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"relativity" poems
When I enter, the black holes of myself, they are located, transcribed upon the blackboards of our unified bodies, the magnification of energy transversed, principles demonstrated by the unconcluding conclusion of the expansion of creation, the rebirthing of one universe never ending When I enter a woman, the discovery sought, the definitional needed, the proofs equational, the factors constant, not the variable truths, the demonstrations positive, the constants of the universe, combinational, all within, a single point glistening to gentle comfort this knowledge of my wasting, the foresight of my limitations from the day of birth my matter, matters, my energy neither destroyed or created, illimitable, my decline inevitable and yet! cannot alter my atomic structure. my future guaranteed, my inner light, traveling so fast, it has yet to arrive When I enter a woman, the laws of physics become special theories of relativity, we are motion in time, force and energy nucleotides rawest refined, elemental and particle nuclear, packets of light exclaimed When I enter a woman, organic, chemistry, interdisciplinary my body and its life force shaped as electric current transceivers crossing galaxies, there can be no deceivers, there but and only the birthing of heat, a byproduct of interjection, conjunction creation of creativity <> she is my proof long after the log normal of my nerves, now parceled to the invisible of an oscillating log natural, fertilizes the sea grasses that so intoxicate, flying, carried, by the invisiblity of the winds, all-where I have chosen as my shifting shape, when this container leaks and crack'd, in sentry reentry orbit, to the nearest garbage strewn construction-dead lot When I enter a woman, physics far beyond the commonplace, physical transition to knowledge of life ever after death and fear are time sensitized passing notions, crushed by the consolation of physics, the eternality of a time once begun, cannot end, and therefore this, my one theory of everything, the God I worship, of course, he is invisible!
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
The Consolation of Physics (When I Enter a Woman) Nov. 2014
When I enter, the black holes of myself, they are located, transcribed upon the blackboards of our unified bodies, the magnification of energy transversed, principles demonstrated by the unconcluding conclusion of the expansion of creation, the rebirthing of one universe never ending When I enter a woman, the discovery sought, the definitional needed, the proofs equational, the factors constant, not the variable truths, the demonstrations positive, the constants of the universe, combinational, all within, a single point glistening to gentle comfort this knowledge of my wasting, the foresight of my limitations from the day of birth my matter, matters, my energy neither destroyed or created, illimitable, my decline inevitable and yet! cannot alter my atomic structure. my future guaranteed, my inner light, traveling so fast, it has yet to arrive When I enter a woman, the laws of physics become special theories of relativity, we are motion in time, force and energy nucleotides rawest refined, elemental and particle nuclear, packets of light exclaimed When I enter a woman, organic, chemistry, interdisciplinary my body and its life force shaped as electric current transceivers crossing galaxies, there can be no deceivers, there but and only the birthing of heat, a byproduct of interjection, conjunction creation of creativity <> she is my proof long after the log normal of my nerves, now parceled to the invisible of an oscillating log natural, fertilizes the sea grasses that so intoxicate, flying, carried, by the invisiblity of the winds, all-where I have chosen as my shifting shape, when this container leaks and crack'd, in sentry reentry orbit, to the nearest garbage strewn construction-dead lot When I enter a woman, physics far beyond the commonplace, physical transition to knowledge of life ever after death and fear are time sensitized passing notions, crushed by the consolation of physics, the eternality of a time once begun, cannot end, and therefore this, my one theory of everything, the God I worship, of course, he is invisible!
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107
Like flipped coin midair Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle Two ends of a spectrum, Möbius strip In a room together, Maxwell’s demon, revolving door Cancer and chemo Like life and death Only one can be The next is inevitable Like an election Only one figurehead may speak for a governing body Like the seasons Change is expected Like a cat left to its own devices Guaranteed to scare itself after a given time Man tries to conquer for comforts sake Mercurial reactions Like elements under catalyst Electron orbitals Exchange positive core Theory of relativity A choice of determining Accuracy of position or velocity Hermes, deity of mine Masculine and feminine Ruler of I Relieve the war of the immortal twins Gemini Battling my heart and mind
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Gemini
Einstein's Relativity tells us that time slows at fast speeds, So much so that it stops when travelling at the speed of light. As you look up at the stars tonight think of this: The photons that travel across the universe to your retina, Are created in the depths of a star and destroyed within your eye, In the same instance.
