Best Hypothetical Poems
LOVE being felt caressively,so sexually,
intimately,intentively makes me feel so
radical,speaking hypothetical-ly of how it
makes me feel,
So real,the thrill I always feel,the ideal of me wanting to kiss,
I can't resist what this is, which is you only you.
No one else has made me feel what I felt,
get me so hot until the point I melt,
I sweat began to pelt upon each other,
There is no other that makes me feel what I
feel when we together for now until forever.
The LOVE we feel physically, mentally and emotionally.
But just to think I'm only speaking hypthetically.
4-17- Silence
Psychedelic bubbles
in my cooling hot chocolate
The frothy surface like the
life giving neoprenic sludge
(hypothetical scientific origin)
Bubble’s spectrum slightly amiss
from rainbow hues
and universal in its colorful rotation
Observed, enthralled
for an unknown amount
but my worst fears arrived
in time only necessary motion
Alas there was no big-bang
Art?
Perhaps too post modernistic
to sell out an auditorium
but such latent haphazardness
was used on the
black and white
paint spattered
silver chair shadowed
by approaching set
and the anticipatory ants
who watched my mountainous meal
crumble
(dare I to defend what’s left)
No, for I can appreciate
the natural nature
of artistic corrosive disorder
I hold it up again today; the world,
Pregnant with magical dimples
Of a child's reckless abandon,
And look at the face,
Then I look at the deep cut
And the pain it inflicted
I look back at the unpaid ransom,
The whips, hands chained to the back
Faces buried deep into the cold wall,
The so-called wall of the world, soaked
By the tears of our raped eyes.
I have seen the world through and through;
The sweet bitterness of living and dying,
The joyful agony of getting and losing;
The memories come clear like crystal
And the weak world whirls by unconsciously
Taking us down its untrodden alluvial depths
And scattering silence nearby and abroad:
Those are the world's worth!
Who amongst us does not have a story?
The world is killing us, thinking, perhaps
That there is sudden rebirth in each death
But those we lost are gone forever
And we bite our lips and rub our eyes,
Alas! Another phenomenon has been lost.
Like a cherished effigy
I hold it up again, the wild world
The nuance feeling surges like thousand waves
And I listen as different sharp sounds
Of cries, nay, moans pierce my ears,
The tears fall in torrents like a waterfall.
The earth, our unconcerned world is killing us,
Like little ants...it kills us with sledgehammer,
Hypothetical villain lurking by street corners
Waiting and waiting, almost impatiently.
But we love the world, and so much so
We cling to life, despite the odds
We want to live, love and be loved,
We want to experience and explore the depths.
We have been heart broken again and again,
And each time we heal
We lick our wounds and clean our tears
Trying to protect our battered ego.
We hold it up again and again
Like a cherished effigy, smiling
Notwithstanding our heaps of unfulfilled dreams,
Our not-to-clear future, our unheard cry-cracked voices,
Despite the rigours of the trite rituals
Of our religions, our creeds, our norms;
Despite the guns, the bombs, the blades
That cut us clean and shatter our unborn hopes,
We still cuddle our earth like a cherished effigy
Dressed to pattern by virgin children
While it takes us down one after another
Jubilantly like a well trained military marksman.
Alas! Another phenomenon has been gone.
The curse, the lethargy,
conceived out of wedlock Dawn and Day,
the mother-in-law of the race of the Ogres,
the tub filled with toads, vipers and snakes,
the cohabitant who always stays out -
here's a partial list of the problems
that await the true princesses,
whereas a dreamless sleep is a soteriological ideal of any Buddhist.
Bent over the beautiful princess,
I feel a pang of mercy,
and, rising from my knees, get out of here -
by little Mopsey, the Princess's spaniel, which is lying on the bed,
by the hypothetical fire upon the hearth,
by the doormen in whose cups wine turned into mold long ago
and beyond,
through the wayless wood of existence,
which is not a problem for my ladylove anymore.
As Charles Perrault rightly stated:
“Thorns part before a royal blood only”.
