Life’s an awful rat race,
and it’s getting trickier and trickier,
so forget the woes you can’t face,
and do nothing in particular.

When life starts getting real tough,
relax from the perpendicular,
lay back and kick your shoes off,
and do nothing in particular.

I write a poem
You write a poem
We write to each other
In hopes that the other will read it
Hear our words
Feel our pain
And yet we don't talk about it
We don't talk at all
Except through our scripted feelings
These thoughts pour out of me
Freezing into words on a screen
But what do they mean?
What do they change?
It's ok to love someone and not be with them
But it's hard to know when that applies
And actions are trickier than words
But here we are
Putting our art
And our hearts
Out there for the world to read
For each other to see
Feeling
Loving
Thinking
And yet we don't speak

We were writers in love
And now we're writers in agony

in hindsight, if I fell in love this easy, I should be able to fall out just as easy, but for whatever reason reversal always seems a lot trickier. faith is just something we use to trick ourselves into thinking everything's okay when in reality there is nothing left, so no, I don't have faith that we'll work this out because that would prove we couldn't. I'm not throwing what we are into the universe and leaving it all up to fate, halfway because I'm a control freak and halfway because it wouldn't be fair to our past, to all that we've been through, to shrug and leave it up to chance.

the night I was planning on leaving you, you were also planning on leaving me. we met up in your bedroom when the sun had just gone down and we were both exhausted, before you'd been at work all day and I'd spent hours in a bookstore, it was a very typical night for us to end up together. I didn't break up with you and you didn't break up with me. does it mean something that both of us had the intention to end it, walk out and not look back? or does it mean something that neither of us went through with it? later you told me the day before when you asked me to meet you in your bedroom at 7, you'd been planning on telling me you had to work it out with her. I laughed and told you that when you asked me to be there at 7, I nodded and decided it was the last time I'd tell you I'd see you there.
in actuality that night we had *** for somewhere around 2 hours and I decided that I wasn't selfless enough to adhere to the cliche of loving someone so much you let them go. you called me baby for the first time that night. to date, you've called me it twice.
in a perfect world, I'd be sitting at a red light trying to catch a glimpse of the accident thirty feet in front of me and I'd pick up my phone and tell you I was having an existential crisis because I was ten seconds away from being hit. in a perfect world, you'd smirk and tell me that's a really selfish mindset because someone actually did get hit and it wasn't me. in a perfect world, I'd lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat and feel content instead of empty. in a perfect world, your arms around me wouldn't remind me of how lonely I am.
I know this love is real, and honest and incomparable, but I also know this love is selfish, and every time I dry heave in my car because your bedroom light is on and her car is out front while I'm trying to navigate, screaming "I have to break up with him, I'm going to break up with him" over and over and over, believing it less and less with every cry, I only end up loving you more, and that's some ******* *******
in a perfect world, I wouldn't have to write this. I wouldn't have to ask you to step outside because my chest feels so tight I think my skin might just rip, and we wouldn't spend 25 minutes of our 30 minute conversation having small talk just to trick my body out of panicking. in a perfect world, I wouldn't say, "she's waiting on you, are you going to be in trouble?" and you wouldn't say, "I dont know, probably. can you breathe?" and I wouldn't reply, "your voice makes everything a little easier," and you wouldn't say, "I don't like that you are in this place," and I wouldn't whisper, "in a perfect world, we would be perfect together, you know? in a perfect world what we have would be perfect. we'd be perfect," and you wouldn't get sad that I was thinking like that again, you wouldn't sigh and say "I know. I have to go soon honey," and I wouldn't say "I know. I know you do. I'll let you go," and you wouldn't say goodbye and ask me to text you when I got home safely, and I wouldn't say I will and wait for you to hang up before whispering, "I love you so much I think I'm going mental".

in hindsight, this should have never started. sitting here now I can tell you 4,000 ways this could have stopped before it became such a gross mixture of gratifying and the most painful experience to date. I read the other day that our hearts form before our brains so maybe my reluctance to listen to reason has to do with my heart crying out seniority and swearing it knows what it's doing. It's funny to think about the night we started and how many different things fell apart before you saw me and told me you liked my smile and asked me to text you. I wasn't even supposed to be there that night. I could call that fate, that the stars had me and you in mind that night when they got my gig cancelled and called me into work, or I could say something like, "in a perfect world, I could love you, and you could love me, and that could be enough"

You are distant from me,
Not in space or time,
But in a trickier dimension altogether,
Known as love.
And your distance
Makes me wish
I could build a spaceship
Fit to travel at the speed of changing hearts
And bring you back to me.

