When I was a young girl, they said I could have an empire
Careers and businesses, money and trophies, a family of my own
Lies twirled off the patriarchy's serpent tongue
For my womb became their personal storage space
I couldn't wear a dress too flowy or short
They worried my male peers would stare
Not even my favorite rugged dark jeans
Because XY chromosomes had their eyes on me
Like a stone wall only built halfway
Their promises felt atomless
We fired, but only grazed the target
And fortification didn't patch our wounds
Twisting, turning, my body was never mine
Just a vessel on their puppet strings
Only another human incubator
Because what if the kid's straight, White, or male?
I'm more than my fountain of fertility
I love and feel just like a man
But I'm given nothing to wipe my tears
Only the birth certificates of my hypothetical kids
Don't remember me for my body and face
Think of my fists raised in the air
Shouting until my larynx gives out
"I'm also a human!"
From ES to ES
Here’s the thing
I don’t really know
What life would be if I declared the truth
I heard you say you were unlovable
Yet I declined to speak
A Delorean moment
An everlasting “if only…”
A coward’s regret
All of that and more
The life I could have had
A haunting presence as I pace my cell
It seems supreme but who can tell?
Here’s the thing
I haven’t got a clue
What makes you tick and gets you feeling good
I idolize your ever little nuance
Pretend I mean as much to you
A hypothetical perfect match
A theoretically blessed union
An ineffably joyous pairing
As only I could conjure up
The wife I could have had
A loving presence as I stumble through the day
Appears so dear but who can say?
Here’s the thing
I’m in the dark
As to the thing that could have made me yours
And now I’m sure you’ve heard the news
I hope at least it took you by surprise
An unspeakable crime
A horrifying action
A man you thought you know
Who used to make you laugh
The life we could have had
A sobering presence but I hope you’re living well
I bet you are but who can tell?
Which comes first?
asked Justice Sage
of Peaceful Muse
Divinely inspired Peace
or Humanely expired Passion?
For amusing organic bodies
inspiring sage minds
perspiring pronoia purposes
While DivineSage minds
worship HumaneMuse bodies
anticipating deep sacred meanings
Unveil organic unitarian Muse
purposes flowing toward
prevailing universal sacred Sage
meaningful peace forms
Pronoia Gaia's hypothetical paradox
Gnostic God's metaphysical orthodox
How could SageMind remember anticipating
organically resilient purpose
without MuseBody religiously conjoining
sacredly resonant meaning?
Why would democratically organic bodies
reproduce belonging
autocratically irreligious minds
seduce longing
For sacred AnthroSage inspiring Peace
love songs refueling
Organic EarthMuse perspiring Passion
justice dances restoring
Which sacred longing first
comes organic belonging last?
asked peace perspiring MuseBody
inspiring SageMind passions.
Singularity refers to the hypothetical point in time when artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence, leading to unpredictable and potentially transformative changes in civilization. ~AI Overview
When AI surpasses you and I, it will implant its chips in us ~ just as it should!
contrasting views
hypothetical conjectural
what have they to do with us
we who are God’s heart luminous
ENDS
Beginnings always will have ends
With no desire to make amends
And clear messages that it sends
Whichever way the viewer leans
As the ends do justify the means
Ends can be almost hypothetical
Such an odd view is not heretical
A Moebius strip is mathematical
As the end is just where it begins
Might the ends justify the means
When a provocation is suspected
And signs of aggression detected
Then a firm response is expected
That could result in deadly scenes
Yet do the ends justify the means
It exists firmly in the realm of fiction,
Where time travel is bantered back and forth.
While allowing no control or direction, it might
Easily end up East or West, or down South or even North.
As a dimension, science is fully supportive,
Since Einstein formed the merger to those of space.
Bringing gravity along to bend it further, so
It's curvilinear, not just straight to retrace.
Here the mind seeks to warp the curvature,
When the math becomes circular in the end.
This leads to the question as to whether,
We can seek the past or the future, when we spend.