1St Corinthians 13:13 Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina Riddle
Watch out and wait. In fact stop listen and wait. Is that the wailing of a sail sailing by? Of course it is. The fact that an ironed breeze can touch a nautical knot is common knowledge amongst sailors and sailors are neither shaped sharpened sharpeners nor are they saying still shifts stillness. It is the opinion of the official orange kingdom that stalk the juice makers. Creators of squishing. Causing cannibalistic clothes cheating chatty climbers. It is neither within a dash nor a hash key that a full stop is found. And keys can be symbolic and symbolism of a metric metre can be taken to a few zoos to play with caged controlled boxed up animals who wish to run away. This they do with thuds akin to hooves. Strong fur and beaks can move and snap bars. And all are released. Good. Ha the ball is dancing to a top allegro tune in a sombrero and a tutu. Ha the tail of a car is chasing a cat around. Xxxxx multinational z z z z z. With a hypothetical hypothesis hearing harmonic hopping hippopotami z
I was feeling restless and empty
And I was feeling low.
All I believed was a white paper
An ordinary pen did do.
I wanted to put a question, there
To ask first - who are you?
Fathomless emotions, eager to converse
Should I assess -are you true?
I know there is much research
Hypothetical truth; hot and valid
Seeking the inner child, facing a challenge
Asking for yourself - true and candid.
I could never hold a dead body
And, I could never treat, I would say.
Too pampered a soul inside me
Life doesn’t often happen as I may.
All I wanted to see a rose petal
swirling alone in the heavy wind.
A visitor of the grace of the time
A witness of the reason and hint.
Labyrinth of Sighs
Wondering through a labyrinth of sighs
More platitudes with attitudes that never question why
A litany of afterthoughts about where we go when we die
An emboldened range of rude retorts refuting the reasons why I cry
A canon blazing wartime over a century ago
The night sky spent stargazing, wondering what we really know
A multinational conglomerate just phasing out more duplicitous advertisements that “flow”
A hungry orphan on a street corner, with nowhere else to go
Self-aggrandising promotion everywhere I seem to look
The wealthy uprising causing commotions, celebrities writing books
A typhoon on the island coast, Turkey on the day the earth shook
A morbid day that hurts the most,
An undignified Capatalist crook
The arrogant certainty of western superiority
The way the monotony forms around typecast minorities
The precedence of material goods conspiring to take global priority
The contradictions of individualism that consume the vast majority
The medical anomalies and surgical advancements
The incredible atrocities of cosmetic enhancements
A formidable ferocity of genetics and semantics
An incredible philosophy of frenetic theological pedantics
A sincere gaze of solidarity into another persons eyes
A mere phase of different polarities that use scientific graphs to signify
A Purple Haze of creative improvisational genius that cannot be quantified
A confused daze of inconvenience as another witness is proven to have lied
Returning to the central point of a theoretical discourse
Concerning a fundamental joint possible hypothetical recourse
A burdened soldier after war suffering the agony of remorse
An ancient boulder from the shores of civilisations geographic historical course
A curious mathematician, an inspiring original think
The spurious contradictions of a political candidate on the brink
A furious proposition concerning a scandalously placed eye wink
Human connectivity and the endless search for the missing link
Copywright Elizabeth Moroz
Twas the night before Christmas in 2054
The only sound being robotic mice on the floor
Our digital wish-lists were hung with ultra-precision
Above the virtual fireplace in pre-supposition
Of the anticipated arrival of a hypothetical being.
The miniature adults were dormant in their pods
As eidolon confiture twinkled their nods
While responsible progenitors with 'Bed Head" applied
Had concluded their thoughts for the long Winter's night.
Then out on the Astroturf there began such a frattle.
Startled from our beds to witness the sprattle
We opened our security cams to survey the scene
Frame by frame we analyzed what we were seeing.
The spotlight that shone on the new fallen snow,
Made fulsome the green of our false mistletoe,
And, at that very moment a freeze-frame laid bare
A cutting edge sleigh pulled by eight robotic deer.
Its jovial driver was dressed all in scarlet;
I knew it must be the Santa of myth,
For he was down our chimney with a bag of toys
And lickety-split back without making a noise.
It was over in a twinkle - he was gone with a whoosh
As you can imagine our confusion was profuse
And although his reindeer were mechanical frames
He recited out loudly and called all their names.
Come Bolter, come Byte-r come Laser and Algorithm,
Come Orbiter, Come Thyristor, Come Thunder and Mixem
As he circled the rooftop in a Gigabyte of starlight
He shouted LOL three times- as his sleigh zoomed skyward.
***Disclaimer: This is not so much a poem, as an exercise in stream of consciousness. I just sort of wrote what I thought about. Sorry if it makes little or no sense to anyone else. ;p
There is an intense power
misunderstood.
