"measurer" poems
the ashes of ancient
alchemical martyrs glow
in the great tunnels
of Hadron, whizzing
faster than time
at the behest of man,
the measurer of all things
including whether things
are worth measuring or not
a sordid joke on the great minds
that sorted the mystery out
long before quantum physicists
crawled out from under
the church’s labyrinth
of insulting confabulations
and pillaged the fortunes of others
to build the great rings
shall we bow to the new God?
**** your experience, I’ll prove you wrong*
He bellows from the podium built from
the finest endangered trees
and polished with the spit of
all who disagree, and yet
it’s truth in action
the 9mm’s omniscient song
sung across this suffering world:
**** with me, and you’ll discover the truth**
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 7:36 PM UTC
Know, that I would accounted be
True brother of a company
That sang, to sweeten Ireland's wrong,
Ballad and story, rann and song;
Nor be I any less of them,
Because the red-rose-bordered hem
Of her, whose history began
Before God made the angelic clan,
Trails all about the written page.
When Time began to rant and rage
The measure of her flying feet
Made Ireland's heart hegin to beat;
And Time bade all his candles flare
To light a measure here and there;
And may the thoughts of Ireland brood
Upon a measured guietude.
Nor may I less be counted one
With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,
Because, to him who ponders well,
My rhymes more than their rhyming tell
Of things discovered in the deep,
Where only body's laid asleep.
For the elemental creatures go
About my table to and fro,
That hurry from unmeasured mind
To rant and rage in flood and wind,
Yet he who treads in measured ways
May surely barter gaze for gaze.
Man ever journeys on with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
Ah, faerics, dancing under the moon,
A Druid land, a Druid tune!
While still I may, I write for you
The love I lived, the dream I knew.
From our birthday, until we die,
Is but the winking of an eye;
And we, our singing and our love,
What measurer Time has lit above,
And all benighted things that go
About my table to and fro,
Are passing on to where may be,
In truth's consuming ecstasy,
No place for love and dream at all;
For God goes by with white footfall.
I cast my heart into my rhymes,
That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
2.9k
Why yes sir
Of course I can assist you.
It's my job, after all.
Oh, you need to be measured for your suit?
Well if you insist.
I seem to have lost my tape measurer
I suppose I'll have to use my hands
For your inseam.
Your thighs are so thick and strong...
Oh, you're a 34.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 6:44 PM UTC
What's in the meaning
of my reading of a red sky?
Certainly no soothsayer am I
neither do I prophesy
Clearly I'm merely a measurer of
who, what, when, where, how, or why
And so, I surmise
the skies dyes
a guise
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:51 PM UTC
Ever so defined, ever so perfect.
The epitome of exactness,
The symbol of creed,
The measurer that keeps
Everything in place.
Now, the real question comes into mind:
Am I speaking of
A mortal man
Or
A transcendent piece of definition?
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
Is his work sweet or bitter
Door to door goes meter reader
Is he dull or clever witty
The measurer of used electricity.
With a torch and thick bound book
Below staircase down dark nook
Scans through the dust on mesh
With a face that’s expressionless.
Speaks so little somber face
Smiles no little courtesy’s grace
Notes down with just one look
Prosaic digits on notebook.
Is he a man with a home family
Or a mad measurer lone carefree
A wild pursuer of endless digit
Never known love never had it.
Still he has to knock many door
Stay a minute not anymore
Time is his arch enemy
Till comes night sleep’s lullaby.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
Who dares do this?
[in the future from 01/19/22
the final night forty years hence
thence two years more makes now
12/12/2024… but I wished it happy early]
My gig is what? I read. Seriously,
sincerely
Poetic License
Speaking truth
to truth's power,
Magic Moment's You Looked Me
in the eyes, e-yes, I will, I expect…
I, the ne'er-do-much,
- be live for now,
thinking,
if the peace I take is metered out,
a measure
for a measure, ***
for tat, eye
for eye,
worth a minute, any time
my word on it init
all that had a meaning,
once,
I imagine,
rituals were kata, steps
in a danced how story, why I know
first step, emerge, be in time, aware
there are others of a sort I am sorted on,
male, confirmed, white,
circumcised, to snip a bit
there off the tip, for no reason, we just
do it
so
it may have held common sense once,
now it seems a secret reason, lost
in evolution
of the mind
of man,
measurer
of all things, sorter
of odds and evens, pull
to push, act react mimesis,
as we see
we think we do,
mirror neurons, telos, reason, cause
sui causal are we? Nay?
We appear,
and be as if formed
to a pattern,
framed as a fine sail… a
wind catcher,
hook burr grip, like a virus or
a sycamore ball. Yeah.
echoing yeh yehey hey, not that way.
watch the beach ripple in the clouds,
there is such a pattern, in beautiful places
and I grew old in one, surrounded
by grand children laughing into teen years.
This would seem heaven to many, init.
I happened as a part of it on earth, happened
around an artistical Tophet gift init getting easy
Apr 19, 2025
Apr 19, 2025 at 11:00 PM UTC
A little off normal ain't abnormal,
otherwise,
we be fudgin' the data.
Practic'ly perfect is all
patience strives for.
Cast the spell, callemagin callemalloutsin,
come attend
forsake not the gathering of...
All ye, all ye, outs in free....
Wombed or un, worst and best,
twisted
strait straight wait wraith wrath point
to point
tale to tale
story to story from six ways
to Sunday, sun's day in my culture,
Day one. Gin geni gene-ration day, since
light been
activating
sensation spinning
the planetary sweep of balance soft as
stillness
in perfect peace
past undersatanding,
aitia yen yanked
beyond all
that ever mattered when
the measurerers in 2019 declare precision
stat-
balance twixt being and null is set, one part
in a measure,
one in a ratio, a reasoning, a
dis-
cerning of one part in all that man can imagine ever,
higgs-ified-ish-ly materialwise,
reality valances on
one part in 10 to the seventy-nine thousandth power.
Earthling-wise, you are at least,
or worst,
or best,
one in eight times ten to the nine-th.
Therefore, your unique effect on the balance of all
that is,
is
far more than you've been blamed for and
far less than you've taken shame for and
much
less precise than the most concise measurer of evil in you.
Moral, aphoristic con clue sion:
Do your part. Don't fudge up. Tolerate human
imbalance
in light of fudging science.
Tolerate no evil imbalance
in light of fudging philosophy.
Read deeper.
Be still from time to time. Laugh when laughter fixes the problem,
never laugh when laughing makes it worse.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC