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Opposites attract,
the loving dove.
Rules of magnetics,
that apply to love.

The north and the south,
are no different.
Other than their names,
which are irrelevant.

Magnets never fail,
magnets never die.
As will our love,
as will you and I.

I am finally here,
I am here to stay.
I will give you the love you deserve,
always, everyday.

Magnets can't attract,
when they're far apart.
But we're always together,
inside our hearts.

The strength of a magnet,
cannot be compared,
to our love,
for our love is rare.

Magnets never fail,
magnets never die.
As will our love,
as will you and I.

I am finally here,
I am here to stay.
I will give you the love you deserve,
always, everyday.

But unlike our love,
anything can get,
in between the connection,
of a magnet.

Forever and always,
always and forever.
When will we see the end,
never, we will never.

Magnets never fail,
magnets never die.
As will our love,
as will you and I.

I am finally here,
I am here to stay.
I will give you the love you deserve,
always, everyday.

Magnets can't attract,
when they're far apart.
But we're always together,
inside our hearts.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
lessons in graffiti, or the Pinocchio giraffe;
and was the H absolutely necessary
when otherwise asking of a cappuccino
or at your local caf? evidently there was distinction
with the mocha too, but that won't matter,
otherwise the language isn't used... but abused.

lessons in graffiti, or other confectionary products,
while you ooze the shopping experience
on your daily commute,
       *skittels
on brickwork with the origins
of the #, cut short by simply the graffiti tag,
      you wrote tag, without the collective hash,
  not so much noughts and crosses gaming,
or remembering your phone number,
                  here graffiti: or the rekindling of
trademarks in the urban scenic bypass,
or: truly under the bridge.
             writing on money does very little:
but writing on newspapers? that say a lot,
the odd day i write something on a newspaper
review section and feel almighty -
        which is much more than the rage against
the machine instructions are about:
   write a message on a penny, it's still a penny,
write a message on a dollar, it's still a dollar,
but write a message on a newspaper:
you's basically encapsulating shouting at a protest!
() hence the picture.
             r.s. (receptui scriptum):
         i never knew whether the dot belonged in
the ). or the .) part of encapsulation, if that's to be
worded or acutely pill-sized embryo,
that bypasses the oesophagus workout before
the hydrochloric gym acidity.
   how is one to make science human again?
how is one to make science lessened in the Frankenstein
myth and the ostracized ostrich citizens
that scientists very much so, actually are?
       my notes on the matter?
non-existent: i see the feminist movement
i.e. there are more women than men as such
as not a case of **** culture, but as a case of "i'm not
getting any!" call in the Vikings,
mind you, even the supermarket cashier looked
astounded in between Friday and Saturday,
  on Friday a litre of whiskey
    on Saturday a litre of whiskey...
and some men climb the Everest or walk the moon...
while some envision their liver
as a Klitschko - the tetragrammaton exists only
because people made aesthetic suggestions / blunders,
it's a suggestion in the sur- or what's otherwise a surd /
a silent nonetheless inserted atom of sprechen:
like Nietzsche and Klitschko: you say less than you
write... out pops the tetragrammaton -
        if ever Caesar Octavian needed a teacher
my vanity suggests i'd done better teaching him
than Aristotle teaching Alexander, or Seneca teaching
Nero...
                  it's all down to excessive spelling, or
the keeping up of appearances, or simply looking
bizarre, and like in mathematics, there's a remainder,
what yhwh represents is in linguistic terms
as in mathematical terms: what's left over, scraps...
see it differently and it becomes gold:
five fish, two loaves of bread sort of scenario.
                           it's a remainder -
it cannot be eradicated, denied or be left into a limbo
of diminished responsibility
      it's man concern with how language should
look and how painting should feel:
               the fact that we created art from letters
and forgot our concern for art representing forms
is not postmodernism, it's post-Platonism; finally!
of course the s and the z are the crude and the refined
versions of each other via the transition of
being modulated by the chirality enzyme,
          but they're still called zigzag twins -
there's no delta involved akin to one face of a pyramid.
how grand then, to be living in a time
when a single phonetic encoding of sound
transcends into complex meaning:
akin to s and sigma and what's mathematically
the sum / total of constipated matter...
                    strange how the Cartesian model
falters thus,
           the fact that i think is never the ending
causality of my being's summation:
           it's but a summary, but never the summation /
sum - it's never the arithmetically sound answer:
hence the god-implant, or as i said:
the remainder, which i can't erase from the realm
of thought.
                 by the way? no Jew could have wrote as
much about their god as i have:
as said: the crucifixion was worthwhile,
      but there was no question that Latin had
to remain -
                     what was saved was the Latin encoding,
not some puny redemption from doing ****...
**** no! you couldn't create robotics or write
software without Latin: no other encoding has as
many "blank" hula hoops as already provided:
Q, R, o, P, p, A, a, D, d, g, b, B...
        26 x 2? 52 - and of those how many are spies
that we are descended from the gods and can
create our slowly-ascending replicas in robotics?
as the list suggests: 12.
     should i call up St. Peter and the rest to work
out the ******* numbers of correlation in
the framework of mirror / anti?
                      ah, the eagerly waiting public:
speak of the devil... and he shall appear.
      that ****'s been going on since the death of a man
in the year 1900...
           and oh my, the search has been gruelling,
you have Western Europe remembering the 1st
and Eastern Europe trying to not remember the 2nd...
   the name's Mars... while i say: try Moby **** first:
because god knows what's lurking in the depth.
or maybe i got my bearings wrong? maybe language
truly is a statement of Bermuda magnetics
that makes all compasses into twirling ballerinas?
to me? what comes with authenticity is a good joke,
nothing remotely suggesting a seriousness:
or as Wittgenstein said: have a joke, make a joke,
compose everything with a joke in mind -
        oh the fringe minority still have a bargain on
identity in this field, they're brewing their next cup
of tea brown-nosing and fidgeting over how to
answer... oh i'm mad enough to turn on the Mr. Bombastic
attitude, 1L of whiskey in a single night goes a long
way in terms of unwinding and making vocab verbiage,
or counter to that: something worthy of an antique status.
still, a reminder, the yhwh is the Jews' great
present, expressed dutifully in English as equivalent
of the mathematical remainder:
                      only because the diacritical bargain
wasn't met with much approval:
what with the elites wanting to push a global rather than
a solely Mediterranean twist on the plot of how:
a revival?          well... combing back to the ulterior
motive for graffiti, an elitist sport, your handwriting
over printed press rather than Coca Cola sorta similar
on a brick wall: i'm telling you, handwriting is
a bit like wanking these days...
         but isn't it true that when we write we are
sorta becoming radiologists? aren't poems essential
x-rays? am i not simply showing you my bones?
these isn't skeletal? you sure?
and there's me thinking that America is on
the threshold of romanticising the French Revolution,
with the former concern? to reinstate a Polish
state, i.e. the Duchy of Warsaw...
              but it's not really a first world war reparations
injustice while the Germans used money instead
of wood to warm themselves in winter...
no, nothing can be said that would ever appeal
to the fact that the Third ***** was milked:
not even Indiana Jones had a ******* of that horror;
me? i took the best of the ****** affair,
the fully bewildered insurance broker of the zeitgeist:
Heidegger, and yes, i made more apologetics with
him than philosophy: as with an fatal attraction:
be it the bazar flute charmer of the cobra -
this one is bound to sting in the ***.
then another thing hit me, usually an internet
variance off state media... you ever wonder why
very claustrophobic pronoun usage (frequent interchange)
is almost equivalent of brawling with someone?
dreams of Angelique:
                     imagine a scene at a protest (two people):
- i doesn't matter what you think! your opinions are not relevant!
- true, as is the case of: you don't matter with regards
                 to what i think.
anyone spot this concentrated pronoun use
for the purpose of aversed violence via a degradation
emphasis, concerned with defending sported violence
but not social injustice : turned into justified violence?
   (yes, colon as ratio, variant of fractions,
meaning? less comparative literature of the fraction,
   and more divergence of authority within the Libra
of what's necessarily unfair: the whole is no authority
to distribute fairness);
  it's just that i feel the relentless overuse of pronouns
in a confrontation symbolises a need to use the body
rather than the tongue -
when too many pronouns are interchanged
and the repugnant pronoun collectivisation begins
the paranoid "they" and the sane "we" -
            well... Rη-oh! Rη-oh! Rη-oh!     (sheen sheen Mecca
       ism)
                             well hardly ref. to Brazil: rhy ate!
rhy ate!
                see how that tetragrammaton remainder just,
like, plops up like a baby gazelle from the mama
gazelle's ******? plop! and no diapers either.
ah: the cruelty. or as someone said:
  few letters are given geometric status, or at least
something remotely symbolising twins,
but still there are a few:
   m - sine (trigonometry)
   w - cosine (     "              )
  Δ - Pythagoras for short
      LΓ - the right hand
                  and the left hand in the non-superimposable
          categorisation of things
   ψ - the devil's barrister / i.e. a fork
     also 8008135 upside-down on a calculator screen
(insert a weird face) -
   χ - compass convergence, i.e. the point b
        you need to get to from your starting point oh,
and i guess H       for a rugby goal...
             oh hell, only a few phonetic encodings make
it out of blah blah land -
                       and without really wanting
to orientate myself on the origins of things:
i'm getting a suntan basking in all of this
in the immediate sense: actually using it.
                             and to think: we actually think
about what we talk about using only 26 symbols?
that's ****** effective,
                             which is why we were so keen
to spread out encoding system to think / say things.
and why the Chinese felt the greatest pull of gravity
in all of mankind and due to their ideograms
got pulled way way down and just say there:
which enabled them to reproduce on a scale such as
is apparent to us exporting our manual labour to
them: who the hell would want to learn
unit wording when it can be wording units?
       they have words we treat as onomatopoeia
shrapnel -
                   which is why we have enshrined ourselves
to sit on laurel leaves with Mozart:
     if ever us, then never us: linguistic atomists
                                            who perversely dissect
words into, what i can only call: a Lingua Table of
the 26 elements. it's there, it's naked, compared
with the diacritical approach: English is all
and Adam & Eve ready for a voyeuristic spelling
out of realities
- hence the plural:
    there was never one intentional crowd-surfer out
there to make people form cults, plagiarise
and sooner than later: get lost.
There is nothing wrong with being attracted to beauty
it is a beautiful thing
magnetics and irony
amethyst and memories
black fist of power
proud ovaries breathe melanin magic
hearts of silk spun
resilience is narcissistic too
you know
revolution can declare martial law too
maybe it already did
you would not know yet
the coal used to be us
now we are diamonds
stolen from the earth because of our sheen
our glimmer stuns the most magnificent darkness
a teal sunset sparks the imagination
hallucinating smoking quartz
http://www.amazon.com/Escape-Liberty-Elan-Gregory-ebook/dp/B01B8XQYBG?ie=UTF8&keywords;=elan%20gregory&qid;=1459178234&ref;_=sr_1_1&sr;=8-1
C H Watson Jan 2015
Deployment confirmed, Flight Leader at ready
Mission parameters locked in the pipe
Target subsystem structures, hold the course steady
The last thing I want is a wipe

