This place functions on it own
The people outside
Looks at it with different eyes
Logic happens to them
Philosophy also happens
This place is boxed up with a certain thinking
The world is not correct on how things appear before this place
History has eyes so bright for you to see
Time has evolved for so long that centuries and circles are filled with painted writings
History knows the deepness of a river and how dark ships navigated through the souls of men
History knows the beginning and the end of all the papers bound into one
This place is happily divided
And you can hear different voices
Echoing confusion into the rooms of men
There's a constant panic of a certain tradition here
And many versions are born
This place is careful about the handwriting of love
And it's timidly written on the four corners of the wall.
When you don't reflect, on cause and effect, you're leaping right to the middle
With half of the clue, apparent to you, you will never unwrap the riddle
But when you know how
Milk comes from a cow
You'll be over the moon, finish work before noon, cause you'll know cat comes before fiddle
The clouds spill a thousand secrets,
a torn canvas is two paintings,
melt my tears into your sweet fire,
seduce the stars without a script.
A torn canvas is two paintings,
love-drunk on desire,
seduce the stars without a script,
fever of fixation.
Love-drunk on desire,
I count the ways obsession lies,
fever of fixation,
and call each lie a kind of prayer.
I count the ways obsession lies,
until the prayer forgets my name,
and call each lie a kind of prayer,
and leaves me circling the same sky.
Until the prayer forgets my name,
melt my tears into your sweet fire,
and leaves me circling the same sky,
the clouds spill a thousand secrets.
Jennifer Brea had encephalomyelitis
She was examined by the best and brightest
She was told that anxiety was the cause
These kinds of mistake should give us pause.
Heide Ferrer got tremors and vibrations
Told it was depression, imagine her frustrations.
She took her own life, long covid is now supposed
Another disease dismissed, not diagnosed.
Alison McCabe was in severe pain
She was told it was the flu, so why complain
But it was the side effect of iron infusion
It was the doctor, not her, who had the delusion
There are other cases, if you search you will find
There's a catch all basin of "all in your mind"
some patients even accused of seeking attention.
If docs don't know, maybe best course is abstention.
The process of elimination can be a dead end
If you assume its mental, patient may not mend.
But don't make the mind the dumping ground
For every mystery not yet found.
Contest: The Logic Of Longing
Sponsor: Ink Empress
Date: August 2nd 2026
The "Logic Of Longing" is the secret
Awareness that things can never be.
Just like "A torn canvas is two paintings"
Even with repair, the evidence remains
And you never see the painting
The same way again.
It's a "fever of fixation"
To try to make
The unworkable work!
How ever many times
"I melt my tears into your sunset fire"
It appears to be in vain...
So I sit in solitude
Solemn
While inside my heart it rains.
For the clouds of the heart are
"The clouds [that] spill a thousand secrets"
Into the deepest ocean -
"A thousand secrets"
That only the aching heart knows.
Just like "a torn canvas
is two paintings"
The separation means
We can no longer
Be together
As we once were ~
The "Logic of Longing"
Is a "Logic" of despair.
"Love-drunk on desire,"
from the heavens above.
Will I,
"Seduce the stars without a script?"
The night is filled with diamond stars,
touching my heart and soul.
As morning arises,
"The clouds spill a thousand secrets."
Turning the clouds into rain drops.
Rain drops that,
"Melt my tears into your sweet fire."
I sit here seeing,
"A torn canvas is two paintings."
I wonder why not just one painting?
Maybe a,
"Fever of Fixation."
With our fervent lucid longing
we tried, my love
to seduce the stars without a script
when my soul bowed to your eternal beauty
that glowed softly in our days as lovers
sanity was abandoned
while quivering in lonely, tethered spaces
claiming the right to be loved
carrying whispers of unexplained attraction
found in ancient sunsets of borrowed ambiance
discovered in our eyes of scarlet rapture
where we fell to earth with hungry kisses
melting our lips from intimate intoxicating elixir
causing delirium
to burn through the paradise of our fantasy
from the white-hot ash of desire
to leave scars on the flesh of our memory
twisted and turned into an unknown
where a torn canvas is two paintings
of what could have been
to leave us exhausted
holding the rusty key to the door of shared longing
stained by unfulfilled promise of our imprisonment
when we impassioned our souls and found illusion
laden with regret
Melt my tears into your sweet fire
as I have emotions for hire
It will always be my desire
to love you as I never tire
Only the rain can hide my tears
from loving you as I hold you dear
Please don’t ever be far from near
Your beauty is so mighty clear
Romance is how I write
To please you in joyous delight
It’s easy for me as it takes no might
The words keep coming with no end in sight
I bite my tongue as I say I love you
For our magic has passed, it’s true
But can I ever find the mystical glue
That spells out T, R, U, E… true
The clouds spill a thousand secrets *
Masquerading as celestial tears
Tapping on window panes
Pattering on umbrellas
Whispering
To thirsting flowers
Of distant friendships
A torn canvas*
Separates
Two paintings*
Unable to agree
Seduce the stars without a script*
Melting tears into sweet fire*
Overwhelmed by the silence
Of love’s clouded secrets
So Spake Simple Simon
Is it right and proper to treat us fools so bad?
We are but simple souls, not completely mad.
This world is but a complex place full of traps and snares
That can catch us all out if we’re taken unawares
Even Kings and courtiers find themselves caught out
So, what chance do we have who know next to nought
We are so often laughed at as we try to understand
Why it is that others have all the wealth and land
And when we ask for twopence for to buy some food
We are told we’re stupid and we’re not doing any good
And when we would go fishing so very far from sea
We practice in a bucket. It made such sense to me
And as for seeking plums for to make some jam
Whilst I was a searching, I was chased by a ram
That landed me in thistles; not pleasant you’ll agree
All that was in the larder was dry bread for my tea.
I could go on for ever about injustice and ill use
How those who care not for others avoid the truth
Who only see the world through their selfish eyes
People who are less fortunate are those they despise.
Laws of logic were broken
liquid provided a shoulder to cry on.
Without hands it gave warm hugs.
With no voice, it became a voice of
hope to the emotionally drained.
Who could've imagined that ink can provide such?
A voice that reaches far and wide.
Transportation of words from the brain to the world.
They say it's ink, I say it is a God of the innermost,
the ones that turn imagination into reality.
She's a superposition
of a tiger and a cat
Open the box, with permission
Still won't know where she's at.
Can't decohere a wave.
Can't tell her to behave.
She’s everywhere and nowhere
It really isn't fair.
(bridge)
I tried to use logic
No clean line to pursue
Every glance became a question
Learn an answer, lose a clue.
(chorus)
She’s my quantum woman
A personality distribution
What she's thinking is insane
I'm only certain of her name.
She takes every possible pathway
Some cancel, some align
Interference in my brain waves
Complicates my mind
We’re telepathically entangled
What she knows, I feel it too
But the moment that I measure
Something can't be true.
I've tried intuition
I've tried tea leaves too
I have a sense of mission
To know who I'm married to.
The social worker said forget it
She's still your better half
Quantum theory drives men crazy
Only a genius can do the math.
Logic Observes
Logic is a train of coherence and thoughts.
A line of Justice, reasoning one
Understands well analysis.
Logic has to make inner peace with
Self of one's past in arrangement to grow.
Logic faced numerous disappointments
In the stages of time.
Experiences are logic's beneficial and a
Wise teacher.
Logic continuously observes, preserves,
Protects oneself from hindrances.
Logic is is a personal life net evoking
Oneself to safely remain afloat poles
Apart from water.
On the other hand the complexities of
Life logic observes
A banana tree bears bunches
of fat yellow legs,
clusters of pendular limbs
known as hands.
Such contradictions
serve to push our minds
out of their crates.
Try not to ponder too much
on fully thawed tarantulas
and small venomous snakes.
Feel free to postulate
how quickly life begins green
by turning yellow,
until seemingly overnight
a mottled jaundice
heralds an unpleasant end.
Most mature bananas bend
in like manner,
and could give rise to thoughts
of Pyrone’s disease.
Banana enlightenment is rare,
some may awaken
clutching at a pulsating plantain
only to have nirvana slip away
as time unpeels
a more humdrum reality.
For best results
potassium yourself daily.
Practical Algebra
A lot of people hate algebra - they think it isn't useful.
They are SO wrong - here's some practical Algebra:
Chocolate comes from Coca,
which grows on a tree,
which is a plant, therefore:
Chocolate is a salad.
You're welcome.
.
.
A song for this:
Preface (feat. Di Johnston) by The Shanghai Restoration Project
Ignore moi by Mélanie Pain
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