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All dimensions are critical dimensions, otherwise why are they there?

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Condition Critical

Oh the tension's mounting
The pressure starts to show
All the men in haunting
Please don't let me go
(Don't go)
Try to free my body
(Don't go)
Try to strap me down
(Don't go)
These'll never break me
(Don't go)
Free wheel to look at me
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
The bells they are ringing
Or is it in my head
My nerves numb understanding
I'm falling out of bed
(Don't go)
So call it paranoia
(Don't go)
I don't see it that way
(Let's go)
You say I adore ya
(Hell no)
We're gonna rock they way
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
Ooh ooh
Whips and chains
Don't feel no pain
What's so wrong
I think I'm going out of my head
Over heels
I can't feel
No pain, only pleasure
Get me out
Take me home
Can't you see my condition
Woo-woo-woo
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical

[...] Read more

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Changing Dimensions Seen

Changing dimensions seen.
No retracting to step back.
Changing dimensions seen.
The past is gone and that's a fact.
Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.

A consciousness has been uplifted.
Changing dimensions seen.
And gone are all those flaws abhorred.
Changing dimensions seen.
Those bigoted with prejudice...
Find they've been dismissed.
And...

Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.

People sharing with a caring.
Changing dimensions seen.
And racists are considered sick.
Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.

A consciousness has been uplifted.
Changing dimensions seen.
And gone are all those flaws abhorred.
Changing dimensions seen.
Those bigoted with prejudice...
Find they've been dismissed and quick!
Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.
And...

No retracting to step back.
Changing dimensions seen.
The past is gone and that's a fact.
Changing dimensions seen.
That peace resisted over-rules,
And those who cling to hate are fools.
Changing dimensions seen.
And...
Changing dimensions seen.
And...
Changing dimensions seen.

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Dimensions Blending

Dimensions blending.
With a mind bending intending,
New beginnings.

Dimensions blending.
With a mind bending intending,
New beginnings.

And witnessed are dimensions blending in!

Dimensions blending.
With an ending of those limits,
Once defended.
Now seen suspended.
Limits departing.
Limits departing...
As dimensions once unmentioned,
Drop those chins!

And witnessed are dimensions blending in!
Limits departing.
Limits departing...
As dimensions once unmentioned,
Drop those chins!

Dimensions blending.
With a mind bending intending,
New beginnings.

And witnessed are dimensions blending in!
Limits departing.
And,
Witnessed are dimensions blending in!
Limits departing.
And,
Witnessed are dimensions blending in!

Dimensions blending.
And,
Witnessed are dimensions blending in!

Dimensions blending!

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With A Downsizing Subsidized

Opps!
Caught in the middle of being super critical.
Opps!
Caught in the middle of being super critical.
Opps!
Caught in the middle of being super critical.

Sitting in the middle and being hypocritical.

They use denial in attempt to disguise...
With a minimizing done to be felt inside.
With a downsizing subsidized tried,
With a hiding pushed aside.
But what is scooped...
Can not be duped to opps!

As they sit in the middle,
Knowing they are hypocritical.

Opps!
Caught in the middle of being super critical.
Opps!
Caught in the middle of being super critical.
Opps!
Caught in the middle of being super critical.

But what is scooped...
Can not be duped to opps!
With a downsizing subsidized,
And pushed aside!

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Handles Bermuda

bean bag spokane
betty boop retro bowling bag
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ben sherman messenger bags
bejui bags
beijo bags

[...] Read more

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Picking It Up

Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up...
Like that does not ensure,
Self assurance to occur.

Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up...
Like that does not ensure,
Self assurance to occur.

It is a strategy that one should seek.
With satisfaction first examined.
To make sure that one increases harmony!
With a proactive way,
Of life to live.

Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.

It is the heat that one releases.
When nothing satisfies to analyzing eyes...
Only seeing with a vision that's fixed.
As if in a tunnel,
To rip through quick.

It's not a riddle when one plays it second fiddle,
Oh...
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
With proactive actions to prevent blurs.

