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"scientifically" poems
Scientifically, we are made up of a combination of atoms that somehow resulted in spinning minds and thirsty hearts, soft skin and aching bones. I heard somewhere that if the atoms of an object could spread far enough apart, we could pass through anything. If we are merely atoms, I suppose I spread mine so far that you passed through me. You came through me, you hit my bloodstream and God was it a rush. My atoms reacted with yours and it felt like they started to merge into one. I felt you become a part of my spinning mind, my thirsty heart, my soft skin and my aching bones. I spread myself so far so that you could really see who I was and before I knew it you had passed through me. My atoms are tinged with specks of yours and I can't get you out of what makes up who I am. This is why I miss you with all that I have.
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
Atoms
Within my soul I’ve found yours Are they different? They are one, they are one with the cosmos, But our sub souls have a strong gravity acting on them, A gravity unexplained by science, A gravity we’ve chosen to name love, Scientifically oxytocin creates this feeling, but oxytocin is a by product of this very gravity, What we choose to believe is up to us The sky is blue Love is the fifth dimension A day will come, far far away, A collective surge of this gravity, Will pull all creatures together, There will be no anti love - no hunger no wars, This dimension we only experienced in parts, Will save us from our own destruction
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Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
A Prophecy of Love
I'm pretty sure I dreamed you up Late last night while I was walking in the rain. I probably shouldn't tell you That nobody's ever been Proud To hold my hand In front of anyone else. It probably shouldn't mean something to me That your fingers felt natural laced with mine. Everybody has hands, Everybody can touch me. Ah, But few people can touch me And make me feel it. I could go on about your voice, The way you stumble and trip over your words That tugs at my heart in this deliciously painful way: I want to stop your confusion With a kiss. I could talk about your eyes, Sparkling, sparking a connection like a short circuit in my head That makes me have to stop and re-collect myself. With a ring of dark around the edges of the iris That I read somewhere makes somebody more beautiful, Scientifically. It didn't feel scientific. It felt gravitational. I could say lots about the way your hair Never falls the same way, And dances, reaching, in the breeze And somehow the image makes your eyes glow more. But your hands... Contact is a thing for me, you see. Skin. (Yours.) I love contact, and it's because No words get in the way of what you want to say. If you feel and wish, you need nothing more than a brushing of fingertips To say exactly what you mean to. I think you heard me, all night. I was saying everything I wasn't saying. You kept drifting back to me, your fingers on my knee Or resting in my palm, And I think that's really what did it, Honestly. What made me decide I don't care if this is a terrible idea (oh it surely is) I know I should probably make a better show of it- A token attempt, really, to be smart. But then again, when Does that ever work out? And your fingers twined with mine... I think you carry some kind of low level electric charge, And it sizzled through me every time your hand touched mine. I thought of breaking the connection a hundred times, Easier for you, Easier for me, But god, how impossible. I held the thought in my mind and it hurt me to consider. And so instead I pulled you a little closer And kept going. Outside walking in the rain early this morning, When the streets were paved in silver and gold from the sheen of the water That caught and held the soft glow of the streetlamps I thought, "Well **** this is going to keep me up nights, isn't it?" And it began immediately To pour.
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Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
The Statistical Probability of Being Struck By Lightning
I'm pretty sure I dreamed you up Late last night while I was walking in the rain. I probably shouldn't tell you That nobody's ever been Proud To hold my hand In front of anyone else. It probably shouldn't mean something to me That your fingers felt natural laced with mine. Everybody has hands, Everybody can touch me. Ah, But few people can touch me And make me feel it. I could go on about your voice, The way you stumble and trip over your words That tugs at my heart in this deliciously painful way: I want to stop your confusion With a kiss. I could talk about your eyes, Sparkling, sparking a connection like a short circuit in my head That makes me have to stop and re-collect myself. With a ring of dark around the edges of the iris That I read somewhere makes somebody more beautiful, Scientifically. It didn't feel scientific. It felt gravitational. I could say lots about the way your hair Never falls the same way, And dances, reaching, in the breeze And somehow the image makes your eyes glow more. But your hands... Contact is a thing for me, you see. Skin. (Yours.) I love contact, and it's because No words get in the way of what you want to say. If you feel and wish, you need nothing more than a brushing of fingertips To say exactly what you mean to. I think you heard me, all night. I was saying everything I wasn't saying. You kept drifting back to me, your fingers on my knee Or resting in my palm, And I think that's really what did it, Honestly. What made me decide I don't care if this is a terrible idea (oh it surely is) I know I should probably make a better show of it- A token attempt, really, to be smart. But then again, when Does that ever work out? And your fingers twined with mine... I think you carry some kind of low level electric charge, And it sizzled through me every time your hand touched mine. I thought of breaking the connection a hundred times, Easier for you, Easier for me, But god, how impossible. I held the thought in my mind and it hurt me to consider. And so instead I pulled you a little closer And kept going. Outside walking in the rain early this morning, When the streets were paved in silver and gold from the sheen of the water That caught and held the soft glow of the streetlamps I thought, "Well **** this is going to keep me up nights, isn't it?" And it began immediately To pour.
