"uncoordinated" 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.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
escapism
the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.
Hello
I'm just a un pretty face
in an ugly place
I can pretend
with the best of them
I love to paint pictures
that make no sense
except
inside my head.
on canvas?
they are just literally
uncoordinated twitchiness
a need to put colour
back into a world
of Black and White
I like to write stories
the antagonist being
just someone
who lost,
the heroine
fleeing
from a simple world
so complicated
*it's hard to cast
two beings that are so
ill fated*
and so the story goes
That poetry saved me
I can't tell it
for truth
It makes a difference
I suppose
But honestly?
I wake at the crack of dawn
I yell at the dog for barking
I take a minute for myself
Then wake the kids
it's starting
Getting ready for another day
is like petting a lion
begging food as a stray
I collect the mail
sort the bills
pretend that money
is an option, not a price
then sell myself to another
for a day
so nice
Feed, clean, wash
make sure no one is missed
How was your day dear?
Well, it's like this
as they wander away
to their own adventures
and I'm left
to my own devices
eventually
To paint a picture
Write a book
Or expel my life's pleasures
into poetry
and all I really hear is
What do you mean, is that about me?
Umm no, it's about me...
And tomorrow
I'll wake up
to do it all again
Hello
I'm Helen
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that it happened.
That monumental moment when I completely and totally
allowed myself to fall
for you.
I fell hard, uncoordinated and bruised
I crash landed into your arms
and sank into the clouds of your love.
It was too much to absorb at once
so I let some of it just float around me
hoping I could save this love
and let it thrive upon itself
so that maybe
just this once
it would last.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
A tired hug early in the morning,
drowsy and uncoordinated,
but starts the day nicely.
Like a cup of tea,
mellow and lovely.
A wet hug,
filled with tears, tears, and more tears.
A comforting embrace
that no one wants to let go of
or experience again.
A happy hug,
one that happens out of joy
for something or another.
Like a lemon drop,
sweet and filled with innocent happiness.
A desperate hug,
the kind when the world is falling apart
and the only thing you have is each other.
Arms wrapped tightly,
a hug in circumstances no one wants.
A hug that isn't desperate, but still needed.
Those that you never want to leave,
that say the words you can't.
The ones you hold on to,
that you bury your head into.
A goodbye hug.
The worst kind.
Filled with regrets, words never said.
As agonizing as they are,
there is no worse thing than
not being able to give one.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
Gentle soft uncoordinated lips
Through all seasons
You call upon me
To be kind sweet and mean
When I am gone
Will you still call for me
Or will you share all of you
To someone new
And call on her
May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 7:35 PM UTC
"Sit down boy, you're tired and you must sleep"
The voice said to me as I walked the city street
Fuzzy steps taken to a bench I saw over yonder
Sleepily wandering, the streetlights I ponder
Passive disorientation, I'm lost it would seem
Consciousness becomes a trickle, as opposed to a stream
Dragging myself over shards of glass, paralysed and sleeping
A shadow 'neath the moonlight seems to be steadily creeping
Isolated in this park in the darkness on a sigma plateau
Dextromethorphan hallucinations are a spectacular show
I'm indifferent to the stranger, drowsy as he appears
Isolated in the nighttime winds, apathetic to his tears
Uncoordinated my head falling he takes a seat softly
Dissociative disorder makes me seem awfully frosty
Speaking of lands where the populace truly is free
Speaking unintelligible words, indirectly to me
The intrinsic disconnect of this generation scorned
As the sun rises in the sky, glittered clouds adorned
My head lulls lackadaisically, I'm feeling unwell
But my stomach is eased when I think of sweet Maybelle
[Hers is a Nabokovian tale of passion in proto-dystopian wastelands
The first time we kissed, I held her soft head tenderly in my hands
The serenade of rain pitter-patter on the ground, like her feet when she's near
and hearing her name is as cathartic as those old jazz records I hold so dear
But, oh my pretty Belle, your age is a concern to me (and the eyes of the law)
So to forget your sweet face, I pop pills neglectfully, passing out on the floor]
Lifting head slowly from the rough ground dampened
Four years passed and I'm wondering what happened
