Blinking A calling all cars
Annoying D barking incessantly
Where is the C on this distorted musical scale?
Bare breast in my face, I zip my mouth into woodwork.
B for breast, not breasts, as there is only one here.
Cut away from the body, so I doubt she lived
Whoever she was. Bloody business this alphabet.
It comes to me often, insisting.
I stay off the side streets, for they are murderer’s fodder.
Blinking A does not stop any cars tonight.
The predators are on foot. Killing P, M, O, and J
In alleys behind dumpsters. The world has gone ape sh*t mad.
spiritual and cultural numerical figure
thought to be as of the heaven
constellation of seven sisters
reminds the days of the week
consists colours of the rainbow
divine notes on musical scale
total number of seas and continents
snow white runs off to live with dwarves
seven brides for seven brothers
Shakespeare’s man of seven ages
Sinbad the Sailor had same voyages
Ian Fleming had the right ring for James Bond
The world’s favourite number seven
I wanted to write you a poem,
but there are not enough words
in all the languages of the world
to express the essence of your being.
I wanted to paint you a picture
to exhibit the warmth and brightness
and beauty you bring to my life
but there are not enough colours
in the spectrum of light to illustrate
the intense vividness of your presence.
I wanted to compose
you a symphony to give harmony
to all the music you bring to me
but there are not enough notes
in the musical scale to bring forth
the melodious nature of your being.
And so I write this simple letter to say:
You are my first thought in the morning,
and the last thought at night,
and in all the moments in between
I constantly think and dream of you.
I love you. Always.
At the heart of everything lies the mathematics of synchronicity
Chance events send ripples throughout the universe
Causing a chain reaction of effects
Like dominoes toppling over toward infinity
They manifest themselves into infinite realities
Out of the infinite ways that the 10x1040different particles can rearrange
themselves
We are but one arrangement
Random notes written on the musical scale of existence
Randomness is a cosmic DJ that spins the turntable of life
Everything that exists is born out of chaos
And that is beautiful
Random patterns generate through space and create
A blade of grass
A tree
A sunset
A drop of water
The number 10x1040
Spectrum speculations on particular waves
Prismatic refractions of straight beams of light
Showing rainbows of color division
Like octaves of notes on a musical scale
Mixing on palette of chordyllic vision
To play us a picture of moody rendition
On a canvas of mirrors and smoke
Do all these colors match speed in their flight?
Or is it a mad cosmic joke?
Red particles hanging their ten with delight
Surfing a light wave of blue
With purple and green flitting madly alight
At this speed they’re smokingly true
What’s faster the red or the blue?