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"teleportation" poems
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
0
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
Alchemy
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
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8
These optical illusions Create an optimal confusion When eyes are a welcome intrusion To the brain's inevitable conclusion We stared into the mystic mirror I witnessed everything I ever wanted in life All you witnessed was just two people standing there The transparency you cast upon me Reminded me of how the plumes of **** smoke Were never as thick as my problems And as those clouds left my mouth and dispersed into the air I saw your image Preserved in briefness It's a shame how my magician's mind Summons smoke and mirrors Nobody else believes me But magic is the only way to explain you The way you turned me invisible Was spectacular Your methods of sawing me in half Certainly weren't natural And your teleportation demonstration Left me suspended in ice So I guess I'm to Blaine For the mirrors I erected And the truth they reflected Because now I'm lost In what I refuse to call a funhouse As I search frantically for some ancient tomb That might reveal your brilliant incantations Attempting to ignore the horrid revelation That every spell I learned Had been based in your arcane aura And all the power I had gained Had been based in your enchantment I want a magician Not an illusionist So what does it mean when your illusions are so magical?
0
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
Illusions
Always a question Something oft inquired Wondering and whying in those Get-to-know-you games Any superpower, yours to have What would you be? Seems a simple query But just as the Titanic learned Icebergs seem much Smaller from above Answering to “what Superpower would you want?” Speaks so much more, Runs so much deeper It's a fight or flight response Invisibility, teleportation What are you hiding from? Super strength, unlimited power Why, do you feel weak? Unworthy? Small? My response to such An inquiry Wings or none, I don't care Simply put, I long to be Free What are you? Who do you wish to be?
0
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
Superpowers
*"The Business Int'l is a trans-national, Multi-operative, corporate entity. With the means to function outside Normal Gov't bounds The Business Int'l has become the worldwide leader On the frontline of: Genetic & Bio-Engineering! Space Exploration And long-range teleportation services! Our research will better* [human-kind] *And is the most advanced & comprehensive Ever imagined. The Business Int'l values it's loyal customers! And at the Business Int'l We take all of your corcerns seriously. We also offer aid to every worker at any/all of our subsidiaries Any 4th class employee who feels compelled to:* [Leave the Facility] Or [Propagate sensitive data] *STOP. Remain calm. And fasten yourself to nearby set furniture Until our Registered Physcian can Follow up with you. Self-Quarentine is a Business Int'l core policy! In extreme cases though, The Business Int'l reminds you to Be prepared to utilize Your personalized botulinum capsule Provided to you during your initiation! Thank you!*
0
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
The Business Int'l
Specious speculative salacious spectral season Transmogrify trapezium traverse torsion treason Erotica errantry erectile endogenic emblazon Ghastly gnashy grotesque gristly garrison Larcenous lecherous lascivious latent lesson Entelechy ethology exsistentialize extant epsilons Spurious spry squabble subtle specialization Transient transitive tour de force teleportation Encephala enunciate endeavor executant emulation Garish gaudy gambit glitch granulation Lurid livid liaison limpid laceration Extravaganza expletives expeditious equilibration emendation Sly stodgy surreptitious spatiotemporal solicitor Taciturn tactile transcendent tertiary torpor Euphoria eminent equivocal exserted emancipator Garrulous gustatory gung ** gestational gesticulator Lyricism lilt liberation lambaste levitator Escutcheon exergonic epaulet exodus extrapolator Starkness staunch spectacle stolid stultification Telepathy tantamount tractive tellurian transmutation Exonerate euthenics exegesis entourage eradication Groaty gnarly gruesome gristly gastrulation Licentious lewd lacunar laconic limitation Extemporaneous exigency embark embargo extradition Slinky slick sultry stoical snout Transubstantiate torturous temerarious tumultuous tout Eucharist extortion enmity epithet eke out Gross grit groin grove grout Lentic leister lotic lothario levity lout Execrating eventuation evocative evitable excerpt bout
0
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Transpicuous