Empty words pour over one another and we bath in it
I want to *****. Pinkies crossed, keep my own blood promise.
Clasp raised hands, you're just two ******* grand.
While the empty crowds and fake personalities go crazy in the stands,
And the non-imaginary friends rally to take a stand.
Judge me, judge them until you're at full self esteem
Shiny train wreck tracks, two tons more and full steam
Ahead, altered image in your head to fit the rhyme and time before we split
Apart into the tiniest of atoms, I wish you'd shatter and splatter already,
70% water and you're still pretty **** heavy,
Though if by mass or volume remains a mystery.
Open eyes, twisted spine, take your shoes, give you mine
The top of the pond is warm, but just wait until the dark fills the lake,
And the hopping waterbugs overtake and your body is no longer your own.
Queen, **** it, King, sit on my throne,
And look at the useless fruitfulness that I have grown.
Trust you as far as I could throw a stone and it landed among the seeds I'd sown,
Silver puddle reflects to me that the you I'd known has left me all alone.
Friendship without sun drowns us in a matter of hours
***** fertilizer and weeds choke out the flowers.
And all the while this ***** dreadful night
Can taste the lightness of our fright, and be remembered as the day,
That the privlaged beggers finally picked a fight.
*******, we used to care about one another
Though I won't say we've grown up or apart,
Our dimensions seem to have warped an awful lot.
It could be that this is art in the rambling, symbolic diary sense,
But let's have some common sense, no props to those
Who cheat and repeat, force the burden of meaning on the helpless seedling.
Abstract art and children separated by a mirrored glass wall to encourage real work
And here's to the curses written inside the bathroom stall,
Embraced and erased, then forgotten years later
Memories wiped without a trace, this human race
I'll bet you can win, but I still run faster
You tricky ******* set up traps along the track
Encouraged by the sadistic master.
Paper, tin and plaster;
Save the past so she remembers the tactless *******
That was presented as a present and in the present now presents
A trickier problem than he could devise if he had tried.
Perhaps he never lied, but looked at the fingers, little miss
Scarlet tips, tried to deny but the die is dyed with fine metallic mist.
Gleaming puppy-dog eyes pour remorse, of course,
But given another pure, white sheet
Would prove even more efficient in "accidental" deceit.
So row, so row, goes the lame claim that my words manage
To stay same in your brain, gain an image of the pain and strain.
No love, never then, never again.
Continue talking, and walking apart
I'm sorry, screamed. What's that you say?
Hate and love splatter tiny red dots on the scatter plot
Flash frame, freeze for a fraction, minds captivated by action
Divide and multiply the fractions and traction,
Keeping the same, grown apart, helplessly together,
Until, comparatively, even static falls apart.

There are ways
To be ready for a death of the soul.
The way you'd write a will
Or take medication to ease the pain.
People to say goodbye to,
Loose ends to tie...
Granted,
It's a little trickier when you know your body will still go on
After you die.
When you know you'll have to leave it and then
Slam back inside
And handle all the damage done in your absence.
But
There are ways.
Silently I tie back my hair.
Pour myself a frosty glass of milk.
I hate milk.
Always have.
I drink the whole thing.
Milk makes it less painful when you get sick.
Whatever I hear from you tonight,
I know I have been terrified long enough,
And there is just no way
I'm gonna keep this food.
Too bad,
I muse,
Rinsing out my glass.
I did love my dinner.
I had hoped we wouldn't meet again.
In the mirror a girl with my face
Raises a debonair eyebrow.
I wish I was as good at brushing this off
As she is.
I remove my earrings.
I put on some comfortable clothes.
It is rather like hearing the warning on the radio
That a hurricane or tsunami is headed your way
And there's not enough time to leave,
Only to prepare.
I am piling sandbags.
I am sealing my windows and doors,
Retreating to the cellar of my soul.
I am
Mechanically,
Numbly
Doing everything I can to minimize the damage,
And prepare to pick up the pieces.
I wonder
What will be salvageable
This time
From the ruins.
I hope the advance notice
Has made a difference
Because the tension of
Waiting for the storm to hit
Just might stop my heart.

