"undermining" poems
So many words are being spent everyday
Each of them, used to construct a bridge
Where communication can take place
And meet half-way, to greet each other
Wondering, if that what is to communicating
Only based on words and the verbose
Have we bothered to see the many layers
Which makes up the fragile ecosystem
Yet, so often we go on eroding the surface
Leaving it bare and exposed to threats
That communication will be wiped off
Not long, with the undermining of feelings
Communication will have borne the brunt
Of our callous attitude and lost forever
Not only waves of words that washes away
The beauty of meaningful communication
It's time, we also listen to each other's heart
And pay obeisance to the silence that speaks
Communication will have a fair chance to survive
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
foundational fluctuation
as flatulence is introduced
that’s right
**** jokes
pppfffrrrttttt
destroying families
undermining relationships
damaging friendships
ending love
breaking the mold
extinguishing the fire
eliminating the excitement
drowning fun
and smelling bad –
pretentious vegetarian
wind walker
kale excretions
cabbage attack
cauliflower bandit
spreading propaganda
and funk
while talking trash
about cigarette smokers –
I could go on for days
making egg comments
referring to the arrival of Eddie’s
big brown shark –
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
What did I pause about the other day- was it at the kitchen table? I think so- I was sitting down next to my fluorite crystal- something occurred to me- it was a pleasant thought, I remember, something a bit marvelous, I winked at my pretty little stone and she winked back. Oh! I think it was sparked from Arundhati Roy’s novel God of Small Things. Or no, I think it was the smell of spring wafting through the window that transported me to sweet grass-stained jeans at six. (How Consciousness can subvert Time! Making past present, making present eternal and infinite- undermining order imposed and idealized- tirelessly trying to give itself, but faltering before the closed fist of human conquest). Or perhaps it was the language and sensation simultaneous that lifted from within me this deep affection- for what, I do not know. For everything and nothing, I suppose. For all that is and all that be—and all that must cease to be.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
I sold smack on a playground today
biding time to scrounge the rent--
Two months ago I had never even seen the stuff.
I'd never procured it for personal use,
let alone sold it.
Now I'm a full-time pusher of prescriptions
for problems that can't be cured,
a modern-day snake-oil salesmen
schlepping panaceas for every conceivable ill.
*Trying to cope with depression?
This'll give you a shot in the arm!
Your boyfriend just broke your heart
mere weeks after breaking your *****
Here's a ***** that you can depend on*...
I thought I was better than this,
but who can afford scruples
with bills to pay?
Internally
I struggle to compete
with people who would never deign to take note of me.
My revenge is in undermining their immaculate lives,
a pill-peddling Socrates
keeping creditors at bay.
I'd always envisioned being someone's hero--
at least being remembered for an act of creation.
Instead I'm an enzyme for eradication.
A cancer cell at best--
A ****** wrecking ball.
One day I woke up a sidekick
to a heroine that's never saved anyone...
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
/ *oh no no no... you don't get a jew artefact at this point, when the play of words comes between the son and the mother... no no no... you're target; she should be a **** a stripper, a ***** but when you do what this, "englishman" did? undermining the concept of personal property? ownership? his property infringes on your property, and somehow: my, yours, our's doesn't compute... i'm ******* craving to **** my neighbour... because all i have left to lose is... frothing at the mouth.*
at a supermarket:
within the confines
of a cashier:
- 'is this your typical
friday night?'
say it plain, chubby...
**** it: more cushion
for the pushin'...
sunglasses at 6am?
a reply:
- 'it could be'
- 'if you were part of it'
- 'what?'
i'd love to fiddle with excesses
of porky...
migrant crisis?
more like a ***** cricis...
import black ****
given the white boy lay low...
it's not even funny,
i find it funny attempting
to whistle...
which i can't,
given that i found laughter...
just don't come between me
and mt "neighbour":
cos i'll **** the ******* ****
and "he's" watching me?
sorry:
i'll **** the ******* ****
fuck-face-tard!
no, i will;
i can't conceive retaining
the anglophone aspect of comedy
within the confines
of the monologue,
with a cabaret....
i'll **** him...
next time we exfoliates
speaking to my mother,
and not... looking
into my eyes...
