Re: If it doesn't work then it's a kitten in the clouds.

On Apr 10, 4:54 am, "Dennis M. Hammes" <scrawlm...@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
pittthe...@xxxxxxxxx wrote:
On Apr 9, 6:38 am, "Dennis M. Hammes" <scrawlm...@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:

Sherrie Lee wrote:

On Apr 8, 6:35 am, "Dennis M. Hammes" <scrawlm...@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:

Sherrie Lee wrote:

On Apr 7, 8:17 am, "Dennis M. Hammes" <scrawlm...@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:

pittthe...@xxxxxxxxx wrote:

The time between a warning bell and fright,
A heavy weight and lighter line replaced

"The lighter fine a crushing weight replaced"?

This is a different, possibly better, poem (or mode of poetry) from
that below, though I can see how the /feeling/ was to fit that below.

Very different, and if you write it, definitely better.

By slight exposure, left; the truth a-spaced ...

Yes. You lose ten, twenty pounds, and your rings no longer fit the
same as before losing the weight (when one loses a ring, the weight of
it is gone, too). And how is it for that amount of time that it is not
detected? At that point of detecting its absence there is a process of
(using sense/s?) of trying to find it.

Not always. I know a gal who lost 170 pounds of useless fat in a
single summer.
(She got divorced.)

Yes, that sounds more like a "coming to one's senses" and reconciling
a loss.

Loss sucks, but it's the only thing in nature besides gravity that
comes with a warranty.

No doubt you could explain the First Law better than I understand it.
As I understand it, there is no loss, only change (change in
perspective?). Possibly there is no loss b/c whatever "it" was, was
never there in the first place, only delusion, self-delusion (but is
"imagination" not real? is it really "not there"), and not a lot of

An electron may be "nothing but" a lot of empty space, but it's
completely impermeable ("infinitely hard") to another electron.
If you don't believe me (don't), knock on wood.
Or, when was the last time you had the *** kicked out of you by a
"mere idea," aka "demon" (in the old tongue)?

"willingness" (or capacity) to relate to stress on a "system". It's
what happens after Mach 1. Perhaps you call it entropy, is change, and
man's (woman's too) tendency is to either fight it or let it go
(serenity is a gift to accept what one lacks in capacity to change),
is control. And decisions based upon what happens in a promise

Promise melts at 120 degrees.
At 350 degrees (depending on additives), it becomes cookies.

(Newton's Law of Gravity) today is only tough luck in the future
(Relativity?) when promises change. Accept control over destiny (don't
blame "luck"), some call it God's Will, c'est la vie, que sera, sera,
it is what it is, the Stoic seems to. Others rage, rage against the
lowering of the blade (or something like that).

"You are my density."
(Actually, /my/ destiny appears to be a busted flux capacitor.)



Is depression God's gift to the dying? "Let me go." Or is depression
discovering a lack of control? "I'm dying, and there's nothing that
can be done about it but delay the inevitable." Happiness is what
makes the all the difference (and that says about as much as Frost's
poem says).

Odd. The Old Formula was to pack as much living into the given space
as one could manage. "Density."
This eking out of an already depressed clock is a Modern thing
that seems to result in nothing but limp clocks (cf. Dali, or maybe
it's a misspelling).



Hey! We changed the subject! Let's get back to the poetry (and stop
all this quacking)!

An Object in Motion remains in Motion.
(Motion, Kansas -- but objects can move, so Motion is empty.)
Poetry is the First Law of Motion.
(Well, the City Council /seD/...)

The universe has no edge, the mountain has no top.
Sisyphus must push that rock or not push that rock.
There is no middle term.
To not push is to wake up at the bottom.
(This is called "resurrection.")
Sisyphus must leave notes or not leave notes.
There is no middle term.
To leave notes is called "Poetry."
(Poetry never reaches the right margin
because Sisyphus never reaches the top.)
To not leave notes is to wake up permanently stupid.
(This is called "Eden" by races, "Heaven" by individuals.)

To cease to learn, to cease to sing, is to halt.
To halt is more depressing than gravity.
(Look at all the Rocks that got pushed
no farther than a flat graveyard.)
Horsemen may pity, piss, or laugh as they pass by.
But they pass by.


The pebbles fell, the flash
He carved poetry of rock
The truth got pushed flat

It's rheological.


--
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~/:o)_|
Gresham's Law is not worth a Continental.http://scrawlmark.org

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