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69
Go choke on your delusional idea of love. No does not mean “change my mind” No does not mean liquor me up, get me good and drunk till I can no longer verbally reject you. My slurs of terror and anguish as I try to shove you off of me. Did it make you feel good? Did you feel like a real man- To take what was mine. Did it boost your ego? You had no right to sneak into my bedroom and steal my girlhood. I was 13. Chaos seeped into what was a serene life. The torturous and endless cycle continued for 3 god **** years. What man is so weak? So weak that he has to take what he feels he’s entitled to, from a little girl. I can never get back what you stole from me. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove the assault even happened, but the trauma can never be erased from my mind. The skin replaces itself every 7 to 15 years, so scientifically speaking your hand prints are still eminent on my skin. This flesh and bone is no longer mine. That home I took my first steps in, was no longer mine from the moment you creeped in. But you do not own me. I can still recall the first time I frantically searched for a sharp object in all the clutter, just trying to make myself distasteful to you. But you ignored the blood dripping from my thighs, dismissed the warning signs as if you were colorblind. Nothing could stop your calloused hands and feeble mind. Years later, your pressure still stands heavy on my heart. I labeled myself as damaged goods. But I am a ******* work of art. And I can’t undo what you did but I can use my voice to speak on the pain you’ve caused me. To raise awareness for those still suffering. You did not stunt my growth because I am in full bloom. I will not let you define a single part of me. I will grow as you regress. As you destruct everything you come in contact with. I will touch people and I will make jaws drop. I will be someone. Just watch me.
0
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
A Letter To The Man Who ***** Me
Go choke on your delusional idea of love. No does not mean “change my mind” No does not mean liquor me up, get me good and drunk till I can no longer verbally reject you. My slurs of terror and anguish as I try to shove you off of me. Did it make you feel good? Did you feel like a real man- To take what was mine. Did it boost your ego? You had no right to sneak into my bedroom and steal my girlhood. I was 13. Chaos seeped into what was a serene life. The torturous and endless cycle continued for 3 god **** years. What man is so weak? So weak that he has to take what he feels he’s entitled to, from a little girl. I can never get back what you stole from me. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove the assault even happened, but the trauma can never be erased from my mind. The skin replaces itself every 7 to 15 years, so scientifically speaking your hand prints are still eminent on my skin. This flesh and bone is no longer mine. That home I took my first steps in, was no longer mine from the moment you creeped in. But you do not own me. I can still recall the first time I frantically searched for a sharp object in all the clutter, just trying to make myself distasteful to you. But you ignored the blood dripping from my thighs, dismissed the warning signs as if you were colorblind. Nothing could stop your calloused hands and feeble mind. Years later, your pressure still stands heavy on my heart. I labeled myself as damaged goods. But I am a ******* work of art. And I can’t undo what you did but I can use my voice to speak on the pain you’ve caused me. To raise awareness for those still suffering. You did not stunt my growth because I am in full bloom. I will not let you define a single part of me. I will grow as you regress. As you destruct everything you come in contact with. I will touch people and I will make jaws drop. I will be someone. Just watch me.
