Poem Collection 1

Article ID: 15*

Had witness my fall you recalled the path I took,
Projectiles to pass by space; time closed thy book
To ram but slow I shut my ears and eyes
Flowing through called history thy trust no doubt?

Damaged walls, flake of snow
Fluorescent bulbs to the wicked glow
Copper-plated zinc, as electrons fly off—
Less energy, more mass,
Bonds fuse and dissipate through.

Call for distress I pull through wind and
Reciprocal squares guard my flame!
Gift of time we lost our brain,
Collectively trialed to the scent of law.

A tie, a knot
Blank tile of red paper
No truth I behold
booklets I then fold
Leaves have fallen through
The last rupture of space
Time hauls, halts, as
My inertia approaches the essence
Subjectivity I entail
That last, final mail.
First straw thy burnt
Reducingly brick red I turn
Why, the notion of myself?
What basis vectors I base upon?
Me, contra-variant perspectives
Limited at zero but never approaching
in finite steps.
Impedance to the arrow
Coils induce, right thumb.
Like a diverging series I pass
Through covariant species.

Maple trees that vanish
While last it's me who's banished,
Equations you cannot derive.
Integrate; syndicate; resonate!
Iterating through the ashes of history
We being in the gory and your glory.
We're all in a hurry, but worry you not;
I had my best at calculating my determinant,
What's left is all but ultimately permanent.
Clot! Shot? Weeding through time and space.
No eigenvalues that mind could could encompass,
While you still have the privilege for forecasts!

A game of roulette
That starry of a couplet;
Seeking knowledge
Without that assuage.
Thy brain is squishy
Heart ceases to be wishy.
Dreams crushed,
Faces blushed.
Perpetually elevated,
Never subjugated.

May the base case be proven, by induction
we arrive at a construction.
Blocks of clay invisibly built,
No sense of pride or guilt.
Cold and austere,
Painting a sphere clear near.
Dreams of symbols,
Winge for the last call.
But it always awaits,
Never do you demodulate.
No need to be redemptive,
Truth itself relative.

At the end of the day I phew
Lips turn blue;
Falling into misery
No degree that I've deprived!
Painting my soul,
Let go of that control.
Strolling enrolling a whole percent.
Nothing to represent, scent of intent—
Reproaching the limit
only Pis and Sigmas
By what they underlie.
No reply.

Deprived of truth that I see eternal,
I swear to god, none that saw feudal.
Coaxially aligned my heart's contrived,
By pen and ink thy mind has arrived.

Standing on the shoulder of giants—
or rather under the shoes of no alliant's.
I burn, I oxidize, but then reduce,
But no theorem or method could induce.

May those not maligned shall fly,
No key of mine might apply.
Bombard the idea that I survive
All I am is alive.