Your blatant onyx stare transfixes me Plunged into a deep dichotomies of guilt and persecution Naked under your primordial gaze Liberation pulses to my core The passion floating in your eyes is more then have the drones I know The tendrils of your long grandmother feet Wrinkles dictating the violence you consumed As you lay collapsed between holes in fences The grip on my notebook tightens til its painful Our staring contest has turned deadly Meanwhile the one in the next cage is creating a disturbance Tracing circles with his finger tips as he swings His tale attached to the conical world vision You are not like him your toenails turn black as a tarnished weapon Maybe it is you that has adapted My eyes look vacant in your reflection Of shock and conniving references Your movements contort logic Teleportation from within The steps would break me into fractures So ill-suited to this wild world for which you were born
0
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:28 AM UTC
Retrograde Darwinian
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sometimes a dream can flip your stage scenes and make them decorated;} thee heavens come clean across a kiss untold unbound unseen with dismals and dears follows discretely situated    from leaves unintentionally initiated things ascending to the spine nerve striking its dim its shine horizons skirt down faded feet sand permeated on fine arts been not made in a sheet to be fabulous mis-shaded   like my insides like my pen slides been piled overshadowed   been dark uninvaded she beauty on the purples majestic manipulated are them those of these the things you can see not face it? I saw the heavens I saw the hells water colored wet come to a collision I say come compensated on highs and lows rays of foes impossible converge  a split second for me an undeniable to the invisible     feet sand permeated on fine art I name it ****** by the devils by the angels sacred for me in my selfish kingdom my so called salvation a place my nights breathe annihilation even better than them those sent in that teleportation mere those moments of gazes scrapes buried for future destination on the whites of my imagination left to my unconsciousness a decision a piece of my mind an official declaration a moon arose from the dead to my incarnation not await for another I state a once and for all deprivation despite the lunar bothers something for me I owe no explanation moon me so light so bright so dim so dark to the bits of the ends of the marks the places I cant reach they afar stay there but stay near        to me my moon my fear                                                                                     ------raven feels
0
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 12:45 PM UTC
Majestic Manipulated
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sometimes a dream can flip your stage scenes and make them decorated;} thee heavens come clean across a kiss untold unbound unseen with dismals and dears follows discretely situated    from leaves unintentionally initiated things ascending to the spine nerve striking its dim its shine horizons skirt down faded feet sand permeated on fine arts been not made in a sheet to be fabulous mis-shaded   like my insides like my pen slides been piled overshadowed   been dark uninvaded she beauty on the purples majestic manipulated are them those of these the things you can see not face it? I saw the heavens I saw the hells water colored wet come to a collision I say come compensated on highs and lows rays of foes impossible converge  a split second for me an undeniable to the invisible     feet sand permeated on fine art I name it ****** by the devils by the angels sacred for me in my selfish kingdom my so called salvation a place my nights breathe annihilation even better than them those sent in that teleportation mere those moments of gazes scrapes buried for future destination on the whites of my imagination left to my unconsciousness a decision a piece of my mind an official declaration a moon arose from the dead to my incarnation not await for another I state a once and for all deprivation despite the lunar bothers something for me I owe no explanation moon me so light so bright so dim so dark to the bits of the ends of the marks the places I cant reach they afar stay there but stay near        to me my moon my fear                                                                                     ------raven feels
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55
Fullsome she maketh me, mine fere, mine lair in the onuppan Zion. Betwixt the dust of the belt of Orion, Mine Astronomer gape's the light-year's we shalt trek; The luminosity sparkle's from Sirius, the flake's of shake, disambiguation. We seeith galaxie's, nebula's, a parallel universe standing on it's hind leg's. She spread's her snowy pearly glider's, inviting she is when her flight's on fire; like a comet, blazing the black hole edge's, her cloak smoke's with her Asian hair, that leaveth **** fairy-speck smidgen's. To the sun, O' to the sun, I am warmly wrapped by her embracing spaceship; she taketh me by teleportation, to the kingdom of God, where she doth reside. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane nagley dedication