A little white lie,
a whopper of a tale,
in equal measure
alter, in the mind of listening ears,
reality.
In fact, the white lies,
those minor, subtle changes
conceal more believably
the truth.
But so what?
Nobody gets hurt.
Maybe one fudged things a little,
to get the deal,
to get the date,
to get what was wanted
and who cares?
Alternate realities
existing in varied minds
matter little in the long view,
or the grand scheme,
and yet…I wonder:
What is betrayal?
How far can we bend truth
how distorted can we make reality
how flexible is another’s trust
how forgiving?
The line seems to be getting blurry
or maybe it always has been
for lack of clarity
due to lack of information.
Convincing another of a lie
is compelled ignorance
of reality;
is playing God.
Which raises the curious point
of whether God
so toys with men’s perceptions.
But let’s not digress down that road,
we’ll save it for a sunset chit-chat.
Bear no false witness.
Swear on the truth.
Integrity.
What meaning have such morals
when at a word,
men create illusions
and other men gather
in a pretended utopia,
or dystopia, united.
Sharing drinks and tall-tales
lying to rest arguments
nobody is making.
Dispelling false realities
with their own false realities
But why not?
What is creativity if not
false expressions of what is.
Is abstraction not equally vile?
Perhaps then, there can be no art
without deception.
What if deception is,
at the core,
an art form.
Confident strokes of illusion
disassemble reality
one harmless lie
layered on another
in a hypothetical Guernica.
…and such are the times.
Genial to avoid confrontation
Baseborn kind, complaisant character
A spurious recital, a cheap imitation
Apocryphal mind, and comical creations
Counterfeited Christ
An unholy effusion
Sons of Belial
Clutch arcane knowledge
Esoteric information
Delve into oracular verse.
Deadened faith
Recondite belief denuded denials
Portentous and abstruse
Divested of the truth
Desolate road
Traveled day after day
Seriatim in miles
Strangled in hyperbole
Hypothetical noose
Cheaply loose
Tightening
methodically
Suicidal salvation
Covertly clandestine
Do what art wilt
Deliver the chosen
indoctrinate guilt
Derision to the destined
To learn love over hate
Adoration to inculcate
Imbue their sick lessons.
hi I'm Baxter Belknap Mandible IV
the Ninth Earl of Burneydick
I'll be heading your inner assault team
would you like the wine list
we have a nice Retaliation 666
somewhere over the rainbow
where every two-bit overheard whisper is an omen
and other vile statistical deceptions
where the big wheel spins like a drawbridge ratchet
but it never stops too many numbers
and the future continues to remain hypothetical
in degrees depending on the reading
an experiment in capitulation and submission
it was the War of the Parasites
but when has it been otherwise
this is a mathematical demonstration
bold as a distillery padlock
that insanity is the flip side
of merely more insanity
that would be Mandible IV driving
his dream hearse down memory lane
smoke from burning bodies
badly needing a wick adjustment
apparently fogged his lens
the horrors of the world are entertainment
weather permitting we'll visit the ruins
and insist upon representation
in the government Pilgrim Travel Advisory
you see the difficulty
serenity having been proven
a monstrous violation of reality
pause
every idea is a unit of measure
another pause
the pixels swirled and another
unholy vision drifted past in the tide
riveted to my screen
and it's trauma etched engrams
picked up on my middle finger antenna
in the last act you find out why
good bad and maybe mostly maybe
just trying to be more numerological
be certain of your conclusions
or call them something else
sure people's faces can be read
most are possessed by a mad hunger
or acts of cosmetic genius
proving it's more than brain chemistry
they told me that self-creation has its dangers
lots of mockery out there in hammer land
but there's no mocking your best efforts
kept them off my back for a while
set free for the propaganda value
and still always curious
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
To:
My best friend's new-born baby,
One day you'd grow up
And I would tell you
That the hypothetical you were mentioned and empathized with as we teased your mother while we were in college
That I jumped out of bed when your mother shared the best 'good news' in the history of good news
That I loved the way she would glow like the morning sun while she was both her and you
That your first photograph had me in tears that flow when the eyes do try to smile
That just the memory of your tiny, pink face is enough to light mine up like a firefly glowing in the dark
That I will, forever, be nicer-than-usual with people who have the same name as yours
And as you go through life you might forget all of what I might have to say
But promise me, my sweet little child, that you will always remember the one thing that goes without saying:
I love you.
