Best Noughts Poems
"Improvised, Noughts and Crosses"
points strung
pearls lacking
wisdom scattered
poetically,
of no large matter
rolling lost across a floor
stuck in the cracks
hidden in strange corners,
what do points matter;
when connected
unbroken,
the creative heart
improvised united,
becomes beautiful
more pure,
of some composed
great importance,
love like magic,
lifts the room
vibrating higher
by score
the lost pearls.
points wedged
in strange corners,
hear the sound
lifted, they
understand,
it all
improvised,
vibrating higher
by score
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Ben Folds & The Contemporary Youth Orchestra”
https://youtu.be/xMs3XoRM1LM
"Ben Folds and Contemporary Youth Orchestra Improvised Piece"
https://youtu.be/36MLAWaigM0
“One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces”/Ben Folds Five
https://youtu.be/SrWSkQMWlAY
I live in middle land between fuzzy bottom
and the high hazy skies
I peer down quantum wishing-wells, waves entangle
observed as they collapse
I scan beyond forever where dark matter lurks
in unforeseen disguise
I think I am, I blink, ... something is shifting there
reality perhaps
I count the zeroes descending beneath my eyes
to out of sight below
I sum tens of noughts piling to the very brink
of distant space and time
I ask why half-way along this fourth dimension
our knowledge seems to grow
I ponder my vantage, asymmetric centre
position so sublime
I play with grateful gods gathering me in close
where when can be no more
I move by osmosis, membrane passing on through
the other side of hope
I absorb persona essence, no hereafter
no self was here before
I am continuous love, joy and pain caressed
I am the learning-scope
I seem potent but feel a much greater power
the birth of potential
I flow with constant change, buoyed up by warm current
rising through the ocean
I feel procession from the dizzy atomic
to cosmic sequential
I record the dancing rim of life, strange song soothed
holographic lotion
I stir prime numbers, multiple integer broth
then fractions of the whole
I greet the old ones, memories morph and cuddle
sprinkling their magic hue
I mingle many species, their varied voices
shape the galactic goal
I embrace fallen youngsters, stricken babies scream
all pleading to renew
I swing with orchestral relatives, out of time
off-beating ticking clock
I watch minds simplify, beguiled by certainty
discordant chords strumming
I am blown by the erratic winds of zeitgeist
zig-zagging round the block
I pause to query, am I this zany creature
half-way to becoming?
There lives a girl named Aoibha
A clever, gifted writer
She has a sister, Lilly
A little ankle-biter
They're always close together
They're seldom far apart
They share all that they're given
Some say, they share a heart
While Lilly Rose, she picks her nose
Miss Aoibha's writing stories
With fish-hooks dangling, from their toes
They're catching Johnny Dories
So if you're feeling 'iffy'
And not so full of 'cheer'
You'll feel a whole lot better
When you have your sister near
An early little riser
Lilly Lashes spins her stories
Her listening sister Aoibha
Hears her early morning glories
A love so pure and gentle
And a beauteous curious mind
With wondrous thoughts of exes and noughts
Let’s leave the world behind
Fly with me to the Moon, sis
Or a far off distant star
There’s no-one knows us better
Than the ‘soulful wills’ we are
So if you’re feeling ‘iffy’
And not so full of ‘cheer’
You’ll feel a whole lot better
‘Cos we’re sisters, far and near
Oh wow. Oh great. Look over there. Quickly now. Come on. It is the mitigating migrating mammoth mansions. Brick by brick and bone by bone. In a line. Travelling. Traversing the plains, fields and mountains but not on roads for roads are neither natural nor normal so always wear a tea cosy hat when pouring tea at a tea party. It is to show not to shine that has the sun in a pondering and philosophical mood. The auric rays are neither a moon sitting in a tree nor are they a kayaking planetary alignment. High seas then create high teas. Whirling in circling dresses of spotted green. But never in a greenhouse does one find a tomato in a tantrum. For tomatoes are very very mild mannered especially when given a drink. And this is good for compost can be crafty and doesn't like moods. A wafer thin biscuit is a flat chested mermaid moving around at the dusk. By the marina. Catching a glimmer is easy for the eyes of the octopus in an office with high rimmed glasses. Circle then dash. Tick tick tick. Form done. Signed. Signatures separate stagnant stale stupors. And the fat wading brat bird yawns on a front bench in a large ornately decorated room. How common. And yet rather uncommon is the master of the seaweed sermon whose speakers are never wise upon answering questions and questions are rarely answered so why play noughts and crosses with a jute duty bug? Inheritance is not to be placed in a kissing box for boxes are to be reserved for tiny biscuits who march around chaotically chairing and chanting at quite important times. Thus causing a lot of little flowers to sigh and droop their heads in an apathetical style. In a scrapbook posy position. The layout is not the layer and the label is a laugh. Numeration of a numerator is a numerical nautical nonchalant nerd. And the beast of the best bank is not to be trusted with a styrofoam cup. No never gi e it that cup. Always give it a baby bottle. For it is ignorant and infantile. Beware of the two foot clam in that drawer then when you are putting socks away. Hahaha a mist is coming to play cards and monopoly with a tree top, a hill, a perfume factory, and a zoo. Hahaha dolphin and duet with a dancing seahorse at a grand opera. Xxxxx desensitization Z now eat a nice scone and sing la la la to a doorframe. Z peacocks.