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Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
Teleportation with mine filipino rose
Listen, I'm really sorry for not finishing the teleportation device like I promised. I've misplaced my blowtorch & I really do **** at whipping up blueprints. [I hate numbers & measuring. more than most things in life. So please don’t make me.] I realize it would be beneficial for everyone if I just buckled down & made it happen; if I didn't sleep for months & somehow managed to defy all principles of space & time. I'm a woman with gumption, see? I could definitely do it. But there's something devilishly attractive revolving around the idea of being without such an ultramodern convenience. **Or maybe I just revel in making you work for it.**
0
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
ultramodern convenience
Yesterday’s gravity Pulls threads in weaved cloth Blown and scattering waves Massive like black holes and small Like the wings of humming Birds of Planck length down feathers On a drifting radiowave While watching the television in a Padded Rooms inside Schrödinger’s box Contained by hypertension Like the hairs that grow in fibers of The cerebrum’s Neurons which inflate and warp His hands shook like the rabbit ears On his old television, wood paneled with Outdated Textbooks like his shelves And enigma is his cited source In his teleportation box, bedridden Things in There are superstrings on the walls Floating eyes on the atoms of loneliness Quark fizz, structural quanta on Yesterday’s gravity Pulls threads in weaved cloth
0
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 7:25 PM UTC
M-Theory
Why would she wants to be a pilot When she is already an angel? Why would she wants to be inside the cockpit When she can just spread her wings? Why would she have to struggle asking permission from the radio tower When she can fly by her own desire? Why would bothered about fuel consumptions When she have a gigantic amount of power? Why would she thinks about the ground speed When she can fly with her wings in a high velocity? Why would she thinks about the minutes When she can travel with just one click? Why would she thinks of a distance When she can just do teleportation? Why would she afraid of an engine failure When she have the strength of lifting earth? What kind of heavenly creature That have something she concerned?
0
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
The Angel Who Wants To Fly A Plane
Everything was perfect until you came You made me human... Where every thought becomes a sin, And every revelation becomes a lie. I put on a blue cape, and jumped 43 ft high            But now, I never float... I drew an image, stared for hours            But it never moved... I was crossing the highway lifted my hands into a "stop!",            But I almost died... I AM HUMAN. Every day I was transforming into something they called "normal". My wings are long gone and I was running late. You see, I put my fingers on my forehead and as I opened my eyes, **** it! I was still here. I was thinking of "teleportation". Hey, I was thinking of teleportation, I said. It was the last thing I wished for... I . . I was hoping to go where you are. Because I am now human, I also lose the courage to fight for you... Because I am not perfect. I am not... But, being human. I knew you...
0
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 3:04 AM UTC
The Unbecoming of becoming a Human
I wish body pillows Acted like teleportation devices And when you clutched yours It would put me beside you I wish blankets Were like magic carpets And we could use ours To fly to one another I wish computer screens Would let us reach to others And I could pull you through And into my arms I wish we could feel each other When we clutch pillows and blankets And pretend they're each other So our dreams can somewhat come true
0
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
Long Distance Relationships
Colourful toucans, magic disposables with pretty specks of dust, fallen pixies and dreams of an escape. take me back to that place. I wanna go home, I wanna go home. I miss that pretty, twisted place- I miss that other half of me; it seems to have detached, leaving open wounds for me to find zero comfort in. Where reality exploded before our eyes and travelling in teleportation devices seemed so logical and the only method of reasonable transport. The world will not be crushed by my fragile shaking hands but I dream of the day it does. Everything is just a dream that is vanishing as I wake up now. I don't wanna wake up, I don't wanna wake up. I wanna stay in this place, with fragile hands and the creatures that are so tragically beautiful with our minds as the creators. I wanna stay here with these illusions that have become our world. I wanna stay here with you.