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1
nerd, dork, no life Dorks my favorite because practically its my name now I'm usually buried in a book and I usually. Get asked what's the point? Honestly I think it'll make me a better lover Because when I find a girl I'll be able to teach her about science so she can understand the bond that I feel for her I'll be able to teach her about math so we can view love at a different angel I'll be able to teach her about history so she'll understand when I say that if my love were to flow into the ocean it would make BP's 2010 incident look like a drop of black paint on a canvas of red I'll be able to teach her about English especially present participles you know running, jumping, skipping words that describe an action that's ongoing that's why she'll never hear me say I love you but hear I'm Loving you I'll be able to teach her about art because id love to paint her like one of my French girls And even thought I'm buried in books there is still so much I don't know about human interactions she'll be able to teach me about sadness and how to make it go away she'll be able to teach me about happiness and how to make it stay she'll be able to teach me about jealousy and how its like a fire that will burn you from the inside out she'll be able to teach me about lust and how it always leads to disaster she'll be able to teach me about loyalty and how its the key to perfection But all this day dreaming was interrupted by my daily bully whose only words were insults I gave him a look that if I were superman would've left a gap between his eyes He asked what I thought of him So I explained.. Well scientifically speaking you and beauty are like a magnet with the same charge Mathematically speaking your ego is like the number 5i .. imaginary Historically speaking how you manage to speak with a lack of a brain is the 8th wonder of the world But in plain old English you're always looking for someone to actually love you back And by the way its Mr. Dork to you
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
DORK
nerd, dork, no life Dorks my favorite because practically its my name now I'm usually buried in a book and I usually. Get asked what's the point? Honestly I think it'll make me a better lover Because when I find a girl I'll be able to teach her about science so she can understand the bond that I feel for her I'll be able to teach her about math so we can view love at a different angel I'll be able to teach her about history so she'll understand when I say that if my love were to flow into the ocean it would make BP's 2010 incident look like a drop of black paint on a canvas of red I'll be able to teach her about English especially present participles you know running, jumping, skipping words that describe an action that's ongoing that's why she'll never hear me say I love you but hear I'm Loving you I'll be able to teach her about art because id love to paint her like one of my French girls And even thought I'm buried in books there is still so much I don't know about human interactions she'll be able to teach me about sadness and how to make it go away she'll be able to teach me about happiness and how to make it stay she'll be able to teach me about jealousy and how its like a fire that will burn you from the inside out she'll be able to teach me about lust and how it always leads to disaster she'll be able to teach me about loyalty and how its the key to perfection But all this day dreaming was interrupted by my daily bully whose only words were insults I gave him a look that if I were superman would've left a gap between his eyes He asked what I thought of him So I explained.. Well scientifically speaking you and beauty are like a magnet with the same charge Mathematically speaking your ego is like the number 5i .. imaginary Historically speaking how you manage to speak with a lack of a brain is the 8th wonder of the world But in plain old English you're always looking for someone to actually love you back And by the way its Mr. Dork to you
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24
Serotonin Oxytocin mu-2 Kappa Melatonin Acetylcholine Dopamine Epinephrine Your love is a drug your touch is an addiction with pupil dilation and body feeling free I really do even scientifically get high when you are next to me The hormones and pheromones flow in through my nose sink into my skin and flow through then out again as we lay entwined smelling tasting and touching each other. To explain love is both intangible illogical and unknown while at the same time a scientific and physiological study of the way our bodies interact. True love versus lust and arousal which is more addicting and which is something worth predicting? These must be the reasons why when we are together we cannot seem to think we just want to sleep we laugh about nothing and smile for miles we both go limp and hard at the same time sending us both on a ride that leaves us flying high I must say that addiction runs in my family and I am not sure I will ever be able to give you up. Worse than nicotine caffeine pills and alcohol Your love truly is a drug and I will never leave you under the rug. It is said that what is between two people, is something no other will understand even the most in depth conversation can never explain ….and yet here I am writing ten times a day to try and convey this feeling to others all in complete pride and vain.
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Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 3:25 PM UTC
Drug Dealing - pt. 1 In Bed
Ever wondered what a shadow is? Scientifically its the absence of light when something comes in between it and a surface. Actually.. a shadow is the person reading your story.
