Welcome

Welcome to my dead former undergrad blog. Here lies a collection of old writing I’m mostly embarrassed of, but leave here for the sake of history. I’ve grown quite a ways since then, and I am no longer a Physics student–instead joining the IT field and working as an Infosec Analyst . This was my original intro:

I am a recent graduate of Physics trying to make his way in the world. Here at Post-Quantum Poetry, my goal is to create a space for my ideas and creative writing of which I hope will 1) be incredibly odd to most people, or 2) make you wonder–which to be honest, I think is the same thing. My work is in a constant state of revision and always changing; come revisit to see how they’ve changed over time. Enjoy!

(Note: some poems may not format correctly on mobile devices)

[Untitled]

I guess you can call this, a lecture in love
What’s that thing
They call “crazy” in love?
Apart from theory and hypothesis
An observation:

I take your pulse
And you take mine
Though blood pumps harder
Breath grows shallow

My smile grows timid
As it meets your lips
My pulse surely stops

Tikkun Olam

Who has the hands to fix the world?
Between the invisible hand of laissez-faire
And the omnipotent hand of government
The tiny hands of the Donald
And the mighty hand of God
I can’t help but feel we’re all being a little unrealistic

All the Stars that Fall

For the 1 in four Americans who suffer from mental illness

A salute to flag that flies higher than I
And above all its victims that call
The stripes that were stripped and littered the sky
And all the stars that fall

Memory is my Enemy

Forget-me-probably: https://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_loftus_the_fiction_of_memory

Memory is my enemy

And always out of grasp

Memory is my enemy

Trapping today in the past

The Sunless World

To some world out there, PSOJ 318.5-22: you are not alone

Imagine Earth without it’s light;

That dances forever in coldest night.

Somewhere in the imagination of space,

Is this sunless world in constant flight

 

A pilgrim planet, it runs away

From moon, from stars, the light of day;

A hidden black spot amongst a pixelated sky

That trudges on, alone, in disarray.

 

If hearts so cold could call this home,

I wonder if those souls, too, would always roam;

Alone an island, no hope of sunrise

Yet this world keeps spinning like our own.

 

It’s a difficult universe for a sunless place

That answers black to every face.

But in dreams not so alien, I must confess,

This dim-lit world shall find it’s space.

Stomach Pains (Q. 5)

[Not really anywhere at all, but color is pale]
The worst pain is a lack of feeling.
In the interest of time and space
I abdicate myself, watching dry paint wet
And balk at the principle of action

UPDATE:10/27/2015

Hello readers!

I’m so sorry this blog has lain fallow this past month! Unfortunately I’ve been having stomach problems for a few weeks and haven’t felt much up to writing (especially when I have a qualifier to worry about by the end of this year). I’m at one of those points where I have lots of titles and stanzas that seem completely unrelated, but complete ideas stay firmly out of grasp. I’m hoping to have some things to release in the coming weeks as my midterms come to an end. Thank you for your patience and stay tuned!

Unnamed Couplet

Optimism is irrational in the superlative degree

But let it die, and so will we

Capitulation (Quippet No. 4)

[Nowhere in particular, end of day yet again]

In the face of the impossible:

Religious militance, misinformation overload mislabeled, conspiracy of wealth …

And a generation of children left behind (ca. 2001)

I am, frankly, tired and lost

Prophet (Quippet No. 3)

[Somewhere near miracle street, Pennsylvania Station]

The apocalypse is etched in his sagging eyes

More bombastically than poster-board repentance

Nostradamus lullabies quell his poetry;

His lips parched for the Blood of Christ