"simulate" poems - Hello Poetry

"simulate" poems

drowning in caffeine breathing the nicotine my blood cant circulate - your love will stimulate. the ****** of death in **** will simulate your touch , my need as we spiral in to sin separation , depression , paranoia anxiety - the absence of my sleep aggression , desperation toxicity - of a drama we are in discoloration - i can't control the spin screams - muted by bitter pills our dreams - induced by the acid capsuled lives - longing self destruction your embrace - disconnection release me from what is real obsession - for what we cannot fix frustration - for what we can't control memories - of what we used to be delusions - of what we could have been isolation - thoughts of being free now voices dictate what i should feel digging through my skin - opening the wounds put your fingers in remembering the days when we held an illusion no drugs could replicate i can't forget. exchanging promises of never letting go was it all in my head? i can't escape the hole. i walk the road alone.

0

Jan 19, 2016

Jan 19, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC

drowning in caffeine breathing the nicotine my blood cant circulate - your love will stimulate. the ****** of death in **** will simulate your touch , my need as we spiral in to sin separation , depression , paranoia anxiety - the absence of my sleep aggression , desperation toxicity - of a drama we are in discoloration - i can't control the spin screams - muted by bitter pills our dreams - induced by the acid capsuled lives - longing self destruction your embrace - disconnection release me from what is real obsession - for what we cannot fix frustration - for what we can't control memories - of what we used to be delusions - of what we could have been isolation - thoughts of being free now voices dictate what i should feel digging through my skin - opening the wounds put your fingers in remembering the days when we held an illusion no drugs could replicate i can't forget. exchanging promises of never letting go was it all in my head? i can't escape the hole. i walk the road alone.

Continue reading...

Eternity can change in a fleeting moment, These are the hopes of a girl, bound to a chair, looking out of the window, seeping sadness with in a barage of frustration locked away, Rejected by the other kids because she was different, she soon has stopped to bond anymore, friendships seemed like a happy illusion, Too scared to go outside and be made fun of, or called out for her oddness which would unfold in special, yet fascinating, blissful ways, Days pass by, which become months, with no range of change to be seen or gazed at, sealing her emotions away to stay sane, one option, Reading to develop a further understanding of humans, as to develop greater, wonderous capabilities of imagination to simulate a world within her little, fragile, yes almost broken mind, in which she can grow strong and happy, alike her flowers she calls her own children, After all, each time she desired to get close to one or another, a cold shoulder has been served, their backs turning at her in spite and hate, But, this girl has lost the reason to mind it, after all, her loneliness is her shelter, her fantasy and her dreams a happy place to return to, Left behind, like a one winged heron. ~ Umi

0

Apr 6, 2018

Apr 6, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC

Eternity can change in a fleeting moment, These are the hopes of a girl, bound to a chair, looking out of the window, seeping sadness with in a barage of frustration locked away, Rejected by the other kids because she was different, she soon has stopped to bond anymore, friendships seemed like a happy illusion, Too scared to go outside and be made fun of, or called out for her oddness which would unfold in special, yet fascinating, blissful ways, Days pass by, which become months, with no range of change to be seen or gazed at, sealing her emotions away to stay sane, one option, Reading to develop a further understanding of humans, as to develop greater, wonderous capabilities of imagination to simulate a world within her little, fragile, yes almost broken mind, in which she can grow strong and happy, alike her flowers she calls her own children, After all, each time she desired to get close to one or another, a cold shoulder has been served, their backs turning at her in spite and hate, But, this girl has lost the reason to mind it, after all, her loneliness is her shelter, her fantasy and her dreams a happy place to return to, Left behind, like a one winged heron. ~ Umi

Continue reading...

1002 Aurora is the effort Of the Celestial Face Unconsciousness of Perfectness To simulate, to Us.

0

10.1k

Emily Dickinson

Aurora is the effort

1002 Aurora is the effort Of the Celestial Face Unconsciousness of Perfectness To simulate, to Us.

Continue reading...

*flowing rivers simulate the virtual reality of love warriors topple over forgotten like cartons of used milk silk worms speak sovereign messages and warn us of our fate are we ill or are we healthy stealthily imprisoned by our visions finish the sentences and sever your attachments respecting tradition leads to detachment a semblance of serenity the giver of the dawn used shards of standard force hover in the mind’s sky houses pass you by in finite allegories gardens blossom governing movies and seating our jobless go outside now remove the shades from your eyes breathe in soma and drink from the sky sightless sorrow forges on towards tomorrow art is a balancing act she came out of her shell in order to tell you a story of garlands of silver and gold woven finely into ribbons greased with oil from a rare toad*

0

Oct 31, 2017

Oct 31, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC

ganesha-michael-shapiro

in finite allegories

*flowing rivers simulate the virtual reality of love warriors topple over forgotten like cartons of used milk silk worms speak sovereign messages and warn us of our fate are we ill or are we healthy stealthily imprisoned by our visions finish the sentences and sever your attachments respecting tradition leads to detachment a semblance of serenity the giver of the dawn used shards of standard force hover in the mind’s sky houses pass you by in finite allegories gardens blossom governing movies and seating our jobless go outside now remove the shades from your eyes breathe in soma and drink from the sky sightless sorrow forges on towards tomorrow art is a balancing act she came out of her shell in order to tell you a story of garlands of silver and gold woven finely into ribbons greased with oil from a rare toad*

Continue reading...