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Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 4:38 AM UTC
A torn out page with liquid memories i should forget;
To tell you the truth about travel, I hate it. Someone once told me that travel is a compromise for teleportation. Everything is basically a compromise until higher tech arrives. To tell you the truth about travel, I really don't want to. I want to let you hold my image against long winding roads, against the sad shrubbery by the side of the highway, and believe that I'll be happy when I'm not at home. My loud voice and excited manner may even trick into believing that I adore the hustle bustle of a new place, new people,      new traffic,            new smells,                 sights,                       sounds. But to tell you the truth, I really hate travelling. Save me from suffering the pains of packing a bag with the most essential items designed to make you look like a Prudent Traveller™ - I want to carry only my fatigue and annoyance at being asked to move out. (Some Hajmola, perhaps - the green and purple flavours) I am not seduced by lines on a map telling me where to go, and how to get there, I swear. I would rather have someone trace the edges of imaginary continents across my mind by virtue of their words. Cartographers aren't redundant to the world, perhaps - but have you ever had a laid back holiday with only i n t e r m i t t e n t naps?
0
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 8:53 AM UTC
I Hate Travelling - #NaPoWriMo - Day 1
Beautiful girl, I don't know why, It's not that I don't try I would roll with your pretty self everywhere Enjoying your smile like the priciest fare, You have no idea how I yearn For your company; your trust to earn I love how your words roll off your tongue Like the curves on your body as if sung, I don't want to admit it but this teasing Has got me all worked up; thinking wishing I don't like my mind playing tricks When you call me I envision your lips, Uttering sweet nothing to my burning ears But teleportation won't exist for another few years, Words can't describe how my heart falls When I say no to your invitational calls, Wish I had no other priorities But I have to pay all the utilities, Hanging with me might be like no other But the way things are; you shouldn't bother Just thought I'd let you know how I feel shorty, I'm missing out on being around you; really... © okpoet
0
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
Sorry...
the internet is akin to a cocktease. Time for teleportation!
0
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
Galactic Center
Our vision of the future is changing, oh so fast, that sometimes tomorrow seems just like the past. As we look from the shadow that time has cast. Will we control gravity? With wiggles from the sky, travel to the stars as soon as we learn, again, to fly. Communicate thru DNA with vast "we nets" I ask WHY! It seems, do we assume that the acients were so ultra dumb. When they had the tech-no wit to understand the Aether hum. Wonders from back in the day. Were built by whom? The aliens? I'm not talking immigrants but tiny green folks from beyond: "the stars" Who tweaked our inner programming? E-volved us into bio-crystal jars. And Who's adjusting us today? Perhaps our ancient grandpa's. Maybe not men from Mars. Our dreams? Teleportation space flight, levetation. Traveling thru "The Time" Manipulating, pouring imigaes, into our skulls of quantum fibered slime. Holo-decks with lights and sound. Full access is granted when we become "The Mime" Meditate, like we are them. We are all air fish, learn to swim thru water that is very thin. Surf the waves like crazy loons. Sing out loud, those inner tunes. Life's just one big lagoon. So, Don't *** in the water. Act much more like you ought-er Be more than just fool fodder.
