Thursday, June 30, 2011

Thawing Sundials

Blog post # 205:
(205 = 5*41.)

(I'm going to force myself to post today. I'm not really in the mood to do so.)

Abruptly Obtuse

Extraneous Etcetera

Elsewhere Extroverted

Accomplished Forgetfulness



Oh, sundials thaw,...
Ah, until shadows.


Sole hourglasses are drawn.
Our angels' shards were also.


One poem, written yesterday.

Above And Below

Upon above, there the
half-spheroid ascends
And is partial and is
extraneous, etcetera.
And midway, a strap
becomes such a ring. Yet
At the right, prongs and
spikes do not loop.
And upon below,
two smaller half-spheroids
Descend and are attached
and are irregular
And are unequal.

This configuration is
abrupt but obtuse.
It is oblate and bulging
within its injustice.
Yet its function is
its protrusion,
And its purpose is its
negation. However, ah,
it is both
upwardly and downwardly
Above and below.
Yes, it is both
circular and elliptical.
Quite, its segmentation
is so divided, is
Surely bisected into
one and two, into the
Asymmetry of its
exacting but partitioned
Exemption, into the
top and bottom of a thing
Devoid of palindromes,
devoid of algebras
Each dual or undergone.



Tuesday, June 28, 2011


Blog post # 204:
(204 = 2*2*3*17.)

Five pictures today!

Semisolid Thoroughness

Outstretched But Obvious

The Vanity Of Actuality

Undefined Epitomes

Vacuous Assemblage

(I guess my favorite is Outstretched But Obvious. I guess. And Undefined Epitomes isn't amongst my least favorite of these either.)



Bible's vantage
Bang evil beats.


Partially do.
Rip all today.

(Appropriate, since I am not doing much on my blog today.)

Astronaut boys
Nasty USA-robot


No poetry today!


Loser Leroy

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Memories Of Helices

Blog post # 203:
(203 = 7*29.)

Existential Anesthesia

Quasi-Tangents Thus

Permeated By Permutation


Anagrams (not too clever.):

Maybe our faces imply us each. Noise...
Simply because you are of machines.


Space is here,...
as ice sphere.

(I may have erred with the first one.)

I'm just posting a note to say that if you want to look at some old poetry of mine (which is often in a different style than my current poetry) plus some old art, take a look at my Amorphous Trapezoid blog. (Last added to in March of 2009.)
(I have recently gone through and painstakingly removed the links to my old now-defunct art website. If you come across any such links I missed, please tell me.)

Also, I must note that the older posts to THIS blog are quite different in tone to the current posts. (More word-play before, fewer if any anagrams, for one thing.)
Please take a look at some of those old posts, if you want to.
Is my blog evolving or devolving??....


Poem, what the hell.
(Written yesterday.)

Unlike The Helix

This tripled looping is
not a helix. For,
It inflects and overlaps
its surpassing.
Yet its strap is
thinly a string, but
Such a strand is thick.
Yes, such a wire
Is a ribbon and tube.
And it spins clockwise
Once and counterclockwise
twice. Then it
Rejoins its intersection
with that tangent,
With that serif
surely elongated. Oh,
The winding thing is
not sigmoidal, although
It is somewhat serpentine.
And it is wrongly
Described amongst
this poetry. But still,
It is unlike the helix;
however, it is
Certainly quasi-helical,
quite. I drew
Its ink onto
scratchpaper ignored. And I
Did not demand such
strands to be, nor did I
Demand them to be
of coils or knots. But I
Knew the object was
false and was faulty, and
I knew it was neither
rigid nor reniform.
And I knew its helicalness
was therefore of my
Very superstitions,
was therefore of my own
Questioned imbalance
strung unto a perception
We have conformingly
and comfortably made.



Thursday, June 23, 2011

Trapezoid Dimensions

Blog post # 202:
(202 = 2*101.)

Indescribably Evident

Extremum Wrung

Devoid Of Sines

Somethingness Intended

My favorite of these is, of course, the bottom one, "Somethingness Intended".



Mean Tortures
A True Monster

(This is sort of another fuck-you anagram, such as the one I posted in blog post # 195 {June 4, 2011}.)


Ah, double
Oh, be dual.


See trapezoid dimensions.
One time pi, add zero sines.


One poem today, written yesterday:

A Whirlpool Thickly Ascending

A whirlpool thickly ascending,
its mind is its
Failure, and its thoughts
are its amnesia.
But it seeks its
twisting opaqueness; yet still
Such transparency is
punctured as its suffering.
Yet again such glass is
oval and drowned.

Yes, the whirlpool does
strangely soothe those
Droplets. Thus, it is
vainly vicious, and
It sips the syrup
of its process. Ah,
This whirlpool floats
upwardly and falls
To become triangular steam,
ha. But
That rain is oddly false.
And that water dreams
Of air and silt.
Yes, the whirlpool of
Entirety's protruding hollowness,
it is wrongly
Helical, is wrongly mathematical,
and it is drawn
Only within its crescents.
Yet the eclipse of
Its reality is above our cosmos.
It is above
Truth's fluidic looping,
quite. And it rotates
And encircles about an
extremum of singularities.
It hovers within its
misalignment and malignity,
Within its containment
wrung concavely, wrung
Into the circumstances
of our ignorant thirst, a
Thirst spun gapingly,
a thirst frustratingly
Equal to its own
consequential salve.



Monday, June 20, 2011

Sore Ashes

Blog post # 201:
(201 = 3*67.)

Four new pictures to enjoy:

Suddenness Perturbed

Subsets Of Longitude

Congruently Forgotten

Grotesquely Mediocre



In Abstraction
No brains act it.


Arctangents' Bile
Triangles can't be.


That intrigue is.
It is a true thing.

(Sorry about using "is" in both sides of the anagram. I know that is cheating.)


Anagram puzzle:

What kind of animals devour "sore ashes"?

(Answer in comments.)


Poll results:

Where is reality?

"In your/my mind" wins with 5 votes.
"Somewhere else" received 1 vote.
"In the mind of God", "Before us",
"At the center of the moon",
"In Hell", and "Inside a computer"
each received no votes.


New poll!

Estimate you own IQ:

Less than 50
Greater than 175

Be honest.


No poetry today!



Friday, June 17, 2011

Nothing Spectacular

Blog post # 200:
(200 = 2*5*2*5*2.)

Four not very fantastic pictures:

Thorns Foregone

Paradox Wilted

Elsewhere Transected

Unto Eclipses Undefined


Well, this is my 200th post to this blog. Woopie. This particular post is really unspectacular. And that is just as well, since almost no one reads my blog anyway.

Plus, I'm depressed about so many things lately, I have forgotten what exactly I am depressed about. Something new to be depressed about every day, lots of new things every day.


But I still have an anagram for you all:

A circle passes...
as eclipses arc.


Here are two shitty poems, each just barely worth putting in the blog.
(Written yesterday and today.)

Perpendicular Fluids

Perpendicular fluids flow
as their antithesis;
They flow and float
against their dimensions, and
They become their impediment
otherwise inertial.
Yes, the liquids are derived
via orthogonalities,
And they are formed somewhat
of both tangents and silt.
They drown each droplet
within them, and yet
Still they are spited;
still they are conjoined.
And such wilting water
is transformative in
Its evaporation, in its
solidity surely viscous.

This circularity curves
into its juxtaposition
With its mental failure, ha.
But it does curl
And course, and it is
strung unto that
Mesh, unto that weave
of wetness and its
Amorphousness. Ah,
the fluids flow perpendicularly,
And yet they are real,
yet they are nonexistent
And massive and wrung
from truth's idiocy.

Yes, these fluids converge and
regard their paradoxes.
And their substance is
misaligned. It is askew
But angularly so
about this imbalance, about
That undefined rain of
transparent possibility,
Possibility now conjured,
now concurrent.


Of Such A Wedge Transected

Only 1/8 the sphere is made
from glass; otherwise
It is of air and nonexistence.
And this 1/8 is
A chunk curved about one face
and flat elsewhere
Aside from its corners
and edges thus. It is quite
Obvious and transparently so.
But it does not form
The cone, although
it does form the pyramid.

Through its curved side,
a puncture descends.
And then it penetrates
unto the underside, yes.
For, a droplet of watery ooze
drips from beneath
And falls but does not detach.
The droplet is hewn
from 1/8 the sphere, becoming
That glass, becoming
that dream of thoughts,
Yet becoming that
forgotten tongue of such a notch,
Of such a wedge transected.



Monday, June 13, 2011

Ah, Dance Then Smartly Listen

Blog post # 199:
(199 = a prime.)

4 new pictures in just 2 days. Whew.


Exception To Infinitesimals

Of A Rind Suffered

Violent Agreement


Anagrams (Better than last post's):

Sane Mortality
Yet animals rot.


Healthy Transcendentalism
Ah, dance then smartly listen.


Note regarding the anagram "puzzle" in this blog's last post:
My intended answer was "wet as"... "sweat".
But someone on-line posted that "waste" works too.
I should have seen that myself, but didn't.


I fear for our future, I really do.
What is there to worry about that is likely to occur?
Economic depression (worse than anything we have suffered so far),
war (possibly nuclear or biological),
destruction of our civil liberties,
grave injustices,
other environmental destruction,
peak oil,
mass stupidity and ignorance,
bigotry and pogroms,
etc, etc, etc...

We might as well just sit back and enjoy the Apocalypse, though.
It's not like any of this is real or is in any way as it seems.


Poem! (Written today.)

Blob Of A Weird Wound

Sliced into the odd ovoid,
into the sphere-like cone,
A gap is hewn, and a sliver
is then protruding;
And the inward extract
is obvious beneath
Such a rind. Oh,
a triangular tangent is
Made from what is smoothness.
And it is
Held by a
psychedelic harness about it.

Yes, an orb is sliced
and is now not round.
And the cusp attaches still
unto its origination.
Oh, the notch attaches surely
to this puncturing,
To this sphere-like blob
of a weird wound.

Quite. Sliced into the thing,
exception is
Transcendent and painful.
But the
Cut is only suffered and
is surreally certain
Of its segmentation,
is certain of its injustice
Yet mortal, yet bloody
and frothy and
Drawn from mass as that sap.
Yes, it is drawn
From mass as that carcass
of our failure, as that
Corpse of our angularity
both severed and appended,
Both sliced and diagonal
in its violent agreement.



Saturday, June 11, 2011

Soothing Lapse

Blog post # 198:
(198 = 2*3*3*11.)

Encirclement Of Emollients

Such An Enduring Salve

Quasi-Roundish Occurrence

Coincidental Partitioning

My favorite of these is the bottom one, "Coincidental Partitioning".
(Regarding the first two's names: Note that the salve/emollient was so enduring, I had to refer to it in the second picture as well.)


Today's anagrams:

Our Astronomy
Your Star, Moon


A Spy Myth


This one is so obvious, I won't even tell you what it is.

"Wet as"... (1 word)


In today's capitalist economy,
"supply and demand" is where
those who control all the supply
DEMAND more money from us!...


I often think so hard and deep about things that this makes me...


Two poems!
(Written yesterday and today.)

Inertia Of My Mouth

Such a droplet becomes
the inertia of
My mouth, of my lips
therefore conjured.
Yes, the water drips
downwardly unto my
Perpendicular face.
And it soothes that
Salt of my suffering.
It betrays the
Arid skin amongst me;
and yet it is of
A bitterness quite cold
and transparent.

Ah, this salve redeemed
by the fold, it
Is dampened with
its very amorphousness.
But still, that liquid
forms all passion;
It forms my emergence
and my emollient.
And it annuls
my thoughts and then tastes
Them implicatively.
Yes, such a droplet
Is enduring; for,
it is my encirclement.
It is my equation and
my existential voices
Each cerebral,
each organic but obscure.


Semisolid Hemisphere

Ah, the semisolid hemisphere
is unlike a crescent;
And it wrongs a gibbous sun, ha.
But it is astray
Within its contiguousness;
and here it is plain
But not plaid,
but neither pale nor pitied.
Yet it
Is wrapped partway
in this quartered cloth.
Yes, it is somewhat halved
via its enclosure.

For, that curving envelopment
does hold amongst it
A severed ovoid, yes.
It does hold inside it
The hollowness of
flatness perturbed, Ah,

That semisolid hemisphere
is quasi-roundish
And is so bisected, true.
Again it is
Of a lobe counterbalanced
by its own nonexistence.
It is of a globule
otherwise partitioned and
Elsewhere vindicated
by such frustration. But it
Is thus unremarkably contained,
is therefore
Transcendentally truncated,
but only in its division,
Only in the torment of
its amputation, of its
Dissection never vanishing,
never to be this
Lapse of its occurrence.



Thursday, June 9, 2011

The Intellect Of Idiocy

Blog post # 197:
(197 = a prime.)

Just two pictures today.

Differing From Lateralism

Illusion Maligned


Crappy science-based anagrams:

Geometries seem.
Ergo, time sees me.


Existence ceases.
Ex-science teases.


If you 'stoop' to your 'id',
you're 'stoop-id', of course.


Here's something really dumb:

If you remember denominators, then you have...

Argg, jokes about numbers are...

(I think I already shared that one with you...)


I am stuck in a maze...

The difficult-to-discover ending to a maze would be its...

(Not really a joke, just something to ponder.)


Written yesterday and today.
(These poems aren't really that good. But I felt this blog was in need of some poetry anyway.)