we danced in starlight
and slept in mirrors,
leaving our heads
and finding our spirits.
small cities and escape plans--
like sardines we piled into the metal,
viewing different slides of life.
chasing the echo of thought
pinned between railroads
as sharks to the sea,
salty and brine.
we landed in Midworld's bar,
stepping out of our skins
and into new cells.
like dna strands unwinding
in a sea of atoms.
holding together on a galactic
cord.
we wrote our own science fictions
but finding your body again,
is trickier.

Like a pack running from a predator
we all dispersed
without ample time to say goodbyes
confess to one another
which beautiful moments
that we treasure most

Like a pack running from a predator
we knew the drill
it's inevitable that we all must leave
but that still does not set us at ease
our hearts pulling in new directions

Departures are always much
trickier than arrivals

Time slips by quicker
as the ground we walk upon ripples

And what was once familiar to us
feels like Déjà vu
we think we've been here before
but then again, we're not really sure

See, we're walking with new feet
down an unchanged street
coming across people
who want us to chop up our time
place our experience on a line
that can be measured

We all know that's not the real treasure
but we indulge them
for their own pleasure
they just don't know any better

But we do
we know that travel can't be plotted on a graph
it's effect on you is not linear, like math

And the people who we meet
enter our lives out of pure chance
our hearts collide and the fates dance

In the depths of my soul
I know it's true
that however brief
I was meant to meet
each and every one of you

I fell in love everyday with
people
places
moments
conversations

All of which will serve as
my central station
while I attempt the navigation
of re-assimilation.

Every end is a new beginning.
But where do you start
when there was no end?

Life is tricky.
Love is even trickier.
One thought can change the way
you think entirely.

You may think you have it all
figured out. Only to have
one person distort your
reality.

I had thought I knew what life
and love was.
Then you came into my life and
had me scrambling to fit pieces
into a puzzle that didn't belong.

Unfinished poetry is normal to me now,
because there is never an end to emotions.
What you may feel now, may not be how
you think later.

Poetry has a beginning,
but it doesn't always have to
have an...

Math is appropriating the qualities of form so as to make generalizations about their interactions.
Like saying W=wisdom, l=love, and s=speech, then I could say W(l,s)=Wl+Ws.
Here wisdom acts as a qualitative change of l and s together.
Or, W(l,s)=Wl*Ws.
In this way wisdom act as a multiplier, but it could get trickier if wisdom acted as both a multiplier and a qualitative change.
So I could ask how I could represent that.

The difference is that wisdom has no physical representative.
Whereas stating V, a smooth vector space, has elements (e1,...,en) automatically gives a representation.
Functions onto this space would be characterized both by its definition and representation, much like the term "running".
What seems difficult is adding more and more verbs together to form other verbs, where these verbs have a whole list of what is included.
Also, why would two different symbols, like walk and run, have similar qualities?
Or, why would two similar definitions, like escort and escrow, have different meanings?
Thus, although math is said to be a universal language, it still is a nuanced language, and the number of years and hours spent learning it is directly related to its familiarity.

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                    When is a Man Ripe for Harvesting?

Sunflowers are easy enough – the petals turn brown
And the base is yellow, or better yet
When in the heat of summer birds and squirrels
Present themselves in your garden as dinner guests

But humans, now – that’s a bit trickier
It would be most undignified to be eaten
And pills and electrocardiograms
Are even more undignified in their own ways

Autumn would be better, on a golden day
Yes, autumn, bright autumn
                              when the geese are calling

A word after more words,
Creates other dimensions.
Changing entire generations,
A whole new structure,
Built for different intentions.
Persuading,
Emotional expression,
trickier purposes —
Like old plain manipulation.
Of an individual,
Or perhaps a huge nation.
So take precautions.
As this is a cautionary tale.
Since you are building,
Each line of yours
can either shape or break.
After all,
Here,
we all are
What In my mind
I like to call:
“The World’s oldest Architects”