1 4 she offers me, a spot of dust she raises me under the couch, on platitudes and warm bread I know it’s in return for my devotion there she loves me like the boats today, I start spring-cleaning, she keeps out on the ocean (this alone she loves me to be molded, should receive not to be unfolded more recognition than it will) I pull out the couch she bore me bones the vacuum doesn’t quite the lacrimal bone reach the dust lying the breastbone on unused carpet, all the cervical vertebrae the head I use them to simulate keeps hitting the wall her expectations unproductive I put the furniture back 2 in place I have names, no one will see the lack I wear them like badges of progress inspired by something not quite earned yet 5 while lucid dreaming I assigned constellations were on each name my skin a compartment and freckles in of me the night sky If I name them maybe they will become pollution drowned out real, not just necessary two thirds even if most imploded before they were seen 3 6 with enough necessity were it not for shadows anyone can tell a lie I would surely learn to hate the light

0

Jul 4, 2015

Jul 4, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC

on deception (vignettes)

1 4 she offers me, a spot of dust she raises me under the couch, on platitudes and warm bread I know it’s in return for my devotion there she loves me like the boats today, I start spring-cleaning, she keeps out on the ocean (this alone she loves me to be molded, should receive not to be unfolded more recognition than it will) I pull out the couch she bore me bones the vacuum doesn’t quite the lacrimal bone reach the dust lying the breastbone on unused carpet, all the cervical vertebrae the head I use them to simulate keeps hitting the wall her expectations unproductive I put the furniture back 2 in place I have names, no one will see the lack I wear them like badges of progress inspired by something not quite earned yet 5 while lucid dreaming I assigned constellations were on each name my skin a compartment and freckles in of me the night sky If I name them maybe they will become pollution drowned out real, not just necessary two thirds even if most imploded before they were seen 3 6 with enough necessity were it not for shadows anyone can tell a lie I would surely learn to hate the light

Continue reading...

241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe— The Eyes glaze once—and that is Death— Impossible to feign The Beads upon the Forehead By homely Anguish strung.

0

3.2k

Emily Dickinson

I like a look of Agony

241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe— The Eyes glaze once—and that is Death— Impossible to feign The Beads upon the Forehead By homely Anguish strung.

Continue reading...

443 I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me— I put new Blossoms in the Glass— And throw the old—away— I push a petal from my gown That anchored there—I weigh The time ’twill be till six o’clock I have so much to do— And yet—Existence—some way back— Stopped—struck—my tickling—through— We cannot put Ourself away As a completed Man Or Woman—When the Errand’s done We came to Flesh—upon— There may be—Miles on Miles of Nought— Of Action—sicker far— To simulate—is stinging work— To cover what we are From Science—and from Surgery— Too Telescopic Eyes To bear on us unshaded— For their—sake—not for Ours— ’Twould start them— We—could tremble— But since we got a Bomb— And held it in our ***** Nay—Hold it—it is calm— Therefore—we do life’s labor— Though life’s Reward—be done— With scrupulous exactness— To hold our Senses—on—

0

3k

Emily Dickinson

I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl

443 I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me— I put new Blossoms in the Glass— And throw the old—away— I push a petal from my gown That anchored there—I weigh The time ’twill be till six o’clock I have so much to do— And yet—Existence—some way back— Stopped—struck—my tickling—through— We cannot put Ourself away As a completed Man Or Woman—When the Errand’s done We came to Flesh—upon— There may be—Miles on Miles of Nought— Of Action—sicker far— To simulate—is stinging work— To cover what we are From Science—and from Surgery— Too Telescopic Eyes To bear on us unshaded— For their—sake—not for Ours— ’Twould start them— We—could tremble— But since we got a Bomb— And held it in our ***** Nay—Hold it—it is calm— Therefore—we do life’s labor— Though life’s Reward—be done— With scrupulous exactness— To hold our Senses—on—

Continue reading...

Isn't this strange? Two strangers touching strangers skin Your fingers glide over my expansive flesh Raising goosebumps where they left Doesn't this feel good? You say, Two strangers touching strangers skin Yes it does, I whisper As we try to wrap our bodies closer You cling to me Two strangers touching strangers skin We breathe together, gazes locked I love yous should be on our lips But we only just met Two strangers touching strangers skin Perhaps we simulate the stranger, The one we wish we were really with Your skin is a glow in warm yellow light Two strangers touching strangers skin Careful of the romantics of your body in candlight After all, we were strangers at the beginning of the night.

0

Jan 6, 2018

Jan 6, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC

katarinasourafina

Isn't this strange? Two strangers touching strangers skin Your fingers glide over my expansive flesh Raising goosebumps where they left Doesn't this feel good? You say, Two strangers touching strangers skin Yes it does, I whisper As we try to wrap our bodies closer You cling to me Two strangers touching strangers skin We breathe together, gazes locked I love yous should be on our lips But we only just met Two strangers touching strangers skin Perhaps we simulate the stranger, The one we wish we were really with Your skin is a glow in warm yellow light Two strangers touching strangers skin Careful of the romantics of your body in candlight After all, we were strangers at the beginning of the night.

Continue reading...

