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Now upon Age my Ripe Lantern will give
The Rose of Thirty-Four for his Best Joy
Sister, the Token of my Purpose, live,
Brother, the Promise of a Knighted Boy
Which Rose, purple or red, will compensate
A Decade's Sin I rehearse to atone
Pride, one Raven crowed I pluck without Hate
And gently shift my Psalms for her Behold
How another Labour I justly Failed
Must submit to her Needs before my own
For me the Decoding Concept derailed
The Troll called Pity transforms your Heart to Gold.
You both planned to defer in New Year's Lift
Still for you both I sing this Sterling Gift.
Grace Feb 2015
In flickering eyes
Is the glow of a smoldering fire
They are sizing us up

My body transforms, a whirlwind
A temple for worship
To a stage for performance

All eyes are on me
Shadows flickering on the walls
Whispers scattering
Hurried footsteps down the hall

Their lips glisten in the dark
A shred of light
Despite the darkness  trapped inside

Grumbling stomachs
Resonating like heart beats
Growling for me

They are starved
For my skin
Ravenous

For to them
I am nothing more
Than meat
Because I am not solely for your entertainment.
Annelyra Jan 2015
it is said
that the delicate flutter
of a butterfly's wing
vibrates the Earth
to its core
and transforms
everything

it is also said
that instead
the thoughtless footfalls
of every heavy human
are inevitable
inexorable cartography
splashed across
the landscape in
thin invisible lines
intertwining
and full of divine
meaning

imagine
the apathetic
apocalyptic
apoplectic
chaos
the uproar
the heartache
the blood spilled
the madness

imagine
the wings torn off butterflies
that don't shake the earth
and the stamping of feet
over unmarked land
if it turns out this is all
just an intricate
beautiful
accident.
Kitbag of Words Jan 2018
an incredible incite (the ruthless volatility of words)

~for L.B.~

the only place of solitaire solitude in the city accompanies me
like a faithful country dog that doesn’t know better to be afraid,
of moving cars, sleepless night terrors and unscripted “dreams”

where image and words say come “follow me” with ruthlessness and no cloying come hither looks and
see and take and recall with perfect midnight blue sky clarity for

the incredible incite of credible insight

surfacing unexpectedly in a intemperate pool of slushy snow,
that will be an ice storm of painful confrontations with *****
inner truths standing outside in sunny sub zero playground

there is great risk.  volatility gone wild. when the speed
governor is removed and you live at 100 mph on local streets,
when the merest slight of an accidental incidental touch
transforms into an incite incident and **** is the threat
that you will not die today and your own words will ruthless
pull from the nerve places where sensible and sensual cannot
coexist and this write this script is a poetical insight inside, an
incredible incite and what your spilling is spaghetti sauce blood
when you left your brain on broil, instead of the faking daily of
slow simmering ineffectual intellectual words that just don’t
cut the ****. your addiction complete, you cannot live without
the incredible incite, the ruthless volatility of words,
otherwise why rough write what you see
in the blind
beyond the blind


1/6/18 5:03am
Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 5
“I took great pains to study and ’tis poetical
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
Love is an interesting feeling
And even though I've said it
Countless times to many
It feels different with them

When things are challenging
The intensity is palpable
Racing hearts
Trailing tears
Averting eyes
Yet still we hold on
Emotionally and physically
Wrapped into each other
Until the storm passes and
It transforms from
Seemingly impenetrable clouds
Pouring rain upon us
To a faint and fading mist
Haloed by the sun
And we realize that
Together
We are strong and
Individually
We are stronger still

Whether staring into their eyes
As we wrestle
Or catching the others' tears
Through painful conversations and
Anxiety-provoking confrontations
Every moment with them
Shows me why I'm here
Why nothing else worked out
Through all of the bad days and
Complicated miscommunications
I see them more clearly
I feel their soul more acutely
And I fall in love with them
Over and over again
Bus Poet Stop Apr 2015
eye did.   As my prejudices expected, the odd assortment of "characters"were all present and not to be unaccounted for...a romantic comedy on a good Friday, attracts the believers, the well wishers, the ones who think if only the world was.. and I was not re or so tired of life, unemployed, lonely, damaged in some manner of being...

not too many young, just a few... theater darkness is a masque, with a risqué chance of oh no, I've been witnessed by the non-believers.