0
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Luke, I Am Your Grandfather
as I age the environment around me is also aging at the same time, it's impossible to remain in one place, and near my family reunion: my father is still digesting a piece of gum, he says "I was never the type to believe in horoscopes," says "let's beat this guy up and take his telescope"
0
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
Teleportation:
Life is so amazing; We humans have different marks on paper or a computer that we can understand and we move our mouth to make different noises that we understand as well. And having different noises in a row that sound barbaric to people that don't speak that language. There's even different languages that people developed over the years... Then we talk about our ways of life. There are some people out there that are starving and dying, and then there's people that have so much money and food, they don't have any room for it. Then we move to our technology. From dirt and rocks to make weapons to **** for food, and living in caves, and not talking like a normal human being, we came to having houses made of the wood of trees and bricks, and having 3-dimensional beings in a little portable device. And having stop-motion pictures, and 3-D TV's, and computers that have different websites that have completely different stuff on them. Then we move to music. Music is so old... probably started when the cavemen started to talk English or something. And there's so much songs about so many different things, and none of them have the same beat or notes in a row. There's probably like, quadrillions of songs out there. Now for the sciency stuff. I just think it's so incredible that there's people like Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson. I mean, imagine where we would be right now if it weren't for Benjamin Franklin. Thomas Jefferson wouldn't be famous, that's for sure. What about if neither of them existed? Where would we be know? Then there's the people that came up with the idea that there's life that is so small, we can't see it. Then someone invented the telescope so we could examine the moon better. All the constellations out there that tell stories about the Gods and Goddesses. And it's just so astounding how big the Universe is. All those planets out there, we can't be the only living things out there, you know? There is just so much in the world that still needs yet to be discovered. Just think how long it will be until we have teleportation! Then we could teleport our space rovers to different planets and not worry about it getting hit by a meteor. And people say "The world's not that old! This is only 2015!" Yeah. After the birth of Jesus Christ. Jesus was on Earth 2015 years ago. Before that, people didn't have the system of keeping track of time. Scientists can only tell how Ancient Egypt or Ancient Greece was like because of people writing down their religions. To think if there will ever be some sort of apocalypse and no one wrote anything down and humans came to life gain, it would be exactly like caveman times all over again unless we write down our thoughts anywhere and keep it anywhere. That's what diaries where originally invented for! And if you never thought of thinking of the world this deep before, it's only because you're most likely an outgoing person. Don't ask how I know that. Well, this closes my thoughts.
0
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Life
Life is so amazing; We humans have different marks on paper or a computer that we can understand and we move our mouth to make different noises that we understand as well. And having different noises in a row that sound barbaric to people that don't speak that language. There's even different languages that people developed over the years... Then we talk about our ways of life. There are some people out there that are starving and dying, and then there's people that have so much money and food, they don't have any room for it. Then we move to our technology. From dirt and rocks to make weapons to **** for food, and living in caves, and not talking like a normal human being, we came to having houses made of the wood of trees and bricks, and having 3-dimensional beings in a little portable device. And having stop-motion pictures, and 3-D TV's, and computers that have different websites that have completely different stuff on them. Then we move to music. Music is so old... probably started when the cavemen started to talk English or something. And there's so much songs about so many different things, and none of them have the same beat or notes in a row. There's probably like, quadrillions of songs out there. Now for the sciency stuff. I just think it's so incredible that there's people like Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson. I mean, imagine where we would be right now if it weren't for Benjamin Franklin. Thomas Jefferson wouldn't be famous, that's for sure. What about if neither of them existed? Where would we be know? Then there's the people that came up with the idea that there's life that is so small, we can't see it. Then someone invented the telescope so we could examine the moon better. All the constellations out there that tell stories about the Gods and Goddesses. And it's just so astounding how big the Universe is. All those planets out there, we can't be the only living things out there, you know? There is just so much in the world that still needs yet to be discovered. Just think how long it will be until we have teleportation! Then we could teleport our space rovers to different planets and not worry about it getting hit by a meteor. And people say "The world's not that old! This is only 2015!" Yeah. After the birth of Jesus Christ. Jesus was on Earth 2015 years ago. Before that, people didn't have the system of keeping track of time. Scientists can only tell how Ancient Egypt or Ancient Greece was like because of people writing down their religions. To think if there will ever be some sort of apocalypse and no one wrote anything down and humans came to life gain, it would be exactly like caveman times all over again unless we write down our thoughts anywhere and keep it anywhere. That's what diaries where originally invented for! And if you never thought of thinking of the world this deep before, it's only because you're most likely an outgoing person. Don't ask how I know that. Well, this closes my thoughts.
