Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
I know not how many
million stars there are.
But I know there is
only one earth.

Maybe we have counted
the protons of the atom
as many it has in its nucleus
counted the electrons on the run
orbiting the nucleus.
But the spinning circle is a zero
yet to compute the unifying one!
It's a pattern spans the universe.

I know there are
billions of us human
out there on earth.
But all I want is only one.
Just to count on
a permanent one!  

The big earth
is a bigger zero null.
Standing on barefoot
without the perpetual one.
No glue, no roof nor a sign
only on one pure rigid science!
Andrew Oct 2017
EMP
I can't compute and become mute
When you walk by
My circuitry is fried
Because your program is an encryption
And your pulse is electromagnetic
My car dies, so does my phone, so does my home
I'm immobilized
And demoralized
By immoral ties
To temporary generators
They're validating veneraters
Ultimately unsatisfying
When you're still not buying
I'm attracted to your charge
Until there's a battery
Yet you're the cure to your lure
The EMT for your EMP

Your negative charge casts a cloud around my nucleus
But if you could be positive for a change
We could meet in the middle
And feel energy in our synergy
But as soon as I feel electricity between us
You shut me down
With your EMP
I can't get free
Civilized life is rigged, O land-dwellers!
With landmines hidden
in trails of Society's doctrine.
'Too often is it stepped on,
Too often does it explode.'
Blowing constitutions to smithereens.
Where you then rummage within your nucleus
to piece together your scattered jigsaw,
Misplacing your natural elements,
Overcasting your ability to side with beauteous aspects in simplicity—
Of those ethereal-resplendent butterflies.
Disillusioned on land thus is you(the complex you).

Let go—
Rise above your materialistic graves—
Walk on air!
My kindred wisps
Walk on air!
The Secret Sits
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.

Var. I
Ring around the rosie,
A pocket full of knowsie.

Var. 2
Atomically
Are we, and be
The nucleus
Unknown to us.

Var. 3
Musical chairs
We play and play.
The music airs,
We circle away.

Like hula hoops
We spin like tops.
The music loops
And never stops.
ryn Oct 2014
Know that my heart beats for you...
Every crank of the wheel, turn of dials...
Leading to my every breath and every sigh
Wishing every moment would stay a while...

Unaware of themselves hard at work,
The cogs in my mind are constantly spinning...
The gears in my head are lodged in place...
Cogs and gears like clockwork, carelessly turning...

Like a factory of sorts,
They keep churning out ideas.
Conceived notions that only had been
Spawned by my mind's nucleus...

Blinking lights signalling ways,
And means to sweep you into the air,
Then leave you lofted for second....
Without a trace of fear or care.

At that moment, what I'd give to just admire...
You floating against a backdrop of stars.
An image frozen in infinite.
An image free from blemishes or scars.

Then when gravity claims you back,
You'd fall the most graceful of falls...
A fall in the slowest of motion.
A fall led by my loving calls.

Fear not darling for my arms would be there...
To catch you and hold you close in a tight embrace.
Cheek to cheek, chest to chest... You'd then know that,
Cogs and gears spin only for you in this very same place...
Haven't written about love in a while.
Knit Personality May 2018
The Secret Sits
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.


Var. I
Ring around the rosie,
A pocket full of knowsie.


Var. 2
Atomically
Are we, and be
The nucleus
Unknown to us.


Var. 3
Musical chairs
We roundly play.
The music airs,
We circle away.

The music sounds.
The beats, they drop.
We ring in rounds
Without a stop.

#
Melinda Barrett Feb 2017
You know what I'm bad at? Filling in the gaps of people. I rush to get to their nucleus and assume the best. I always imagine people to be who I would prefer them to be and end up disappointed in the end. I need to slow my process of getting to know people and let them be their flawed raw selves. But my versions always better.
Marla Apr 12
Sparks of light
Emerge from the void
And encircle themselves
Around a phosphorescent nucleus.

Colors, green and purple,
Shine through the hues of watery darkness
As the traces and trails
Glow vibrantly in the black of it all.

Organisms and antimatter
Flow around each other
Indiscriminately,
Suggesting a relationship of unity.

O to touch such forbidden beauty!
To hold it in my pale hands-
It's enough to make one cry
Tears of radiation
In a sea full of death's water.
Morgan Spiers Sep 2018
every molecule of your being
each cell
down to it's nucleus
is one that has existed for millennia
yet is entirely unique.

all that we are is matter,
recomposed in a way to create
to  establish
something
                                  ­       new,
something
                                     unique.

it is not within ourselves
that we find purpose
but in the artist that used chaos
as a canvas;
in the sculptor that made monuments
out of mere molecules.

do not fear the "you" you are is of bad quality;
for it was molded
and perfected
by the perfect
mold.
Sun's flames
Burning with incandescence
Like Jupiter's
Iridescence
Of fluidic gases,
Valiance of the brightest blue
of a reasonable red
Saturated
Carves cerulean into my
journey
The pernicious
fissure releases
from my colorless possessions
Approaching the regal Sun
I am coruscating
As I concave
in the Solar nucleus
Nervously fused
Chemistry expedited ethereally

I am a celestial person
Now
In the interstices of intergalactic expedition
Probably fluorescent green, yellowish-orange or a magenta color
Probably a supergiant in the existence
Of a dying solar
I feel my death bringing
Reality to a closure
Seems the closer
I get to coming closer
The nearer I find myself
Believing in
Suns touching horizons
In the open ocean
Of parallel universes
As a pin-point in space
Touching upon stars, every
Parallel thinker says
My metamorphosis was
I'm a black hole
That spaces out
Now I just say "Hello"
To the silence
A brilliant black hole
Mass of Jupiter exceeds all the planets. Near the asteroid belt seemingly colorful in a variety of patterns. It expresses fluid dynamics in frenetic variety in the keeping with the expanse of the universe. The quantum physics of science make us realize predictability in a parallel universe is just a matter questionable unpredictability. We can pretend that life is easy but when reborn, a set of rules forces us to work towards understanding each other. That makes us awkward as a new generation. Reborn to relive our mistakes. Extremely awkward isn't it. Struggling with our thoughts just to say "Hello" to our loved ones. Like black holes in a parallel universe vacillating between absorbing stars or learning from them. Parallel or not we all have matter and that makes life. In a parallel universes, we would expect the different axes to be in unscientific spatial arrangement. As a black hole, has a ton of mysteries leaving the singularity as an enigma and point horizon as a conclusion of all the arrangements of time. Past- the time that once was, Present- the time that stays, Future- time that has gone away with Destiny.
In similarity, I suppose that people can have awkward moments fitting in this world and expressing their desires and thoughts alike their needs and wants. But a black hole as a single purpose after a star dies it is to create space for the universe occupied by light and not-to-mention gases.
hashtag1stworldproblems, but
couldn't even win a prize for reading:
'But there was no give in the cat,
no flex anywhere but his tail. And for
a moment their roles reversed, as though it were
the train facing
the inevitable cat...'
'n' dog 69er
vukojebina Tasmaniandevil in a ******
ad under/overbiting off more than I can
chew Escher's pretzel autocannibal
Prometheus in a Faustian ****
stage pacman dragon fusion starbirth centre
of the earth Bruckheimer pileup of me

Meanwhile bombs fall everywhere but here.

Singing 'Suggasuggasugga my art ***,
liggaliggaligga my art hole'

putting out the bins Insta-grommet-
ed Fama-widgetted the world but the world
is washing its ***** homme moyen sensuel
feels neither ****** nor blessed
culdesac wilderness no 'Wot no samo
©' enriches but inside my flat wypipo
surahs are basquiated alll over bones stones
& date palm fronds Newyork Paris London
Norwich supernobody supernova of purple psychology
prisoner between the lines egotistical subprime of me.

Allthewhile bombs immortalise everywhere but here.