And...
Don't be vague!

[...] Read more

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Time's Arrow Arrested

Dusky shadows hide under the leafy boughs of the lanky trees.
Beyond the dark sky the sun carries the bright promise of
a lustrous morning. But it is merely a promise. For, the experience
of the past is not evidence of future events.

And how perturbing can be the obvious. This ever present and
precisely dissected substance that we break to exact hours,
minutes and seconds, and call it time. How mind-boggling is
this historian’s palette, Newton’s infinite attribute, Einstein’s finite
fourth dimension.

Astronomers say that a colossal firecracker called the Big Bang
exploded about fifteen billion years ago, marking the beginning
of time and the universe. Yet this sophisticated modern myth
does not really solve the enigma of time or the mystery of existence.
After all, why does the world exist, rather than not?

Newton viewed time as a mathematical duration, an absolute
temporal dimension in which time flows steadily without relation
to space, matter or human affairs. Many years later, Einstein
dropped the notion of absolute space and time. In the Theory
of Relativity he demonstrated that time slows down as velocity
increases. Clocks can run at different speeds.

Time became the fourth dimension. However, in the tiny world
of the atoms, quantum physicists discover a bizarre universe of
eleven dimensions. In Superstring theories higher dimensions are
curled up within the deep structure of space-time. Moreover,
the number of higher cosmic dimensions is not limited, because
scientists might invent as many dimensions as it takes for their
theories to work. Unfortunately, in relation to nature mathematical
propositions are uncertain.

Physicists nowadays conceive time as an asymmetrical arrow,
flying in one direction, from the past to the future, through
the present. They devise ingenious schemes to ride on the arrow
of time into the future; or to reverse its direction of flight and travel
back to the past.

I believe that time is an illusion. It does not really exists. The hands
of the clock does not really show us time but movement in space,
an artificial human invention of hours, minutes and seconds. And
what we measure with our objective instruments is not identical
with the subjective psychological experience of duration. External
time and internal time are not the same.

Now, if time really flows like a river without banks,
if it is indeed in a state of flux, then what is its speed? And since
we measure speed by the ratio of traveling distance to the periodic
motion of the clock, how are we supposed to measure the

[...] Read more

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At First Sight

Before false interferences twist mind,
distort perceptions caught, one ought to try
to focus clearly, spirit satisfy,
sharing impressions which should never die
while magic taps into soul’s spring to bind
one day’s events to sense. Here's underlined
empathy with which all identify,
walls fall, emotions' limitless supply.
One chance glance dance askance left half-truth, lie.

Replete with red rose, awed, decor refined,
two former strangers kismet met, good-bye
forever was forgotten as July
supplanted January on the sly.
Earth's seasons topsy-turvy turned as eye
encountered eye which rich dreams decked behind
blocks' veil to comfort karma pre-designed.
Charmed pair shared earth, air, water, fire, entwined,
rebirth freed from dearth's desert dusty, dry.
27 October 1990 revised1 7 June 1991 3 May 2005 and
0 January 2012 for previous version see below

Once in a lifetime favoured few may find
such inspiration words can’t even try
to pin down, predefine, or qualify,
limit, understate or question why,
scorn karma as coincidence or lie.
Yesterday, by more than chance, I dined
across from eyes whose energies unwind,
sensed shocks synaptic instantly defy
Time itself, felt souls electrify.

Here differences dissolved, fears undermined.
That first glance opened understanding. Blind
before ‘one’ must have been, with every tie
from gravity released, - no low, no high -
as everywhere twinned spirits teamed, naught awry.
Base substance shed, trite trammels left behind,
We walked on air, all purer felt, refined,
senses swam, consumed - hedged bets unwind -
completion's joy few mortals quantify.

The message all embraced and somehow signed
dimensions new whose rainbow hues deny
time and space, displace doubts, multiply
empathy, empowering wings to fly.
Magnified magnficence might find
its place in all, for all was redefined ~
impression that itself was heightened by
acceptance shared, that nothing could deny.