You can rate me, You can bait me, You can freight me, You can strait me, Simulate me, Even better Drop a roofie, Game a debtor. You're so groovy, misbehaving, Misbehaving, Give it to me, Trouble waiting, Fascinating, Always mating, You can wake me, You can slave me, You can grade me, You can shave me, Integrate me, I pulsating A new navy, All the skimmings, Underpinning Jehovah's witness, Keep on stalking, Better fitness, Keep on shocking, Shell is thinning, Gettin' gotten, Rot 'n' reeling. Don't touch my bikini. Better smile when you see me, You can stare That's a freebie. Don't touch my bikini. Looking is free, But touching's gonna cost you Something. Smooth and lanky, Hanky panky, Got no treat or New York Yankee, Super leader, Count to seven, Go to Paris, Break the leaven, Roger Maris, Bleed the Czar, Shooting star, You're so levy, You're so sunny, Getting ready, Here's the money, Socking heady, Making honey, Toasting herons, That's not funny, Waiter Betty, Way too **** You're so on it, You're so honest, You can fool me, You remold me, All the preachers never told me, Heavy breathing Punting reason, Welcome season. Don't touch my graffiti. Smile if you dare, Oily oinkers everywhere. Keep watching, you graffiti. Next time you'll learn That touching's gonna cost you Something.

0

Aug 9, 2017

Aug 9, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC

Don't Touch My Bikini

You can rate me, You can bait me, You can freight me, You can strait me, Simulate me, Even better Drop a roofie, Game a debtor. You're so groovy, misbehaving, Misbehaving, Give it to me, Trouble waiting, Fascinating, Always mating, You can wake me, You can slave me, You can grade me, You can shave me, Integrate me, I pulsating A new navy, All the skimmings, Underpinning Jehovah's witness, Keep on stalking, Better fitness, Keep on shocking, Shell is thinning, Gettin' gotten, Rot 'n' reeling. Don't touch my bikini. Better smile when you see me, You can stare That's a freebie. Don't touch my bikini. Looking is free, But touching's gonna cost you Something. Smooth and lanky, Hanky panky, Got no treat or New York Yankee, Super leader, Count to seven, Go to Paris, Break the leaven, Roger Maris, Bleed the Czar, Shooting star, You're so levy, You're so sunny, Getting ready, Here's the money, Socking heady, Making honey, Toasting herons, That's not funny, Waiter Betty, Way too **** You're so on it, You're so honest, You can fool me, You remold me, All the preachers never told me, Heavy breathing Punting reason, Welcome season. Don't touch my graffiti. Smile if you dare, Oily oinkers everywhere. Keep watching, you graffiti. Next time you'll learn That touching's gonna cost you Something.

Continue reading...

You lived next to a mushroom field The smell was pungent and distinct It reaked of sewage and sulfur I never understood how anyone could "Just get used to it." I hate mushrooms now Moreso that I ever did before. I mull over the things you did to me And made me do to you. All I can remember is The smell creeping up my nasal passage Strangling me Choking me. Since that day, My life has resembled that place. So much junk to deal with Such a despicable scent People wonder how I deal with it. I don't even know how I stand the stench. But I find it funny, oh the irony In how I have come to simulate The place I detest the most.

0

Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC

You lived next to a mushroom field The smell was pungent and distinct It reaked of sewage and sulfur I never understood how anyone could "Just get used to it." I hate mushrooms now Moreso that I ever did before. I mull over the things you did to me And made me do to you. All I can remember is The smell creeping up my nasal passage Strangling me Choking me. Since that day, My life has resembled that place. So much junk to deal with Such a despicable scent People wonder how I deal with it. I don't even know how I stand the stench. But I find it funny, oh the irony In how I have come to simulate The place I detest the most.

Continue reading...

272 I breathed enough to take the Trick— And now, removed from Air— I simulate the Breath, so well— That One, to be quite sure— The Lungs are stirless—must descend Among the Cunning Cells— And touch the Pantomine—Himself, How numb, the Bellows feels!

0

2.4k

Emily Dickinson

I breathed enough to take the Trick

272 I breathed enough to take the Trick— And now, removed from Air— I simulate the Breath, so well— That One, to be quite sure— The Lungs are stirless—must descend Among the Cunning Cells— And touch the Pantomine—Himself, How numb, the Bellows feels!

Continue reading...

*Walter, I just want to sit on my *** and **** and think about Dante.* —Samuel Beckett All this fractures the Wolf. The ancient leaves amid the ancient woods, wind riffling wind in eddies she can see but she can’t hear, the braying of a fatted calf which she could eat, if she could hear thy call, O Wolf. The tympani pretend to be a thunder roll, the crashing cymbals mean to simulate the distant lightning, all the strings—cello, base, violin and viola—play the pizzicato of rain commencing… The Wolf sits to watch—what?—the floodlights fill the stadium? the baton poised? the crowd about to have their daily dose of not quite silence served up yet again? She hates that they have come to watch a prophecy. It’s raining full blast now, the Wolf’s exchange for music, how things balance out, how rain fornicates in the forest, with its pools and puddles, how it tenders lakes and rivers and shadows… It can’t be! Ahead she sees him. She sees Dante, the poet of the prophecy, the one she has to drown. It’s why she’s deaf. She will not hear him wail. **** him so he will rot in hell before the other poet comes. **** him and spare the world another poem about another world. The rain and music grow so dense around her soul. She is so quick, too quick for him to flee. She drags him still alive, drags him to the lake of his heart. Sink and die. In Paradise only bubbles rise. The tympani pretend to be a thunder roll, the crashing cymbals mean to simulate the distant lightning, all the strings—cello, base, violin, viola—play it soft, so soft, as if the rain is about to start… The Wolf and I walk the slopes of hell. When Farinata and Cavalcante rise up to ask her, ‘Who were thy ancestors?’ and ‘Where Is ***** she howls. O Wolf. O Tuscan. She howls.