Fuzzy headed blues, clear my mind with OJ and ******
Walking fast to her house, cannot wait to see her
A rap-tap on the door with thoughts of romantic enumerations
What she said and what I saw defied every one of my expectations
My innocent Belle, with her cheeks rosy red,
looks me in the eyes, and wishes I was dead
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
I want to love someone as deeply as I love you
Moreso deeply if it helped me forget you
To forget the touch of your skin
Or your uncoordinated lips
Your white car
That made you work harder to get it up a hill
I want to forget you
To forget the first time we met
The way your hand and smile
Fit with mine
When I first laughed and smiled
Happily like a child
No I must forget you
I have to
Because forgetting you means we can both be happy
And I want to forget you
I don't know exactly when I fell head over heels for you
And you made me so happy
I guess you still do
Maybe I don't want to love someone else
Or moreso deeply to forget you
The truth is
You haven't left my mind since
And I could never forget you
Apr 30, 2021
Apr 30, 2021 at 2:02 AM UTC
God made me loving
So I would love everyone
God made me broken
So I could make sure I never break someone else
God made me hurt
So I could heal others
God made me anxious
So I could learn to trust
God made me motherly
For those who don't have one
God made me uncoordinated
So I would know that balance
Is not always physical
God made me compassionate
So I would know his love for us
God made me faithful
So I would know what it's like to be betrayed
God made me insecure
So I could tell others that no one is perfect
God made me human
Flawed
Broken
Anxious
And uncoordinated that I am
So He could prove to me
That He is stronger than my ups
And
Downs.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
i may be jump starting
into a fast play here
but this ain't no ordinary game
i’m playing,
i ain't got no geechee tricks
up my sleeves
or a curve ball in sight,
with you
it’s just me and my straight pitch
so imma throw it to ya
like this
i’ve been traveling
across the court
waiting for you
to be wide open
for me to free throw
this to you
i love you
man
did you see that pass?
that shot i made
all the way
from half court?
you gonna
catch it &
come over here
slam dunk it
like i want you to
or let these words
rebound off your chest
like a third rate player
with uncoordinated hands?
cause right now
its the third down
in the last quarter
baby
& you still don’t see
how much yardage
you have gained
&
I'm still waiting
for you to
intercept me
dontcha know,
i wanna do
more than
just sack you?
but
don’t get it twisted
this isn’t some obsessed
lovesick fan
aching & destined
to show up
at your door
like a groupie
unannounced
cause
i’m not about to chase you
this ain’t track &
i don’t run after nothing
that can’t catch up to me
first
but **** don’t you know
i’ve got words for you papi
like goaaaalllll
& oyeeee
i might let you play
in my centerfield
but only if you can come
kick it hard enough
i wanna know
how do you
wanna
play this game?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
the night flies
on stumbling butterfly wings and
our staggering conversation
half-lost in translation
and uncoordinated scribbling
still glows in my foggy mind
you’re gorgeous
when my eyes are closed enough
to see the beauty in everyone
you’re gorgeous
when your sunshined hair sticks up
when your inner poet
is allowed out to play
when you can spin sentences
like silk, to warm my cheeks
with unwarranted compliments
based on little evidence
our loose lips
sink shots, spill sorrow
we feel better for it
upon sharing, we find
a sense of belonging
there’s nothing
which forms a stronger bond
than human suffering
we are gorgeous
if only for the glory of being human
and for being strong enough
to share the pain within
for being someone
to share a friday night with
in deep discussion
i thank you
you can thank me later
for bringing you the *****
and next time
i’ll bring poetry too
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 12:45 AM UTC
Growing up, I thought I was special.
I thought I could do anything. Go anywhere. Be anyone.
I thought I was smart. More clever than most.
I thought I was likable, cool, and popular.
I thought I was pretty.
Growing up,
I thought the world of myself,
but as I grew older,
I found that the world didn't think much of me.
I realized I was ordinary,
and there were limits on my abilities.
I realized that I was clumsy, uncoordinated,
and awkward.
I found that I am an average student.
Honestly, I'm really not smart at all.
I became aware of my quirky and weird personality,
and that most people really don't like me.
I understood that I was just one of many
in a great big world, and that
I am insignificant.