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
Shadow
Anxiety quelled by more medication and an anxiety class where I learn it is all about fight, flight, freeze and saber tooth tigers and every symptom can be explained scientifically and tabulated and put on a balance sheet where insignificant experimental mortals like me can put check marks in little boxes and the totality of my existence can then be clearly defined and understood by someone wearing a plastic name card around her neck announcing PhD. The room has no windows, only a hand written poster from an AA meeting and stale air and three anxious women out of the ten people who are supposed to be here. No one knows, but I am in boot camp inside my head It is the mindfulness of anxiety anxious thoughts, thoughts of you are to be immediately exterminated Perhaps the hand sanitizer that is available at every corner in this place will help
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Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 1:05 PM UTC
Boot Camp
please to admit, it is true & not too deep within, a scientifically proven and a oddly curio shop fact, we are all aliens to each other, despite, the overlapping of a billion permutations of cellular related associations our individuating palettes the diversity of our genetics, other than the physics of sharing a planet, simplest put, no one can ever be exactly the same, the precisely of you or me, doppelgängers notwithstanding, our individuation, so incredibly due to our blessed diversification, that to subdivide ourselves from others, is a downward                                                            facing absolutely ridiculous ideation and thus we reveal here and (n/kn-ow) that the only reason we aliens unique nonetheless can communicate with each other, regardless of alphabet or character of idiom, (or idiots of character) is *all alien beings love to breathe and speak intuitively in a pleasing rhyme and meter,* to the ear of our overlapping physique, and that is why, every tongue is connectable, and every alpha produces its own poetic creations, 'tis poetic soundings alliterating glue, that molds this planet of aliens from a tower of babel into a shapely sphere
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Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 1:05 AM UTC
noooo brother, you're the alien!
In ant populations Worker ants are blind Follow one another by scent Pheromones are released from their feet Leaving a scent trail from the next to follow A single file line Blindly trusting pheromones Sometimes an ant loses the scent though And wanders off looking for the trail Leading the others off behind him And if he looks hard enough He’ll find the end of his own line And follow the tail of a train He created Subsequently creating what is scientifically known as a Death Spiral For these blind ants are unaware They are following the same path over and over It does not lead anywhere It does not lead home Eventually they walk until They walk no more… Pheromone- “any chemical substance released by an animal that serves to influence the physiology or behavior of other members of the same species.” Originates from the Greek phérein and that means to bear or bring and Hormone Many people say that love Is a chemical reaction A perfect blend of pheromones To produce attraction Affection And in the end reproduction Love was Scientifically disjointed To fit better on a slide Linguistically altered To fit better on paper But isn’t love just pheromones? Like it is to the ants Attractive footsteps We blindly follow Even if they lead us to no good Most times Love leads us home Leads us to prosper Tells us where to go What to do To survive Until it doesn’t… Then our pheromone path Leads us in circles It leads around and around Love can lead us in a death spiral And if we are blind we will not step out Step out of the path: That winding circling path of doom Made up of previous mistake we have made That left attractive footsteps in their wake Footsetps that when we go lost we again found And now we choose to blindly repeat them Over and over In the pursuit of Love Because of Pheromones
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Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
Pheromones and Ants and Love and Really It's all the Same
In ant populations Worker ants are blind Follow one another by scent Pheromones are released from their feet Leaving a scent trail from the next to follow A single file line Blindly trusting pheromones Sometimes an ant loses the scent though And wanders off looking for the trail Leading the others off behind him And if he looks hard enough He’ll find the end of his own line And follow the tail of a train He created Subsequently creating what is scientifically known as a Death Spiral For these blind ants are unaware They are following the same path over and over It does not lead anywhere It does not lead home Eventually they walk until They walk no more… Pheromone- “any chemical substance released by an animal that serves to influence the physiology or behavior of other members of the same species.” Originates from the Greek phérein and that means to bear or bring and Hormone Many people say that love Is a chemical reaction A perfect blend of pheromones To produce attraction Affection And in the end reproduction Love was Scientifically disjointed To fit better on a slide Linguistically altered To fit better on paper But isn’t love just pheromones? Like it is to the ants Attractive footsteps We blindly follow Even if they lead us to no good Most times Love leads us home Leads us to prosper Tells us where to go What to do To survive Until it doesn’t… Then our pheromone path Leads us in circles It leads around and around Love can lead us in a death spiral And if we are blind we will not step out Step out of the path: That winding circling path of doom Made up of previous mistake we have made That left attractive footsteps in their wake Footsetps that when we go lost we again found And now we choose to blindly repeat them Over and over In the pursuit of Love Because of Pheromones
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60
The Sun Is Shining Today The Storm Has Finally Stopped a statement says: <we have done something yesterday nothing like our best just something to stop that storm> the statement returns true as fact inconsequent gestures of nature we weave to serve an unknown wish -made of numerous physical and non-physical senses- so that fabric of a network   evolves  itself materializes sense sense to fabric fabric to sense scientifically improbable it remains an infinitesimal loop unwinds when you are not there runs within an ideally operating closed circuit remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives an etheric vitality materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste and some of yet undefined ones - possibly  assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable- executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only. So then Only then When You Combine the patchy Network of Things of Beings You Can Dance Them Sing Them Play Them Make Love To Them Become One With Them Compose Them but All these on condition that it remains as an unpacked gift Without telling to Yourself   or to Others or to That Storm because You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow But again How important is it really that biking tomorrow ? I mean when sighs and cries whirl around? a statement says: <you can’t stop wars by fights> the statement returns true as fact And if I know that you can stop storms by touches touches to smells smells to lights lights to metals metals to elements elements to stars stars to flights flights to a breeze on my fingertips breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss then I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow so that I can be blown away on a broken December day and let my long hair collect dune corrals  made of cosmic ray Huh So Yeah I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some! - not because I need to for my own sake or think about it.