the infirm with their mobile caretakers and paraphernalia were there.  Odd couples, were there.  If there was one unifying common characteristic, I selected this one.  We all needed haircuts. eye don't know why but it made me think about going to get one's haircut, and the rituals that requires....and it is and is not a bit like being in a almost totally private world inpublic, where you, the individual and some outside force majeure, hairdresser, movie screen engages and temporarily transforms you.  That is why, I, went to the movies on a Friday afternoon, to be transformed and not reformed, in public, in private...
LexiSully Jan 2016
She stands at a cross roads, looking from left to right, trying to decide which path to take

She turns to the left, where she sees a dark and dismal sky, where the path breaks up into tiny shards of gravel

She then turns to the right, where she sees a pleasant blue sky marked with wispy white clouds, where the path transforms into even blocks of cobblestone

Could she, struck with life's hardships, caught in life's desolation, choose the path which will lead her home?

Her eyes drift to and fro, summing up both paths, attempting to decide on just one

Should she choose a path of dark or light, tragedy or happiness, cloudiness or sunshine?

Her mind confused, she kneels on the ground, folds her arms, and sends a message from her heart to the One who will guide her home.
violavics Aug 2017
One by one, she examined the various colors
that seemed to enlighten her previously gloomy mood
which can’t be modified in another

She is eighty-nine
a petite lady whose engine has not expired
because she constantly transforms its design
off she goes
Her destination? Not a clue, only she knows

Ultimately, selecting the bright magenta,
this ignited an enthusiasm that glowed
and spread over to my agenda

I stroll her to the dining room for lunch;
consisted of bland, dull-looking ingredients,
never increasing her appetite to munch.

She stared into her glass of water and tiny pill,
trying to hide the rough confusion:
unaware that a missed dose could make her ill.

She is eight or nine,
a petite girl whose engine will never expire
because she constantly creates lanes
off she strides
Her diminution? Not a worry, only she denies

I reassured that the pill was a raindrop,
waiting to be immersed into the atmosphere
where she can choose any shade to shop.

Staring with those twinkling hazel eyes,
notice how she's enthused.
Finally she picked up her utensils and ate:
delightful epiphany reminded her preferred taste.
May 20th, 2016: In memory of Vera. She was a resident with Alzheimer’s at a retirement community that I volunteered from 7th to 11th grade. Her presence and my time that I gained whenever I visited inspired me to wonder how much she feels endlessly.
L Jun 2018
He lay on the side of the road; lifeless grey eyes staring forever into the clear bright sky.
"I wonder who lost a rooster."
My eyes lingering as my speediness transforms to a crawl--
"I'm going to be late to work."

...

Pick up the pace, why dont you
Written directly after thinking it while still walking to work.
Chicken Feb 22
Little ****
I'll pull you up
to my face
and
eat you.

Make you into
something else
It's painful
but
you knew.

Every atom
Every speck
transforms time
and
time again.

If air is the chorus
then you
are the choir
singing
despite pain.
Everything has a sound, a frequency, no matter what state it is in.

We live in an endless structure of sound, of song, the multitude of the verses.

Why do you like music so much?
LonelyPoet Mar 2017
You find yourself thinking in color. It permeates through every inch of what you know. Thoughts get processed in them and translated by it. Although I favor the one that shines most bright, I barely claim it. I lack of it. In fact, I come to deny it, to exclude it, rather than make it my own.

Lets think through color. Nelson lives in the reflective imposition of it. She strips it down and eats it whole. She hugs its core and stares right at it. She owns it, unlike the string of light I keep refusing.

He, she, they, constructed this. We, you, them, distort it, reshape it, bend it up, and cut it down.

It is the only lineage that connects us all. Dickinson saw the strength of the grass like your mom did and with the vision you do. But, color gets lost in translation. They used Doves to instill fear and swordsmen saw Paper as a sign of truce.

It hurts as well. Obsidian carries pain within. Marks on his back from a remote past, a past that is still dragged to the present. Obscure in its presence. Regarded as biologically distinct. Yet, we now know better, or pretend to.

Blends. Blends in, it merges, fuses, makes new. Transforms. Distorts. She made me see the core once, and it bleeds.

