dispersing artificial radiance bare all,
but blind me from what's real.
Google is my omnipotent god.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
Waking among the concrete structures
Starting the day running around in earnest
For chores are plenty and time is handful
To begin a new one-hundred-meter-dash
Trying to outdo each other, in an imaginary race
Every stride we take, the concrete takes away our zeal
There is no cushion for the hectic lifestyle
Taking a toll on our mind and body
We seem to have reached somewhere
But end up at the same station, to catch the train
Inadvertently, packing every coach
Few faces we know from our daily commute
Lots of new faces add up to the crowd
We are an individual, but interspersed in the crowd
Waiting to get-off at the daily destination
The concrete pavements and the concrete buildings
Greets us gloomily, although modern architecture
Facades of glass reflecting off the chaos of life outside
Immediately, we are in a grind of the job
Lost in numerous presentations and graphical projections
The pie charts take the sweetness out of our life
Savoring only percentages, with sprinkling of peppery talks
Targets are set and client’s meet are arranged
To strike out a deal and sign-off the nuptials
It’s a marriage of client and service providers
Where brands are hogging the limelight
For us it’s the race to maintain our saneness
As it’s a daily commute through the concrete jungle
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
1+1=2
It’s been proven, it’s always true.
Let’s add some letters to represent the unknown.
Now 1x+1y=2
Please explain how?
This is a linear equation,
When we rearrange its formation.
Now let’s put it in standard notation.
Ax+By+C=0
1x+1y-2=0
What does this mean?
It’s an equation for a graph where the constant is always C.
Now to find a slope for our graph,
We must yet again rearrange to get y=mx+b;
Where ‘m’ equals the slope that we need.
1x+1y-2=0
1y=-1x+2
m=-1
Lets not forget m is also rise over run!
The rise equals ‘∆y’ and the run ‘∆x’.
If you have 2 exact points you can also use them to find ‘m’.
Now the average rate of change is much like the slope.
It is derived from the same formula but now we must develop.
Instead of simple digits we are presented graphical expressions.
We must calculate the average rate of their alterations.
A secant line would be helpful to move further.
A secant line is a line from one point to another.
By calculating the slope of this secant line,
We will have the average rate of change between two periods of time.
Can there be a rate for an exact time?
Of course and that is called the instantaneous rate of change.
Instead of a secant line we shall use a tangent.
Up against the point it will give an approximation.
The x values will be so close,
It will create a limit of ‘x’ approaching 0.
Don’t be quick to leave there is still more.
The difference quotient is an expression,
To find the slope of a secant line between two specifications.
This expression is then used to find,
The instantaneous rate of change or the average rate of change over a period of time.
I don’t mean to scare you,
But this is just the beginning of chapter 1.2.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
See through my thin skin
See through my bones
See through my reckless acts
I beg.
I beg.
To chase what've been missing
Looking at the graphical images my emotions shaped which I call memories
Did I fail again? To see what is so obvious?
Rewinding each memory creating a new one
I, who you may call smart fails to figure it out.
I abandoned my nest to breath freedom
But I ended up cuddling my bed at the sunlight
Did I miss it again? That noise will feed my brain with toxic
Inhale me in
Inhale me in
For my emptiness to be filled again
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
When poetry describes the historical,
One refrains from becoming hysterical.
However by use of the judicial rhetorical
A Poet makes full use of the allegorical!
So when writing poetry I remain stoical,
That though some may think me radical,
Employing words they considered lyrical,
I try never to appear, irrational or critical.
To write about the mystical and cryptical,
Using strict rhythm? Can be diabolical!
As for themes regarded purely mythical,
I shy from words too pictorial or technical.
My approach to topics humourously comical,
Is to compose lines thoughtfully satirical.
In turn this allows me to remain sceptical,
Whilst appearing not too fanatical or cynical!
So, if with words I am reckoned economical?
I hope my rational thoughts are not illogical,
But in using descriptive words, is it ethical
To ensure Poems not be too whimsical?
