The champions of flatness,
stand alongside the rotating lunacy,
assert to protect the earth’s edges
from the domination of roundness.
They congregate paradoxically in rings,
proclaim that the curvature is a delusion,
gravity is a hearsay in critical conspiracy
of circular minds caged within a sphere.
The horizon stretches along horizontal line,
marks the perimeter of the planar world,
beyond which the clouds disappear into abyss,
the basin holding the contained oceans.
At the frozen fringes of the flat atlas
lies the great ring of the ice walls,
the boundary keeping the world from falling
into the celestial silent nothingness.
FLAT EARTH VS. GLOBAL
I don't believe the earth is flat
I'm not a scientist but it's a sure bet
That no matter how far one travels
No one has fallen over the edge as of yet
I often wonder if the flat earth society
Have memberships around the globe
How would they explain that phenomenon
The truth would sooner or later unfold
My sister and brother in law
Regularly hike the "Abby grind"
I'm sure when they are climbing, the flatness
Of the earth is not prominent in their mind
Though the flat earthers have some very good points
Like the earth is 71% H2o
Maybe in a sense it is flat
Because it's not carbonated, we know
When I was in school we learned the earth is round
But I'm from Sasatchewan, born and raised
And my world is definitely pancake flat
That's the situation here, that I've appraised
DJC Dec 23/25
God rests His feet on the face of the sky.
The face of the sky which stares at the face of the Earth.
There is flatness in the blueness of its face,
as its sapphire eyes gaze into the blue-green
or tawny oculense of the Earth.
The Earth and skies stare into each other’s eyes.
Noticing all the movements in the other’s side.
Movements of peoples and modern things, creatures
and those who inhabit the sky.
And as the sky and the Earth give momentary birth
to grandeur we see and wonders we have yet to see.
If this is an amazing place
that was created by an Amazing Grace,
imagining all that is cool.
(If the streets are paved with gold there
As on Earth a bitumen pool)
Imagine what Heaven is like
if the sky and the Earth are His footstool.
Driving down the black tongue
Desert highway
Mirages rise
Pools of water on the tarmac
Reflecting even the sky
Suddenly, darkness arises
Flatness on the pale horizon;
No time or purpose to slow down -
It rises, engulps the world
We move into it
It
Moves into us.
Spring semester has started.
We’re all immersed in the ritual of change
and totally committed to that descent into madness
to the relentless drabness, the flatness, the blandness
for the hours, days and weeks of study
and a bone-deep fatigue that’s actually funny
We’ll live at the edge of intensity
near the the corner of drudging
and gather around the printer
at the media center
like a secular rite of passage
I think I need a daily grind—to keep my mind busy.
What’s wrong with me, that when I’m on vacation, I miss it?
What if work/study is one of my bone-marrow-deep love languages?
.
.
Songs for this:
Happy Dreamer by Laid Back
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
(You're Better) Than Ever by illuminati hotties
There are many ways.
The spirits say there are.
Ways to escape.
There are gaps through the bars.
I could flatten my body and slip though.
Or so they say.
The medicine counter calls us.
They call us every day.
The voices go deeper.
I try to flatten my body, but my mom calls.
Blurting things out, and crying.
Then flatness.
The valley
With its flatness
A space between
Abrupt enclosures..
An appearance of
Time and space and
A viewer which all
Seem separate..this
Illusion expressing
A calm beyond
Understanding...
(See photo at: www.polarityinplay.com)
Steel cold, rough hands lay slack.
Pull it taut while gripping the back.
Getting it apart takes a lot of force.
Days pass, and so strain, as a horse.
Gather up inside of a ductility test.
If the wire grows warm, it drys best.
Yield point stretched wire snaps.
A coil cobra rests as tension gaps.
The soliloquy, alike waves, is broken.
Left behind a rid-sailing, in boat oaken.
Breasts shift in a way to hold in place.
It is crookedness for leisure to misplace.
Thrown and shoved the other way.
Yet, no pang was felt; only grit lay.
Not adorn the sting of flatness to feel.
As her skin likely burns from the ordeal.
Written: May 09, 2023
From the miles of flatness and the fens
Comes the hill where this Cathedral stands
Everyone can see this floodlit site
When the moon is out and there is night.
I saw it through the window as I turned
It’ struck me down with beauty never learnt.
As I lay surprised upon the stair
I absorbed the beauty I saw there
Should we worship beauty such as this?
It strikes us with a hammer not a kiss
Some say that some gains are not worth the risk,
and that their pursuit causes far too much pain.
They say that some things are better left the same.
They say that if it's not broken, don't fix it or make a change.
Sameness is boring and robs us of creativity.
In a quest demanding liquids not to stay,
ROOF-TOPS of buildings were mostly SLANTED.
Rain, sleet, snow, and ice had to fall to the ground.
Moreover, the interiors of facilities are not fond of sameness.
Living Rooms now have a twin sister known as THE GREAT ROOM.
The elevation, more windows, and OPEN CEILINGS let the sunshine in.
FLATNESS is out, recessed ceilings are in, and the changes look terrific.
There was a time when car makers were far more concerned with mobility.
Energy was cheap and combustion engines had no concern about the wind.
Aerodynamics were yet to be utilized in land travel, and the CARS were BOXY.
OVAL corners and slightly CURBED bodies in vehicles became the SHAPE of things to come.
050922PS
in traffic there is an accidie and weariness
and flatness and humdrum of the road
but leonard cohen helps with that
and i think about the poor north koreans
without their fix of coca cola
and the mental health of the finnish with
their billabong of coffee and caffeine flowing
out their ears and the best brand of water in china
has the biggest market reach and woodpeckers don't
get headaches because according to a
professional content provider they just don't
and speaking of the chinese
they've found a hut on the moon
some distance away from their rover; who can tell
who might be living in that hut
i look up out the windscreen at the moon
and imagine myself living in that hut
or maybe leonard cohen is living there now
and england have lost the first ashes test
and outside the hut is a scoreboard showing
australia need twenty runs to win
the hut has become a pavilion and there's plenty of
tea drinking going on
no finnish there pal
and someone shouts howssszat! across the galaxy
as asteroid 4660 nereus misses earth
as i miss childhood
it travels on and on into the depths of the saddle
of the universe
As the mind is tabula rasa
Runs into deep, deep into sleep-abyss
Enchanted by the wave
Unfasten by the speculum
Grip up a dust from nebula
Meridian air touch the hair
Again to prepare for a slumber
Down to the Caucacious mountain
The arrival of souls up there
To create a new lullaby
Mind is still taking an intercourse
With the unconscious
Travelling upper crest to sable abyss
Tears crawls from the corner of sleepy-eye
For pleasure?
For flatness?
Or blend of two side by side?
This world is only flat
as I could wish for it to be.
All wishes come
from hungry hearts as mine.
Curves I visit
bring a noise of motion.
Unexpected joy and wonder
found in every moment
leave me breathless
in returning
to my mirrored soul.
My flatness and my curve alike
a twinkling others see.
Radiant eyes that recognize
no color of their own.
Sound in every moment’s whisper
draws me to it in a naval roar.
I marvel at the people passing
pointing to a cow.
Exchange their wonder for
an empire state somehow.
Trading faceless cards
from bubblegum for unknown toys.
Girls and boys of flattered pasts
retain their souvenir retainers,
voiceless comments written on their treasured casts.
We have each others back my friends and I.
Less traveled is our path and all our roads.
No center for this circle
always monkey in the middle.
Forever our trick always the tick ..
of a bomb that never explodes.
I don’t believe Donald Trump should be impeached,
He’s brought light to the Presidency, a dynasty,
Of a long line of ‘born again’ believers, screeched,
Wiling government into a god-inspired fallacy.
Burocracy is not an heuristic term or value judgement -
It’s a rational roll of reasonable deliberations, business,
Mirroring the typical American citizen as sediment,
Which Mr Trump places, to his credit and best guess.
He’s not a force for power without love and freedom,
Stealing smiles from unlikely Democrats, Pub’s alike,
He gives the lesser the right to arbitrate and custom,
When climbing the hierarchy an eager workers’ hike.
He’s not killed five people, an individual’s sadness,
Another quinquennial would see America great again,
With Covid faced squarely and firmly by flatness,
Joe Biden will take it as efficient, practical and fain.
Let the people speak from the Representative’s House,
Not one view, but proffering all view’s to regulate,
Bold with speech, he’s turned the stiff upper clouse,
Into commerce’s flutter, so please give a vulgate.
Dominique Webb
SOMETIMES I WONDER
sometimes I wonder
does this make any sense?
most mornings same,
and will the flatness go
seemingly I wonder so,
just like driftwood on the tide.
and of misty morns
and befuddled mind,
I struggle to comprehend
of what exactly is happening to me,
my mood still fluctuates,
‘tween dark of night and first light of day.
and like most days of frost;
as warmth fills the air,
the ice of Jack is melted be,
as Sol wraps around
and holds me in his embrace,
my day is glad not sad you see
and I’m a happy soul to be.
Francis Cooper - Mac
From the series of being in a mental health unit for PTSD and depression in 2019
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