"englishman": spew!
you! now! clean up this
***********
******* english!
like you bred a people,
gesticulating with
a hand gesture...
new yankies...
britain: home,
of the the wankies.
p.s.
no... private property contra
private property
within this ****** vogue...
i seriouslly will throw
a **** into his garden,
and say...
not enough fox hunting,
d'uh!
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
There is a place
in you
that needs a name
but you're an absolute beginner
at naming things.
Centred in this pathos, I've never known
whether to create stillness or bitter passion.
In this, there is a sacrifice,
something to see through to the end.
The openness I sometimes extract
can break me down.
Is it better
to find a way to say it?
Would it be better to hang for it
or to forget
how the fig is fertilised?
In its sweetness,
to forget
the distaste of undermining friendship.
I have stretched myself into the past.
I have stretched my body
to see the places it could end.
Vein bubbles
from where it started,
wet bloodgasps;
sorry smear of a poem
they write your name next to.
History repeats, all that's left;
neutrality at the cost of
a better passion,
and the count of
how many ribs you have and how many you've lost.
I abuse my fingers
and still expect them to carry me through.
There's always a way
to see trauma as something to crawl into.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
The darkness slowly creeps,
Seeping into every opening.
Filling my body,
Halting my breathing.
Dimming my eyesight,
Making it hard to see.
This abyss that takes over,
Separating me from life.
Undermining my common sense,
As my anxiety rises.
I shut my eyes,
Release this darkness,
And remember who I am.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
O my sacred,
Shower me with your greatness.
Bring it up to my neck,
And drown me in the lake bed.
O how secret, and so delicate,
Fear in trust involved.
It's not a secret anyways,
If nothing's getting solved.
I love, I trust, I need you,
In fear I live all time.
My words in hope to mean them,
So that you'll say "You're mine"
O my sacred,
Take myself and make it yours.
This day is nothing to you,
Your love fills my empty lake bed.
A love, that's secrets tale,
One month, forever it lasted.
The tale of two, of many,
At each other, love was blasted.
No one way to say it right,
Four ways to say I Love You.
Just take me as I am,
And know that I'm thinking of you.
O my sacred,
Unto you I do trust.
No lake bed full of:
doubt, anger, mistrust, jealousy, regret, pain, hurt, love, hate, lust, health, disease, space, time, pity, indulgence, sorrow, mourning, evil, distress, affliction, trouble, breaks, insignificance, remorse, agony, peril, skeptics, insecurities, uncertainty, question, suspicion, difficulty, dilemma, depression, belief, worry, conviction, cruelty, discredit, hesitation, unhappiness, calamity, travesty, grief, hardship, loss, suffering, weeping, sadness, heartache, lament, excruciation, torture, soreness, discomfort, penalty, torment, torture, harm, malicion, malevolence, prejudice ,detriment, disservice, misfortune, abuse, effort, labor, endeavor, strength, power, energy, operation, mistreat, undermining, blemish, flaw, disservance, misery, injury, exertion, struggle, trial, madness, wrath, rampage, harassment, irritation, exasperation, rage, tantrum, infuriation, mischief, inequality, alienation, aggravation, annoyance, contagion, trauma, damage, insults, violation, wrong, flesh, or ****
...ANYTHING between us,
Vanquished because I must!
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 9:52 PM UTC
867
Escaping backward to perceive
The Sea upon our place—
Escaping forward, to confront
His glittering Embrace—
Retreating up, a Billow’s height
Retreating blinded down
Our undermining feet to meet
Instructs to the Divine.
2.2k
The Wicked Witch from Woodhaven,
It's quite an obstacle being your offspring.
Never have I been so self hating more when I listen to your heart-knifing words and unsympathetic demeanor.
Undermining my warm and graciousness as if I am some ant just waiting to be burned by sunlight through your magnifying glass,
I pray that some day you will change.
But a person so mentally unstable cannot change,
As you have passed those genes down unto me.
You have me riding some emotional rollercoaster at a carnival that Goblins should attend,
And not the normal, lively human soul.
Thankfully, I've decided to go elsewhere.
But the clowns that you call ailments won't allow me to leave.
I vow to change my ways, aiming to stand up to such an evil and love-deviating woman,
Yet your words freeze me up like your mouth is Antartica,
And your brain is scolding due to your visit to your throne in Hell.