Standing on a ridge a sight can be seen. The kettles were choosing a queen. Bouquets were bought for the waters within. For waters will want wonderful and wonderful it was. The chosen kettle was a marvel. Complete with glowing sides and clear too. Captivating when boiling as the bubbles could be seen. But when cleaning was required it was time for the little wire brush to trot over to the kettle. Insert itself then move around to clear the debris. WOW. Look how it sparkles. Amazing isn't it?
But a bored baboon can only be made to smile through sipping a cup of banana juice, kissing trees, and playing ping pong with the dainty pig who was also rather fed up at this moment in time as the apples were not falling from the trees and that was a travesty.
Oh go and play a game of noughts and crosses in a shoe then. And definitely play monopoly in a chest of drawers. It is irrelevant the scores given to twenty over sized marbles in a washing machine. Scores should only ever be awarded to skittles. And skittles skate so when the pond is icy always put skating boots on them.
To outsmart a heron with a bunch of melons and some keys is to kiss over ninety frogs at a ball. But attending a ball has to be the most single important factor on a calendar card for a pineapple whose hair stood out from the rest in lovely green spikes. But lemons never wear such head dresses for they prefer triangular tiaras and triangular tiaras are neither tepid training turtle-neck tulips and neither are they tigers talking to timbers. Timber-frames are most thwarted at the tango but woods can waltz most admirably. Positioned palettes pirouetting.
And never forget to keep an eye on the Pyrex dish for Pyrex dishes can be filled with a vast array of produce and arrays of produce are mainly understood to be as vibrant as a colourful garden windmill. Spinning in a breeze then. Good. Creamy coleslaw calming carrots creatively creating canopies. Pea wisdom in a skirt skimming the stones into the lake from the shore holding the umbrella and a picnic basket.
WOW
Curtain chop on a tight rope.
Z Wunderpus photogenicus Z
At thirty six flies zooming on a lawn to 18 garlands of flowers in a florist.
In a place, In another time was where it all initiated
A bombed out place with mixed climatic systems, Reinstated
But moving on in this place gave me a cerebral pulsation
For within and outside these boundaries, I knew no realization
Was it entirely fictional in all its worth, Or was there sense to my thoughts
I knew paradises face was not written in the smoke, With cascading numerics and
endless noughts
My perceptions redeemed the credible flashes of reality, But I was in suspension
I agonized walking through splinters of fire and wrath in this cultured dimension
I caught a hollow lie in my head, Which was rhythmic until it spread
It was then that I realized this place was not real, Only a fantasy in my head
And then I became aware that this existence was never ending wonder
Looping and cascading, Everything with psychedelic elegance, A shattering electric
thunder
Brilliance came forth in verse and actuality, Amongst my mind their thoughts
manipulated
A cataclysmic pulse scored my spine, As if I was charged, But deep within felt
simulated
Anything in composite material form was reassuring, But the dreams struck like
death
Nothing in this world titled Arcadia with flesh, Only skeletons with expired breath
Arcadia has claimed its child, Swallowing in gulps, And taken aback by the ferocity
I am the Tempest swirling in all dimensions, breathing in the atrocity
The End.
Murmur no things
or strings of sounds...
Could not care less
more-ish whispers
were Wicked
Whips of Words-
Weighted.
Tongue- lashing sharp
fork- tine Torture.
Cat-0-nine-one-one-tales...
Thirty-nine...
Forty-less-one
thrashing...
thrashing...
Thrashing...!
P
l
u
m
b
l
i
Cut, then
Spliced
r
a
m
aught - 0 - matic -ally
u
t
t
e
s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d and s-t-r-u-n-g out
taut ~O~ill~O~gee~call
sayings S-P-L-A-Y-E-D out.
Taught NO one
any thing
new
Knew hear-say-
Say! Did you hear THAT???