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12
Oct 2020 Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again. Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again. This is a poem of humans, regardless of our natural multi- flavored striations, that tend to over-define us, thus separating, instead of celebrating commonalities. Like most things we enjoy, our five senses are the gateway to pleasure, even the pleasure of friendships. They act in concert, a symphonic interplay that reenforces and heightens so that in combination they create a whole greater than a single sense could provide singly. This is on my mind this week, as I wrestle to understand the meaningful possibilities, the limits of friendship. Poets form bonds without hearing each other’s voices. Poets connect despite geographic distances that makes grasping each others sinewed arms, caressing the softness of hard cheekbones, without ever having been granted the unique, all encompassing satisfaction of embrace, hugging. Poets sometimes can hear but not see each other’s words. Poets sometimes can see/read each other’s words, but never hear them voiced aloud in the authors own, true voice. Poets sometimes cannot smell or taste each other’s words, though it can take a poem to another, higher sensory level of coloration. And yet, a bond so strong forms that defies the conventional limitations of the physical. Should we share such a bond, them you know it, no need to ask for confirmation. Words, can be gifted, without teleportation, even when and if the bridge of a shared spoken language is not extant. This is nothing short of miraculous. Just like friendship. All my wrestling to true comprehend this state, for naught, for the miracle of words is like the color of water. Universal, invisible, but so varied, that it too bridges and is shared by every ! human body regardless of any human shape, color, form of the billions conceivable. But wrestle I do nonetheless, for the pleasure of this (non?)soluble problem that both creates queries & quenches simultaneously, so I break off this thinnest wafer to share with you, offering this notional: All humans are poems. All poems are human. Solve this poem for human. (And ignore the wet spots of my watery, clear tears staining this poem).
0
Jan 2, 2025
Jan 2, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC
solve for human poem (in conversation with SPT)
Oct 2020 Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again. Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again. This is a poem of humans, regardless of our natural multi- flavored striations, that tend to over-define us, thus separating, instead of celebrating commonalities. Like most things we enjoy, our five senses are the gateway to pleasure, even the pleasure of friendships. They act in concert, a symphonic interplay that reenforces and heightens so that in combination they create a whole greater than a single sense could provide singly. This is on my mind this week, as I wrestle to understand the meaningful possibilities, the limits of friendship. Poets form bonds without hearing each other’s voices. Poets connect despite geographic distances that makes grasping each others sinewed arms, caressing the softness of hard cheekbones, without ever having been granted the unique, all encompassing satisfaction of embrace, hugging. Poets sometimes can hear but not see each other’s words. Poets sometimes can see/read each other’s words, but never hear them voiced aloud in the authors own, true voice. Poets sometimes cannot smell or taste each other’s words, though it can take a poem to another, higher sensory level of coloration. And yet, a bond so strong forms that defies the conventional limitations of the physical. Should we share such a bond, them you know it, no need to ask for confirmation. Words, can be gifted, without teleportation, even when and if the bridge of a shared spoken language is not extant. This is nothing short of miraculous. Just like friendship. All my wrestling to true comprehend this state, for naught, for the miracle of words is like the color of water. Universal, invisible, but so varied, that it too bridges and is shared by every ! human body regardless of any human shape, color, form of the billions conceivable. But wrestle I do nonetheless, for the pleasure of this (non?)soluble problem that both creates queries & quenches simultaneously, so I break off this thinnest wafer to share with you, offering this notional: All humans are poems. All poems are human. Solve this poem for human. (And ignore the wet spots of my watery, clear tears staining this poem).