Maybe growing up is realizing that you are not that special, after all.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
God made me loving
So I would love everyone
God made me broken
So I could make sure I never break someone else
God made me hurt
So I could heal others
God made me anxious
So I could learn to trust
God made me motherly
For those who don't have one
God made me uncoordinated
So I would know that balance
Is not always physical
God made me compassionate
So I would know his love for us
God made me faithful
So I would know what it's like to be betrayed
God made me insecure
So I could tell others that no one is perfect
God made me human
Flawed
Broken
Anxious
And uncoordinated that I am
So He could prove to me
That He is stronger than my ups
And
Downs.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
I'll softly sip my grape soda
Accompanied by a Smirnoff friend
I will let the fire trickle down my esophagus
Maybe tonight I'll mend bonds I've broken
Numbly message each old lover
With uncoordinated hands
And explain my sudden yearning
Where my feelings might still try to stand
Or maybe I will cut myself up tonight
From my shoulders to my toes
Let all the stress spill out
All my anxiety and all my woes
Kinda feel like dancing tonight
Just alone in my room with the lights out
Of course mentioning I'm alone
Is nearly pointless, there should be no doubt
I might do a lot of things
Maybe is a strong word
All I know is right now
Being sober is absurd
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
Please read the notes first.
Tally time, conclusion forming,
"Some day," grown nearer.
Tree's longest branch,
Coming to reach, reaching to come.
Soon to beat and plead upon
Cottage window and door.
Rooted whisperer, jealous reminder,
Revered warning, timely sounding,
Your time of Reckless Choice arriving
Destination's unnamed coordinates, uncoordinated,
Journey from wherefrom to wherever, unrecorded,
Observed by silenced overlording sky,
Testimony of the seeing voiceless clouds,
All nought and to no avail, destination head-shaking,
These white witnesses,
Muted, deaf, dumbfounded,
Knowing, yet incapable of telling
State of sated steady staid,
Sundered by sharp silent sounds,
Reckless surpasses Riskless,
Life is a recitation, an enunciation
When my less to say is soon none,
My Reckless Choice, now chosen,
Unforced but enforced,
I shall be gone
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
Woke up with children in my mind, wrote two new,
then stumbled on this...
I give this poem to an orchestra leader I know, who understands better than most, that conducting and being surrounded by many, is oft the loneliest task and who knows best the meaning of
"finally, all synchronized in time and space, on a single continuum, within, without and through."
Thanksgiving Day 2011
Through
the picture window,
watching
restless generations,
multitudinous compilations,
children's backyard runnings,
all about, hide n' seek,
uncoordinated coordination,
well calculated randomness,
perfection in its
discombobulation
Within
my bloodstream,
chemical changes,
blow thru my veins,
direction home,
like leaves,
on a November weekend,
windswept from a thousand directions,
endless energy, noise, and commotion,
results of internal tremblings,
the side effects of satisfactions,
in ways I could only dream of...
Without
knowing, nonetheless,
the knowledge rests within,
footage of future days of
quietude and satisfaction,
recalling earlier simplicities,
records recorded somehow
before it happens,
records recorded now and then,
but only for
future consumption.
Harmonies of times,
well deserved,
to be future spent,
now, finally, all synchronized
in time and space,
on a single continuum,
within, without and through.
They say that Einstein erred,
time cannot outrace gravity,
therefore it cannot be
that I have seen the future.
Yet, I know with
unerring certainty,
these truths
posses the gravity,
that thanks,
I have and
will again,
gave,
and will give
The remainders,
the children,
the net of our gains and losses,
within them,
my thanks lives,
without them,
I am lessened,
through them,
I am whole,
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
She had never said it first,
and it is doubtful she ever will.
Maybe it was the first disappointment...
She danced with her Dad,
a four year old toe head
standing on top of his feet,
uncoordinated,
hanging on for dear life!
A simple, child's mind
could never comprehend
why little a girl
could not marry her Daddy.
Maybe it was The First.
He never said it,
neither did she.
They were never in love,
nor did they pretend to be.
Maybe it was The Taker,
The Worker, or The Money Maker,
on a cold Christmas
or a snowy New Year's Eve.
Maybe it was pieces,
parts of all of these.
Each one who came,
soon went,
another brick in her
tower of solitude.
A fortress built,
no man could penetrate.
You could have her,
sure...
But you could never
have her.
You could take her out
for seafood and wine,
and hold her hair back
when she puked.
You could take her to a Cubs game,
hot dogs, beer, and Harry Caray
in the seventh inning stretch...
But still, you could never
have her.
In the morning,
you, or you, or you
had to go.
You, or you, or you
could never get too close.
All the while
she was waiting,
watching and waiting...