Not the primary but the others, from distant lands on a new canvas, filling in the outlined sketch.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
What if
I told you
not to discourage
The world and you

You're the part of nature
The very part to be loved
and captured

The world can be cruel not
meeting your expectation
  I want to encourage you

What we are not
We all need to be cared for
No-one needs to control you
You put you or not?
But your heart and soul
inside you
Was worth every
Worldbeat of a shot

Like an energy force

What we hear
let nature
take its course

How it got to you
But of course
Unexpected surprise or not
Another divorce
Spiritual eye
compelled you

To be or not to be
(The Shakespearian) dialogue
But what is concealed so secretive
Our loved ones
The world revolves around
(Many Rules) a dust of the wind
The dead ones The wild or bad ones
 What would it be without
colors and no control
The kindest hearts of souls

It's not very logical or practical
To use it never to abuse it how
another person transforms it
Solving the problems
Such a delicate moment touching a rose

And snap a pose Lady Madonna

Like it-or, not the Vogue space alien green
Your money is not always what it seems
The whole world in your hand
Feeling alienated mind polluted
The things that we are? Being Lifted

Why does a business make you feel
Nothingness the number
Well let's consider
yourself part of the family
We are not on this planet
to be right or wrong

How every molecule
 something clicks
The good earth Apple
computer console
All the keys comma, star,
how far will it go
So many deceased or not ever pleased
@  # whats the odds percentage %
The exclamation point! !! & etc
The addiction movies the drama

Fresh blueberries the sour cream
Not watching your diet what a dilemma
Those landmark cemeteries so
vivid not a dream and life to
overcome
your fears and dreams

Every Data color is the
warmest earth worth every beauty of color

Those homemade brownies
The revolving Globe
Her Grecian robe contemplating
You're the physical sensible person
Trying a (Sun filled) vacation
How it groves to shape right in
Healthy or not we were
born  to be loved

Our eyes see but they're
not clear not the friendly
Environment somehow mean

Or bluer than the sky clean
But "Hi' nice welcoming
Robin bird fly__*
Maybe it's not your true birth

Like a cry overflow

What do you know he knows
or she knows
Enjoy yourself your mind will be higher
Overly confident to feel pompous
The Showstopper word it nutritious
Don't underestimate
Who we really are the believer

Don't pull yourself back
with negativity

Accept the craziness
You're not the wallflower
The world captures you
every day cry or make it
your time to pray
Your head was spinning
with fascination like it was your
time of blessing
That European trip the
airplane pop of ears what is glory
Let the people hear your side of the story

The restlessness above all  the love
With such a will of ambition list
Feeling the dizziness

I know the world would be
a better place with smiling face
Show your hair with the
fresh cut daisy
The brightness soothes you
The Daisy my favorite
because of Mom
She taught me well

I will always be her daisy
What makes us happy
That personal growth we don't
need a wish just push forward
We were meant to do
this together
intertwined as both
Toward our happiness
What revolves around our world to see the world free or wild what do we really feel like in this heavenly good earth. We should kiss the ground we walk on or not is it really using up your time you are the one so worth living or not to find peace even when it's not what we need to resolve to move forward and love who we are
Esmena Valdés Sep 2018
We forgot.

We do not distinguish

the

m e m o r i e s

From ordinary moments,
we do not discover it
until later

b e c a u s e  o f  t h e  s c a r s.

Everything we said
will be corpuscles
scattered in the wind

a n d  you  l i k e  me

will forget.

I am tired
of looking a frozen sun,
of being an

e m o t i o n a l  n o m a d

of depositing

l o v e

in something that later
transforms into absorbed
thoughts and attitudes.

But this is my
condition
and it is also

c i r c u m s t a n t i a l.
Kat Aug 2018
There is nothing I can give to you that is not past or future.
When my both selves fight, they throw insults at each other like an unhappy couple.
    “You are already gone!” the one says,
    “You are never here” says the other.

And I sing then. I never let any note slip away into silence. Songs in which I’m a magician,
right before the grand finale,
the last vanishing act.
I close my eyes and slowly slice away layers of skin,
so I can become less and less,
so I can sail away on the river without an end,
it’s flow imposing my soul with the authoritative demand to move forward.

There is no river.
I am pitifully human so there is no alchemy that transforms loss into beauty.
Ihe things I have built, I built myself. Like this house of memories
with it’s sole window. The moon shines through it every night.
What an unperfect image,
what my heart endures everytime I reach out only to feel
solance turning into a ****-flamed sky.
The darkness is gone like I will be gone
like everything has gone forever.