0

Aug 25, 2010

Aug 25, 2010 at 5:51 PM UTC

O Wolf, O Tuscan

*Walter, I just want to sit on my *** and **** and think about Dante.* —Samuel Beckett All this fractures the Wolf. The ancient leaves amid the ancient woods, wind riffling wind in eddies she can see but she can’t hear, the braying of a fatted calf which she could eat, if she could hear thy call, O Wolf. The tympani pretend to be a thunder roll, the crashing cymbals mean to simulate the distant lightning, all the strings—cello, base, violin and viola—play the pizzicato of rain commencing… The Wolf sits to watch—what?—the floodlights fill the stadium? the baton poised? the crowd about to have their daily dose of not quite silence served up yet again? She hates that they have come to watch a prophecy. It’s raining full blast now, the Wolf’s exchange for music, how things balance out, how rain fornicates in the forest, with its pools and puddles, how it tenders lakes and rivers and shadows… It can’t be! Ahead she sees him. She sees Dante, the poet of the prophecy, the one she has to drown. It’s why she’s deaf. She will not hear him wail. **** him so he will rot in hell before the other poet comes. **** him and spare the world another poem about another world. The rain and music grow so dense around her soul. She is so quick, too quick for him to flee. She drags him still alive, drags him to the lake of his heart. Sink and die. In Paradise only bubbles rise. The tympani pretend to be a thunder roll, the crashing cymbals mean to simulate the distant lightning, all the strings—cello, base, violin, viola—play it soft, so soft, as if the rain is about to start… The Wolf and I walk the slopes of hell. When Farinata and Cavalcante rise up to ask her, ‘Who were thy ancestors?’ and ‘Where Is ***** she howls. O Wolf. O Tuscan. She howls.

Continue reading...

If you wish to win your man’s heart somehow Show interest rolling your admiring eyes, As he raves over the pet subjects of his choice, Occasionally responding to what he says Simulate keenness, though you don’t have it When he prates over his job and its challenges Pep up his confidence through words of concern Make him feel, you are there to share his tensions A wife’s pleasing demeanor and care Can ease a man’s life and his blues As filtering sunlight melts the mists That hides the meadow’s lovely blooms Know his favorite food and the cuisine he loves Prepare them oftener than he can expect The easiest way to get into a man’s heart Is through gratifying and titillating his palate Though he may show disinterest in flattery Compliment him over the ‘great things’ he has done You’ll see his former stance suddenly changed Through praise, sure, his heart you have won In the privacy of your closet on cool, starlit nights Lie closer to him, even feigning false passion As a flower bares its perfumed heart to the bee Give yourself completely to him sans restriction Thus win him through the magic of wooing Delight him with your soft whispers of crooning Never forget to take care of your grooming And sure, day by day you will see your love blooming

0

Sep 12, 2016

Sep 12, 2016 at 3:33 AM UTC

To Win Your Man's Heart

If you wish to win your man’s heart somehow Show interest rolling your admiring eyes, As he raves over the pet subjects of his choice, Occasionally responding to what he says Simulate keenness, though you don’t have it When he prates over his job and its challenges Pep up his confidence through words of concern Make him feel, you are there to share his tensions A wife’s pleasing demeanor and care Can ease a man’s life and his blues As filtering sunlight melts the mists That hides the meadow’s lovely blooms Know his favorite food and the cuisine he loves Prepare them oftener than he can expect The easiest way to get into a man’s heart Is through gratifying and titillating his palate Though he may show disinterest in flattery Compliment him over the ‘great things’ he has done You’ll see his former stance suddenly changed Through praise, sure, his heart you have won In the privacy of your closet on cool, starlit nights Lie closer to him, even feigning false passion As a flower bares its perfumed heart to the bee Give yourself completely to him sans restriction Thus win him through the magic of wooing Delight him with your soft whispers of crooning Never forget to take care of your grooming And sure, day by day you will see your love blooming

Continue reading...

Sometimes, if I try, I hum between the tumbling Hills of the world bracing domesticated beasts. They graze and grunt all over again, Entering slumbers following the daily sweep Of lactic creeks, thin enough to guide tree roots. Dusk is explained by the party of two, embracing the dividing sun. Look left to see coral reef skies swim attempting to grasp what is to the right of the Sun: Silhouettes outlining prayers flattening dimensions of rugged Mosques Still dusty from wheat flour and patterned by uncooked lentils, that Slipped through missing seams of Burlap, blackened from the hearth Malleable as a result of dependency. Though only half of my sight functions, I reason that Earth shifts without you. Watching centuries and some odd Years of changes, I yearn to know where you have gone. I peer from the peacock’s tail, feeling the pulse of the World tick away as the fearless pray to someone new. Your countenance, I interlaced with feathered fingers Depicts movements, curves. A shame to be without Language to fill the contours of a nebulaic expression Or swindling modifications. You put me here. My eyes anyway. Expecting me to retire along with buildings for your worship Powdery paint has spilled and faded along with Others who have modified your appearance, their someone new. Even as the shadows swells A million replicates of Io, moo and sway home, tired from the Beating sun, to which eyes remain fixed. One momentary memory visits. Vision simulate traces of wonder, travelling on Pathways believed to be conquerable. The people have learned What I have not. They pause, breathe.