Halves Of Differing Ellipsoids

These two halves of
differing ellipsoids are distant
Upon their undersides and are
adjacent upon zeniths.
They intervene within their
segmentation and interweave
Amongst their smoothness.
And between them, inside
An angled gap, the droplet is
a spike, and it
Flows downwardly from
that attachment. Oh, yet
Another such droplet overlaps
the right semi-ellipsoid.
But it is not quite differing,
unlike the other.

There beneath, the waves
of colorful strands ascend
And fall and lapse unto
their lateralism. These
Tangential substances embellish
Imperfection's items above.
However, that fluid is differing
only from itself.
And it encounters not those
hemi-ellipsoids oblate.
But it superimposes unto them
and conjoins with them
And then is massive.
Then the chaos of all truth
Is differing from its
own rendering, from
Its halving cut trapezoidally
and so refuted.


Faulty Clumping

An ellipse flatly vertical,
a hateful spike flung,
A wisp afloat rightward
-- they each connect
Within this progression of three.
But such a
Configuration is unjust;
And still it is our forgetting.
Yes, we are also ignorant
of our own matter,
Of our own stupidity
aligned against these
Tripled dimensions formed.
And the triad of
Flaps, it is divined upon
its algorithm, quite.
Yet it is depleted of truth
and is denied
Via its scattering.
Yes, it is strung into
The suffering of our
mental containment;
Although, it is
outstretched and oddly so.
But our thoughts are
only phrased by this
Metronome redeemed
with such human illusion.
Ah, our flaps are but flags
and are not slabs.
They are only the
narcissism of our nationalism
And of our faulty clumping
we did malign.



Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Our Static Mayhem

Blog post # 196:
(196 = 2*7*7*2 = 14 squared.)

(Five pictures again.)

Vindictive Truth

Forgotten Coincidence

Amnesia's Certainty

Enumeration Of Dreams

Extracted From Addends



End's Craze
Sacred Zen


Your Mathematics
Our Static Mayhem


The Dream
Dare Them


I use things.
This genius.


Injustice is the rule in this universe, not the exception.

For instance, I bet that regular matter is really the evil negative matter, and that "anti"-matter is the good positive matter. But there is apparently far more regular matter than antimatter in the universe, and it is antimatter that gets a bad rap.

Just watch the news. Evil almost always wins in the end. And the liars end up convincing everyone of their version of the "truth". While the truth-tellers are ridiculed or arrested or worse.

I fear that there is a Heaven and a Hell after all, but the evil people all go to Heaven, while the good people all go to Hell. That would figure.
Some people believe that bad people are reincarnated as lower life forms or as people with shitty lives. I think the opposite is true. I think that people with shitty lives are more likely to have GOOD souls. And the fact that lots of people think they somehow deserve their fates is just more injustice on top of injustice in this universe.

The rich get richer and the poor get poorer, almost always. Those who suffer are made to suffer even more as a result, then are blamed for their own predicament. Why? Because the universe is EVIL, that's why.

So depressed about this...
(But I must have had it coming, right?)


A poem, after such a long hiatus.

Evaluated And Despicably Extracted

My own evaluation of
such summations was partly
Unobvious and completely counted.
But my suffering
Was my success; and yet,
I fail and betray that game
Of composition, of
unredeemed certainty saddened.
Yet I alphabetize not the
numerators imagined to be
Denominators or to be addends
summed ignorantly. Yes,
This game of my faultiness is
stupidly dreamt. However,
It adds only unto adjacency
and divides thereafter.

Surely, I evaluate all amongst
my carelessness;
And I vainly ascertain
this array configured
Tritely and stereotypically as
quite a grid, as quite
That mesh of equilateral equalities
each juxtaposed
Then numbered and so known,
and so remembered
And retained via arrangements
of ridiculousness'
Squares, via the gameboard
of our perpendicularities,
Of our segmentations
evaluated and despicably extracted.



Saturday, June 4, 2011

Thought Pus

Blog post # 195:
(195 = 3*13*5.)

Five pictures today. Yay!

Agony Perturbed

Betrayal Of Betrayal

Dis-unified Imbalance

Engulfed Via Consequence

Reverberant Singularity


I have not much to post today, aside from art and this one anagram. I think I will post a new poll too. No poetry today, though (which is good, because I lose more readers with my poetry than I gain). Wow, that is 3 blog posts in a row without poetry. I'm proud of myself!


Thought Pus
Shot up thug
Shut up, goth!

(No, I am not angry with the goths. I actually love the goths, to be honest. But I feel negative about so many things lately. I guess the anagram just reflects that in general. Fuck it all!)



Where is reality?

1) In the mind of God.
2) In your/my mind.
3) Before us.
4) At the center of the moon.
5) In Hell.
6) Inside a computer.
7) Somewhere else.