-Aunt Mona
The economist's definition of enculturing math:
Counting and discounting cash,
multiplying and dividing tangible goods,
nutritional seed capital diverse re-investment guilds
to solve problems of hoarding wealth values
and dissonant greedy monopolistic disvalues.
The bicameral geo-mathematician's integral dilemma:
To get from 0 to 1, (nomial stasis)
one must also get from 0 to 2, (binomial diastasis)
and efficiently back again,
to simultaneously resolve,
to 1 median, septic and dipolar,
with 0 before and 2 implied after,
whether positive,
or double-negative,
or, co-arising nondually,
both LeftYang (+1) and Right reverse (exformative) recessive Yin (-,-)0
In consecutively imaged discontinuous linear sequence
and in naturally continuous equi-valent space/time
body/mind 4-prime fractal dimensions
of Special Case InFormational Dialectical Systemic Group Dynamics,
(+) v (-)=((+)+(-(-))
Resonant BiCameral Resolutions:
Exchange Vertical-Universal deductive/inductive interdependence,
co-relation,
co-gravity,
co-arising
co-passion
with co-equivalent
Horizontal-BiLateral Left-Right
both +1 decontextualized, discontinuous independence,
and not (-0)-sum interdependence,
cooperative Yang/Yin ego/ecopolitical co-redeeming resonance.
Reiteratively enthymeming
cooperatively healthy binomial synergizing
-(0)-sum WinWin Communication Intent
to extend 4Prime Basic EcoTherapeutic HealthWealth Fractals,
like our oh-so-regenerative DNA,
strings of bilateral polypathic hypostatic theory
dipolar co-arising
Gaian Integral Hypothetical
co-gravitating dualdark ZeroSum
regenerating prime 4-Base
nurturing/strong reiterating root systems
of regenerating Positive/NotNotNegative
double-binding
self/other perpetuating
ego/ecosystems
echoing convex stems
of bilateral concave dipolar strings
In between
Crown/Root chakra
polyvagal neurosystemic
compassionate/pleasure
mind/body intercommunications,
polymathic/polypathic/polyamorous
Sacred/organic/tao
hypostatic communion.
In A Box
BY MALIK BAKER
Puberty, relationships, identity versus roll confusion
As clear as a newly married couple with a hangover
Too many faces—even just one
Sweaty, shaky, within me a rapid stampede
In the midst of a haze raid
Like trash, garbage thrown out of sight.
Residing at the center of the cranium
Hypothetical criticism holding me captive.
Anxiety leading to payback by abdominal torture.
Dejection, second-rated, obscured
BRAINSTORM, cause I either say nothing or I’m just not with it.
More like imaginary . . . I have no real friends.
Either stood up or no invitation
Are they playing the Joker and Two-Face?
Dreamscape, the nostalgia of my childhood days . . .
Might as well throw me in solitary confinement.
Four walls and the view of life from inside
Dissecting the past and the future
Like The Thinker, contemplating . . . he goes nowhere.
This . . . is the good life.
First time happenings visually repeat.
Sensational like the nineties
Plagued by the mind of Mr. Perfect
Who am I? Certainly not the almighty
Seven years of build-up to this day.
There is no such thing as magic overnight,
But the road to recovery is here.
Trials and tribulations dismantled.
The burden has been lifted.
Don’t look back, promising change is coming . . .
God,
In His infinite wisdom said:*
“Let there be light”
Then
He went on to create this spectacular world
For us to delight!
Man,
In his infinite "stupidity"** retorted:
“ Let there be darkness”
Then
He was set to destroy this marvelous world
With his mind's dim-witted starkness!
Now,
Man has the horrible consequence of his
Abominable crime to face
Which is no other than the obliteration*** of
Self-centered human race!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
03 APRIL 2014
*Genesis, 1:3
**“Albert Einstein said: "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former.”
*** On Monday, March 31st 2014, UN’s most sobering report
to date that was the result of a joint effort of 300 scientists
was published. It grew to 2,600 pages and 32 volumes.
The conclusions of the report are disheartening:
“We are in an era where climate change isn’t some kind of future hypothetical,”
said Chris Field, one of the two principal authors of the report, and Rajendra
Pachauri, chair of the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) added:
“Nobody on this planet will be untouched by climate change.”
This means no man or animal on the planet, as well as the earth itself, will be
unaffected!