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Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Photons
In the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in Spain. Does it rain in Spain? Oh yes my dear on the contrary and there are no bull fights. The dancers dance in long white pants It isn't right to yence your aunts Come Uncle, let's go home. Home is where the heart is, home is where the **** is. Come let us **** in the home. There is no art in a **** Still a **** may not be artless. Let us **** an artless **** in the home. Democracy. Democracy. Bill says democracy must go. Go democracy. Go Go Go Bill's father would never knowingly sit down at table with a Democrat. Now Bill says democracy must go. Go on democracy. Democracy is the **** Relativity is the **** Dictators are the **** Menken is the **** Waldo Frank is the **** The Broom is the **** Dada is the **** Dempsey is the **** This is not a complete list. They say Ezra is the **** But Ezra is nice. Come let us build a monument to Ezra. Good a very nice monument. You did that nicely Can you do another? Let me try and do one. Let us all try and do one. Let the little girl over there on the corner try and do one. Come on little girl. Do one for Ezra. Good. You have all been successful children. Now let us clean the mess up. The Dial does a monument to Proust. We have done a monument to Ezra. A monument is a monument. After all it is the spirit of the thing that counts.
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9.6k
The Soul Of Spain
She fell in love with an astronaut, their distance lightyears away. She believes that he fell in love with her, too. “For the galaxies are beside me, and a vast of possibilities laying outside the metal surrounding me, i kept falling back into your pull of gravity.” And she still does, when she grows old every day, waiting he stays the same, feels the same, thinks the same. But she fell in love with an astronaut, their distance lightyears away. Everything under her feet moves faster, And in space - time slows down, Relativity kicks in. And every day she wishes, that the Earth would stop revolving the years stop counting, and she would stay the same, feel the same, think the same. She hoped, she dreamed, she failed. She fell in love with an astronaut. Her nights linger on tinkering on stars and planets, and space. She wanted to wait, she grows old, he slows it down, she couldn’t. He is lightyears away, and time is running out. She was in love with an astronaut, and he was meant to be there, not with her, not ever.
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
Relativity
Not an enigmatic smile Like the constipated, condescending smirk Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face; But a smile to justify God's existence; A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively, Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing - Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums To a new, more celestial pitch - An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries: A reason for existence. It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry - Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant. It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle To articulate an adequate description Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal. Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable, Than the most flawless diamond ever found - And, perhaps, just as rare. Thankfully, a renewable resource, Enabled to enlighten and heat The recesses of any beneficiary's Heart and invigorate their soul. Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail, Destroying a nation as a consequence; And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire; But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet - Drowning us all in its magnificence. Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile Only comes around once every twelve thousand years, In the Great Galactic turning. Einstein's General Theory of Relativity Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity, But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure. No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction. And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core, But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
0
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Hyperbole of a Smile
Not an enigmatic smile Like the constipated, condescending smirk Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face; But a smile to justify God's existence; A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively, Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing - Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums To a new, more celestial pitch - An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries: A reason for existence. It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry - Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant. It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle To articulate an adequate description Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal. Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable, Than the most flawless diamond ever found - And, perhaps, just as rare. Thankfully, a renewable resource, Enabled to enlighten and heat The recesses of any beneficiary's Heart and invigorate their soul. Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail, Destroying a nation as a consequence; And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire; But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet - Drowning us all in its magnificence. Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile Only comes around once every twelve thousand years, In the Great Galactic turning. Einstein's General Theory of Relativity Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity, But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure. No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction. And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core, But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
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43
When his eyes first fell upon her She was choosing avocados In the fruit and vegetable aisle. And he watched how her thumbs lingered On the base of the alligator pear And pressed, maternally. He feigned interest in the cabbages Whilst sensing her delicate architecture Through his peripheral gaze. He thought that somewhere, In real or imaginary life, They would soon bathe together. And when they did, They soaked for years in secrets, Details suffusing through their lips and arms, Water-hole satisfaction and moonlit deserts To make them feel they might have transcended cabbages And be pervading a rhapsodic realm They forgot their friends watching in greenery, Subsumed by each-other, They felt no need To live in a world of relativity and apples. Their love-traced sphere tightened around them, Until it ****** at the edges of their skin And wailed when they parted. Tighter it grew, elastic dug into their humid thighs Contorting their once harmonic bodies That used to fit like crosswords. And they each became ugly to the other As the seconds ingested their perfection And they bickered like flailing urchins In a deep sea soiled darkness. Decisions were made and paroxysms detonated And they were taken back by their Fungal friends with tissue offerings And ethanol. Time passed, and memories were binned Periodically on tuesdays Until neither knew the other And they would pass in the supermarket With no more than a quickened gait And a silent thud in each ribcage. But neither could buy avocados.
