Saturday, March 12, 2011

Axioms Of Axons

Blog post # 167:
(167 = a prime, I think.)

Its Extreme Axiom

Equilibrium Averted

Outcome Oddly Otherwise


Two more acronyms:

NUMBERS = Nature's Utterly Manmade But Eternally Real Substructure.

TERRORISM = Tyranny Entirely Retributive, Reactionary, Obviously Revolutionary; Injustice Sadistically Militant.


Two more anagrams:

A stupid theorem is numbers dismayed.
My rested brain does sum them up, I said.


(A simple one:)

Evil's Fool
Love Foils


Two poems, written 2 days ago and today:

An Asymmetric Dichotomy

A hemispheroid and a
quarter-spheroid join to be 3/4
Of entirety. And in the
quartered convexity,
A hollow was cut into
one corner of ellipticality.
Yes, the hole is pinched and
slants unto the surface
Of conjoinment and
smoothness paraphrased. This
Conglomerate assumes the
composition is misunderstood.
It assumes our solidity is
loathsome and composed.

And it protrudes within the
odd loop of contiguousness.
Yes, it is nestled inside that
disapproval of all dismay.
A hemispheroid and a
quarter-spheroid are an asymmetric
Dichotomy, quite. For,
their masses are extreme,
And their shapes are
intermediate. They do
Form injustice again
in their combination.
But such a thing as
their confluence is seemingly
Partitioned. Seemingly,
the object is drawn, and
Yet it is truly tangential.
Truly, it is maimed
By this notch amongst it.
It then is lopsided
And alone except from
its encirclement, except
For its rectangularity curved
underneath this crescent,
Curved underneath this
abutment noticeably axiomatic,
This abutment noticeably
and counterintuitively indented.


As A Game Quite Empty

A game of conjunction and
inversion, of strangeness
Otherwise exceptional,
and of order otherwise weird,
It is played uncarefully
unto its unexpected
Severing, unto an
outcome surely numbered.
And I perceive our
binary mentality to be
Segmented but untrue,
to be unwieldy but
Thoughtful and returning
to its previousness,
Despite those contrary rules
of a game quite
Empty and beautiful and
unremarkably aglow.

Oh, as a game of
contradicted malice, that
Scrawl is drawn across then
drawn underneath. It
Is performed via my dreams,
and is permutated
Via my pen's assumptions.
Yes, this is such
A lengthwise multiplication
of reversals each
Accumulated; this is a game
of magnificence and
Inwardness. It is a pastime of
placement yet not
Rearranged. And it is
played again in my agony, in
My descent thus recreated.
Ah, it is now
Becoming written in the
counterbalance of certainty,
In the progression counted certainly,
in the progression
Counted as a game oddly horizontal,
as an ignorant game
Therefore of my unmastered losing.



No comments: