I know the mechanics of Time --
easy enough to add and subtract.
Division a realm we can calculate;
but, when it comes to continuity, it is
an age old question -- Our human heart,
an imperfect perfect example: beats can
be quantified; but feelings have a strange math
all their own...often outside of
measurable reason. Having no
consensus on
which
one
can count....
And so the day comes to an end
Oh how I wish my soul would mend
The grief one feels is beyond reproach
When they obby so bad, they need a coach
I jump and weave and try to progress
But the obby is fierce, one measurable test
But my soul was saved when from the heavens
Came THE OBBY MASTER, (his real name's Kevin)
He guided me through the jumps and weaves
Now I obby with grace, and shift-lock with ease
The day is anew and my soul is saved
Follow my poetryusop
Freely let me be who I am
Pen in hand
To speak with innocent words of love
The vision of each thing
In the language of measurable hope
So that I may walk this earth
Knowing that each difference found
Is the same as every affinity bestowed
To so cherish the world
The space between stars is not empty--
There’s a force keeping each in place,
Yet also binding them together,
Preventing one or the other
From wandering too far.
Like the space between two lovers
Filled with thoughts and longings,
So that they may be miles apart
In measurable distance
Yet close enough to each other
In unfathomable love.
October 23, 2024
Baguio City, Philippines
I thought we were a thing,
But I never knew there was something.
Something you did want to share,
For you thought I didn't want to hear or care.
Now the memories we shared are gone,
They were to last for a generation.
Oooh no they were just heart desires,
The love to us was more powerful than livewires.
Love hurts and it's a complicated thing,
It leaves holes and one wish.
Wishes that never come true,
Only mother's love is true.
The pain in my heart is unbearable,
And the hatred I have is not measurable.
That creature has drowned me in a pool,
A wise man once said it for the fool.
O love, o love where did I go wrong?
What happened? I thought we were getting along.
The outcome must be accepted,
Even though it's not what was expected.
Possibilities, like children, navigate the classable realms,
settling upon the measurable.
Amorous piglets, their peachy snouts delve,
rooting through the trash heap of desire.
"In a time beyond now," wheatenly speaks the tale-spinner,
plucking a clover, pale and crowned with stardust,
among the untamed grains sown in the depth of breath.
She informs a story of the jewel hung in ghastly night,
makes dark fright beauteous and her old face new.
I crave an eye bathed in Bengal's blaze,
eternity riding a celestial pyre,
Cetus dancing on an ocean canvas,
whose seas flow no fresher than the confessions' wicked drippings.
These realms are places of wonder,
where pigments of reality and fantasy blend,
and I am compelled to dwell within my cresset,
explorer of the shining glimmers.
Sipping the subtle freshness,
a learner from the lessons of Experience,
I gaze through colored glass,
where each tint reveals and re-veils truth like a story.
I wait to touch of hem of a thunderbird,
whose wings span the horizon,
whose voice shakes the earth and sky,
whose feathers spark the fire of inspiration.
And I believe I will, someday, when I soar beyond the dawn.
Children of possibilities navigate the classable realms,
settling upon the measurable.
Amorous piglets, their peachy snouts delve,
rooting through the trash heap of desire.
"In a time beyond now," wheatenly speaks the tale-spinner,
plucking a clover, pale and crowned with stardust,
among the untamed grains sown in the depth of breath.
I crave an eye bathed in Bengal's blaze,
eternity riding a celestial pyre,
Cetus dancing on an ocean canvas,
whose seas flow no fresher than the confessions' wicked drippings.
These realms are places of suspicion,
where pigments of reality and fantasy fasten,
and I am compelled to dwell within my cresset,
guardian of the trimming glimmers.
Snipping the subtle freshness,
a novice to the gallows of Experience,
I gaze through colored glass,
where each tint tells a story of refracted truths.
Creativity, a style
The gorgeous fashion
Jeans with heels
A Hat to match
Eye-catching
The designer purse
Sunglasses with diamonds.
White buttoned-up blouse
Belt fashioned and designed
Name brand red bottom shoes
The latest news
Jewelry is with many karats
A watch that lasts.
Shopping in many expensive stores
Handbags full of items
Carried by their assistant
As they arrive at their destination.
Communication, accommodation
Many organizations
A Philanthropist
Handed down by generations
With appreciation
Luxurious transportation.
Fashions and Designs
Fine art
Fancy dishes
Very delicious.
Designs are one of a kind
Hand made
Measurable time
Silk, creative
Fashions and Designs.
As swift behooves,
In challenging quest,
Competitive hearts,
Race their best,
A treasure to win,
One measurable test,
For equine ones,
The World's Best.
new renditions to have compared later. This is with As starting out on first line.
I got a polo neck jumper.
She said they were in.
Pep wears one.
He hasn’t manboobs.
Ribbed, dark grey.
Tighter than it should of been.
With a vintage leather, black jacket.
Sophisticated,continental,
so I bought a pain au chocolate.
From Greggs.
I think he thought I was francais as
I ordered and added si vous plait.
Then blew it by being unable to resist a sausage roll.
Which later I found out to be rouleau de saucisse, not un sausage roll, si vous plait.
“What the bollocks do you look like?”
“Where’s the Milk tray?”
were the first comments at the pub.
But their jealousy was obvious and measurable, being directly proportional to the amount of beer spat out as I walked in.
I ordered a Pernod chaser with my pint of pale ale, small steps.
Faint flame emergent from neurotransmitters.
The brain, a torch arranging patterns of awareness,
patterns of recall, encounters, adventures, and ordeals.
Covert consciousness realized in coma patients,
detected in vegetative invalids by the analyzers
of EEGs, the probers of the mind.
Bedridden with no signs of life,
These sufferers were long thought braindead.
The only question; when to withdraw life support.
But our deepest traces do often linger with immobility.
Our hardly perceptible scintillas send measurable signals.
They offer no bodily changes, no responses to cues.
They never give themselves away in behaviors.
Yet, science now knows them as genuine.
Are these the souls and ghosts felt by our ancestors?
Are these the wraiths and apparitions feared
by so many?
Created from the temporal, assembled from
life, is their structure entirely in the mind?
Maybe part of their energy resides in other realms,
places in and out of which they drift at our death.
Accepted for publication: The Opiate Journal, spring 2023
If I Was a Seagull
If I was a seagull
I wouldn’t have a bank account
I wouldn’t watch misery on TV
No concerns about the economy
Prices rising constantly.
I’d have my own nest
And wouldn’t need to upgrade
Or downsize. My kids would
Leave home naturally.
I’d find enough to eat everyday
I wouldn’t gorge and put on weight
I’d go wherever I desired
I’d be able to sleep when tired.
If I was seagull, I’d be able to swim
Walk and fly. Leave excrement on
Passers-by, laugh and squawk at will.
There’d be no lingering death if ill.
No coffin and false funeral
No religion and propaganda
No investigations by Panorama
No sex abuse by the clergy
No exams, no measurable stress
No jealousy, no hate, no misery
I’d be able to have sex, obviously
No bullying, bulimia, autism or
Dyslexia. I’d suffer from tourrettes
But never need the vets,
No Shakespeare, no poetry
The odd cat might worry me.
If only I was seagull.
David Cox 08/08/22
In the grand scheme of natural things that wane
time seems ever-elusive and eternally unchained
only mankind dares to give it a name;
it eeks through history and space
marking everything in place
never moving backward in its race;
only forward in slow and hectic rhapsodies,
undoing progress with its tragedies
as human ignorance embraces all its parodies;
qualifying distinctive moments of a human race
trying foolishly to control the seconds easily erased
millennia captured in human records of time and space;
time is only measurable and blind
by the random genius of the human mind
in its self-inspired sagacity destined to find
only God creates the persistence on this rock
seconds, hours, years, generations on the clock
ever on the run, in a lifetime fared
time is nowhere yet everywhere
neither here nor there,
a mere second spent in evening prayer.
for Chantelle Cook's Time Poetry
5/27/21
How can anyone write couplets using AKA
Acronyms, impossible as a word from a CAPTCHA
Maybe with much thought then put in OT
With a little SMART goals, knowing one's SWOT
Please would someone at this time just TED
Then at the end I will have been RED
Meanings:
AKA(pronounced a ka)-Also Known As
CAPTCHA(pronounced capt ka)-Completely Automated Public Turning Test to Tell Computers and Humans Apart
OT (pronounce ot(like otto)-Over time
SMART goal- Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, Time-bound-goals
SWOT-(pronounced-sw ot)-Strength, Weaknesses, Opportunities, Threats
TED- Tell me, Explain to me, Describe to me
RED-(my own abbreviation)_Relieve of, Every, Doubt
Smile comes
In volts
Place to place
Person to person
To make
Like in bulbs
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