Now, without appearing to be pontifical,
Though I'm always careful to be veridical,
I'm allowed at times, to wax philosophical,
As I attempt to depict matters paradoxical.
Doubtless some will find my words inimical:
Fanatically methodical and chronological?
But in attempting the facetious or ironical,
I'll avoid the pitfalls of being too graphical.
Should poetry be left to the technological?
One might find it becomes too puritanical.
And suggest the Poet was unduly practical!
Such is the way of the biased hypocritical!
If my poetic lines appear to be egotistical?
Then readers must understand, that's logical.
But please I beg of you, never be heretical,
When lines concern the canonical or political.
Will a Poet's thoughts be considered farcical,
If a reader is left bemused and quizzical?
Or should he stick to the unequivocally canonical?
Personally, I'm happy if my poems are grammatical!
So I'll conclude thinking poetry may be symbolical,
And my many rhymes, in quantities numerical,
May not satisfy the purist nor the global ecumenical,
But they deal with topics that are never hypothetical!
Rhymer. July 10th, 2018.
(Your turn Jim!)
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
*I was here
When you wrote a fully encrypted poem
Words wrapped in heavy firewalls
Decryption code hidden in time
Looping through ages of wisdom
Greek written in plain English
that's what ordinary us see
Codes that can't be deciphered
alluded as metaphors.
and nooo
don't get me started on syllables
Or they call them enigma these days
Those woven words
Those written graphical contents leave us in awe
Only the 5th generation circuits gets it
the softwares involved are not for the average minds
Only a high speed drive would comprehend the contents
No petty malware would Penetrate through those walls
Only a malware with enviable skills
Ones that would suffocate and annihilate
Re program the chess board to its advantage
Inciting the readers that they understand the depth of that poem*
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 1:17 AM UTC
Concurrent sessions of geometric,
(explicitly whimsical)
liquified squares
arose from patterned nether regions
of ‘somewhere else out there’
in smothering particles of
truest radiant flares.
And sat I upon the visible dreamscape space
that existed no-where
but outside of my illusory plan,
and cherished, I, the pictorial preempted
in the moment of my after-life birthing
of which polite demand
again beseeched me ride.
Yet not a one of the graphical displays
(filtered fresh from infinite dimensions)
approached me like a complete whole
– neither a partial whole –
but as a synchronistic sphere
of clouded systemic rumours
made to halt to keen attention
but one light-bodied and mirrored virtual soul
such as the sporadically alter-egoed I.
Flowing from one source to the next,
beyond the simple measure of a single point
a blast of knowing flagged a recognition spark
that folded time and space
betwixt one universal structure
unto the
(not unlike symbiotic)
self instructioned mind –
and so to Mind Exist described another route
for Love to spread It’s fastest cycle;
birthing cells and growing rife,
to yield a fresh creation.
And hereupon I watch/ed with hunger
that which transpired time before,
providing what is harnessed now,
with will to still repeat again,
and so again to knot forever
into chains of new momentum;
weaving,
waving,
slipping through and marking too,
another path to God.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
Honey___...** slide
Beehive
Hand it over
high five
The Spa
his face peel
The great
closure
When you have nothing
It's quite a pleasure to touch
to come closer hug to feel
Moms home potato
Latkes enjoying
her meal
((The Great Lakes))
The tough skin on
The outside picnic
Checkerboard cover inside
Is the sour cream taking sides
With his cup, I am beside
him yum?
Layers of me sweet---/Pie/
Slightly salted spread-tie
He buttered me
Those words
well graded
or grated
Peel me grate me
The greater
expectation
The flirtation
with the
bigger than life
Engagement to
please me whats
between
The beefsteak rye
Restarts his engine
The greater speed
Eyes doorway style
The Regime
true lie
So Sublime
the greater
love mile
A desperate glimpse
of hope
The graphical logical
scope
but fear ever so near
The presence
Changing color
forms
Grate me in
love forms
All terms
Our names
became
all good germs
No way out to
cope
My greater
expectation
So familiar he met
my tears
# + years
Peel me grate--- me
The greater times
He resides
The greater you are
Why do we leave
to hide
Emotion so
intense
Someone must
be greater
With the aging
romance
Divination______*
Words the greater poets
Do you just know? Or no,
if's or buts
You just feel it
Oh! yes or Love me
not or so tied together
the peel me grate me
Whats greater
than
two lovers**
We made the Knot
So cared for
At its best
communication
The whole
entire nation
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
Do you have everything
let's check?
The ((Pleasure of Life)) is in a
prime
love setting
Ancient times the Queen meeting
her acquaintance little Horderves
At the wedding reception
Like the Antionette, her laced curtain
moved their rows and rows invitation
What shows Vanity Fair
(So Debonair) to find her glassware
remembering another time
The World fair 1960
But pleasure arise more
You get what you deserve affairs
They are sitting comfortably
Lake George
their beach chairs
Minds start looking elsewhere
We need to check over there
Mrs. Honey Bear, I see Claire
Well what do you know
checkmate
This wasn't a date Friday the 13
red unlucky dress
Rows more pleasure affairs
debonair conceited smirk
book for two umbrella
steampunk
She saved all his junk
what a pair
You better hold it steady to be set
Square and fair
Your hands couldn't save them
All the magical book/ hearts
Kate spades, they played
She got his"Rock Candy"?
Before you get seated he pleaded
You jumped up to cheer
Billionaire Evening prayer
A-bloom preserved for me tears
Castle high society killed the air
You felt like the debutante
but you weren't at the ball
Your pants hit me football ouch?
Rows and rows, come-at-able
Moods bat swing hit double
Voice behind you rhapsodic
X graphical red dress design
Dove-like debonair wearing the sign
body notes cinnamon and cloves
Pleasure please be fair
She is Robin in her East Windsor chair
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
XIII
I was dead when they rescued me.
They pressed cold palm upon palm
to my breast
checking for that graphical mess of a beating
that signified their work well done.
But I would not be that easy.
I saw the light.
It was beautiful, and shaped like
my father
Who braided my hair better than every woman
on the block
And took me to see the countryside even in
the pouring rain.
The light was my sister
gently taking my hand
and brushing my hair
and her hair
and our doll’s hair
(that we were too old for anyway)--
God, I miss her.
In the light
I saw myself
in a blue dress.
My hair was the water
that churned below titanic bows.
A gasping breath.
Then I could feel my heart
Beat
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 9:20 AM UTC
Keep the blunts in rotation love to freak haitan to jamacian
As well as the columbians womens
They lay up under me like a canopy
I got the shades blinding haters from my sunshine
Restrictin' minds from.the flash of my nine
Milly make ya body dance silly fools talkin' itty
Bitty I'll close ya mouth like hello Kitty
Gettin' nine stitches like 50 but once the shells drop
Ill promise I'll finish you off turn ya melon hard from soft
Soul lifted soon to be shifted off in the mother ship
Even in heaven I got a throne where none can withstand the dangerzone prone
My lyrics are mathed graphical swarming so fast it'll create a black hole
I'm going viral check my flows that spiral
Deep in ya head extractin' all thoughts that shed
Nothing but bloodshed all in it for bread
I get breakfast and head while ya beatin' off instead
I got a millions rhymes from blunts I puffed a million times
Keep em line I be the lyrical street sweeper
So stay at distance or face brain damage from the speaker
Huh a million...
My lyrics are carefully chosen growing for the ozem
I lay burning paths deeper than ozones
Suckas claim they King when they just roam
Another chapter to my tome tapped up and all alone
Exposin' wounds and broken bones
Around the battlefield emcees kneel
Cuz they know.i.be the real deal like Holyfield
A deadly left jab you can feel o so real
Closing down the Earth's atmosphere so all would feel
My lyrical drillin' curin' rhyming diseases with my rappin' penicillin
And ain't no killin' us we soul survivors
Improvise tactics wiser than Mcgyver
Living across the enemies wire my desire
To whole this rap game up shooken' up
I'll be mobbin' like M.O.P so ante up
Over runneths my cup full of Henny and syrup
Got a few cuties from eastern europe
To Belize so stand at ease when ya see a Sarge talkin' and nobody walkin'
Away clean glitter and gleam shatter ya dream
Cuz I be Wu Tang after the cream
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
I believe in dreams, I never recall them.