There is also no house.
Only the pale waves of a grey-winter sea,
        dualism of being and not-being
a perfect symmetry,
a beautiful fragile balance.
My love for you is eternal
.
.
it changes and transforms
.
it is alchemically exercised
.
The passionate fire speaks to your middle
.
.
It shall be everlasting
.
.
it remembers that zeal in your eyes
.
In perfect moments caught,
.
the naught in you
.
.
permanent to me.
.
Like a ***** twisted into my soul.
i love her
i love her so much
she's everything
i don’t understand it
the feelings that overcome my body
the thoughts that occupy my mind
nothing i have ever experienced
wholeheartedly foreign
whitman said
“we feel the long pulsation, ebb and flow of endless motion”
i never understood it
until she gave it meaning
she entered my life without permission
and intertwined with my story in an instant
nothing else matters
she’s the only thing i can see
all can fall into ruin
i don't care
she's my only pinch of bliss
in this incessant cyclone of turbulence
she transforms the mundane into compelling
hopelessness into safety
darkness into light
all i want is her to be next to me
to hold my hand
and love me
the desire to share everything with her
makes me want to live
makes me not want to die
she's the love of my life
all i ever wanted and dreamt of
i adore every inch of her body and soul
i refuse to be without her
we shall never be apart
i will love her until my dying day

i just hope
she feels the same way

02/01/2019
Chelsea K Aug 2017
A forest-green & tan striped couch, littered with burn holes from forgotten cigarettes, serves as foreshadowing of what lies ahead for the forgotten flower lying upon it.

The flower curls up on this couch, as it's the best view to admire mom from across the room, as she magically transforms eyelashes into feathers with the swipe of a wand.

Ignorantly innocent, the flower patiently awaits her time to bloom, yearns for her petals to unfurl like mom's: flawless perfection.

But gradually, mom's smokey cat eyes become dark shadows of hollow sunken ships, and bright rosy skin fades to washed out colors of furniture bathed in harsh sunlight year after year.

Now, mom buried the bones of the delicate structure she built from inside her ****, and decades later her daughter's dismantled skeleton is scattered ruins of an abandoned sunken city, polluted by the rotten flesh of unwanted fruit; a weak foundation destined to be crumbled relics of an ancient past.

Never once did Mom leave flowers at the grave that she dug.

I imagine the sweetest sounds to a brand-new mother are the screams and wails of her newborn child, reassurance that it's vibrant life lights up the room as blindingly as the birth of a newborn star, a commanding presence louder than that star's explosive death.

On the contrary, I imagine the sweetest sound to MY mother was the silence when she muffled the screams. From underwater, you cannot hear screams for help, or much of anything at all. 

Her solace was the peace felt when muddy water filled her lungs, the darkness found from deep within a drug-induced sleep, where you cannot hear a child weep.

I mentioned the young girl always wanted to be like her mom. And so it was...all grown up when I tried ****** for the first time. I held true to mom every time the rush of warm blood filled the syringe, visual evidence that the blood was thicker than the bond mom and I shared.

Usually when a person's life is ruined by a parent's addiction they will stay an ocean's length away from drugs - but I am a curious cat, ignoring the fact that I do not have 9 lives, and so I welcomed this substance into my veins, into my brain.

The brown lady would wrap me up in her arms each night, then gently dip me in the familiar flame of a fire's flickering tongue. She became the only company that could never overstay its welcome.

And so, for a time I became my mother: "flawless perfection." I will admit that ****** is one **** of a drug, but -still- i cannot see! How could ****** steal my mother's love?
RAJ NANDY Aug 2018
THE ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE: PART TWO
Dear Friends, having introduced ‘The Enigma of Time in Verse’ in Part One, along with few selected poetic quotes, I now mention what some of the important Philosophers thought about Time down the past centuries. But while doing so, I have tried my best to simplify some of those early concepts for better understanding and appreciation of my readers. If you like it, kindly re-post the poem. Thanks,  – Raj Nandy of New Delhi.

          THE ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE : PART TWO
   I commence by quoting Sonnet 60 of Shakespeare about Time,
   Hoping to seek some blessings for this Part Two composition of
   mine!
“Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
  So do our minutes hasten to their end;
  Each changing place with that which goes before,
  In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
  Nativity, once in the main of light,
  Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,
  Crooked elipses ’gainst his glory fight,
  And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
  Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
  And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
  Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
  And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
  And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.”

              PHILOSOPHY OF TIME
Animals are said to live in a continuous present,
Since they have no temporal distinction of past, future,
or the present.
But our consciousness of time, becomes the most
distinguishing feature of mankind.
Though we are mostly obsessed with objective time, -
As the rotation of our Earth separates day from night.
With the swing of the pendulum and the ticking of clocks,
Which regulates our movements, while we try to beat the clock!
But the ancient theologians and philosophers of India and
Greece,
Who were among the first to ponder about the true nature
of all things,
Had wondered about the subjective nature of time;
Was time linear or cyclic, was time endless or finite?