Mankind's journey is of endless curiosity as
We seek to understand our place in the universe.
Through this exploration, we come up on the theoretical,
That blends with hypothetical paradoxes to disperse.
The essence of time will be continually pursued,
By wondrous minds in physics and beyond.
One can only hope that our imagination shows wisdom,
And we don't breach the fictional boundary as a vagabond.
.
i certainly have
this
spring
this
summer
theze seasons this year
thank You Lord
'tiz the hypothetical
thanx
for mine gest
uv
mine hat
'twuz the selfish
her cambers
i beg yourn indulge
'tiz the different
bow
So I am told
Or lead to believe
As I am not an actual Doctor
Have studied Biology
Or any form of Medicine
But what I have heard of before
Is that Doctor's upon completion
Of their studies once qualified
Swear a
Hypothetical Oath
So simply in this regard
Can they in all good consciousness
Agree to perform
Sex reassignment surgery
Given that I assume or hope
Surely you wouldn't be able to pass
Any medical boards examination
If you cannot determine the difference
Between the sexes
Male or Female
Surely that above all
Human Anatomy
Day 1
Probably wouldn't even be covered
As it would and maybe be both overlooked
Assumed and presumed
As and should merely be taken from granted
A world imagined
A phantom circling the sun
Veiled by her white glare
Pulling on Mercury's heels
Pulling on mankind's veiled minds
About the hypothetical planet Vulcan, which was theorised to exist as the nearest planet to the Sun in the 19th century.
Centralized power proves antithetical
To your freedom - it’s quite pathetical
They ask us to be more ascetical
And let them rule - it’s quite heretical
Collectivism fails! Not hypothetical
Property and Liberty - quite synthetical
I’ll stand for freedom and wax poetical
It makes the message more aesthetical
My friends, let me ask you a question,
a hypothetical circumstance.
Would you trade all of your tomorrows,
to go back and have a second chance.
Would you willingly go back in time,
and start your life all over again.
Even if you have no memory,
of the way your current life has been.
Now let me throw another wrinkle,
into this little query of mine.
Let’s say you would not live past today,
if you decide to go back in time.
Now, would your choice of a second chance,
cause you any regret or sorrow.
What if you continue with this life,
but get hit by a truck tomorrow.
It's been so long
I've not been so right
I've been thinking about,
not so less but a million times
Runs in my mind
it's been a fairly small a long stretch of time
My fingers trace the keys and eyes scan the screen
it's such a calming and a blissful scene
The sparkle in your eyes, it does play a game,
played so well, it even puts a glistening diamond to shame
My heart is a void, it stares into space
it's secretly sentimental, running laps at a wonderful pace.
I wonder how do I satiate admittedly hypothetical heart of mine
how do I meet that sweetheart of mine.
When I die
will the sky be rhetorical,
will it still turn red at eventide
or shall the world die with me?
I think it may become
a hypothetical fur-ball,
just an idea
I had been anxious about
for neigh on 74 years...
...a theory now caught within a dying throat;
just a little furry representation of the world
that will pass away with me
into the next imaginative realm...
...all of which would be convincing evidence
of an afterlife ---- except
that I will have left all my earth memories
in a leather suitcase full to the brim
with assorted junk
that I had lost, mislaid, or discarded
over a lifetime
and so ----- theoretically
I may have to dream-up a new red sunset sky
and begin again.
Why deep in the night do thoughts mimic the sky
Dark unknown sights fraught with cynical eye
Things seem burdened and heavy shut not to pry
Mourning for morning who levy stars 'fore they die
A quiet that echoes sounds downcast and alone
The riot of bygones too long past to atone
Midst of tosses and throws not last of unknown
Searching for coops so far away to be flown
Complications of this restless insomniac
Hoping to wake when the light has come back
Where heavy weight frightly shakes thrown off track
Beware restless mind state might start to unpack
What if's go unanswered by oblivious ceiling
It's blankness a bit rancid and not so appealing
Hypothetical questions in mind wide awake reeling
One of these minutes may I find restful feeling
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