0

Feb 15, 2015

Feb 15, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC

Dear Hera, From Argus

Sometimes, if I try, I hum between the tumbling Hills of the world bracing domesticated beasts. They graze and grunt all over again, Entering slumbers following the daily sweep Of lactic creeks, thin enough to guide tree roots. Dusk is explained by the party of two, embracing the dividing sun. Look left to see coral reef skies swim attempting to grasp what is to the right of the Sun: Silhouettes outlining prayers flattening dimensions of rugged Mosques Still dusty from wheat flour and patterned by uncooked lentils, that Slipped through missing seams of Burlap, blackened from the hearth Malleable as a result of dependency. Though only half of my sight functions, I reason that Earth shifts without you. Watching centuries and some odd Years of changes, I yearn to know where you have gone. I peer from the peacock’s tail, feeling the pulse of the World tick away as the fearless pray to someone new. Your countenance, I interlaced with feathered fingers Depicts movements, curves. A shame to be without Language to fill the contours of a nebulaic expression Or swindling modifications. You put me here. My eyes anyway. Expecting me to retire along with buildings for your worship Powdery paint has spilled and faded along with Others who have modified your appearance, their someone new. Even as the shadows swells A million replicates of Io, moo and sway home, tired from the Beating sun, to which eyes remain fixed. One momentary memory visits. Vision simulate traces of wonder, travelling on Pathways believed to be conquerable. The people have learned What I have not. They pause, breathe.

Continue reading...

I watched her write Love on her arms it flowed like lava as the meaning was felt ripples of hardened flesh with hot plasma and her cooling kiss scratch that one off the bucket list (codetta) To tattoo love on my lids finding you between the highs and mids when the lights go off you are there then you reappear in the strobe and LED atmosphere All I can do is wish... you were here too unravel the shutters of my soul (segno) to embrace you in a place more real animate my memories to simulate surreal stimulate thoughts my body can not feel till my lids reopen to reveal a deck used to project a black massif sunset platters pressed with disco tech soluvum's spun to some rung of heaven I's reflect; eyes ***** to mirror mystery celadon mandela murals and memory a nebula of history (fine) When eyes see you come (:l) Below the surface afraid you'll run yet steady marching to a heart shaped drum echoing the song of the lord god capon we've gone deaf to the celebration Eyes close when kissing to lock in what's missing maybe to hear the rush of blood hissing maybe to capture the sound of oceans shifting maybe to feel the steady rise of hills below our feat maybe that's why we hum synchronizing our meditation Maybe to become one symbols like wedding bell vibration (dc al fine)

0

Apr 5, 2016

Apr 5, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC

Wedding Bell Vibration

I watched her write Love on her arms it flowed like lava as the meaning was felt ripples of hardened flesh with hot plasma and her cooling kiss scratch that one off the bucket list (codetta) To tattoo love on my lids finding you between the highs and mids when the lights go off you are there then you reappear in the strobe and LED atmosphere All I can do is wish... you were here too unravel the shutters of my soul (segno) to embrace you in a place more real animate my memories to simulate surreal stimulate thoughts my body can not feel till my lids reopen to reveal a deck used to project a black massif sunset platters pressed with disco tech soluvum's spun to some rung of heaven I's reflect; eyes ***** to mirror mystery celadon mandela murals and memory a nebula of history (fine) When eyes see you come (:l) Below the surface afraid you'll run yet steady marching to a heart shaped drum echoing the song of the lord god capon we've gone deaf to the celebration Eyes close when kissing to lock in what's missing maybe to hear the rush of blood hissing maybe to capture the sound of oceans shifting maybe to feel the steady rise of hills below our feat maybe that's why we hum synchronizing our meditation Maybe to become one symbols like wedding bell vibration (dc al fine)

Continue reading...

If computers can simulate a universe Are they not a universe in themselves Why are heads round Instead of being square Is attempting not to care Not a kind of caring Is there such a thing as One-way walls I'm just wondering How tiny can a poet be And will I ever be tall Who put the moon up there And did they use a magnet And finally Not sure if you know this Why do we ****

0

Jul 24, 2015

Jul 24, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC

ambient-destruction

Tiny answers bigger questions

If computers can simulate a universe Are they not a universe in themselves Why are heads round Instead of being square Is attempting not to care Not a kind of caring Is there such a thing as One-way walls I'm just wondering How tiny can a poet be And will I ever be tall Who put the moon up there And did they use a magnet And finally Not sure if you know this Why do we ****

Continue reading...