GREEK PHILOSOPHERS ON TIME:
I begin with Heraclitus, the Pre-Socratic philosopher of 6th Century BC born in Ephesus.
He claimed that everything around us, is in a constant state of change and flux.
You cannot step into the same river twice Heraclitus had claimed,
Since water keeps flowing down the river all the while and never
remains the same.
This flow and change in Nature is a process which is ceaseless.
The only thing which remains permanent is impermanence!
Here is a quote from poet Shelley reflecting the same idea:
“World on world are rolling ever
  From creation to decay
  Like the bubbles on a river
  Sparkling, bursting, borne away.”

Now Heraclitus was refuted by Parmenides, born in the Greek colony of Elea,
On the western coast of Southern Italy, as his contemporary.
Parmenides said that our senses deceive us, since all changes are mere illusory!
True reality was only eternal and unchanging ‘Being’, which was both indivisible and continuous - filling up all space.
Zeno, a pupil of Parmenides, through his famous ‘Paradox of Achilles and the Tortoise’ had shown, that when the tortoise was given a head start,
Swift footed Achilles could never catch up with the tortoise,
Since the space between the two were infinitely divisible, resulting in the impossibility of movement and change in motion!
Now the Greeks were never comfortable with the Concept of Infinity.
They preferred to view the universe as continuous existing ‘Being’.  
However, unlike Heraclitus’ ‘world of change and flux’,
Both Parmenides and Zeno have presented us, with a static unchanging universe!
Thus from the above examples it becomes easy for us to derive,  
How those Ancient Greeks had viewed Time.
Time has been viewed as a forward moving changing entity;
And also as an illusory, continuous and indivisible Being!
To clarify this further I quote Bertrand Russell from his ‘History of Western Philosophy’;
“Creation out of nothing, which was taught in the Old Testament, was an idea wholly foreign to Greek philosophy. When Plato speaks of creation, he imagines a primitive matter, to which God gives form as an artificer.”

PLATO AND ARISTOTLE ON TIME:
For Plato, time was created by the Creator at the same instance when he had fashioned the heavens.
But Plato was more interested to contemplate on things which lay
beyond the sway of time and remained unchangeable and eternal;
Like absolute Truth, absolute Justice, the absolute form of Good and Beauty;
Which were eternal and unchangeable like the ‘Platonic Forms’, and were beyond the realm of Time as true reality.
Plato’s pupil Aristotle was the first Greek philosophers to contemplate on reality inside time, and provide a proper definition as we get to see.
He said, “Time is the number of movement in respect to before and after” - as a part of reality.
To measure time numerically, we must have a ‘before’ and an ‘after’, and also notice the difference objectively.
Therefore, time here becomes the change which we see and experience.
Time takes on a linear motion moving from the past to the present;
And to the unknown future like a moving arrow travelling straight.
Aristotle had developed a four step process to understand everything inside of Time and within human experience:
(a) Observe the world using our senses,
(b) Apply logical rules to these observations,
(c) To go back and consult past authorities, if your logic agrees with their logic,
(d) Then only you can come to a logical conclusion.

No wonder in our modern times, experiments conducted by the LDC or the Large Hadron Collider, located 100m underground near the French-Swiss border,
By going back in time simulates the ‘Big Bang’ conditions, that moment of our universe’s first creation.
The scientists thereby, study the evolution of our universe with time, which  resulted in the  finding of the Higgs Boson !  (On 4thJuly 2012)

NOTES :  All elementary particles interacting with the Higg's Field & obtain Mass, excepting for photons & gluons which do not interact with this field. Mass-less photons can travel at the
speed of light with a mind boggling 186,000 miles per second! Now this LDC is a Particle Accelerator 27 kms long ring-shaped tunnel, made mostly of superconducting magnets, inside which two high-energy particle beams are made to travel close to the speed of light in opposite directions, and the shower of particles resulting from the collision is closely examined, presuming that these similar shower of particles must have been produced at the time of the ‘Big Bang’ some 13.8 million years ago, at the time of Creation! Sound like fiction? Well, Prof. Peter Higgs got the Noble Prize for Physics, for locating the particle called ‘Higgs Boson’ among those shower of particles, on 10th Dec. 2013.

NOW TO LIGHTEN UP MY READERS MIND, FEW TIME QUOTE I NOW PROVIDE :

“TIME WASTES OUR BODIES AND OUR WITS,
  BUT WE WASTE TIME, SO WE ARE QUITS!” – Anonymus.

‘Time is a great Teacher, but unfortunately it kills its Pupils!’ – HL Berlioz

“Lost , yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two
   golden hours,
   Each set with sixty diamond minutes.
   No reward is offered, for they are gone forever!” – Horace Mann


PLOTINUS & ST. AUGUSTINE ON TIME:
Now getting back to our Philosophy of Time, there was Plotinus of the 3rd Century AD,
The founder of the mystical Neo-Platonic School of Philosophy.
He had followed Plato’s basic concept of Time as “the moving image of eternity.”
Mystic Plotinus tried to synthesize both Aristotle and Plato by saying that the entire process of cosmic creation,
Flows out of the ONE  through a series of emanation!
This ONE gave rise to the ‘Divine Mind’ which he called the ‘Realm of Intelligence’ and is an aspect of reality,
When everything is understood in terms of Platonic Forms of Truth, Justice, the Good, and Beauty.
However, the later Christian theologians had interpreted this ONE of Plotinus, -
As the Christian God, the Divine Creator of the Universe.
For God is eternal, in the sense of being timeless, in God there is no before or after, but only a timeless present.

Now this lead St. Augustine, to formulate a very admirable relativistic theory of Time!
St. Augustine, the greatest constructive teacher of the Early Christian Church, had written in Book XI of his ‘Confessions’ during  5th century AD, -
His thoughts about the enigma of Time which had perplexed the Greek philosophers of earlier centuries.
To simplify St. Augustine’s thoughts, I now paraphrase for the sake of clarity.
Time can only be measured while it is passing, yet there is time past, and time future in reality.
To avoid these contradictions he says that past and future can only be thought of as present: ‘past’ must be identified with memory, and ‘future’ with expectation.
Since memory and expectation being both present facts, there is no contradiction.  
“The present of things past is memory, the present of things present is sight; and the present of things future is expectation,” - wrote St. Augustine.

This subjective notion of time led St. Augustine to anticipate Rene Descartes the French philosopher the 17th Century,
Who proclaimed “Cogito, ergo sum” in Latin, meaning “I think, therefore I am”, and is regarded as the Father of Modern Philosophy.

Now cutting a long story short I come to Sir Isaac Newton, well known for his Laws of Motion and Gravity.
Newton speaks of ‘Absolute Time’ which exists independently, flowing at a consistent pace throughout the universe, which can only be understood mathematically.
Newton’s ‘Absolute Time’ had remained as the dominant concept till the  early years of the 20th Century.
When Albert Einstein formulated ‘Theory of Space-time’ along with his Special and General Theory of Relativity.

Now the German philosopher Leibniz during 17th century, had challenged Newton with his anti-realist theory of time.
Leibniz claimed that time was only a convenient intellectual concept, that enables to sequence and compare happening of events.
There must be objects with which time can interact or relate to as ‘Relational Time’ he had felt.
Ernst Mach, like Leibniz towards the end of 19th Century, said that even if it was not obvious what time and space was relative to,
Then they were still relative to the ‘fixed stars’ i.e. the bulk of matter in the universe.

CONCEPT OF TIME AS 'SPECIOUS PRESENT' :
During late 19th century, Robert Kelley introduced the concept of ‘spacious present’, which was the most recent part of the past.
Psychologist and philosopher William James developed this idea further by describing it as ‘’the short duration of which we are immediately and incessantly sensible’’
William James also introduced the term “stream of consciousness” into literature as a method of narration,
That described happenings in the flow of thought in the mind of the characters, - likened to an internal monologue!
This literary technique was later used by James Joyce in his famous novel ‘Ulysses’.