(Did YOU know...?)
? :-0 ? :-o ? :-0 ?
Oh Oh...
Tongues plaited and tied
Gutless intentions
Implied
Allied...
Bound between mongers
pitted
unpitying
Pitbulls against distraught,
double-bind on-slaughter
pale-faced pugilism
mimics
Mummery and mimed thoughts
~acted~out~
played O-U-T
OUCH!
Bought into
Hearts wrung out
bloodless
Bloody hands wringing
in Delight-
Delighted!
de-lighted...
Delight-Full?
Murmur nothing
need less>>>>>>
Need less to say
" it" @ All.
Hot of the press,
hot air blows
seeds of doubts
s-OW-n n-OW!
Profuse Grrrrr- OW-th
Hot-head heed-less
not Grrrrr- OW-n up.
Groans are unmouthed
sounds
sown shut :-
No more hurt
Feelings
Hidden
Humiliation's humus
Not humorous.
Hideous "justice"
bids
Blurts be bought
at a price-
Caught out
Pulled-up-Pule
short-circuits
short-changed
~my~O~my
~chained~
~thrashing~it~out.
thrashed...thrashed....Thrashed!
within an inch
~~ ~~~'~ ~~~~...
nihil -is-tic
parsitic
Tick-Tacky-Town
Game of noughts.
Game of cross thoughts..x-O
Game's off-
Colour two- tone
Voice
Not "giving lip"-
Zipped~~~
:-O gains nil
By Mouth.
:- naught -:
nada
null
X
void
O
14-07-2017~Aqua Marine.
For The Sea
By Nathan Hannen
There is a sea called joy and light, You let me know Im wrong and right
You live by this ocean of my thoughts, By the abacus bay with rows of noughts
Laughter heard, And laughter said, You are the thoughts in my head
The End.
The warmth of the ice cold snow.
Runs down my face and melts in my glow.
The sun is so far away the wind blows a chill.
My heart beats so hot it makes my body shrill.
No more the cold heat of a love lost.
I understand my lonliness now because.
The world is not for good people like me.
I always thought it would be.
No love loss because no love was gained.
Each day I awake to nothing new, Just aways the same.
I am happy to be uninportant nothing gained with fame.
Maybe the elusive butterflies will find me one day.
And make me say to someone special
You really make my spirit soar and sing.
What is this thing everyone calls love.
I know I never felt it in this life even through strife.
They say always love with heart and soul.
I cannot do this kind of lie. It would never be a goal.
So what to be, who to want, what to empower.
What symbols are love? Is it a person, an object a flower?
When you look back do you remember the good.
Or do you resemble the sweet of bitter
I never understand which is the better.
So here at night as I write my thoughts.
I tick the crosses and delete the noughts.
What is good what is bad in me.
I know when I was young I was a good seed.
I dont lie dont cheat or do any bad deed.
So why do I feel angry at the world its always against me.
Then I remember all those worse off than I.
That makes my heart hurt makes me cry.
I want to live forever never die.
But one day I will be free. Or will I have more to grieve.
No one knows the journeys we take once we are gone.
Maybe there are few or just the one.
I hope its better than this and more fun.
The Dye Area
I'm really glad that ewe dropped buy
Eyed love two come out and sea ya.
But Eye really hadn't oughta
cause eye got the diarrhea.
It makes four long and dreadful daze
and even longer knights.
I'm terribly concerned eye ruined
awl my Christmas linen whites.
I've opened every window
butt the odor's getting stronger.
I'm half the man as yesterday
Eye can't take the shits much longer.
From racing down the hallway
Eye got noughts upon my head.
The lights whir off eye couldn't sea
and eye think the dog is dead.
Excuse me wile eye double flush
I'm sew week eye can barely sea.
Should eye bee gone tomorrow
St John has come four me.
Tell those I've wronged I'm sari
give my penance two the pour.
I'm afraid I'll halve two sit write hear
until eye can't go know more.
I thought myself a strong man
but sew clearly now eye sea.
Never was a man on earth
as full of it as me.
Edwin C Hofert
Fighting demons
Bursting bubbles
He's in my head
Among the rubbles
Seeing that most things get done
He works at it from moon till sun
He tilts at windmills only he can see
Please meet.... Don Quixote
My affliction
or my soul
hearing voices
takes its toll
Fighting what may not be there
And if it's not, why should I care?