I've suffered many tragedies inside my own mind,
Sad songs that are on repeat.
Carelessness and forgetfulness has brought me to decrease my envy of you.
You've devoured the confidence of your once favorite child for more times than he can count on both hands,
And both feet,
Twice.
I can appreciate the fact that you've raised me,
As it is nearly impossible to raise such a troublesome child.
Though wishing you had never even birthed me in the first,
I hold you responsible to why I am subdued.
Nurture has been long forgotten,
Since I had last treasured it so.
A mother's love is all that is good and holy,
But what is it worth to Satan?
You would know,
Since he is in fact, your creator.
Wicked Witch,
Stubborn *****
How awful these words sound to me.
They come out in frustration as you lead me to temptation,
And insecure I shall always be.
Crotchety old ghoul,
You've treated me like a fool,
For far too long I've counted.
Everlasting therapy is in order,
And forever you and I will be separated,
Separated by a border, That I have built,
In order to salvage some sort of a stable mind.
Kindly accept my creed to await,
The finalizing version of myself.
I've longed for such mortality,
Due to your immorality,
As guardian of my unnatural life.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
As I break free from chains,
I attain freedom in this birth.
Minimizing rebirth probability,
I am feeling blessed all the time.
Freedom from the tangles of time,
I must correctly take some time off.
Happily enjoying my purest love life,
I escape from the tight and stiff rules,
Undermining rules of a hostile society.
I am truly in love.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC
Was it as easy for you
As it was for me
To drop your defenses
And live our lives out eagerly
The over anxiety from my loves lack of piety
Or better yet how I tried to populate her minds society
With the idea of an image
We both dreamed to consume
The dark goddess
Breathing new life into my futures sullen bedroom
But the way her mind acted as prison guard for what her heart truly wished
This tiger was trapped in a cage of life’s never ending vanquish
And I gave with my heart
My will behind my ideals
Every artery embroidered on my arm slowly splits and spills
The red liquid that we both seemed to hunger
My music and my words that breast-feed this god-forsaken thunder
The concept of time appears to lose all of its meaning
Distances in space are
Disregarding and demeaning
For the depths that I’ve reached
Engulfed in this woman’s shadow
As she gently cut the cord to my everlasting battle
With life
With love
With all of the above
Scapegoats and memories in a field of push and shove
A ****** of myself, the things I can’t control
If love controls my fate, then let my future go
And I wish I could hate you
But I’m too busy trying to relate to
Your brains past events that caused
This corruption of the person we all knew
So true
But now the feeling of fear in your heart
Has single handedly reattached the strings of puppet manipulation to your trembling arms
And I curse the day you realize your heart has no vacancy
Undermining the unmotivated prayer of “God wont you **** me please”
Understand that your art is something to guide you through the thick and of the filling
Of the cup that was once half empty, but now has shattered and is spilling
On the floor, that I lay
Head like a ball of clay
The summer was a time for me to digest all that was on my plate
Music and syllables to describe how I felt when you looked me in the eyes
Still sit in my note books but I no longer ask the reason why
I didn’t know better
From the decomposition that you dealt
The anger, lack of pride and destruction of myself
Left behind, no longer
No time for this distress
I’m moving forward through this desert
On my everlasting quest
With life
With love
With all of the above
Scapegoats and memories in a field of push and shove
A ****** of myself, the things I can’t control
If love controls my fate, then let my future go
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
unheard happiness
unwanted anger
underestimated intimidation
unloving lies
undermining images
unfaithful source
unalterable devastation
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 12:19 AM UTC
The truth is that I never shook my shadow
Every day, it's trying to trick me into doing battle
Calling out 'faker', only get me rattled
Wanna pull me back behind the fence with the cattle
Building your lenses, digging your trenches
Put me on the front line, leave me with a dumb mind
With no defenses but your defense is
If you can't stand to feel the pain then you are senseless
Since this, I've grown up some different kind of fighter
And when the darkness comes, let it inside you
And your darkness is shining, my darkness is shining
Have faith in myself
Truth
I've seen a million numbered doors on the horizon
Now which is the future you're choosing before you go dying?
I'll tell you about a secret I've been undermining
Every little lie in this world comes from dividing
Say you're my lover, say you're my own, homie
Tilt my chin back, slit my throat
Take a bath in my blood, get to know me
All out of my secrets, all my enemies are turning into my teachers
Because light's blinding, no way dividing
What's yours or mine when everything's shining?
You darkness is shining, my darkness is shining
Have faith in ourselves
Truth
Yes, I'm only loving, only trying to only love
And, yes, and what I'm trying to do is only loving
Yes, I'm only loving, trying to only love
I swear to God, I'm only trying to be loving
Yes, I'm only lonely loving
Yes, I'm only feeling only loving, only loving
You say it ain't loving, ain't loving
Ain't loving, my loving
But I'm only loving, still only loving
Swear to god, I'm only loving
Trying to be loving, loving
Loving, loving, loving, loving
Yes I'm only loving, yes, trying to only love
I swear to god, I'm trying but I'm only loving
You say it ain't loving, ain't loving, ain't loving
Ain't loving, ain't loving my loving
But I'm only loving, loving, loving, loving the truth
Truth
-alexander
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
Leaves fell
amidst snow's descent
Leaves grew
under sun's ascent
Times changed
and memories faded
Times changed
and I grew jaded
I was always concerned
am I left behind
will I yet grow more
is the deadline due
when will she get here
I am so **** late
I am so fed up
there's so much on my plate
I blew a fuse
my bell was rung
my clock ran out
there loads the gun
but before I go
I ask of time
what is your name
what have I done?
A gentle touch
an eve of peace
a staircase looms
a wreath of fleece
adorns me now
I make a vow
to see what waits
'pon yonder bow
it held my hand
and took me hence
to arid peak
to distant land
and there I saw them
low and weary
stooping dreary
sorrowed
teary
I said can't they see!
They need but wait
for their sorrows will end
by time it will be sate
and satan's hold
his clutch will loose
they shall be free
like airborne goose
but I saw myself then
like roast on the table
Thanksgiving dinner
feast for the sinner
of course they're broken
of course they don't know
because time waits for no man
man waits for time...
Another journey
to far-flung ages
where machines roam free
and lords are sages
people commune
in a peace distilled
from forgotten wars
from absence of pills
I saw them congregate
like ants in a colony
working in unison
for each other's grace
and there was a feeling
like waking from dreaming
how timeless it all was
where peace was manifest
But just like that
I was pulled from the panacea
from the vision of victory
from the dawn of destiny
a saw pain as prophecy
I saw pleasure as peasantry
I saw passion as poetry
I saw power as illusion
I saw my struggles as choice
I saw my misery as vice
I saw my vices as voices
voting down my ambitions
undermining my plans
I then strove for strength
I then fought for freedom
I then stood for salvation
I found the purpose I'd always run from
and it was then
that I heard the voice of time
It said you are my name
and you shall wait no longer
for you wait for no man
you are man no more
you are an agent of change
and the future is yours!
Mar 30, 2022
Mar 30, 2022 at 3:55 PM UTC
~ Disguised in your own skin
Overwhelming thrive to be seen
~ What to prove, what to win?
Acceptance from unimportant faces
~ The faces criticize, they believe what they want o
Unreasonable explanations, blinded by tragedy
~ Unaware of the value of someone like you
Strong, brave, a high head with high hopes
~ Let them underestimate, let them laugh
They'll soon come to realize, they're the ones who must cope
~ You've come so far, and with so little fear
The ones who care are sure to linger near
~ Continue to express your radiance and love
Until the end of your journey, you'll continue to shine
~ Set your mind free, don't listen to those faded faces
Undermining stress comes with too much of a shove
~ No matter where I go, I'll remember your spirit forever
I'll carry on what you've taught me, to different worlds and places
~ Different ways you've impacted my life
These things I'm sure not to forget, ever
~ Each day our friendship grows stronger
With fights, laughs, even some irrelevant drama
~ Our memories, our thrills, everything in between
If you believe in our friendship, it'll last even longer
~Meagan Williams
1.15.13
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
As strong as the mystic Oak
as bountiful as the Chestnuts burden
liken to palm tree on a lonely island
kind as a spring apple blossom
Sometimes weeping liken to a Willow
bending in waters hiding tears
singing like a London Plain
in the smoggy city streets
****** as a Beach Tree
glorious as mountain Pine
oh how wondrous
in avenues they do bind
See the Elms worrying
as beetles invade their bark
undermining their existence
to their extinction
Yet the amorous smell of Cherry blossoms
does late at night fill the midnight air
and all comes to winters realms
Christmas presents are laid under it's frame
of the greatest of Pines
As the Sycamore sings
bare and wanting of summers light
holding strong at winters bite
this is why I love trees
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
knees to chest, chin to knees,
chunky knit sweater scarf patrolling
my peripherals when i want to see
your expression from the corner
of my eye; it starts to slip my mind
and i am a horse with blinders, i am
looking through a window’s blinds that
draw vertical shadows like a maze
out of the morning sun.
you give me the glasses to peer through at you
but then we are laughing like nothing happened,
undermining what happened because nothing happened;
and i open myself to you,
flow like fast lava, molten hot and rushing.
swallowed by my own thoughts until i can’t see you again,
until i can’t see anything-
saw you walking around the other day,
with arms outstretched like wings,
with dark purple eclipses under your
eyes like bad makeup from falling
asleep to the sunrise again.
and i’ll tell you, “you seem tired,”
and you’ll tell me, “i am tired.”
over circles of coffee mug stains on
white, white sheets of papers to
read, Times New Roman burned into
the backs of your eyelids so hot it stings
when you take out your contact lenses.
and i’ll see you now, in a new light-
still halfway shrouded in shadows, you
are like an unfinished rubik’s cube;
i try to put red and red together but
each turn only reveals more colors, more
pieces to collect before i can solve
your puzzle.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
In area 51 they selected a large patch of desert
for their nuclear tests!
Fencing off the ground in a desolate spot
where they estimated.
The plutonium would come safely to rest
the experts knew best!
Many explosions were carried out in the fifties
no public knew the truth!
But one crucial fact about the contamination
as it lay in the dirt!
Worms were not bound by their fences
so undermining their defences!
How far would the plutonium have been taken
transporting the lethal load?
Birds to feeding on the worms in the earth
what was their contribution?
Too much secrecy and failed containment
and tax dollars spent!
It will end up destroying a once ****** earth
what now are the experiments worth?
The Foureyed Poet.
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 10:44 AM UTC
I have heard this that when Gautam Budhha returned to Yashodhara after realization, she asked him why he left her and went to forest in search of God. Whether Gautam Budhha could have achieved the God even in her company or not? Gautam Budhha could not answer as he knew that God was also present in the presence of Yashodhara also. Hence there was no need to leave Yashodhara.
But I have got an answer to question of Yashodhara in another Story. Rinjhai was a Zen Saint. When he went to his Guru and asked how the God could be realized? Guru taught him various methods. For many years Rinjhai practiced those methods, but failed. Being fed up of his practicing various Sadhanas , he again went to his Guru and asked for realization. And Guru said Be the God. And that very moment Rijhai realized the God.
There is another story of Guru Nanak. Once upon a time, Guru Nanak was sleeping and his legs were lying towards the direction, where mosque was situated. Having seen this one Man gets angry and rebuked Guru Nanak saying that by putting the legs in the direction, where the mosque is situated, Guru Nanak was undermining the Glory of Allah.
Then Guru Nanak requested the man to put his legs in the direction, where Allah was not there. And it was a matter of surprise that in what ever direction, legs of Guru Nanak were kept, Mosque kept on appearing. It proved that Allah was every where.
Now let us begin again, Yashodhara asked the question, whether Gautam Budhha could not have achieved the God even in her presence and that going to forest and doing may Sadhana were useless. Similar questions were put to Rinjhai that if in a fraction of moment, God could have been realized , then what was need for doing Sadhanas for many years. Rinjhai answered that God could have been realized in a fraction of moment, but without doing many Sadhanas and Practices, the Mind could not have been broken. Without doing Sadhanas and practices of many years, the futility of doing Sadhanas could not have been realized. And the Story of Guru Nanak establishes that God or Allah is everywhere. All these 3 stories form part of chain. One regarding putting the question regarding futility of various ways for search for God, Another is answer of that and the third one is regarding proof of Allah or God.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 3:06 AM UTC
the long thin fingers of a girl of twenty-four
wrapped tight around the handrail of the L-train
bright-blue-eyed but for the temple bruise
*he loves me
and the mess I made*
everything tattooed (everything everything)
invisible on her cheeks and in the hollow of her shoulderblade
her lower lip and wristbone
but for the temple bruise
darker by two shades
a four-in-the-morning-night cottoning her tongue
not-the-first of many and her long thin fingers
white-knuckled
little joys to light on the handrail
not his warm-hot-ice-hard chest
or his loud voice (woulda been real handsome
if his eyes weren't so cold)
but for the temple bruise
*i
fell
in
love* so many times that day
the first sunday of its kind--not drenched
in imperceptible airdrops
the red-brown beard of the business suit
and the freckles undermining the punk-rock
vibe of the dark-eyed fox-girl
but the thin white knuckles
and the temple bruise
--none more than her
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
Where are our soldiers
Where can they be?