TIME CONCEIVED AS DURATION: HENRI BERGSON (1859 -1941)
Next I come to one of my favourite philosopher the French born Henri Bergson.
The Nobel Laureate and author of ‘Time and Free Will’ and ‘Creative Evolution’.
Will Durant in his ‘Story of Philosophy’ says Bergson was ‘the David destined to slay the Goliath of materialism.’
It was Bergson’s ‘Elan Vital’ that life force and impelling urge, Which makes us grow and transforms this wandering planet into a theatre of unending creation.
For Bergson, time is as fundamental as space; and it is time that holds the essence of life, and perhaps of all reality.
Time is an accumulation, a growth, a duration, where “duration is the continuous progress of the past which gnaws into the future and which swells as it advances.
The past in its entirety is prolonged into the present and abides there actual and acting.
Duration means that the past endures, that nothing is lost.
Though we think with only a small part of our past; but it is with our entire past that we desire, will, and act.”
“Since time is an accumulation, the future can never be the same as the past, -
For a new accumulation arises at every step, and change is far more radical than we suppose…the geometric predictability of all things, Which is the goal of a mechanistic science, is only a delusion and a dream!”  
Bergson goes on in his compelling lyrical style:            
“For a conscious being, to exist is to change, to change is to mature,
to mature is to go on creating one’s self endlessly. Perhaps all reality is time and duration, becoming and change.”
Bergson differed with Darwin's theory of adaptation to environment, and stated;
“Man is no passively adaptive machine, he is a focus of redirected force, a centre of creative evolution.”

Martin Heidegger, the German thinker in his ‘Being and Time’ of 1927, had said:
“We do not exist within time, but in a very real way we are time!”
Time is inseparable from human experience, since we can allow the past to exist in the present through memory;
And even allow a potential future occurrence to exist in the present due to our human ability to care, and be concerned about things.
Therefore we are not stuck in simple sequential or linear time, but can step out of it almost at will!

CONCLUDING  PART  TWO OF ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE
In this part I have tried to convey what the Ancient Greek Philosophers had felt about Time in a simplified way.
Also some thoughts of Medieval and Early Modern philosophers and what they had to say.
Where Sir Isaac Newton stands like a colossus with his Concept of Time, Laws of Motion, and Gravity.
Not forgetting Henri Bergson, one of my favourite philosopher, of the mid-19th and the mid-20th Century.
All through my narration I had tried to hold the interest of my readers, and also educated myself as a true knowledge seeker.
In my concluding Part Three I will cover few Modern Philosophers along with the relativistic concept of time.
Certainly not forgetting the space-time theory of our famous Albert Einstein!
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of New Delhi.
  *ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY
Shadow Puppet Dec 2018
Runny noses and black roses
Unquestionable devotion
Unrequited notions

Filled to the brim with unfathomable emotion

A hoax intertwined with me screams
I bask in laughter
The demented bliss holds me

Bathing in remnants of of love that never could

Holds me unlike my belief you would
I crave affection, but
I was left in desolation with my diamond reflection

So when all my dust transforms to glittering gold
I want you to know:
I do not love you anymore.

I plucked you out of fear
I would never call you by possessive name

Crimson to black
My nose runs for all I will never get back

I hope this bird flies tonight
I crave love no more
My heart is empty

My dust is fools gold
What's over my rainbow?

"I love you, just go to sleep"
You **** my soul

I am not sorry... for saying so
Happy 2 Year Anniversary
12.23.18
acacia Jan 24
Scooping dreams and visions from my yawning head like water in your hands;
taking in a heavy breath and blowing fire from left to right
and right to left and left to right and right to left and left to right.
Incinerating the impure, the unclean, and the scary with a neat
line of flames. It crumbles and transforms to ashes in your palm,
flying away to anywhere with the wind.
As if...

We were in the clouds, too. You wore robes of white and I wore a cotton dress. The clouds were fluffy, light, airy. I felt like a cloud. You were shining and had your own silver lining.
lets release unnecessary tension
i am not surprised that you arrived here
we all reach this shore eventually
and we can only remain indefinitely
so come now we must speak freely
and release the ego’s defenses
now is a respite from mind
as life is blind
and fire is destructive
unless you learn to contain it
for then it transforms into radiant virtue
like a serpent and a vulture intertwined
a flame that never yields
i speak of a thousand rivers
who each have the power to heal you
let's swim ***** in amazement and wonder
let's contain the cosmos in our smiles
let's adventure on the path of sacred warriors
and breathe beauty from our noses
slip slide along the coast line
life is like a zip line
and its fine if you smack into a cliffside
cause you'll get a brand new set of fingerprints
i am a complex sentence
i am an unformed question
you are the iris’ extension
you are bliss
you are lifting up my world
and i am peeking under your carpet
i swear i had lost my mind
but you found it reclining on the couch
i swore that there were no more secrets
and you revealed my insecurity
life is a queen
and in fragmented dreams
she keeps me clean as a star
Tete Rudo Feb 14
The problem lies
Not in the
Daily Grind
For everything
No matter what
No matter where
No matter how rich
Eventually becomes at some point a
Daily Grind.

