Tempestrousseau
The clock is dressed in drag, I mean it wears
space instead of its own proper aspect
but if it wore time, would it disappear
isn't visibility an effect
of transvestism, that shield pastime whose
crosscasual aim unmasks the eye: must you
assume the costume of the other to
be here, to present the sense with an ess. . .
Narcissus saw his guise decked out all ruse,
but if there were none, what would our true clothes
consist of, our rig rags, our regalia—
Whose dapper element dons us: Einstein's
continuum—or Flaubert's condence
that, come the same, the Bovary c'est Moi?
poem by Bill Knott
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Einsein's Magic
If I can by the weight of my mind
affect the frequencies between
you and I
and mere proximity
can gravitationally
bend light and the space between
you and I
approaching
each with smooth intents
then we each
exhibit Einstein.
If space and time bend
due to our mental fields
and our mutual gravities
then what we all suspect
was proven true
by the theory of general relativity.
Thus, everything by extension
is indeed connected to everything
because a ripple in the time-space
continuum passes all along the fabric
to it's furtherest corners.
But what is practicable from all of this;
what meanings can we draw?
Well, one is the possibility that if
we find a way to amplify the effect
upon the fabric from our individual
effects upon it-
our individual signatures so to speak-
we have just defined
the very definition of Magic.
To be clear:
If gravity
alters time and space
then the apple does not fall to the ground
the apple is pulled down by the time and space
surrounding it which get altered by the gravity of objects.
Humm, look at it this way:
Take a bed-sheet, put a marble in the middle
shift the bed-sheet and the marble moves because
you have altered the fabric of time space which the
bed-sheet represents.
Now think further:
You and I have a small amount of gravitational pull
as well thus, individually, we too alter time-space
albeit very slightly in this bedsheet world;
and thereby affect everything and each other.
From this is born Einsteinian magic
which is the ability to bend time-space
transmitted through frequencies which are
generated by motion and movement in the time-
space continuum.
I promise you all of this is true
and is the basis of all magic
mine Einsteins and yours..
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Madame Bovary is myself.
quote by Gustave Flaubert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The true poet for me is a priest. As soon as he dons the cassock, he must leave his family.
quote by Gustave Flaubert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Human speech is a cracked cauldron on which we knock out tunes for dancing bears, when we wish to conjure pity from the stars.
Gustave Flaubert in Madame Bovary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The human language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out a tune for a dancing bear, when we hope with our music to move the stars.
Gustave Flaubert in Madame Bovary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Craddock’s Time Theory Age Relative
light years apart
in space time
continuum
youth three-dimensional
stretching into mathematical models
age a fourth dimension
spatial dimensions
our spacetime passing each other
is space and time in a single continuum
our shared Euclidean space
on this plane of existence
is but the trap of physical flesh
our atoms bound at every point
in three-dimensional Euclidean space
by flesh infused fixed points
determined by three coordinates
yet our thoughts are timeless
infinite bound by no scientific laws
they can flow spread be anywhere any time
in universe at instant thought speed
instant in arrival at multiple locations
they enter into realities past curved space
worn holes are for porous slow minds
higher dimensions bypass imagination
non-Euclidean geometry the cage play pen
Einstein’s general theory of relativity
a manifold universe of but three
dimensions of space one of time
denies all time existing simultaneously
within a God state span spun within eternity
supergalatic subatomic levels are but focused lenses
begging new observations into eye opening realities
unperceived ignored unknown awaiting perception orientation
before eureka moment God reloading reality matrix
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Me-Time Continuum
I watch the clock ticking out its time.
I hear the gears tocking 'till the chime…
I hold my stare acutely
And focus ears astutely.
The whole gestalt of this assault by me on clock
Collapses in to hence become
A new me-time continuum,
This clock and I a vacuum;
Dial and me, we've come to be
A synergistic, fatalistic victim,
Hmm…
When it ticks, I then tock:
I am me as well as clock.
When it tocks, I then tick.
We burn together down the wick
In candle wax, both cold and warm,
Together now in molten form.
