Infinity Infinity is a thing made by the alive minds of human kind. Infinity is infinite; is does not end. Some say that everything has a end, even time and space. Time is not infinite; time isn't even a real term in the universe. Time is a sole creation of Man kind; it really, does not exist.Infinity4 hours ago in Free Verse
Time is something that is nothing; clocks and alarms are just a supporting fact of how we humans believe in something that is not there. Time was made as a creation of Humans, and it will always be that way. Time was never a thing, never will be. Yet it is a something to Man kind, for we use it everyday.
Time is a infinite paradox of peoples beliefs. It ends, then begins again. It starts at some point, and ends at the same time. But time isn't real. So it cannot exist.
Things in this world are created by us, and God. We cannot change what has happened, nor can we predict the future. We, as humans, must take what we have at this very moment, and use it to it's very best. Every m
A Description of Happiness in Den Haagthe water in this city reminds me of my second loveA Description of Happiness in Den Haag3 hours ago in Free Verse
wraps around me like a silk sheet in Sevilla summer heat
while the undertow threatens to pull me under
I think of my mother, one glass of wine every night,
keep my distance
we follow the blue arteries until all I see is sand,
soft as cinnamon, I think it must be the finest in the world
I lie without a towel, let the smooth granules press into my crevices,
later whisper that it was the first time my belly had seen the sun,
and make lines of shells in the sand
we go out dancing and someone spills their drink on my sandal and I don't care
my arms are up and amelia is dancing against the wall
her hair has fallen down
she has become her own region of spacetime, a white hole,
an untouchable pulsing mass of energy and light
amelia tips her head back and laughs
a celestial spark on the tip of her tongue
and I know I cannot touch her
before I know it, we are on the stage
bodies moving like the song has lost its consonants,
just long open sound
Quest-i-onSum up the whole of whatever's bothering with a simpering, gentle lathering of howdy-doo.Quest-i-on1 day ago in Free Verse
A smackering of neighbourly complacency.
An innocent hankering for whatever you're nackering ostensibly but sincerely you're fracturing with each passing accumen-credentialed accident pillowed by practicing a patient's reaction to each battered packaging scenario, aware you owe a zero sum to some one but to whom?
And this isn't an answer -- if I could just banter my way to a canter from the trot I've got myself into I'd canister each chant I incanted 'til I could enchant moons with tunes played on the power made by what I've got myself into.
This is a question, a quest-I’m-on-and-questioning.
While I rest I'm on this plan to ruse my hexed elan to get beyond what I've got myself into but the question is how with a mind like a cow's stomachs recycling each now 'til I find myself chowing on a plummet of yore that I got myself into, how do I find the next step and protect my precept of what ept