crumbled clarity
simple words slip in and out of consciousness
this page is the sieve
catching perhaps one
in twenty
the frequency of counter intuitiveness
meeting blue highway
on its way to ultra
speeding up
compressing
vegetables
crumbled clarity
simple words slip in and out of consciousness
this page is the sieve
catching perhaps one
in twenty
the frequency of counter intuitiveness
meeting blue highway
on its way to ultra
speeding up
compressing
That is an intriguing little bit there parsnip. It seems to have a meaning that I can't quite work out.
The kindness of close friends is like a warm blanket
I probably should have put some sort of foreword about how I don't really think I write poetry as much as I rant.
To try and track it in my head, these were some of the things I was thinking about when I wrote it:
The counter intuitive way wave forms are described vs. our perception of them. Like the color red being a low frequency wave form as opposed to blue. And how, even if we can mentally grasp the concept, we still just experience color.
What a nebulous thing it is to try and describe most of our experiences, regardless of the framework language provides us.
And how our minds sometimes move way too quickly to track or really have coherence in anything other than a subjective way. Sort of when things are understood even if they can't be seen or expressed clearly to anyone else. Which is where our understanding can both break down or be met. If that makes sense.
I think I was also thinking about Doppler shifting.
And um...then this little vegetative rant slipped out and I liked the way it sounded.
I should probably say to anyone who ventures in here that I'm never offended by it not making sense to anyone else. Mostly I just kind of spit them out and let them shiftlessly lay about. I don't really have much of an agenda with any of them. It's mainly just a source of enjoyment as well as release for me.
(that last sentence sounds kind of dirty, doesn't it?)
Send more, please.
Roland would have understood.
I like this.
I expecially like this line:
It puts me in mind of what I was thinking of when I wrote the poem we were discussing over in my thread, except you said it much better.this page is the sieve
catching perhaps one
in twenty
There's one hole in every revolution, large or small. And it's one word long.. people. No matter how big the idea they all stand under, people are small and weak and cheap and frightened. It's people that kill every revolution.
Oh, now that's just a bunch of poo. Thank you for the compliments, but there is absolutely no reason for you to undercut your work. Which you need to put up more of, btw.
I don't have to pretend to understand you. I just know I like you. : )
It's peanut butter jelly time!
tonight
the fan breezes
through clean sheets
lulling the smell of tomatos
still dancing the vine
in bittersweet pulsed
funkadelia
and sugarsnap sway
cool hands pooling
the tide
as if to prove
a lifetime of gestures
could soften the blow
we all have to take one day
as if to prove
this day, unlike any other,
could drown me
like slow burned honey
or tipped autumn sun
in anything other than beauty
------
and blushy thank you's and right back atchoos miss lovely most femilicious she-tastic oy
Originally Posted by parsnip
...The counter intuitive way wave forms are described vs. our perception of them. Like the color red being a low frequency wave form as opposed to blue. And how, even if we can mentally grasp the concept, we still just experience color.
What a nebulous thing it is to try and describe most of our experiences, regardless of the framework language provides us.
And how our minds sometimes move way too quickly to track or really have coherence in anything other than a subjective way. Sort of when things are understood even if they can't be seen or expressed clearly to anyone else. Which is where our understanding can both break down or be met. If that makes sense.
Momma told me there would be DAYS like this. SHe is coming back around, though...to put things back the way they should be. HIS story? Nah...we've had enough of that.
shao mao
such cold confusion
pulls the blinds
where you bent through
arched
and determined
with the poetry
of all things
small and trifling
the sly understanding
of cheshire in motion
even experience
can't describe
sly memory
like a trick of light
caught moments after impact
blurs the conception of thought
like some green and sticky
event horizon
accelerating faster
than possible
infinite mass
bound to forgetfulness
propelling history
ah, so K has resurfaced. Welcome back friend. It is good to see you around.oh and i like the poem. it warmed my blood just a tiny bit.
Lalalalaaaa, lalalalaaa
Lalalalaaaa, lalalalaaa
sugarpop <3
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