Oblique void Universe in a nutshell

Aug. 23rd, 2017 06:17 pm
kay_mulan: (cup of hot water)
[personal profile] kay_mulan posting in [community profile] poetry
There is no nothing
for what we call nothing
which is really space
is definately something
emptiness void abyss
all something like glass
from lights point of view
as we are as light to space
we offer eachother no resistance
and yet are as real as eachother
transparent matter to light is space
and perhaps as light is refracted
bent and reflected through glass
and transparent crystal
perhaps so too time, which is
nothing more than the motion of
matter through space also unknown
to our perspective, is also reflected, bent
and reflected on surfaces of spacial
objects creating multiple and changing
dimensions and timelines just beyond our grasp and view

and matter, is but tight loops
of energy caught in the mass of
thier own spin, and energy
but a wave and a wave
tantamaount to a sound
and what if that sound be the voice of God?
and we say but the vibration
is the matter and the void
and yet originated beyond either
and what be beyond that? be that God?
or is there nothing beyond nothing?
no nothing, an infinite soup
of voids as resistance free solids
housing thier own equivacle energy and matter
or something completely as of yet unseen
be there as yet some undiscovered medium, energy or substance
beyond in perceptive ability all
these forementioned things, be that
unknown, the foundation of the known
and so unknown revealed and known
knows and reveals new, or at least
unnoticed unknown without limit, eternal
forever and always every and all things
or be all these things God
or consciousness assuming different
roles in a great universal play
like children playing
and do children not play in
joy and love
so are we not all love and joy?
endlessly playing together
playing out all possible possibilities
presently, now, right now,
now here, right here, nowhere, here now
loves endless imagination pictured
be it possible that all
existance exist within the
imagination of consciousness
of life itself, of all life
each and every no matter what and where
and what if all these forementioned things be alive
and conscious on some level
so what then
be life a dream
of existance or a choice
whats next?
its all immaginary lines, remove
them and all life becomes as
vital to one as ones favourite limb
ergo all existance or at
leastthe knowing of its existance
is a perfect circle the circle
of life thats it.
Endless imagination of the heart in love
and what then of eternal serenely tranquil peace,
and what is peace but a sense of space
some sort of oblique void

Too Much Time and Space

Aug. 23rd, 2017 06:14 pm
kay_mulan: (Default)
[personal profile] kay_mulan posting in [community profile] poetry
Life used to be so simple when Earth was the hub
in a Universe of twinkling stars that revolved around us.
The moon rose, the stars circled, the seasons came and went.
People were born, lived three-score years and ten,
Then died and were buried, remembered with legacies.
But now we're told Earth is a speck of dust
One of nine planets in our solar system circling a mediocre star, our Sun,
which is one tiny sand grain on an endless beach of stars in the Milky Way,
which is one of billions of galaxies in the vast, endless space of the Universe
stretching unimaginably way out there, beyond eternity and comprehension.

Humans have strode the earth for 200,000 years of so,
Life has been here for 3.9 billion years,
The Big Bang, that conceived the Universe, occurred 13.8 billion years ago.
So human existence is a tiny pico-second in the lifetime of the universe.
So how does it help to know humans are a mere skerrick in time and space,
In a universe so old and vast it belies comprehension,
how does knowing this help in any way?
davidfcooper: (Default)
[personal profile] davidfcooper
"How to Behave in a Crowd will resonate with readers who grew up in large intellectual families, but it should also appeal to fiction readers interested not only in families but in learning how to find fulfillment by balancing the life of the mind with life among others in the world outside oneself." -- from my review in New York Journal of Books 

There is so much more I could have said about this book, but revealing spoilers would diminish the pleasure I hope readers will find unraveling its details on their own.






carthaginians: ([b5] the thinker)
[personal profile] carthaginians posting in [community profile] poetry
they ask me to remember
but they want me to remember
their memories
and i keep on remembering
mine

Hymns by Sherman Alexie

Aug. 18th, 2017 07:24 pm
taiga13: Raylan Givens from Justified (Justified)
[personal profile] taiga13 posting in [community profile] poetry
Published August 16, 2017 in response to recent events in the United States

Why do we measure people's capacity
To love by how well they love their progeny?

That kind of love is easy. Encoded.
Any lion can be devoted

To its cubs. Any insect, be it prey
Or predator, worships its own DNA.

Like the wolf, elephant, bear, and bees,
We humans are programmed to love what we conceive... )

do you speak persian | kaveh akbar

Aug. 16th, 2017 10:53 pm
carthaginians: ([sw] the force is with me)
[personal profile] carthaginians posting in [community profile] poetry
Some days we can see Venus in mid-afternoon. Then at night, stars
separated by billions of miles, light travelling years

to die in the back of an eye.

Is there a vocabulary for this—one to make dailiness amplify
and not diminish wonder?

I have been so careless with the words I already have.

I don’t remember how to say home
in my first language, or lonely, or light.

I remember only
delam barat tang shodeh, I miss you,

and shab bekheir, goodnight.

How is school going, Kaveh-joon?
Delam barat tang shodeh.

Are you still drinking?
Shab bekheir.

For so long every step I’ve taken
has been from one tongue to another.

To order the world:
I need, you need, he/she/it needs.

The rest, left to a hungry jackal
in the back of my brain.

Right now our moon looks like a pale cabbage rose.
Delam barat tang shodeh.

We are forever folding into the night.
Shab bekheir.

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