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Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Today Is Tomorrow's Promised Beach Of Dreams
The Sun Is Shining Today The Storm Has Finally Stopped a statement says: <we have done something yesterday nothing like our best just something to stop that storm> the statement returns true as fact inconsequent gestures of nature we weave to serve an unknown wish -made of numerous physical and non-physical senses- so that fabric of a network   evolves  itself materializes sense sense to fabric fabric to sense scientifically improbable it remains an infinitesimal loop unwinds when you are not there runs within an ideally operating closed circuit remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives an etheric vitality materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste and some of yet undefined ones - possibly  assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable- executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only. So then Only then When You Combine the patchy Network of Things of Beings You Can Dance Them Sing Them Play Them Make Love To Them Become One With Them Compose Them but All these on condition that it remains as an unpacked gift Without telling to Yourself   or to Others or to That Storm because You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow But again How important is it really that biking tomorrow ? I mean when sighs and cries whirl around? a statement says: <you can’t stop wars by fights> the statement returns true as fact And if I know that you can stop storms by touches touches to smells smells to lights lights to metals metals to elements elements to stars stars to flights flights to a breeze on my fingertips breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss then I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow so that I can be blown away on a broken December day and let my long hair collect dune corrals  made of cosmic ray Huh So Yeah I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some! - not because I need to for my own sake or think about it.
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70
There is a boy sitting across the table from me, whose voice cracks like an old record when he sings hymns and kindness rests in the color of his eyes. He is explaining to me that order scientifically can’t come out of chaos, how the big bang never really happened because of the perfect order our lives are set up to be. The way the consistent order of the solar system helped humans create the concept of days, months, and years. We climbed a tree whose leaves mimicked the sunset’s arrangement of colors; we watched the sun simmer into the horizon, watching this chaos of color come to an orderly end. My life shifts from one chaotic moment into another. I remember sitting next to him on the crowded bus, sides pressed up against each other. There in that small act, I found order. However I worried because I heard on the radio one hot summer ago that us as individuals need chaos to grow, but then my name fell from his mouth and my mind is now repeating itself with chaotic worries that I may never find someone like him again.
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May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
Chaos and Order
When I said you could think of me as your therapist, I meant, could you leave the room and I’ll make notes? Allow me to turn Watching you leave Into a profession. Mind you, I’m pretty good at this job. There’s the creaking of the floor panels Under your converse, The jingle jangle of car keys In your back pocket, And the death-like glow of light bulbs Seeping through the door hinges Of when you exit. But you didn’t notice any of this. You hardly broke a sweat. Meanwhile, On the other side of the room, My tears are stars And the sound of your departure Has me painting Galaxies On my cheeks, Turning my chest into steel Until you’ve convinced yourself That God locked this heart in a cage. Don’t worry (I know you don’t), I am built for this, For your soapy self Slipping in and out of my life. And it will happen again. See? I have my notepad with lists of Heartbreaking theories and Scientifically correct ways Of sending you off. And when I will, Know that it’s just What every good therapist does.
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May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
Therapy
What, exactly, is a star? It's made up of so many things. Scientifically, it's a body of gases rubbing off against each other to create friction and heat, thus turning into a ball of bright red or blue light. And as for airplanes, they're the only mode of transportation in the air; once a man's dream, now everday's reality. The airplane can travel to any corner of the world-- how cool and sweet is that? I see you in airplanes. I imagine them as shooting stars, with me wishing for you. I also see you in the stars, also imagining them to be airplanes which are frozen in time, with who knows where they have traveled to in the past, or where they're bound to fly to. I love you as the stars, and I love you as the airplanes. I love you either way. No matter how far you are or how far you will go, I know I can always find you out there, free in the skies.
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Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
Chapter 2: The Stars-- and Airplanes
When left alone at night I look for the pinpoint lights of the stars that appear when clouds aren’t there. There’s a waning gibbous moon shyly peaking from the shadows, with one of its symmetrical sides, what’s the moon got to hide? whispering privately I’ve heard the moon has a darkside, that it’s coin-like and openly two-faced. That’s no idle gossip, it's scientifically based. India just landed on the moons bottom I wonder what, exactly, that got ‘em. It’s funny because the moon is **** making the landing sound rather rude. “India is groping the **** moon’s bottom.” See what I mean? It all sounds rather pervish and obscene - not at all the usual routine - it has the ring of something politically incorrect, but that’s progress, I guess, undressed or dressed.
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Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 2:26 PM UTC
the naked moon (don’t look)
Rippling outward till the waves stop. Dropped from a 5ft 10" skyscraper with a plop. Perfect circles in precession, stretching into regression The placidity is eerie as it returns with no sign of it's companion The next one cast did a flip flop across the liquid table top. Those ripples again. As if this lake had a brain, it feigns space to detain the stone and share knowledge arcane.   The last one I decided to swap I traded the lake's ripples for ones in my pocket. Its a reason to return to the lake The reason behind the pebble's wake Scientifically, I know the make. How is done, now why is at the stake. ,
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May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
Pebble
Black and white Two simple colors black and white to take in or reflect, all the others. That's what it is, scientifically. But nothing really ever is, as so definitely. But black and white. So simple and clean. You know what happens, you know what they mean! Wrong and right, ying, yang, the left, the other left, and the mute that sang. Black and white, simple to me, and maybe for you. But give me gray... well, I'm not exactly sure what to do. Give me 50 shades, and see what comes next. A puzzled face followed by horror and shock, don't mind me, that's just reflex. Grey area, they say to me, and that's got me shaking, shaking in my knees. Just give me black and white. Something I see clear. Simplicity in all its complex rhyme and rhythm, a clean simple answer, that's all I hold dear.
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Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Black and White
there may    or may not exist certain colours that the human eye is unable to see an insipid    blueish-yellow an unpalatable    greenish-red each said to be impossible for our eyes to process; if seen it could appear in all manner of forms but would remain indescribable they say that butterflies can see the ultraviolet spectrum and that the honey bee sees in infrared; and so it would not be too absurd for a person to dismiss the "impossible" to believe in the possibility of the as-yet unseen although scientifically the only way to perceive these "forbidden" hues is through trickery and constraint by forcing the brain into seeing both antagonistic colours simultaneously and without reprieve until the border between the opposing shades finally dissolves there may be a truth but it is hidden somewhere between the plausible    yet impalpable and the proven    yet proselytised
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May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 11:30 AM UTC
once you see it...
The Time For Humanity To Mature Has Not & Would Never Come. Read on - be intrigued. Now that I believe for a long time after I attained the age of 22 years on 23rd December, 2012. Many of the spiritual literature pieces are just contradictory to themselves, why would HE let the occurence of any trouble then and hold only the other end of a jittery life helping us cross to the other end safe & fine? If you would excuse this question saying "HE can never be questioned and HE alone is the destructor & the creator," then it's just a desperate excuse which you hold to considering theism as flawless & unquestionable, me & any similar people as psychos, or perhaps losers. I don't discourage theism nor do I encourage anybody to share similar thoughts as mine, but I myself don't encourage idling over the concept of the special spiritual unseen power. I agree that some phenomena like love, kindness, greed, lust & hatred can't ever just be scientifically explained in total completeness by just citing some natural laws of nature or physics. But then again why do we often indispensably need that imaginary hand above our heads for protection or more than often have to spend money in praise of the imaginary hand above our heads? Any mention about theists' escapist nature would be countered by their many statements of the following kind: o Us theists, we don't escape problems, we just gather courage when we have identified a problem in our lives by remembering the imaginary hand above our heads sheltering us from all troubles and then tackle the problem with enough strength. o Theism does neither lack anything divinity nor does it lack even anything evil, both of them are manmade concepts, the world was created as a perfect place for the existence of human race. o Instead of just leaving us all alone in this troublesome world, He has sent few of His men and we can blindly follow them to resolve our own specific troubles with solutions ideated around age-old books written by great men and we don't need anybody to question our faith wherever it is.
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
A Spiritual Article: Has Humanity Not Matured Yet?
The Time For Humanity To Mature Has Not & Would Never Come. Read on - be intrigued. Now that I believe for a long time after I attained the age of 22 years on 23rd December, 2012. Many of the spiritual literature pieces are just contradictory to themselves, why would HE let the occurence of any trouble then and hold only the other end of a jittery life helping us cross to the other end safe & fine? If you would excuse this question saying "HE can never be questioned and HE alone is the destructor & the creator," then it's just a desperate excuse which you hold to considering theism as flawless & unquestionable, me & any similar people as psychos, or perhaps losers. I don't discourage theism nor do I encourage anybody to share similar thoughts as mine, but I myself don't encourage idling over the concept of the special spiritual unseen power. I agree that some phenomena like love, kindness, greed, lust & hatred can't ever just be scientifically explained in total completeness by just citing some natural laws of nature or physics. But then again why do we often indispensably need that imaginary hand above our heads for protection or more than often have to spend money in praise of the imaginary hand above our heads? Any mention about theists' escapist nature would be countered by their many statements of the following kind: o Us theists, we don't escape problems, we just gather courage when we have identified a problem in our lives by remembering the imaginary hand above our heads sheltering us from all troubles and then tackle the problem with enough strength. o Theism does neither lack anything divinity nor does it lack even anything evil, both of them are manmade concepts, the world was created as a perfect place for the existence of human race. o Instead of just leaving us all alone in this troublesome world, He has sent few of His men and we can blindly follow them to resolve our own specific troubles with solutions ideated around age-old books written by great men and we don't need anybody to question our faith wherever it is.
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9
Humans are animals. We believe we are the superior species, But we are equal, equally animals Both crave companionship. Both need to procreate. Even human specific characteristics Are that of all animals. Love is not related to only our species. It resides in all living creatures Even if we deny it scientifically. And that is why it is beautiful. It is not rare, like we want it to be. It is not defining, like we hope it to be. It is not individualistic; it is normal. And that is why it is beautiful. So often we believe that beauty comes from The different, the exotic, the rare. But it resides in our most basic human make-up, Our genetics. And that is why it is beautiful - it is everywhere. So why, as humans, do we crave to be unique from other animals? We are the same. We are all beautiful. We all love. We are animals. Embrace it.