Fighting the wrong war
Over the sea
They should be here
Protecting the red white and blue
Keep our country together,
To be our glue
People are taking a knee
Not to disrespect
But hoping our soldiers will see - that
The innocents are dying
The kids are crying
The corrupt are lying
The government is undermining
So say goodbye
Because without our soldiers
Our country will die
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
Drugs are ******* great man
Do another line
Or take a hit
Or take a sip of something
There’s enough available to us
That’s legal - or not
That freaking out is overkill
To those availing themselves
Of chewables or smokeables
Or pills or anything prescribed
By labcoat-wearing, overeducated
Pharmaceutical-reps
Masquerading as the answer
That you found yourself
By diving into forums on the web
Your doctor both agrees with
And now disavows
They can’t allow
This kind of undermining
Of the underpinning
Of their industry
And of what’s keeping people healthy
Even only as a byproduct
Of confirmation bias
They cannot acknowledge
If we want to be respected
In this new environment
In which our personal experience
Is more true than the objective
Information taught to more than like
One million doctors
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 4:45 AM UTC
The first power of the Sphinx
is Knowledge.
*Science, philosophy, and religion
are the Holy Trinity;
once a singular discipline,
broken today into Three
over differences in
epistemology:*
the First is a narrow window
into empirical space;
the Following a flexible framework
in conceptual space;
the Final, all-encompassing
on the stage of the soul;
neither invalidating
nor undermining each other,
but Checking and Balancing.
Facts are interpretations;
theories are stories;
storytelling, myth;
myth, the key to Knowledge.
To Know is to conceive.
To conceive is to objectify,
but far from objective:
We understand
what we invent.
*"All things are Known.
What shall we do
with what we Know?"* ¬
When curiosity is not slain,
but permitted in the vacuum
of the eternal Question,
Then are the journey
and the journeyer
initiated.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
*the new deconstructionism will focus on how you become a humanist after studying science into maturity, you will deconstruct being enmeshed in spider-webs and cobble-stones: moths in my wallet scenarios of complex greek alphabets given scenarios of constants - the circle of π (~∞°: well, approximate but i can still enclose a shape and not bother undermining the practice of architecture by bewildering myself over the geometry of the universe, it's a substance like water, a vacuum of infinite mirrors / black holes are two-dimensional objects in three-dimensional space, like in the first tomb-raider, the two-dimensional ferns and other objects on close inspection rotating) - randomised infinite negations of decimal digits in the spinning vortex beginning with 3.141... let alone state nothing as a necessary compounding of adjective purification of nouns or verbs - e.g. pure mind, true / undiscovered self, higher being... none of that crap. come back to π = ~∞°, well, that's because the shape becomes in transit, hence the "illogical" perpetuation of decimal points after 3, the shape is too useful to be a closed-case of Pythagoras.*
everyone knows the famous case
of the writers' block,
that big fudge-like-turd
of a blank page...
but no one really cared to mention
writers' claustrophobia,
resonating in the court of law of
proofs with such books as those
entitled: collected letter 1975 - 1992,
proof that writers who idolise
and champion isolation can't
handle the strain of filling a room
with so much of their own excrement
they have to whip the leash like
a horse jockey directly into someone
else's mind - mind you, that's better
than regurgitating facts, the now
famous form of journalism reciting
all the health parameters to basically
live on air and science, speaking out
the mechanics of someone's liver
with that tut-tut index finger pendulum
of whimsical scorn.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC