Poll: asdat
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View poll results: asdat
3 43%
2 29%
2 29%
other color
4 57%
Voters: 7.
Top 2 advance, multi-vote. Don't vote for your own.


A Blackbird, the Ethel of valedictions,
ascends itself on the Synagogues.
We unwind the breadth of redemption;
the façade of Torah.
Beneath the rabbit holes of singularity,
we find ourselves closer to sin.

The calm before the storm
resonates the renaissance of a dying city.
But we mustn’t anticipate the fall of Man
nor must we cascade in continuum.
No one’s going to come and save you
when the Alchemy turns the sun to gold.

The opiate of humanity,
the annunciation from the broken thorns;
we fade by the blowing of the horn.

---"Mag's Scenario."---

into his gourd.
and bored;
as he ignored.
they threw marbles of
hatred at his
naked condition.
how blind the
insolence became!
but it rains everyday.
while he dripped forgiveness.
it's all the same.

magnanimus blimpus;
it's what they called him.
funny how science
can be applied in the most
arbitrary situations.
they were all variables
of ignorance.
sometimes he viewed them as constants


Once upon a time there was a Father
Who by seven wives had seven sons.
Each one had a wife and seven daughters.
All together they weighed several tons…

“Not another piece of propagation!,
Said young Billy, sick of n-factorials.
Can’t they stick to ice cream combinations?
Or at least a husband with some morals?

But alas, I better get to counting.
One…Eight… …seven… Wait! Each had a wife?!?
…Seventy and one is their amounting.
Now I can get on with my own life.”

Tragically, he read not the whole question.
He was s’posed to pedigree depression.

---Of Pigments And Protons---

The light caged in your eyes
is released, spun of glass and
liquid in shape.
Its texture is ethereal
and it tastes of Argon.
As Noble gases react (clash, collide);
you cry Magentas and bleed of Cyan.
Sum up this nonmetal attraction,
An entrepreneur of Entropic ends.
You have a mastery of
this savage wonder,
as cold and perfect as starlight;
and I drink it, breathe it, bleed it, with every blink.

Sphygmomanometer got your tongue?

The mercury clung,
elastic film holding it together,
in the moment before it unhooked
from the apex of my tongue.
As it glided, the distortions
of Silver made me see the world
not as it is but as it could be.
And in that chilled, trudging
moment, every grey glimmer
became divine in its own right:
The perfect semblance of
Black and White; Yin and Yang,
bound and blended in liquid form.
It was no longer a color,
but all Color. Ultras and Infras both
clasp spectral hands;
an electromagnetic waltz
to the tune of your atomic number,
holding all hope; all hate
in its prism