David Baratier – Poem in which I am the center of thDavid Baratier
Poem in which I am the center of the extant universe
These are my cosmological implications,
be careful, I make my macro-universe
from the bones of drum majors for justice
and any other pre-teen games possible.
A surly Sir-make-a-lot, mixing scrabble
through a monopoly filter onto a screen
of chutes and ladders. And if this should be
arrogance, so let me arrogant be to justify
myself to me. Do not misunderstand, I am not
the center of my universe, I am a gravitational
dipole moment divergent at the center rotating
your mind on the skewer of self-affirmation.
Right now it’s about time to pick up the groove
for those already moving sentient beings. Rock
on this section where an unexpected dynamic
shift of the center of mass for a rotating hemisphere
is shown developing arrogance to teach to our
children. Learn it now before the cut of the record
spun on a single axis, Wealth, and its flipside
Poverty, the two mass-pole model universe,
leaves you retaliating with the ashes of all your friends
cremated regularly. Prompt me a question if
in question I be. If this was a uniformly rotating sphere
I would effect a latitude dependent mass density
distribution, all would get the same instead of get
back to the needle on the record’s two fold track.
But all is not well in the land of the free.
Ich rausum mach aus Bremen Nacht. As the pages turn
to the moment we are, the film industry traceably
rotates from adult sex which teens want to see, to teen
sex for adults. Observe my anomalous red shift
suck in the points of your Gameboy, X-box, gather
the far away full sound of galaxies, get together
a gravitational dipole moment—thirty two tracks
of non-Newtonian force to experience. Graphic reality
is not an excuse for failure; where I grew up no longer
holds me back. Neighborhoods cannot create a star
running its own geodesic equations against the constant
acceleration of mass media components. Feel the mass
shell around you. The hemisphere of who you are
advertisers have the tact to tap. They are inside.
Accept this. Allow your lucky charms to shield you in
macroscopic scale. Supply your own questions until
the provided teleprompter destructs. This is the in, the out,
but it’s real close if it’s not.
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