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Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Animals
a forest grows roots in my scalp a baby touches the soft short bits and laughs like there is no greater delight in her world my spirit swells in her beams i walk shoulders forward collar popped half-sneer that says “yeah that’s right i’m a badass” nobody sits next to me on the bus once this bleach-blonde spent half an hour worrying nail-biting, foot-tapping worry before setting the clippers to my head like she might hurt me i intimidate the thing in me that is vulnerable staple a wig to it, put it in a dress build it safe bridges out of my body so that on the street the people who do manage to worm their grubby fingers through the cracks are ************* psychos and i can imagine driving their nose up through their brain without feeling guilty or shameful even though that is scientifically impossible due to the density of bone and this charred twisted gargoyle on my shoulder who tells lies as long as the mississippi like “you deserve this **** on really bad days my hair turns and shouts “back the **** up gargoyle! you make no ******* sense!” even when i decide to trim it when i’m ****** out of my tree on sudafed and haven’t eaten solids in five days and it looks like, well, this i am a magnificent peacock swanning down the street and everyone is a little bit better for having walked through my glow now if only i could make eye contact with the cute **** on the bus
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May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
cloak of invincibility
I am pleased, might finally speak about my witch friend share with you some of her wits and trends Masters today desecrate the truth, meditation and visualization are nothing but outdated tools Culturally, relatively free i write fearless, Contemplation overcomes meditation, Spirituality conqueres religion , I formless, will not abide to your anticipations I renounce my knowledge and education Transparency , revolution, Love works, It has been scientifically proven We are what we think Thoughts procure reality it has been confirmed quantum physically So what's your excuse? take control and imagine the best version of YOU Imagination is the key to reaching everything and beyond Words Of Harfouchism
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Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 7:27 AM UTC
Imagination is Key
Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me, But bear this in mind, it is meant to be Since you've dreamed a vision of us together And I'll love us, you and I, always and forever. Cause when I'm with you, my world is so different from any hell I'm living And when you're around me, your eyes light up like the stars have been spilled out along with all the suns of heaven into your eyes You're the one who seems to love this wildflower so she feels as lovely as the sweetest camelias, and strong enough to push the planets out of orbit As for you, I only know what you've said to me;      That my kisses are oxygen when you can't breath, and that      You feel such an intense desire to protect me from any potential harm      That you plan to marry and live with me for years to come. But I know with less certainty than you that we'll be together forever to come All I know is you love me and you make me feel so loved More loved than the moon is loved by the sun, chased endlessly and almost futilely for a mere glimpse of her silver face And I know this is a scientifically proven-to-be-incorrect metaphor, but I still love you And will love you, until the sun falls into the sea of milk, the knees of those arthritic elephants shake and kneel with feebleness, and the great sea turtle turns belly-up, drowning the world in the Milky Way And even past then Past the time where men and spirits fade into ghostly memories, forgotten because there's no one to remember them Past the time that the sun is finally swallowed and held in the sea, past King Arthur's return, and when the giant serpent finally kills Ra Past the time when the gods grow tired of their human games, and fall asleep at their chessboards, one hand dipped in the Adriatic and a finger spinning the galaxies ever slower as dust and cobwebs of invisible spiders come to blanket the universe And even past then, past all these mythological improbabilities, past Death's abandonment of his duties and his scythe while sand no longer runs in glasses and he reaps himself Past then will I love you and think of the spilled out flaming stars in your eyes and the velvety sparks in your fingertips and lips.
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
Past then will I love you
Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me, But bear this in mind, it is meant to be Since you've dreamed a vision of us together And I'll love us, you and I, always and forever. Cause when I'm with you, my world is so different from any hell I'm living And when you're around me, your eyes light up like the stars have been spilled out along with all the suns of heaven into your eyes You're the one who seems to love this wildflower so she feels as lovely as the sweetest camelias, and strong enough to push the planets out of orbit As for you, I only know what you've said to me;      That my kisses are oxygen when you can't breath, and that      You feel such an intense desire to protect me from any potential harm      That you plan to marry and live with me for years to come. But I know with less certainty than you that we'll be together forever to come All I know is you love me and you make me feel so loved More loved than the moon is loved by the sun, chased endlessly and almost futilely for a mere glimpse of her silver face And I know this is a scientifically proven-to-be-incorrect metaphor, but I still love you And will love you, until the sun falls into the sea of milk, the knees of those arthritic elephants shake and kneel with feebleness, and the great sea turtle turns belly-up, drowning the world in the Milky Way And even past then Past the time where men and spirits fade into ghostly memories, forgotten because there's no one to remember them Past the time that the sun is finally swallowed and held in the sea, past King Arthur's return, and when the giant serpent finally kills Ra Past the time when the gods grow tired of their human games, and fall asleep at their chessboards, one hand dipped in the Adriatic and a finger spinning the galaxies ever slower as dust and cobwebs of invisible spiders come to blanket the universe And even past then, past all these mythological improbabilities, past Death's abandonment of his duties and his scythe while sand no longer runs in glasses and he reaps himself Past then will I love you and think of the spilled out flaming stars in your eyes and the velvety sparks in your fingertips and lips.
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22
A nocturnal ******** I have found out is testament to a brain strain not a main vein malfunction. Not a lack of virility, vitality is ingrained. I found out watching late night TV, potency for potency, they said ,scientifically is not a wee thing, but can be bought and will last for days if you buy this Androzine.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
******** (late at night)