Before the windmills in my mind
Don Quixote....you will find
An empty veldt of muddled thoughts
On a crooked road to nowhere
A wasteland of x's and noughts
With no way to get there
A wilderness of abstract themes
And wishes that I need share
The guardian of what I write
Tilting windmills in my minds air
Hidden loves
Broken hearts
So much to do
just where to start
No Sancho Panza by his side
In my head he's stuck inside
Keeping madness at arms length
Don Quixote...my minds strength
Unfinished tales
Broken dreams
So little time
Or so it seems
A wayward soldier on his way
What windmills will he fight today?
The thoughts I write reveal what's me
Allowed outside by Quixote
An empty veldt of muddled thoughts
On a crooked road to nowhere
A wasteland of x's and noughts
With no way to get there
A wilderness of abstract themes
And wishes that I need share
The guardian of what I write
Tilting windmills in my minds air
Wipe away tears
Pouring from your aching heart
Whether in the present or in arrears
Cos letting tears depart
Paves the way for a brand new outlook
Away from dark thoughts
Where a somber spook
Trading in noughts
Creeps in wait
For souls who grant him dominion
To bite the bet
He sets alongside his deleterious opinion
Meant to ensnare your bright future
Into a cocoon of destruction that holds you captive
In a conundrum culture
In which the spook offers no sedative
To move your status to the next level
Where smiles for miles
Shunt aside the evil
Whose feeble files
Grip you in a vice
So vile
It delibilitates the device
Inside your soft centre where a smile
Reigns supreme
To bring back the spring
Your footsteps dream
Of beyond a string
That unties your fate
From hurtful aches
Sustained on a date
Soon to fill with cakes
Meant to rebirth
The life you deserve
With fervent faith
To nourish your best preserve and swerve
Into joy
Into friendship
Into the pleasure of a teddy bear toy
Into a queenship and a well-deserved discipleship.
. SUNDAYS WITH COLIN
We, are all a Binary Code,
Noughts and Noughts, and ones and ones;
The beginnings, look like the end…
and the ends, look ,
Like the same, as it begun!
This is progress and much- much more,
According to Colin, who lives next door!
“It’s a binary code,” He seriously said,
“You wont understand it, it's not meant for your head,”
“But when the Aliens come down one day, these are their words, the things they’ll say!”
I said, “But what if they come down in my backyard?”
“I’ll try to make contact, Colin but that’s really hard!”
“Don’t worry,” said Colin, eating his pre-cooked pasta,
“They’ll land on the car park at the back of Asda!”
“An’ their Binary Code, will be wrote on the side of their ship.”
“Do you want a napkin Colin?”
“No, I’ll skip”
I like Sundays with Colin.
I’ve searched the deserts of my soul.
Yes, countless miles and times.
Thirsting for a place where love
could quench, this troubled will.
And so, I roamed those stead less hills
on a camel draped with gold.
Glittering noughts, I had to give.
Love was mere wanton goad.
But now, I have (just) me that’s left.
And You, my thirst relief.
Oasis of this Magi’s tref
Love, cleanse this soul its grief.
images are slow to fade, where did they go? why were they here?
pensive pen and ink, a gentle man of measure
pipe-smoke wafting cool blue persevering pleasure
cartoon humour designed with careful modest pride
arm-in-arm soothing his war-time petulant bride
oft-wiped canvas, woodland, moody misty scene
roaming through pale paintings where her lost man has been
merging ever always their special being; are they still near?
old parental faces time-spun and woven under my skin
memories upon memories, changing I, changing me
stories upon stories pile up, changing they, changing we
falsehood flailing, transition, turbulent knowing
transcendence, my mind, your mind, all minds are growing
we are mid-paced sampled brethren, thinking anew
significance in what we say and what we do
personalities on kindred journeys beyond kith and kin
kick string-strung corporeal cans down the celestial street
where the multi-dimensional membranes quiver
where energy swims across the quantum river
where slow light-speed traverses the nebula face
where superpositions collapse with certain grace
where fine bits of information feedback feeling
where negentropy out-runs chaotic dealing
pick soulful sounding song, counter-rhythmic orchestral beat
sprung from the fundament, nothing always trumped by something
prime numbers inflate unfolding untold troubles
universal endurance, containment bubbles
pushing, pulling fields, filaments of flexing shape
veils warp and wrap around a wily cosmo-scape
intelligent infant guises, gaining in-sight
impressions crossing chasms to inform the night
lives on holographic film, many melodies to sing
I hear them now, voices blending the chords of man and wife
I feel their presence, though they are forever changed
I know they are transformed, molecules rearranged
I share their warm substance, two people that mattered
I care for their essence, they will not be scattered
I record them in words, the library of thoughts
I sense they are near and far, few and many noughts
I am listening out for them on the other side of life