Of Space, and Time

It seems as though the bigger you were, the slower time would pass. I picture myself as a giant. A true titan, towering a million miles high, looking down at a beam of light passing by my feet as one would look at a spider crawling across the floor.

root chakra request

Oh, my yearning to congeal,
orbit 'round other one,
another,
more.
To cease the weaving of
my pieces,
ground this introspective chore.

Afternoon Prose

I've been sitting on this mountain pass at Vinson Massif for what feels like months. Hector should be back anytime now. Where's he been? The sled dogs couldn't have broken off again could they have? Ugh.. It is August.. I wonder if there was a storm.. All I've been left with is a single coat, Kevlar gloves, my hiking boots, and three greasy Slim Jims. That guy's is treading on my last nerve... What do the people speak down here?... Are there even people?... I usually know things like that...
"CRIKEY!"
"Stay tuned, 'cause after these short messages, we'll see what I did to cure violent boredom on, 'Steven Irwin as Bear Grills: Wayyyyy Down Under'"

COMMERCIAL BREAK

(90 second time lapse)

"We appear to be having some technical difficulties. If you'll please remain patient, the problem should be fixed in a short while. Thank you. . ."

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Click... "Ugh." Click... "Kerry looks like a pterodactyl." Click... "Hmmm.. Baked Alaska... Sammy would freak if I surprised her with that for the reunion Saturday.. I guess if I really want to, I can look it up later though." Click... "MTV is for mulattoes that wear Usher brand cologne, and drive cars their parents can't afford. Hoorah melting pot... Why do I even care? Why did I waste fifteen seconds talking about it? Wow.. Why am I still talking about it?. I would not do that for no reason/."
CSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHTSTSTSTSTSTS!
"What the hell?!"
The glass from the window spread across the living room floor as the 6'9' tribally clad Amazonian pulled himself through the opening onto Austin's T.V.

Duffodeelas

The alchemist isn't turning his head from the soul,
The alchemist is the soul tilting its head over the walls,
The alchemist does not need to look for his source because he is it,
It is the eye that looks,
It is not off or in juxtaposition, It has no circumference or innate gravity,
It is the ubiquitous element that births and connects the 'real' and the finite,
It alone is there.
All else is just All most.
No deductive reasoning can scoop its hands collecting the high border of its scalp,
and retrieve God for the stomach as thorough sustenance,
that would be suicide and irony that has nothing to be for,
Not the thought or remembrance that it was, to recount, or liberality for itself,
It is Atlas, apathetic and weighed down like a machine that can't be untouched,
And has a cracking Vegas nerve that consumes the rests' like a juggernaut

Savvy Hump-backed Bell Basher (fe) probably vs. Benedict the XVI

She shed where the banshee is going evaporation follicle debris the shortest visible wavelength. A is after B ecause that shot bolted stout shouting fig ferocious water bogger (liberal) is a A LOT bigger than any of us here in the crowd today. We’ve come to honor the situation as it is. We come to exit in all the grandeur of all the things like a penultimate infinity shooting towards a singularity and all is taken over except the final possible amount. In penultimate infinity we find all the matter and meaning, more than the labels of feelings themselves but the actual exponent of the omnipotent component. The deity can make itself collapse for nothing but nothing cannot make the deity collapse, or erect itself for all the ‘thing’ we could know, or never know in the penultimate infinity. This can’t be a vain act allowed by phalangial steak or something that flows like a river with crimson element through what the mass thinks is only its’ own possession. And to think we are separate or broken or in need of symbol is just as temporary as the number on the clock that is always intermittent and punctual there, but only counts if we’re looking at that time of day or night, or hear the utterance of another’s presumably indubious recognition. The sun keeps his games in that area. From what we’ve told it to be, it became. Is that not a lopsided ratio of delegated sovereignty? "Pish posh," said the hard clipped sosh; and his chamber pot was promptly emptied into the streets of the Vatican.

2014

The cleaved wet obsidian slope that is adulthood's front yard,
crushed down and made obsolete by Nostradamus' terminating date,
two turns since shows a petrified Pompeii replay,
a quivering static gesture,
gray matter factory made matter of factually grayer,
Quanta cadavers composing the mantle tsunami and a final subjective thrust,

suspended weightless,

a mosquito in the sap of omnipotent insouciance

There once was a boy from Cameroon
He needed a bite to eat soon
The boy was so tender,
Starved, battered, and slender
That Death fed upon him with a spoon