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Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 12:18 PM UTC
Avocado Pear
When his eyes first fell upon her She was choosing avocados In the fruit and vegetable aisle. And he watched how her thumbs lingered On the base of the alligator pear And pressed, maternally. He feigned interest in the cabbages Whilst sensing her delicate architecture Through his peripheral gaze. He thought that somewhere, In real or imaginary life, They would soon bathe together. And when they did, They soaked for years in secrets, Details suffusing through their lips and arms, Water-hole satisfaction and moonlit deserts To make them feel they might have transcended cabbages And be pervading a rhapsodic realm They forgot their friends watching in greenery, Subsumed by each-other, They felt no need To live in a world of relativity and apples. Their love-traced sphere tightened around them, Until it ****** at the edges of their skin And wailed when they parted. Tighter it grew, elastic dug into their humid thighs Contorting their once harmonic bodies That used to fit like crosswords. And they each became ugly to the other As the seconds ingested their perfection And they bickered like flailing urchins In a deep sea soiled darkness. Decisions were made and paroxysms detonated And they were taken back by their Fungal friends with tissue offerings And ethanol. Time passed, and memories were binned Periodically on tuesdays Until neither knew the other And they would pass in the supermarket With no more than a quickened gait And a silent thud in each ribcage. But neither could buy avocados.
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43
Forest inquires: How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise, give it a face, surrender to the poem's own vanity,         and choose the poem's alignment?                                                   an answer forms: this alignment idea, you think it simple, everybody understands what your inquiry means alignment -  the appropriate relative position we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer                                                                                         from the Theory of Poetic Relativity                                                                 i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,                                                                     smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;                                                                         kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal; for you see sir you have found the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;                                  answer no good, wholly insufficient?                                         perfect.                           as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note                                                                                    the earth has moved                                 our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times                                     time and space have appropriated our prior                                            relativity when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading   and what was right before has left and the center has moved again
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Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
alignment (The Theory of Poetic Relativity)
Forest inquires: How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise, give it a face, surrender to the poem's own vanity,         and choose the poem's alignment?                                                   an answer forms: this alignment idea, you think it simple, everybody understands what your inquiry means alignment -  the appropriate relative position we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer                                                                                         from the Theory of Poetic Relativity                                                                 i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,                                                                     smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;                                                                         kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal; for you see sir you have found the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;                                  answer no good, wholly insufficient?                                         perfect.                           as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note                                                                                    the earth has moved                                 our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times                                     time and space have appropriated our prior                                            relativity when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading   and what was right before has left and the center has moved again
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28
"Many a physics graduate student has gnashed her teeth in frustration over the mathematics of general relativity. Perhaps she should try envisioning a flat, boundless desert, with rocks of various sizes scattered across its surface, whose mass creates dips of various depths in the sand. A sturdy canopy looms over that desert, stretched tightly over a skeleton of tent poles linked by bars, matching the rises and dips in the sand beneath it. The desert is all the matter and energy in the universe, while the canopy is the geometry of space-time. The poles and bars are the equations of general relativity, connecting the stuff of the universe with the shape of the universe. As Halpern writes: “Mass and energy warp space-time, telling it where and how to curve. The shape of space-time, in turn, governs how things move within it.” ------------------------------------------------------- My mass and my energy are both warped, so the where's and the how's and the eyes of my curves are the poles and the bars of behind which I relentlessly cease to exist, only to seize what lies beyond the constraints of time and space, as eye wait for the bus to stop in the No Standing zone The Bus Poet Stop!
0
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Einstein's Dice and Schrodingers's Cat
In grammar, a correlative is a word that is paired with another word with which it functions to perform a single function but from which it is separated in the sentence. In English, examples of correlative pairs are both–and, either–or, neither–nor, the–the ("the more the better"), so–that ("it ate so much food that it burst"), and if–then. Correlative ----------- the word intrigues, not for its functionality, but for its relativity we are neither relatives, blood connected, nor are we correlated, in fact, quite the opposite! my love for you, from afar, if not, then, not at all you say never, and I say, even better! causing you're confessing, we are special together, the more, the better, our relationship contains a scriptural clause elemental, an unconditional correlative, for every for e v e r you never utter ……
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Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 2:39 PM UTC
correlative love
I searched for "truth" I found weakness Forever doubted theories compromise To hide their failure through fragile lies I searched for "justice" I found corruption The fairest laws defy morality And relativity fights equality I searched for "happiness" I found the source Jesus, my almighty savior I found You in the poor Help me love my neighbor The way You love me To keep this happiness Flowing inside me You stand by me Suture me with Your affection Understand me Lead the path to my redemption Helped me draw The masterpiece in me And withdraw The shackles off me Somehow, lost within Your stream I ended up finding "truth" Personal and general Strangely irrefutable The weak you redeemed Lowered the powerful Your perfect divine "justice" Defies my human logic, empirical yet so vulnerable ~Epic Monkey
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
"Seek and you shall find"
"Bago yan ah" aniya ng makita ang converse kong pula. Wala eh, wala nako maisip para makuha ang antensyon mo, mapansin mo. Naubos nga lahat ng ipon ko para sa sapatos na to. Balita ko kasi mahilig ka daw sa kulay pula at nangongolekta ka daw ng mga branded na sapatos. Ako yung tipong hindi maganda namay porselanang kutis gaya ng iba. Hindi katangkaran, pero pwede nadin para sa isang kolehiyala. Walang bag na ang tatak ay Guess, At magagandang damit na galing sa Mall. Simple lang ako, laging may hawak na libro. Nalilimutan mag suklay dahil baka maiwan ng jeep papuntang terminal ng LRT. Hindi naliligo sa pabango na padala galing abrod. At higit sa lahat, hindi nag susuot ng ibang sapatos bukod sa pinag lumaan kong rubber shoes. "Converse yan diba?" Dagdag niya ng hindi ako sumagot sa pag pansin niya. Ang totoo ay hindi ko alam ang sasabihin. Hindi ko alam pano ibubuka ang mga bibig at sasagot ng "Oo, buti naman napansin mo". Wala ako lakas ng loob. Tanging pag tango nalang ng ulo ang  kilos na kayang gawin ng katawan ko. Kumaripas ako ng pag lakad papunta sa silya sa dulo ng masikip na klasrum. Nag simula ang klase. Hindi ako maka pokus sa sinasabi ng Prof patungkol sa "Theory of relativity" ni Einstein. Tumititig sa wall clock sa taas ng pisara na kinatatayuan ni Ma'am Montemayor. Sa wakas biglang tumunog ang bell na nag sasabing tapos na ang klase. Palabas na ako nang muli mo kong tawagin. "Hi, pwede ba ako sumabay sayo mag lakad papunta sa Math class?alam mo naman ayaw ni Sir. Henry ng late" pabiro **** sinabi. Wala nakong nasabi kundi ang mga katagang "Okay lang naman". Tinatago ang ngiti na gusto ng mag kumawala, habang nag iisip at nag papasalamat sa Converse kong Pula.
0
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 5:07 AM UTC
Converse na pula
"Bago yan ah" aniya ng makita ang converse kong pula. Wala eh, wala nako maisip para makuha ang antensyon mo, mapansin mo. Naubos nga lahat ng ipon ko para sa sapatos na to. Balita ko kasi mahilig ka daw sa kulay pula at nangongolekta ka daw ng mga branded na sapatos. Ako yung tipong hindi maganda namay porselanang kutis gaya ng iba. Hindi katangkaran, pero pwede nadin para sa isang kolehiyala. Walang bag na ang tatak ay Guess, At magagandang damit na galing sa Mall. Simple lang ako, laging may hawak na libro. Nalilimutan mag suklay dahil baka maiwan ng jeep papuntang terminal ng LRT. Hindi naliligo sa pabango na padala galing abrod. At higit sa lahat, hindi nag susuot ng ibang sapatos bukod sa pinag lumaan kong rubber shoes. "Converse yan diba?" Dagdag niya ng hindi ako sumagot sa pag pansin niya. Ang totoo ay hindi ko alam ang sasabihin. Hindi ko alam pano ibubuka ang mga bibig at sasagot ng "Oo, buti naman napansin mo". Wala ako lakas ng loob. Tanging pag tango nalang ng ulo ang  kilos na kayang gawin ng katawan ko. Kumaripas ako ng pag lakad papunta sa silya sa dulo ng masikip na klasrum. Nag simula ang klase. Hindi ako maka pokus sa sinasabi ng Prof patungkol sa "Theory of relativity" ni Einstein. Tumititig sa wall clock sa taas ng pisara na kinatatayuan ni Ma'am Montemayor. Sa wakas biglang tumunog ang bell na nag sasabing tapos na ang klase. Palabas na ako nang muli mo kong tawagin. "Hi, pwede ba ako sumabay sayo mag lakad papunta sa Math class?alam mo naman ayaw ni Sir. Henry ng late" pabiro **** sinabi. Wala nakong nasabi kundi ang mga katagang "Okay lang naman". Tinatago ang ngiti na gusto ng mag kumawala, habang nag iisip at nag papasalamat sa Converse kong Pula.
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26
A dress of smiles covered her face as the curiosity of the taste of her lips crossed mine. As love lingured and the ambiance changed from dark to light. Rays played hop scotch on her skin as I fell in an event horizon.
0
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
General Relativity of Love
her milk is him her eyes are full of good tidings, washing my body with lavender soap cake, all the dirt crumbs of a hard life drained into a circle of holes that carry away carings, to places where their squeaking can’t be heard her hands, pillows for a head so sorrow-weighty, her body, her hips, a bed upon to rest, and he wonders, how did he exist before she become his nest, her hair of grass, now, a coverlet for twigs and strings, when then he laid his body down for disturbed sleep her milk is him, a restorative that refreshes his content, how did, once upon a time, he let existence subtract his time on earth without any relativity, time unrecognizable, he was in no one place, pathless, subsidizing nothing, unable to distinguish tween the straight and the curved her milk in him, whitens his soul, she calls out, “*you are my shepherd, my king, my David, my white marble sculpture of our current existence, when you drink the white of me, it is I who is fulfilled, when you write of me, your milk is me*”
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May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
her milk is him (your are my shepherd, my king, my David)
Samhain last night Peering through the veil Seeking truths Absolving Those who believe In absolutes Finding One Immutable Fact The Source is Love God isn't dead There never was a god This idea is anthropomorphic Navel gazing Of course There are no absolutes This poem Attempts to capture A moment In my spacetime Relativity
0
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Immutable
They walked under the stars, and constellations And under galaxies, they danced without a care without restraint As if they were the center of the universe On the soil, they made memories and the wind be their witness of the feelings they shared of the feelings they cherished As each little finite moment occurs each of their infinities come to light despite the one second turned to minutes then hours relativity kept their time from moving Their hearts come closer and closer until the two entities become one and at that very moment they made the universe one
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 6:36 AM UTC
When the stars aligned
Pay your quarters pay your dimes you're paying for laundromat time slowly spinning forgotten by Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Minutes become hours and there are still too many hours to go. Any math class intense gas organized religion waiting for the tow truck, the bus in the pouring frozen rain. Sitting in the E.R. with a cut finger waiting waiting waiting. Sitting in the hospital room with an elderly distant relative you hardly know, their funeral too. At the grandparents house with endless repeats of Judge Judy on the t.v. t.v. droning monotoning on and on and on. Any work day perpetually two thirty or three, in meetings with presentations with more presentations to go, you're trying to be productive, but all you know is laundromat time slowly spinning. Any night of insomnia, betrayals endless loops, anxiety rolling through, following you from one cigarette to another three o'clock four o'clock four-twenty. Home movies of endless barbeques I know meaningful to you. Pictures of people's cats and dogs a hundred more to go. Eight and a half months pregnant, kiddie soccer on a Sunday morning at 7:30, the middle school brass band Friday night at nine, yes, that's me passed out and snoring, laundromat time a warm blanket has put me under. Anybody else's endless fascinations say pictures of weather, laundromat time sets in as the eye lids flutter narcolepsy sets in with all of this clutter. So the next time you're standing in line and the woman in front is telling the clerk every detail you never wanted to know you'll think about these poor lines and remember you're spinning in laundromat time forgotten by Einstein. In fact these poor lines must be feeling that way too I am going to do you a favor and get back to you later.
0
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Laundromat Time
Pay your quarters pay your dimes you're paying for laundromat time slowly spinning forgotten by Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Minutes become hours and there are still too many hours to go. Any math class intense gas organized religion waiting for the tow truck, the bus in the pouring frozen rain. Sitting in the E.R. with a cut finger waiting waiting waiting. Sitting in the hospital room with an elderly distant relative you hardly know, their funeral too. At the grandparents house with endless repeats of Judge Judy on the t.v. t.v. droning monotoning on and on and on. Any work day perpetually two thirty or three, in meetings with presentations with more presentations to go, you're trying to be productive, but all you know is laundromat time slowly spinning. Any night of insomnia, betrayals endless loops, anxiety rolling through, following you from one cigarette to another three o'clock four o'clock four-twenty. Home movies of endless barbeques I know meaningful to you. Pictures of people's cats and dogs a hundred more to go. Eight and a half months pregnant, kiddie soccer on a Sunday morning at 7:30, the middle school brass band Friday night at nine, yes, that's me passed out and snoring, laundromat time a warm blanket has put me under. Anybody else's endless fascinations say pictures of weather, laundromat time sets in as the eye lids flutter narcolepsy sets in with all of this clutter. So the next time you're standing in line and the woman in front is telling the clerk every detail you never wanted to know you'll think about these poor lines and remember you're spinning in laundromat time forgotten by Einstein. In fact these poor lines must be feeling that way too I am going to do you a favor and get back to you later.
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80
What is 1 to 1.5 currency to relativity urgency brings negativity It's not about new tools it withers your tools bring productivity The way you slap that old guitar, the way you drive that beat up car How fast does it run? How long does it last? How fast does it charge? New can only take you so far Let that distance your reach be derived from a skill, not from how rich or famous your are. I often walk, even though I own a car...I prefer feeling the wind, the open-air, it makes me feel like I'm apart of something The emotions I feel are driven from an organic substance, the dirt that I see the wind that I feel..these constant conflicts between what is man-made and what was here. The stare of a deer, the tree was its friend, it's now been destroyed to make a path of cement. That path of cement created a state of solidarity, urban prosperity, violence numbified by media regularities. Civilizations become the norm, even though we all barely speak to each other physically Digital formats become our literal floor mats, every result you leave results in a digital footprint, cataloged for the marketing lab rats Too complex to understand like a physical labyrinth, Let me elaborate So let me ask you ?! What is 1 to 1.5 Can you live without your social media vices, multimedia devices, tell me the definition of what "like" is Currency, urgency, thumbs up if you feel like every part of your life is an emergency, if so then share it, so the world can see Then watch your conversations about fashion turn into a targeted ad about a jacket that is burgundy Invasion of privacy? Not if your privacy is for the world to see. Coincidently that jacket is on sale, so if you buy it this theory will not fail, and if you don't the media will still prevail, it's presence is an entire quarter, meaning it's heads or tails. That's urgency hiding behind a veil.
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
Urgency - Social Media Vices
What is 1 to 1.5 currency to relativity urgency brings negativity It's not about new tools it withers your tools bring productivity The way you slap that old guitar, the way you drive that beat up car How fast does it run? How long does it last? How fast does it charge? New can only take you so far Let that distance your reach be derived from a skill, not from how rich or famous your are. I often walk, even though I own a car...I prefer feeling the wind, the open-air, it makes me feel like I'm apart of something The emotions I feel are driven from an organic substance, the dirt that I see the wind that I feel..these constant conflicts between what is man-made and what was here. The stare of a deer, the tree was its friend, it's now been destroyed to make a path of cement. That path of cement created a state of solidarity, urban prosperity, violence numbified by media regularities. Civilizations become the norm, even though we all barely speak to each other physically Digital formats become our literal floor mats, every result you leave results in a digital footprint, cataloged for the marketing lab rats Too complex to understand like a physical labyrinth, Let me elaborate So let me ask you ?! What is 1 to 1.5 Can you live without your social media vices, multimedia devices, tell me the definition of what "like" is Currency, urgency, thumbs up if you feel like every part of your life is an emergency, if so then share it, so the world can see Then watch your conversations about fashion turn into a targeted ad about a jacket that is burgundy Invasion of privacy? Not if your privacy is for the world to see. Coincidently that jacket is on sale, so if you buy it this theory will not fail, and if you don't the media will still prevail, it's presence is an entire quarter, meaning it's heads or tails. That's urgency hiding behind a veil.
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it's not a problem when there's nothing to sweat, the humidity between your fingers only exists if you let it. disconnection from socialization is nothing immoral, more than anything, it's probable. no eye contact at uncomfortably long red-lights, don't try to discuss the compartimentalizing in the back of your head. you are a molecule. molecules are small, you are small. on second thought, think more about what i couldn't stand in the world than what i would change. consider the opportunity and bottle enthusiasm like it's a commodity. segregate mind from self. seperate syllables, content, and over-accumilation. inside, i would never expect you to work your own way out. and again, i spat out black, fine lined ******** there was no more than the predetermined depth that they've come to expect from me, i went no further than to soak my readers, then force them out still wet: go ahead, drip-dry from my dignity. it's like the fire they insisted deserves to be cradled in a cage. because freedom is threat: consuming until she bursts into a sheet of liquidated decision. but there is still room for appreciation: for the consistency of light, warmth and relativity. swallow back a mouthful of something i cannot pronounce. what does it matter if losing sleep makes you feel ten, the lie is still that you're twenty-seven. but what drove through, down, enough to come out the other side, is still being ignored. my loyalty proved as a stunt in the precious growth you claim i lacked. just when it became lyrical the reality becomes increasingly evident, no woman needs poetry about the sun, or the starving lions out back. so just let me burn in the grass. because it'd only be wasting my time, airing out. it's your pope's, not my prophecy that doesn't believe in the gravity you say forced you to fall into me. one day you'll laugh. one day i'll stop getting lost when i drive to new places. one day the water will stop running from our taps. i'm sure you realize i sexualized you, like the young thing i am. i should apologize, but i'm also pretty sure you don't mind. rewind: you'll go to waste like fine wine, and i'll drive you home over the phone.
0
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
facts
it's not a problem when there's nothing to sweat, the humidity between your fingers only exists if you let it. disconnection from socialization is nothing immoral, more than anything, it's probable. no eye contact at uncomfortably long red-lights, don't try to discuss the compartimentalizing in the back of your head. you are a molecule. molecules are small, you are small. on second thought, think more about what i couldn't stand in the world than what i would change. consider the opportunity and bottle enthusiasm like it's a commodity. segregate mind from self. seperate syllables, content, and over-accumilation. inside, i would never expect you to work your own way out. and again, i spat out black, fine lined ******** there was no more than the predetermined depth that they've come to expect from me, i went no further than to soak my readers, then force them out still wet: go ahead, drip-dry from my dignity. it's like the fire they insisted deserves to be cradled in a cage. because freedom is threat: consuming until she bursts into a sheet of liquidated decision. but there is still room for appreciation: for the consistency of light, warmth and relativity. swallow back a mouthful of something i cannot pronounce. what does it matter if losing sleep makes you feel ten, the lie is still that you're twenty-seven. but what drove through, down, enough to come out the other side, is still being ignored. my loyalty proved as a stunt in the precious growth you claim i lacked. just when it became lyrical the reality becomes increasingly evident, no woman needs poetry about the sun, or the starving lions out back. so just let me burn in the grass. because it'd only be wasting my time, airing out. it's your pope's, not my prophecy that doesn't believe in the gravity you say forced you to fall into me. one day you'll laugh. one day i'll stop getting lost when i drive to new places. one day the water will stop running from our taps. i'm sure you realize i sexualized you, like the young thing i am. i should apologize, but i'm also pretty sure you don't mind. rewind: you'll go to waste like fine wine, and i'll drive you home over the phone.
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53
Do not bother me with your absurd theories; Reason, logic, and evidence have no place In the heart of the true and righteous believer. Faith in holy texts should be your guide, Your faith should be blind, unadulterated, and quintessential, or Risk a dreadful and eternal damnation. If Einstein knew so much Why do they call his premise the “Theory of Relativity”? If Darwin was so sharp, why is it the most He could up with was the “Theory of Evolution”? The answer is simple, they really had no clue, They simply did some scientific research and, in the end, They came up with nothing more than theories. And, what about all those archeologists Claiming the earth is billions of years old, or Cosmologists with their “Big Bang Theory.” Everything is nothing more than Theories, theories, theories. Turn your back on these absurdities; Trust, instead, the ancient, sacred texts That offer immutable, unquestionable truths. How ludicrous the idea that The world is more than 10,000 years old, (Carbon dating of fossil rocks is just mambo-jumbo) The universe and all creation Were made in six days, God, tiring after all that work, (Wouldn't you after working 24/6?) Rested on the seventh day. It's there in black and white, For everyone to see. (Assuming you've read the right version) Men were created from a clod of clay, (Or mud, but you get the point) Women from the rib of man (Which is why they should be subservient to men). What nonsense from biologist and paleontologist That claim we evolved from micro-organisms and apes, This notion is total sacrilege, a blasphemy. Life is too complicated, too complex to just evolve, Intelligent Design is the only answer, All the talk to the contrary is nonsensical hyperbole.   God made everything happen. Read the holy texts, the truth is as obvious, As plain as the tip of your nose. Everyone knows that all the anthropological data, All the purported archeological digs, With reports of dinosaurs and missing links,   Are fabricated to fit nerd scientists' preconceived notions of What they would like everyone to believe. When in doubt, refer to the holy texts, You will see all the unsubstantiated, ludicrous claims For what they really are: Trash, trash, and more trash. Do not bother me with your facts, or Your scientific data or findings; In the end, everything boils down to more idiotic theories. Have unquestioning, blinding, and total faith, Read the holy texts and they will set you free. So, the next time someone questions your beliefs, Claiming there is no merit or facts to support them, Remind them that to question the word of God Will send them, along with their theories, Straight to hell. Amen!
0
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 6:19 PM UTC
Absurd Theories
Do not bother me with your absurd theories; Reason, logic, and evidence have no place In the heart of the true and righteous believer. Faith in holy texts should be your guide, Your faith should be blind, unadulterated, and quintessential, or Risk a dreadful and eternal damnation. If Einstein knew so much Why do they call his premise the “Theory of Relativity”? If Darwin was so sharp, why is it the most He could up with was the “Theory of Evolution”? The answer is simple, they really had no clue, They simply did some scientific research and, in the end, They came up with nothing more than theories. And, what about all those archeologists Claiming the earth is billions of years old, or Cosmologists with their “Big Bang Theory.” Everything is nothing more than Theories, theories, theories. Turn your back on these absurdities; Trust, instead, the ancient, sacred texts That offer immutable, unquestionable truths. How ludicrous the idea that The world is more than 10,000 years old, (Carbon dating of fossil rocks is just mambo-jumbo) The universe and all creation Were made in six days, God, tiring after all that work, (Wouldn't you after working 24/6?) Rested on the seventh day. It's there in black and white, For everyone to see. (Assuming you've read the right version) Men were created from a clod of clay, (Or mud, but you get the point) Women from the rib of man (Which is why they should be subservient to men). What nonsense from biologist and paleontologist That claim we evolved from micro-organisms and apes, This notion is total sacrilege, a blasphemy. Life is too complicated, too complex to just evolve, Intelligent Design is the only answer, All the talk to the contrary is nonsensical hyperbole.   God made everything happen. Read the holy texts, the truth is as obvious, As plain as the tip of your nose. Everyone knows that all the anthropological data, All the purported archeological digs, With reports of dinosaurs and missing links,   Are fabricated to fit nerd scientists' preconceived notions of What they would like everyone to believe. When in doubt, refer to the holy texts, You will see all the unsubstantiated, ludicrous claims For what they really are: Trash, trash, and more trash. Do not bother me with your facts, or Your scientific data or findings; In the end, everything boils down to more idiotic theories. Have unquestioning, blinding, and total faith, Read the holy texts and they will set you free. So, the next time someone questions your beliefs, Claiming there is no merit or facts to support them, Remind them that to question the word of God Will send them, along with their theories, Straight to hell. Amen!
Continue reading...
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