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21
<for my friends> <pre-bot-era> Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again. This is a poem of humans, regardless of our natural multi- flavored striations, that tend to over-define us, thus separating, instead of celebrating commonalities. *Like most things we enjoy, our five senses are the gateway to pleasure, even the pleasure of friendships. They act in concert, a symphonic interplay that reenforces and heightens so that in combination they create a whole greater than a single sense could provide singly. This is on my mind this week, as I wrestle to understand the meaningful possibilities, the limits of friendship. Poets form bonds without hearing each other’s voices. Poets connect despite geographic distances that makes grasping each others sinewed arms, caressing the softness of hard cheekbones, without ever having been granted the unique, all encompassing satisfaction of embrace, hugging. Poets sometimes can hear but not see each other’s words. Poets sometimes can see/read each other’s words, but never hear them voiced aloud in the authors own, true voice. Poets sometimes cannot smell or taste each other’s words, though it can take a poem to another, higher sensory level of coloration. And yet, a bond so strong forms that defies the conventional limitations of the physical. Should we share such a bond, them you know it, no need to ask for confirmation. Words, can be gifted, without teleportation, even when and if the bridge of a shared spoken language is not extant. This is nothing short of miraculous. Just like friendship. All my wrestling to true comprehend this state, for naught, for the miracle of words is like the color of water. Universal, invisible, but so varied, that it too bridges and is shared by every ! human body regardless of any human shape, color, form of the billions conceivable*. But wrestle I do nonetheless, for the pleasure of this (non?)soluble problem that both creates queries & quenches simultaneously, so I break off this thinnest wafer to share with you, offering this notional: All humans are poems. All poems are human. Solve this poem for human. (And ignore the wet spots of my watery, clear tears staining this poem).
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Oct 24, 2020
Oct 24, 2020 at 12:52 PM UTC
Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again.
<for my friends> <pre-bot-era> Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again. This is a poem of humans, regardless of our natural multi- flavored striations, that tend to over-define us, thus separating, instead of celebrating commonalities. *Like most things we enjoy, our five senses are the gateway to pleasure, even the pleasure of friendships. They act in concert, a symphonic interplay that reenforces and heightens so that in combination they create a whole greater than a single sense could provide singly. This is on my mind this week, as I wrestle to understand the meaningful possibilities, the limits of friendship. Poets form bonds without hearing each other’s voices. Poets connect despite geographic distances that makes grasping each others sinewed arms, caressing the softness of hard cheekbones, without ever having been granted the unique, all encompassing satisfaction of embrace, hugging. Poets sometimes can hear but not see each other’s words. Poets sometimes can see/read each other’s words, but never hear them voiced aloud in the authors own, true voice. Poets sometimes cannot smell or taste each other’s words, though it can take a poem to another, higher sensory level of coloration. And yet, a bond so strong forms that defies the conventional limitations of the physical. Should we share such a bond, them you know it, no need to ask for confirmation. Words, can be gifted, without teleportation, even when and if the bridge of a shared spoken language is not extant. This is nothing short of miraculous. Just like friendship. All my wrestling to true comprehend this state, for naught, for the miracle of words is like the color of water. Universal, invisible, but so varied, that it too bridges and is shared by every ! human body regardless of any human shape, color, form of the billions conceivable*. But wrestle I do nonetheless, for the pleasure of this (non?)soluble problem that both creates queries & quenches simultaneously, so I break off this thinnest wafer to share with you, offering this notional: All humans are poems. All poems are human. Solve this poem for human. (And ignore the wet spots of my watery, clear tears staining this poem).
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Number 1 The SPACEBOY who was sent to the moon for no reason His powers are super strength and ape-like physiology That is who number one is Luther Hargreeves Number 2 The KRAKEN who was never a child but always a weapon His powers are  perfect aim and trajectory manipulation That is who number 2 is Diego Hargreeves Number 3 The RUMOR whos powers gave her everything that she wanted Her powers is mind control by lying That is who number 3 is Allison Hargreeves Number 4 The SÉANCE who's plagued with voices of the dead His powers are mediumship and evocation That is who number 4 is Klaus Hargreeves Number 5 The KID who lost everything he ever had His powers is teleportation through space and time That is who number 5 is Five Hargreeves Number 6 The HORROR who sadly died at such a young age His powers are that he can summon tentacled monsters That is who number 6 is Ben Hargreeves Number 7 The WHITE VIOLIN who was a brother but never considered family His powers are converting sound into energy That is who number 7 is Victor Hargreeves
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Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 1:41 PM UTC
The Umbrella Academy