Riding time,
longing for, and craving
the one to bring the fire,
the one who could wrap
her in his flame.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 9:30 PM UTC
So I would like to take a rest.
Because my hands are swollen
from writing your name
over and over and over again.
Because my eyes forgot how to blink
whenever I see you buy coffee
in that cafe along 7th street.
Because my ears only hear
your deep voice
and triggers the fault lines in my body
waiting to attack like an earthquake
and cause major damages including butterflies, no, dinosaurs in my stomach.
Because my nose hallucinates your smell.
Because my lips long to call you all day,
all night, every hour of my life.
My senses go crazy and becomes uncoordinated.
My knees go weaker and I can't move but still smile like an idiot at the thought of your being.
You make my head spin
and you make my heart twirl
like a circus girl.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
you repugnant *******
you keep me wondering
just why god created you
they say He has a reason
for everything. Why he created you
I still don't understand. but lately
i wonder if you were created
just so i could have this day
to myself.
full of filth, creepy as hell
disgusting at the sound
of your belly being squashed
but for the sake of justice,
i sprayed you with my favorite
perfume.
not because i have a pint of love for you
but because every opportunity to end your life
should be fully taken advantage of.
i watched you die. it was slow.
first your legs uncoordinated,
you scrambled for the walls
but they failed you. they did fail you.
then you choked. i could almost hear it
you thought of the darkest place
to dig your grave. but not on my marble floor
i watched you die. i wanted it faster
but the sweet smell of the Hugo Boss
and the death of a scape goat...
a scape roach,
was bearable.
maybe you deserve a soundtrack
or a more befitting burial in a bin
but a poem for you is totally undeserving
save for my joblessness.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 6:08 AM UTC
In my schoolboy bedroom it is a completely different world
Brings me in confluence with my shadow
The meeting of two merging anticipated tributaries
Like cold blue morning and dark sprinkled night
Where my mirror has become the ritualised
Expression of my isolation of my individual consciousness
Fused as one at the edge, where all else becomes blurred
An abstraction, indefinably lost like the mixing of shadows
That cannot be deduced on any mental map
I hear my shadow beckoning me
In its uncoordinated marginality
In isolation I receive his thoughts, his considered reflections
Something has now united us through joint experience a totality
An idea a notion conceived, to abrogate the restraint on liberty
An erosion of all guilt, advancement to a notion
Of profound imagination, where invariably
Our congress will be complete there can be no latitude for digression.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
Turning signal lights flashing like uncoordinated fairy lights
Beams of street lights conforming to the windscreen of the car
Radio static filling your ears like bees in an angry hive
Petrol fumes disappearing into the night like clouds
High beams temporarily blinding you like the sun does when it wakes up
Faces blurred as you pass like birds in fast motion
Anonymous. Distant.
They do not know me, nor I them.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
Imma blame you
My heart
For never stopping
At any of those distractions
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
We meet again, ***** tile. I rest my head against the wall, staring at you as the cold water spurting from the leaky shower head
hits my back in violent, uncoordinated patterns.
Now begins another session of deep contemplation...
what will we explore this time?
Why my family insists on being so loud? The recent event on the news, and how utterly ridiculous politicians act? The newest drama from school? What strange "fact" my friend said to me this morning that made me question her internet sources?
No. Tonight is a night of tears.
They run down my face, leaving hot streaks that come as a shock after the steady drumming of the cold water on my body.
Picking up speed, I feel like a shower of my own...
why am I so sad?
For many months I've asked myself this question.
Every day I enter this shower
and reveal my true face to you,
little tile.
This shower is my version of a zen garden... the only place I can truly delve into the emotions I have pushed so far away.
But try as I might, I can't keep this mask on forever.
More and more tears fall from my contorted face.
it's everything.
the answer is everything.
I am constantly told to be grateful for all I have, to be thankful for the roof over my head and my food and clothes and family...
Do they really believe I lack gratitude?
That my emotionless face equates to me acting
unappreciative?
Apparently it is unacceptable
for me to show my true face,
***** tile.
Evidently I must smile for the crowd, despite what
decay is taking hold inside.
So I will let these tears silently fall.
They are all that keep me real,
keep me human;
capable of other emotions than an exhausted smile
plastered to a weary face.
But I haven't long, I must collect myself again.
As my head separates from the porcelain surface,
I fix my eyes on you, my square friend.
What have I become?
What
have
I
become?
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:02 PM UTC