It is part of the
Human condition.

How then do we stay
Fresh
Every day?

When we
Accept and embrace
The Daily Grind
Peacefully
As a fact of life
It loses its stranglehold
Over us
And in doing so
We make room
For the Creator
To step in
And transform
Our experience
From one of
Stress and
Struggle
To one of
Joy and
Serenity.

Invite the Creator
To give you
A new perspective
Fresh eyes to see
And
Your life will never
Be the same again.

Life is not about
Overcoming or
Escaping
The Daily Grind.
It is a fact of life.

Life
Is about
Getting a
Fresh perspective
That transforms this
******* into
Freedom!
Renée Aug 2018
My mind never ceases to surprise
The thoughts that occur between my eyes
Are a mystery in my mind
But there also sometimes kind
I can’t explain it very well
It’s something that I normally don’t tell
No one believes me at all
They think it’s something very small
But it’s not it’s huge
It transforms me into a scrooge
Part of me doesn’t want to be alive
But the other part wants me to thrive
Why are all my feelings twisted
I think I need to be assisted
I feel an emptiness inside of me
It’s so painful it brings me to my knee
But this all happens so quietly
I keep it in so tirelessly
Because it happens to everyone right ?
That’s what they say so I won’t fight
Even though I’m struggling to breathe
I’ll just keep gritting my teeth
And pretend like it’s not happening
While my mind keeps blackening
Then one day when I go crazy
You’ll realize you shouldn’t have been lazy
You should have helped me
But instead you ignored my plea
And said it was just me
That’s just a normal thing you said
And I told you it was something else instead
But you refused to see
This isn’t me
It’s something that kills
So you told me just take some pills
But all I needed was your ears
To listen to all of my fears
And I needed your arms
To take away all this harm
You could have helped me
But you ignored what’s drowning me
I take my shoes off at the door of your palace floor,
What I brought in my basket, cannot be found at any store,
For the fruit I bear, is stronger then that of Samson's hair,
Most of what I brought to share,
So pull a seat for my hind and feet and pour some tea,
A warm *** is steeping as stories begin seeping in, my throat and heart begin to open,
I put my hope in the back of my eyelids and we both cross our legs to meditate,
We create a pink lotus around us with not a second to hesitate, we start creating a pond around us,
Sitting on the surface of the water, the tea soaks and spirals into our soft pink brain,
Depicting ourselves here as the lotus closes its pedals in around us, it gets dark,
The light within is eternal and white, a bright sight,
The next morning the cold fog tickles the edges of the lotus as it softly opens,
The sky transforms into a golden light,
We open our eyes and the tea is gone,
A neat table sits in front of us,
Namaste and bow,
May we meet again soon,
Perhaps as the light of the nightly moon.
Matthew Sutton Aug 2018
There are conversations in which my mental frame leaves the
                               parameters of my body.

No longer can I fathom the concept of ‘being in love’
        I witness dates
        and
        feel as an apprentice of such a trade might
        an inadequacy to replicate the models of those before me

Gone are my indefinite moments of sanity
        Childhood is laced in linens of silk
        Soft-spoken words
        and
        Finely crafted spontaneity lacking responsibility

Ceaseless are the times in which I must conceal the thoughts I abhor
        Depravity seems to chain my soul
        which leads to
        a Resolution in pixelation
        due to
       a visual handicap which has left my eye blind to choosing right

My friends make me happy
        but as a glass transforms back-&-forth between half-empty &
        half-full
        one glance across our wooden dinner is all it takes
        for
My thoughts to liquidate into bars of gold
Telling myself I must exchange their conversation for my motivation
        heavy on the mind
        light keystrokes

Once i reawaken at 1 A.M. from my conscious-coma
i ask myself
What good is it?
        To be thoughtful
        Yet have no action
What good is it?
        To fantasize
        Yet refuse your own inclination for renovation
What good is it?
        To be dramatic
        Yet have no one at your performance

I do understand what it means to ‘be’

        Watching Tuesday suns burn in loops of ongoing weeks
                              -    lacking peaks    -
        As I continue to lay under clothes line
        Wrapped in a melody of melancholy

But I do not understand what it means to be ‘me’

        My mind feels as a lemon candy might,
        sour at first bite -
        hollow on the inside, then gone
        Without ever truly knowing what it tastes like.
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