We jump the side but soon to stall,
Only to solidify
Until the active plateau
Chases…
Down…
Sinking…
To melt again the bit that ran (us) –
All in a time storm
With timeless plan.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Ti me time time time time time time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time
Time time
Time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time time time time time time time
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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He who wears too fine clothes, shall go about in rags.
This dapper little mouse that wore such cute clothes and said such interesting things, yeah. I thought it was a great idea to have a mouse like that in your family, so now I get to see what it was like.
quote by Geena Davis
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For none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; and human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.
Gustave Flaubert in Charles Bovary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time, unfortunately, though it makes animals and vegetables bloom and fade with amazing punctuality, has no such simple effect upon the mind of man. The mind of man, moreover, works with equal strangeness upon the body of time. An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length; on the other hand, an hour may be accurately represented on the timepiece of the mind by one second. This extraordinary discrepancy between time on the clock and time in the mind is less known than it should be and deserves fuller investigation.
Virginia Woolf in Orlando: A Biography
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Dapper Old Fellow
I know this old bloke in his eighties he is such a dapper old man
A batchelor and one without children he nears the end of his life span
Always well dressed and never unhappy with a full head of silver gray hair
As he walks down the street in the morning he whistles some happy old air
He has lived a life of adventure and to distant places he's been
And all of the World's great Cities and Landmarks of note he has seen
Now too old for distant travel but in him the longing does remain
For to travel roads he has not travelled the highways and the byways again
A dapper old fellow in his eighties for years he has lived on his own
And the good and not so good times in his life he has seen and has known
But time it is running out on him and the clock on his life it ticks on
And the wanderlust it is still in him though his better days are long over and gone
Yet a happier or nicer person one hardly could wish for to meet
And he whistles with the joy of living as he slowly walks down the street.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Epidermal Macabre
Indelicate is he who loathes
The aspect of his fleshy clothes, --
The flying fabric stitched on bone,
The vesture of the skeleton,
The garment neither fur nor hair,
The cloak of evil and despair,
The veil long violated by
Caresses of the hand and eye.
Yet such is my unseemliness:
I hate my epidermal dress,
The savage blood's obscenity,
The rags of my anatomy,
And willingly would I dispense
With false accouterments of sense,
To sleep immodestly, a most
Incarnadine and carnal ghost.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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Life Is A Drag
Submitted for your inspection
The evolutionary erection
Of primitive man
But before we explore the question of his sense of style
We must point out his predilection
To cover his glands
Brothers, weve been led to believe
That between adam and eve
There was nothing to hide
Were it not for eves primal haste
Or a leaf strategically placed
Who knows what shed decide
Eve and some guy named clyde
Thats why life is a drag
Life is just a pose in a rag
You can play the part of
Pusher or pastor
Of harlot or hag
Life is just a dressing game
Life is a drag
The argument can be rendered
All bodies are forcibly gendered
By how they are wrapped
And though popular opinion holds this
Makes us civilized
So much deference is attended
By whats in ones lap
History proves that
Who wears the pants is as much a mere circumstance
As a matter of time
Ultimately, why should we care
Where one buys ones lace underwear
If one is so inclined
Show me yours, Ill show mine
Thats why life is a drag
Fashion is a long running gag
We can deck you out in sequins or spandex
A mohawk or shag
Who remembers unisex?
Life is a drag
Its a drag
What a drag
You can be a stag in a bag
They wont know until youre stiff
On a slab and they look at the tag
What you see is what you get
Life is a drag
Lets just say
We hereby conspire
That a change of attire
Is all part of the plan
Something that was so long suppressed
Starts to show when you wear a dress
And if clothes make the man
They can unmake the man
Thats why life is a drag
Life is just a pose in a rag
You can play the part of
Pusher or pastor
Of harlot or hag
Life is just a dressing game
Life is a drag
Its a drag
What a drag
Fashion is a long running gag
Arent you glad they found a way to look hip
When your butt starts to sag
Praise the lord, designer jeans
What you see is what you get
Who remembers unisex
And who are you calling fag
Life is a drag
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Tomorrow's Parties
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
To all tomorrow's parties
And where will she go and what shall she do
When midnight comes around
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties
Why silks and linens of yesterday's gowns
To all tomorrow's parties
And what will she do with Thursday's rags
When Monday comes around
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties
For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown
For whom none will go mourning
A blackened shroud, a hand-me-down gown
Of rags and silks, a costume
Fit for one who sits and cries
For all tomorrow's parties
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coat Of Many Colors
Back through the years
I go wandering once again
Back to the seasons of my youth
I recall the box of rags
Someone gave us
And how my mama put the rags to use
There were rags of many colors
Every piece was small
And I didnt have a coat
And it was away down in the fall
Mama sewed the rags together
So in every piece with luck
She made my coat of many colors
That I was so proud of
As she sewed, she told a story
From the Bible she had read
About a coat of many colors joseph wore
And then she said,
Perhaps this coat
Will bring you good luck and happiness
And I just couldnt wait to wear it
And my mama blessed it with a kiss
My coat of many colors
That my mama made for me
Made only from rags
That I wore it so proudly
Although we had no money
Well, I was rich as I could be
In my coat of many colors
I hurried off to school
Just to find the others laughing
And making fun of me
In my coat of many colors
My mama made for me
And no, I couldnt understand it
For I felt I was rich
And I told them all the story
Mama told me while she sewed
And how my coat of many colors
Was worth more than all their clothes
But they didnt understand it
And I tried to make them see
But one is only poor
Only if he chooses to be.
Now I know we had no money
In my coat of many colors
My mama made for me
Made just for me
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Tomorrows Parties
(reed)
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrows parties
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
To all tomorrows parties
And where will she go and what shall she do
When midnight comes around
Shell turn once more to sundays clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrows parties
Why silks and linens of yesterdays gowns
To all tomorrows parties
And what will she do with thursdays rags
When monday comes around
Shell turn once more to sundays clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrows parties
For thursdays child is sundays clown
For whom none will go mourning
A blackened shroud, a hand-me-down gown
Of rags and silks, a costume
Fit for one who sits and cries
For all tomorrows parties
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roll On Time, Roll On
Air -- "Roll on, Silver Moon."
Roll on time, roll on, as it always has done,
Since the time this world first begun;
It can never change my love that I gave a dear man,
Faithful friend, I gave my heart and hand.
CHORUS:
Roll on time, roll on, it can never turn back
To the time of my maiden days --
To the time of my youth it can never turn back
When I wandered with my love, bright and gay.
I was happy then as a girl could ever be,
And live on this earth here below --
I was happy as a lark and as busy as a bee,
For in fashion or in style I did not go.
My parents were poor and they could not dress me so,
For they had not got the money to spare,
And it may be better so, for I do not think fine clothes
Make a person any better than they are.
Some people are getting so they think a poor girl,
Though she be bright and intelligent and gay,
She must have nice clothes, or she is nothing in this world,
If she is not dressed in style every day.
Remember never to judge people by their clothes,
For our brave, noble Washington said,
"Honorable are rags, if a true heart they enclose,"
And I found it was the truth when I married.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Exaggerated turns of speech conceal mediocre affections: as if the fulness of the soul might not sometimes overflow in the emptiest of metaphors, since no one, ever, can give the exact measurements of his needs, nor of his conceptions, nor of his sufferings, and the human word is like a cracked cauldron upon which we beat out melodies fit for making bears dance when we are trying to move the stars to pity.
Gustave Flaubert in Madame Bovary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything is for you
Yes dear everything for you
And what can be good and true
No matter is permanent in nature
They have to disappear for sure
Darkness should never take over
Trust and faith should always form formidable cover
No frustration or drawbacks can penetrate in shield
That should be only one and your exclusive field
Memories are meant to be pleasant
They should never be integral part in your present
If given prominence or domain may demolish your fabric
This is what God has given to us as lessons in basic
Trust only one power that is divine
No fear should be kept from female or feminine
Whatever may be their great contribution or lasting effect?
You should stand fast in any case with stubborn act
Let them remain in remote corner as dream
Neither as night mare nor as powerful beam
Let them not dominate on what you are today
Almighty may show the destiny and powerful way
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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