Surrealistic lover meet me at the danger zone In space ships where we simulate As you shape shift, I stay fascinated A reptilian, an arcturian, pleiadian The vega, a lyra, light years away Supersonic lover kiss me at the signal house In cellular automaton advance my grid of DNA As we diffuse in megastructures, callibrate my power A sirian, grays, draconian,anunnaki The human, indigo, crystal, the rainbow Take me to the fantasy, at the star line of illusion Where my body glows and your DNA burrows Take me and show me the laser in the magic cosmic Open my heart, inject your poison,kiss my toes as you do Disconnect my body and spirit to another dimension Distort the optic nerve so that the reality seems normal Transverse the solar bodies and celestial systems Fight the hypotonic regression to recall the delusions Climb the mountain as the peaceful dwellers wear googles Awaiting for a UFO float and disappear from the bare land

0

May 21, 2016

May 21, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC

Traced Alien ft a DNA Trance

Surrealistic lover meet me at the danger zone In space ships where we simulate As you shape shift, I stay fascinated A reptilian, an arcturian, pleiadian The vega, a lyra, light years away Supersonic lover kiss me at the signal house In cellular automaton advance my grid of DNA As we diffuse in megastructures, callibrate my power A sirian, grays, draconian,anunnaki The human, indigo, crystal, the rainbow Take me to the fantasy, at the star line of illusion Where my body glows and your DNA burrows Take me and show me the laser in the magic cosmic Open my heart, inject your poison,kiss my toes as you do Disconnect my body and spirit to another dimension Distort the optic nerve so that the reality seems normal Transverse the solar bodies and celestial systems Fight the hypotonic regression to recall the delusions Climb the mountain as the peaceful dwellers wear googles Awaiting for a UFO float and disappear from the bare land

Continue reading...

Here is an exercise to help you learn a little bit more about where we are and what acts on us: Pour yourself a bath, as luxurious as can be. Put in the salts, the oils, the fragrances, the bubbles… Make sure you pour it hot, as hot as you can handle when you dip in that first cautious toe… Slide in up to your chin and soak in quietude while your muscles untie their knots and you lose yourself to that dreary form of half-awake relaxation. After a time, your tranquil state will become a quiet form of discomfort. The body will begin to simulate a rising fever as your temperature moves upward towards equilibrium with the water, the stomach will start to feel unsettled and you will have had enough. Now, here comes the test: Remove the drain plug and remain motionless, unresponsive, as the water slurps down around you. Your body will fall as the water drains, folding and bending gravity packing you down molding you into cast of the tub you are laying in. When the water is fully drained and your rubbery, warm muscles are stripped of their recent buoyant freedoms, you will feel with full awareness the immensity of that Universal force that acts on us without rest. It’s amazing that we aren’t all in exceptional shape.

0

Oct 9, 2022

Oct 9, 2022 at 5:41 PM UTC

Here is an exercise to help you learn a little bit more about where we are and what acts on us: Pour yourself a bath, as luxurious as can be. Put in the salts, the oils, the fragrances, the bubbles… Make sure you pour it hot, as hot as you can handle when you dip in that first cautious toe… Slide in up to your chin and soak in quietude while your muscles untie their knots and you lose yourself to that dreary form of half-awake relaxation. After a time, your tranquil state will become a quiet form of discomfort. The body will begin to simulate a rising fever as your temperature moves upward towards equilibrium with the water, the stomach will start to feel unsettled and you will have had enough. Now, here comes the test: Remove the drain plug and remain motionless, unresponsive, as the water slurps down around you. Your body will fall as the water drains, folding and bending gravity packing you down molding you into cast of the tub you are laying in. When the water is fully drained and your rubbery, warm muscles are stripped of their recent buoyant freedoms, you will feel with full awareness the immensity of that Universal force that acts on us without rest. It’s amazing that we aren’t all in exceptional shape.

Continue reading...

. Some say the scientific method Is the ultimate algorithm and others Prefer prayer. For symbolists, all intelligence can be reduced to manipulating symbols, in the same way that a mathematician solves equations by replacing expressions by other expressions. Symbolists understand that you can't learn from scratch: you need some initial knowledge to go with the data. They've figured out how to incorporate pre-existing knowledge into learning, and how to combine different pieces of knowledge on the fly in order to solve new problems. Their master algorithm is inverse deduction, which figures out what knowledge is missing in order to make a deduction go through, and then makes it as general as possible. Tea In its simplicity Can sustain concentration For connectionists, learning is what the brain does, and so what we need to do is reverse engineer it. The brain learns by adjusting the strengths of connections between neurons, and the crucial problem is figuring out which connections are to blame for which errors and changing them accordingly. The connectionists' master algorithm is back propagation, which compares a system's outputs with the desired one and then successively changes the connections in layer after layer of neurons so as to bring the output closer to what it should be. Hungry and cold A holy condition A warrior's position Evolutionaries believe that the mother of all learning is natural selection. If it made us, it can make anything, and all we need to do is simulate it on the computer. The key problem that evolutionaries solve is learning structure: not just adjusting parameters, like back propagation does, but creating the brain that these adjustments can then fine-tune. The evolutionaries' master algorithm is genetic programming, which mates and evolves computer programs in the same way that nature mates and evolves organisms. Arithmetic A good shit's the metric Of a dying man Bayesians are concerned above all with uncertainty. All learned knowledge is uncertain, and learning itself is a form of uncertain inference. The problem then becomes how to deal with noisy, incomplete, and even contradictory information without falling apart. The solution is probabilistic inference, and the master algorithm is Bayes' theorem and its derivatives. Bayes' theorem tell us how to incorporate new evidence into our beliefs, and probabilistic inference algorithms do that as efficiently as possible. I can't believe I won't live forever, therefore, I invented an afterlife to supplement reincarnation For analogizers, the key to learning is recognizing similarities between situations and thereby inferring other similarities. If two patients have similar symptoms, perhaps they have the same disease. The key problem is judging how similar two things are. The analogizers' master algorithm is the support vector machine, which figures out which experiences to remember and how to combine them to make new predictions. Prepare for a powerful anesthesia Chemical processes irresistible A good and perfect rest

0

Jun 5, 2017

Jun 5, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC

The Master Algorithm

. Some say the scientific method Is the ultimate algorithm and others Prefer prayer. For symbolists, all intelligence can be reduced to manipulating symbols, in the same way that a mathematician solves equations by replacing expressions by other expressions. Symbolists understand that you can't learn from scratch: you need some initial knowledge to go with the data. They've figured out how to incorporate pre-existing knowledge into learning, and how to combine different pieces of knowledge on the fly in order to solve new problems. Their master algorithm is inverse deduction, which figures out what knowledge is missing in order to make a deduction go through, and then makes it as general as possible. Tea In its simplicity Can sustain concentration For connectionists, learning is what the brain does, and so what we need to do is reverse engineer it. The brain learns by adjusting the strengths of connections between neurons, and the crucial problem is figuring out which connections are to blame for which errors and changing them accordingly. The connectionists' master algorithm is back propagation, which compares a system's outputs with the desired one and then successively changes the connections in layer after layer of neurons so as to bring the output closer to what it should be. Hungry and cold A holy condition A warrior's position Evolutionaries believe that the mother of all learning is natural selection. If it made us, it can make anything, and all we need to do is simulate it on the computer. The key problem that evolutionaries solve is learning structure: not just adjusting parameters, like back propagation does, but creating the brain that these adjustments can then fine-tune. The evolutionaries' master algorithm is genetic programming, which mates and evolves computer programs in the same way that nature mates and evolves organisms. Arithmetic A good shit's the metric Of a dying man Bayesians are concerned above all with uncertainty. All learned knowledge is uncertain, and learning itself is a form of uncertain inference. The problem then becomes how to deal with noisy, incomplete, and even contradictory information without falling apart. The solution is probabilistic inference, and the master algorithm is Bayes' theorem and its derivatives. Bayes' theorem tell us how to incorporate new evidence into our beliefs, and probabilistic inference algorithms do that as efficiently as possible. I can't believe I won't live forever, therefore, I invented an afterlife to supplement reincarnation For analogizers, the key to learning is recognizing similarities between situations and thereby inferring other similarities. If two patients have similar symptoms, perhaps they have the same disease. The key problem is judging how similar two things are. The analogizers' master algorithm is the support vector machine, which figures out which experiences to remember and how to combine them to make new predictions. Prepare for a powerful anesthesia Chemical processes irresistible A good and perfect rest

Continue reading...

***** tweeting while they view others from outside the goldfish bowl of two Facebook. Their vision obscured by the very fabric of their fake existence inside a lemmings computer application. Not yet locked into the system as they simulate a life not truly their own as they outwardly pretend to be popular yearning for universal acceptance from a computer screen. In stark contrast to those locked into the system yearning to escape from the drudgery of another night on the M1!

0

Dec 18, 2014

Dec 18, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC

***** tweeting while they view others from outside the goldfish bowl of two Facebook. Their vision obscured by the very fabric of their fake existence inside a lemmings computer application. Not yet locked into the system as they simulate a life not truly their own as they outwardly pretend to be popular yearning for universal acceptance from a computer screen. In stark contrast to those locked into the system yearning to escape from the drudgery of another night on the M1!

Continue reading...

this is a poem right? just put words on a page in an aesthetically pleasing manner, two words to a line to simulate deliberate communication to a designated audience who may or may not even bother reading through to the end. this is poetry, right? some vague form of connection to strangers i will never meet face to face, an illusory contact simulating comfort through a blank screen, apathetic in and of itself. this makes me a poet, right? you want to bet on how many people will actually read this long, rambling rant in its entirety? it is so easy to mask emotion, this rising swell in a hollow chest, when the chosen medium is mere words. h.f.m.

0

Jun 13, 2018

Jun 13, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC

this is a poem right? just put words on a page in an aesthetically pleasing manner, two words to a line to simulate deliberate communication to a designated audience who may or may not even bother reading through to the end. this is poetry, right? some vague form of connection to strangers i will never meet face to face, an illusory contact simulating comfort through a blank screen, apathetic in and of itself. this makes me a poet, right? you want to bet on how many people will actually read this long, rambling rant in its entirety? it is so easy to mask emotion, this rising swell in a hollow chest, when the chosen medium is mere words. h.f.m.

Continue reading...

Integrate Simulate Postulate Irritate to imitate Grind stimulants into my bones and teeth after making sure that they are okay Imagine the universe Constituted by my hatred Space and time running backwards and beneath Stuck at an in-between Bitten nails and Bloodshot eyes Never express your suffering Your sins are forgiven

0

Aug 6, 2014

Aug 6, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC

Imposter Syndrome

Integrate Simulate Postulate Irritate to imitate Grind stimulants into my bones and teeth after making sure that they are okay Imagine the universe Constituted by my hatred Space and time running backwards and beneath Stuck at an in-between Bitten nails and Bloodshot eyes Never express your suffering Your sins are forgiven

Continue reading...

Author: Kristen Stevens Wednesday, September 23, 2009 Current mood: feel like breaking the rules I have this friend, we'll call her Kat,that insists I be social at least once a month. As per her request she wants all the Sept. birthdays to go have dinner. I think it's an excellent idea. We are fun girls. Although that many of us in a public setting together might make people run for cover. In addition to the social dinner, I went to a Pampered Chef party where Kat was also attending, yet she says it doesn't count as my social event for the month. She won't even count my upcoming trip as "social". Phooey on her! She has said "if I'm not there it doesn't count." I say she was there so it should count but apparently that rule is flexible. So I will have 3 if not 4 outings in Sept. I don't know about this. I might go into overload. I should try to make the point that any isolation I'm trying to achieve is merely training for the inevitable day when _________(fill in the blank) happens and we who are left are living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. [ASIDE:wow that sentence was long and overly complicated and run-on as well] I wonder if she would accept that response. " But Kat I'm trying to simulate how alone I will be when the majority of the people are dead, mutated, or the walking dead. I need to train, 2012 is fast approaching." Nah, she'll never buy it. sigh Oh also there's a new training manual at work I think it's next month's staff rec. Everyone needs to supplement their Z.S.G. knowledge.

0

Sep 21, 2010

Sep 21, 2010 at 8:09 AM UTC

So I have this friend

Author: Kristen Stevens Wednesday, September 23, 2009 Current mood: feel like breaking the rules I have this friend, we'll call her Kat,that insists I be social at least once a month. As per her request she wants all the Sept. birthdays to go have dinner. I think it's an excellent idea. We are fun girls. Although that many of us in a public setting together might make people run for cover. In addition to the social dinner, I went to a Pampered Chef party where Kat was also attending, yet she says it doesn't count as my social event for the month. She won't even count my upcoming trip as "social". Phooey on her! She has said "if I'm not there it doesn't count." I say she was there so it should count but apparently that rule is flexible. So I will have 3 if not 4 outings in Sept. I don't know about this. I might go into overload. I should try to make the point that any isolation I'm trying to achieve is merely training for the inevitable day when _________(fill in the blank) happens and we who are left are living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. [ASIDE:wow that sentence was long and overly complicated and run-on as well] I wonder if she would accept that response. " But Kat I'm trying to simulate how alone I will be when the majority of the people are dead, mutated, or the walking dead. I need to train, 2012 is fast approaching." Nah, she'll never buy it. sigh Oh also there's a new training manual at work I think it's next month's staff rec. Everyone needs to supplement their Z.S.G. knowledge.

Continue reading...

My rough past, a lonely gravel path that directed me here One riddled with loathing and fear from myself and every peer It all pales in comparison to each and every fallen tear Added to the unforgiving shame of having tried to check out that one year It's this reign of pain that stops me in my tracks like headlights freezing a deer It's clear I don't know how to steer and can not get out of first gear My entire windshield is a rearview mirror, the next tragedy always closer than they appear My over corrections and over reactions are too severe, they're starting to break down the veneer Put in place to simulate normalcy and hide the real me but I'm a horrible engineer The intentions were sincere but this cavalier attitude never allowed the good in me to adhere I've given in to my dark passenger allowing it to commandeer the space between each ear At the time I thought it'd be far messier if I tried too interfere with the puppeteer So I grabbed a few memories as a souvenir and tried to disappear ©2023

0

Dec 15, 2023

Dec 15, 2023 at 4:40 PM UTC

~•§•~ Reign of Pain ~•§•~

My rough past, a lonely gravel path that directed me here One riddled with loathing and fear from myself and every peer It all pales in comparison to each and every fallen tear Added to the unforgiving shame of having tried to check out that one year It's this reign of pain that stops me in my tracks like headlights freezing a deer It's clear I don't know how to steer and can not get out of first gear My entire windshield is a rearview mirror, the next tragedy always closer than they appear My over corrections and over reactions are too severe, they're starting to break down the veneer Put in place to simulate normalcy and hide the real me but I'm a horrible engineer The intentions were sincere but this cavalier attitude never allowed the good in me to adhere I've given in to my dark passenger allowing it to commandeer the space between each ear At the time I thought it'd be far messier if I tried too interfere with the puppeteer So I grabbed a few memories as a souvenir and tried to disappear ©2023

Continue reading...

Beanie bags on tied knees sweep the floor The children of a neighborhood ***** Willard’s pets toasted over firelight Inhaled whole nary a bite. Sunken eyes watching a falling sun Chewing nails to simulate fun. Head laid down on a pillow of lice. Fall asleep terrified with the sound of mice.

0

Jan 26, 2015

Jan 26, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC

charles-lutwidge-dodgson

Government Cheese

Beanie bags on tied knees sweep the floor The children of a neighborhood ***** Willard’s pets toasted over firelight Inhaled whole nary a bite. Sunken eyes watching a falling sun Chewing nails to simulate fun. Head laid down on a pillow of lice. Fall asleep terrified with the sound of mice.

Continue reading...