Praying ' Ia! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat
of the Woods With a 1000 Young'
  yet still
the DWP send brown envelopes like post-
al millenarian sandwichboards or economic
letterbombs mash of calendars unassailable
nth mph inevitable catastrophe alazonic
file Akashic Bureau declassifies
is conceit of a train facing a rhino of a meme by
necessity a meme of a rhino gardarhino swino
my geworfen gurn of response scenarios
geworfen backatcha megillah galaxy
fillet ubeity is barrow pig cosmic bootyclap of me.

Everyday bombs bombarded the Mousetrap Theatre
but never hereatre.

Isn't everything just advanced basketmaking
everything is advanced basket-
making everything either that or egowanking
like urban legend of the Purple One ouroboros-
ing his purple one Janusjaws bittensmit-
ten by tailtaste once American sawboneses
optimised the Tom Thumb of Funk's
zeroshape with double ribectomy musta hadda sillycunt
implant ah the hiss of hubris human CMBR
soliphissing hero of selflove whited sepulchres
'This is the only musical the mouth & hopefully
the brain attached to the mouth, right?'
X-iestance of me.

The bombs they bombeth everyday, but I'm okay.

Big Gazrilo Princep Bang weltgeschichtlich pinup
modcon slave to my suprachiasmatic nucleus living
l'appel du vide in comfort fatarse sitrep
tragicecstatic bluff transparent as an exhibition-
ist pharaoh mummified in cling-
film hokeycokeying the keys till my right hand's in
court & my leftover hand doesn't count
tallies of tall realities like BasquiAT-ATs or Daliphants
skittled by Tippex the inner crickets' tip-
ple ghost grawlixes sculpsit grazes 00Q's qwerty spype
no carmen triumphale of poetical toothbrushes gets free
from chelseasmiled singularity inadequake scree of me.

But bombs being dropped is not the only way
this 40-yr-old 5'6 din of reverie will stop.
Äŧül Oct 11
A Finn-Dorset clone,
Now not the alone.

Born on 5 July in 1996,
She died on Valentine's Day in 2003.

The celebrity sheep she died at the age of six,
Produced not from the common ovine ***.

Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer created her, read on.

Named after Dolly Parton,
'Coz of her admired *****.

Somatic cells were taken from a sheep's udders,
Extracted not without the sheep's jitters.

This sheep was the donor.

However, these cells were enucleated,
And the enucleated nucleus was handled.

Injected it was into a Finn-Dorset's embryo,
Oh yes, the embryo was without a nucleus.

This sheep was the recipient.

Without a folly, born was Dolly,
Resemble she did the donor.

Not only in its visible phenotype
But also in its invisible genotype.

Differ she did but only in her mitochondrial DNA.

Her birth did open a new portal,
Now pet lovers get their pets cloned.
A poem about something I am probably going to work on for the next three years for my PhD in Animal Biotechnology.

My HP Poem #1777
©Atul Kaushal
Easter lilies
regal, porcelain goblets of nectar
enthroned on my Kitchen counter
remind me of the Master Jesus'
ascent into Divinity

Pain, torment, gloom of Good Friday
Dark moment when He pleaded with Elohim
to remove the cup of poison from His lips
have passed away

Surrendering His mortal dread,
physical identity
He knew in the nucleus of His being
the Mysterious Truth
we shall alll come to know

Our inherent, indestructible
immortality and divine status

Instead of a crown of thorns
we place on Sweet Jesus' head
A Crown of Lilies
Emily Grace Mar 12
I am counting on God to save me
Amanda Aug 2018
Weightless in a vacuum void
Floating above the pressure valve
About to erupt
I am the negative of the polaroid
There is no healing salve
For this life overdeveloped

A nucleus of the storm
Pulled claustrophobic taut
My eyes closed wide open
Traversing this daily norm
With the fleshy juggernaut
And the day has barely begun
Ciel Noir Feb 28
One night
Long ago
I looked up into the sky

And for a moment I saw how

The electrons in the atoms
Orbit the nucleus

The Earth, the planets
Orbit the Sun

The stars and the nebulae
Orbit a black hole

All follow their way
Around the center
Even on the smallest scale
Even on the largest scale

Everything is drawn to the center

It was the closest I had ever felt
to God

— The End —