I'm Golden, logic is what I'm holding.
Thoughts and belief does come true.
Without proposals they go unmarried.
Love never tricks anyone into royalty.
When heart is pure, judgements has loyalty.
Fate controls money and severity.
My heart is three sided, halved is right angled.
The Angle is golden
The view has rotten.
People you meet. journeys you take.
The soldier
The teacher.
Straight line is a functional seeker.
That's a pointless slope.
Twice the rooted power.
A flawless masterpiece is common in description.
Time ponders the description in ambition.
That's logic.
I'm tired.
My mind took a jog
They say it's a marathon not a Sprint, that's love.
Who chose the pace.
The cup is bottomless
It fill absence.
I had a sip of that knowledge.
It took the pressure off.
The mass of my love is gravitational.
Their product weighs more than expected.
There's no work done.
I don't **** up
I **** down.
That's a silent trigger.
The future shoots the blanks.
It holds no offspring.
An intertwined distraction.
A soul full of observation.
Are they engagements.
Do they break the law.
The one is digital.
The formula is logical.
The system is sequential.
Can you hear that.
We all have two digital ears.
Eyes pixels at a maximum.
The zoom conforms nature.
They capture, they record.
They all can be taught.
I know my way around the looks, they never bought my value.
That's Illegal piracy, no such a thing as a fraud.
They just binary palindromes.
What value do they possess.
It's spontaneous, the character.
The algorithm.
The errors.
The code refuses to compile, I'm not a quitter.
I run.
Everyone negotiates when beauty is graphical.
Complements to the designer.
The greater power.
I always lie and I'd say I'm in love with HER.
That follows a paradox.
That's a screen play.
I touch, I'm gifted.
With changes we lifted.
Can there be the one.
That's a model sized case.
Smaller fractions are a chase.
The base, The Pace.
The changes are continuous.
They say let the good times roll and a rolling Stone gathers no Morse.
I believe love is a mental concept to stall human progress.
There's a lot claimed.
That changes with change in time.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC
A Swiss wrist watch on
natural graphical
decorated wall.
That was not
functioning.
This was for
the bid to
unpunctual celebrities.
Particular those
who are unpunctual !
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
Money Showers
Money is only green and graphical papers
Notes promising access to the Link to gold as it sits in the greedy bank vaults
Aging and smelling of rotting molding vapors..
Money never buys love.
Money never feeds the hunger
Nothing if such lands to pleasantry in Physical desires, sexually hunger satisfaction, or other expensive just defined extasies
it cannot buy friends
Until those who crave for it
End up looking like hungry vampires
Only seeking Another to feed on them until their end.
Money cuts like a knif
And ruins lives like evil
Except we need something this cold and feelingless
Until we have to need what you really don’t want
And bleed to need what we are afraid of becoming
Metamorphosis into the decident rich few
Who only value what is owned by the elite few.
If balance could be made
And souls could be spared from the dollar’s pain
I’d throw all my riches, if I won or obtained them,
All over the world like rains.
So all could rinse poverty, pain, and the politics of crime away.
So all could smile
As the world would be at peace that day.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 11:27 PM UTC
On a voyage
In the sea of knowledge.
Each and every page -
A new stoppage.
Many pages bound together
With a cover made of leather.
Pages as white as white feather,
All the information I gather.
A structured presentation
With graphical representation.
A sky of narration
And a table of notation.
Starting with table of contents
Then onset of concepts
Rich with facts and experiments
To every curious thought, I give vents.
From physics to chemistry
I resolve biological mystery.
From philosophy to history
A road to your intellectual mastery.
All about General Reginald Dyer
And explaining how do plants transpire
From magnetic field around a wire
To E=mc².
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 3:36 AM UTC