Miles of shrapnel, anti-drone hail
My brave flight cut down by a half
Magnetics engaged, we land on her tail
Free at last from hot metal and chaff

There can be no defense for this aft rail dispenser
Plasma torches will have out her heart
A soft spot at last on the tactical sensor
One final call and this party can start

"Flight Leader here, subsystem disabled"
"Prophet tactical, fire at will"
A surge of blue plasma, the deadly beam arc
We andrones must die with our ****

No graves will be dug for this 'drone flight destroyed
Disabling that aft rail smoke-caster
But our sacrifice bought what the Prophet predicted
Elegiac ion disaster
Looks like Captain Grayling's TAC officer has launched an androne flight to disable the defensive systems of an enemy ship! Aboard the mighty Vapor Prophet, it is not only the crew that have hearts of steel.

Dedicated to my friends at WC and AP!
Criss crossing the magnetics where
the politics are poles apart,
the blues and reds share each others beds and
shed their skins like snakes.It
takes some special breed of man to plan
the downfall of another,
can you believe you voted this lot in?
What a shower of **** they've been and
the other lot,
I'd get shot of them,
Ed Miliband and his merry men.


What we need is a party to lead
from the front not the back but what we
get is an attack on the welfare system by
the men of the ministry, and
that lot will finish me.
I wish they'd
bury me deep and keep me away from the
******* of politics they spew out today. but
the ministry men will have me down the crem',
cheap *******.
Carl Hoek Mar 2015
demons in my blood
in my head

talking
turning my gut inside out

making fear
making tumors

destroying their lives
blasting down to the bedrock

there are funnels
there is fresh blood

we get the teeth that sink into flesh
see the future and its faults

whirlwinds of pain
focused on delirium
horrific figures of the heart
cut in half

teach me magnetics
so we can push the skin off the earth
Meagan Moore Oct 2016
A moment's acquaintance with the scintilla convenes as a gallant trail blaze through a dilation of the universe.
A dismantling into compulsion and magnetics.
He stated unequivocally,that they won't build a bomb,no one believed a word he said, though he stated it with some aplomb.
I've got it in my head that they'll build and drop the ****** bomb and then we'll all be dead.
However,he says that will never happen on his watch,it may be he understands, that the killing of the world at large won't wash off from his hands.

One day the pulse will come and all the information, held fast and in some vast hard drive without which the country seemingly could not survive at all,will simply not be there,it will dissipate and fade into the magnetics of polluted air.
One day the bomb they build which filled us with such nightmares when we were little girls and boys will be deployed
and everyone we knew or loved will be totally destroyed.

This thought stops me eating cornflakes and it's giving me the shakes,I wish the madmen of this world would apply the sodding brakes.
Orakhal Nov 2020
Magnetics dream

live hollows chest light space
pales bone colds weigh
hung open on worlds light dominion
wept wide a moments leave

felts flame prepped  tangled
hums apparel plum lumped on paddles person
lept tuned to commons company heat
ramble round a hazes wake
Chloë Fuller Dec 2014
I.
one almond shaped eye
jutting ribs
the motor keeps running fast
bus skimming skin
so so close
aqua fronts and white lettering
dead flowers everywhere
our eyes are just melting out of our skulls
the raindrops are so consistent
remember dew drops and the warmth of summer?
i do

II.
time was lost in beige
wheels spinning and bumping and squealing
what does your handwriting look like?
one sentence keeps wanting to tattoo itself in my cerebellum
disease and chaos are so close
like skin on bones and lips on teeth
an injury that won't seem to heal quickly
minds that converge like magnetics
i ultimately found solace in your warm skin

III.
why can't I remember any of it?
cold air hits my face like a slap from above
crowns crash so loudly when they hit marble floor
your lungs are black and full of worms
you never metamorphosed
it's better that way

IV.
my lips inflate as my heart sinks
black gets blacker and white gets whiter
tan stays tan, it is the Earth and we are the Earth
scratchy voices and a hundred expletives
your hands on my *******
god I can't even look you in the eye you're so stunning
ink on ink
brewing cauldrons and sipping spells
nothing has been the same since our lips touched
Feeling Real Nov 2015
Father said immortality was a wave upon which I came and crashed
And to embrace the ephemeral like the claws of the cat, a scar on my knee
That vanquished all of my fears of living safely, blood, and who knew
It would outlast the skin, down to the bone, down, past the soul, the cut
I would make many more as the years left me

Father said my willingness to learn was a godsend, that too many folks
Waste their whole lives pretending they have all the answers, and I said,
"And, Daddy? What about you?" And he told me that he knew everything, and
Somehow that didn't grate unexpectedly then, as it does now
He lied to me and I lie to the whole world to right that wrong

Father said that how fickle it was, how time was, how time goes, how he just
He knows, and he let me in on the secret, the magnetics, electricity
The undeniable, insatiable grasp when the whole world is in your hands
We traversed all of the United States in a semi-truck, only breaking to sleep
Only pausing to look out of the windows at an Arizona desert where, maybe
The Totem Poles were the spirits of the dead calling out to us to stay, just once

Father said I was supposed to eat and am entitled to growth, how delightful
Change is, and I embraced that philosophy with enough barbituates poisoning
Me I could finally feel the infinity that he talked about, and how he shied away
From the word God, and still talked about his childhood and his destruction
As if they were tangible things, he said he's forgotten so many details already
jusso you guys know half of this is made up and i would never in my whole life call my father daddy because my daddy kink would really **** me up like tbh i can't even think about calling my father daddy without wanting to **** lol
Her moodiness is her loveliness,
she distracts me to tears.
That's it then,
but when wasn't it?

March will soon march in
with a spring in its step
and
I'm drinking alka seltzer
for a little extra pep.

and the radio's on the blink
I mentioned that to my shrink,
wish he'd shrink away from
charging me fifty a go
just so I can show him
how
weak I am.

But that's beside the compass
which never points in the direction
I'm heading
and that's something to do with
magnetics,

that's it then,
when
She says when
and here we go again.

— The End —