deepundergroundpoetry.com

Over the head...

'    
The theory of relativity, what is that, cause its fucking weird when it hits you in your mind like a needle with a  breath on the end of it…. I read it once.  What is that?      
   
It states that whatever can vary in space can also vary in time – there is much to play with in space-time.   The theory of relativity – it was filled with mathematical theorems like fuzzy rabbits.   I never got mad at them; I just didn’t know what to do with them, or their hats.   I just threw them in a bucket under the bed and didn’t let it stop me getting at the deeper meaning.  The theory of relativity, what is that?      
   
Mechanism of thought: Physics causes my ears to rise on both sides, on both sides of my brain like a clairvoyant elf, causing my smile to be high-jacked in the corners of my mind – suddenly, stripes are on my face like a Cheshire cat,  like a figure moving out from the ribbon.  There's a spin rate that makes it happen. What is that?   It seems that these laws of mechanics are the geometrical patterns in thoughts as well.   I can do anything I want with the laws but not sure what to do with this bucket of numbers, good to no one.    
 
There is an underlying structure to everything, and through the linear 2D scale of Cartesian coordinate system, these things can rise and take shape in 3D through laws of motion.  It’s like following the inside of the equator from the inside of the earth – you just keep going round and round without falling up giving rise to the shape shifting of a wave to mass to energy and the mechanics by which our world works and measure the motion of the planets.   The mechanism of thought, Can’t say what it is don’t know what it is.  
       
I got to thinking about those bunnies. That’s all I get from those theorems under the bed under the bucket under my head.  I remembered the kittens.  I was called in for supper and wanted them to stay I guess, I was barely 4 by then.  I put them under the milk bucket in the drive where I was playing by the barn, and took off for the house like Mom asked.  When I returned and turned the bucket back over, the kittens were dead, a whole litter of them.  Barn cats.  I was so sad – I never forgot them.  Dad wasn't really mad or anything, he said it was okay; he'd just get another bucket.    
Written by Pishashee
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