[...] Read more

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The first stage in a technology's advance is that it'll fall below a critical price. After it falls below a critical price, it will tend, if it's successful, to rise above a critical mass, a penetration.

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Critical Beatdown

[kool keith]
Well i'm the equalizer, known to be graphic
I clear static, breakin up traffic
Move, while i enter the groove
I'm on top, and happy to prove
To wack mc's who claim to be better than
No way i'm frankly more clever than
All of you, each and every one, my son
Pay close attention
I take your brain to another dimension
Hold it, mold it, shape it
You got a knife, yes i wanna scrape it
Up and down, sideways, any way i can
Be rude to you
But i'll rap and be crude to you
And eat up, toy ducks i beat up
I am the oven your brains i wanna heat up
Mega, supersonic degrees
I come around, roastin mc's
With fire, to burn the toy liar
Raw meat, turn the flame higher
Cook it, like a fish i'll hook it
For any beat, it's time that i took it
Right, correctly to the top
With the rhythm and as your head bop
I'm hype, for the critical beatdown!
[ced gee]
I'm attacking them, my job is stacking them
For every rapper, must i be smacking them
Once, or twice in the face
With rough beats, producin the bass
That blow out, cause power to go out
Inner spark, i'm ready to blow out
Like this, altitude level
Reachin forth, stompin every devil
In sight, you might just wanna bite
My illusions, mental confusions
You're a mark, skulls i've been abusin
Losin, any rapper who follow me
Your girl loves me, now she wanna swallow me
Back up, move on to the rear
When i'm on the stage should be clear
Speakin, goin ear to ear
Places far, ducks would appear
For the countdown, so you wait to rhyme
And twist, stuttering, uttering
Parkay, margerine, everything butter
And another thing, you shoulda been a muppet
A toy boy, a fake scream puppet
I'm takin titles, and punks better up it

[...] Read more

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You're Only Losing Your Heart

Don't do anything I wouldn't do
Pass me anyway, like I'm a fool for you
Passionate anyway
Walkin' out the back door
Used to be alive until just now
It's just becoming unreal
You're only losing your heart
It's nothing critical
You won't believe it till it starts
You're only losing your heart
It's not unusual
It's only tearing you apart
Don't do anything I wouldn't do
Pass me anyway, lie like a fool
Laugh at me anyway
Walkin' out the back door
Used to be alive until just now
It's just becoming unreal
You're only losing your heart
It's nothing critical
You won't believe it till it starts
You're only losing your heart
It's not unusual
It's only tearing you apart
Solo
Oh, how can I be
So far away
Without a reason?
Should I know
How not to lose?
How can I not
Follow you anymore?
But I'm lost
Take me away!
Takin' all my time, make me a choice
Passionate anyway
Walkin' out the back door
Used to be alive until just now
It's just becoming unreal
You're only losing your heart
It's nothing critical
You con't believe it till it starts
You're only losing your heart
You can't believe it to be
The thing that's tearing you apart
You're only losing your heart
It's nothing visual
You won't believe it till it starts
You're only losing your heart
The thing you're dreamin' of is

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James Russell Lowell

A Fable For Critics

Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade,
Was reminded of Daphne, of whom it was made,
For the god being one day too warm in his wooing,
She took to the tree to escape his pursuing;
Be the cause what it might, from his offers she shrunk,
And, Ginevra-like, shut herself up in a trunk;
And, though 'twas a step into which he had driven her,
He somehow or other had never forgiven her;
Her memory he nursed as a kind of a tonic,
Something bitter to chew when he'd play the Byronic,
And I can't count the obstinate nymphs that he brought over
By a strange kind of smile he put on when he thought of her.
'My case is like Dido's,' he sometimes remarked;
'When I last saw my love, she was fairly embarked
In a laurel, as _she_ thought-but (ah, how Fate mocks!)
She has found it by this time a very bad box;
Let hunters from me take this saw when they need it,-
You're not always sure of your game when you've treed it.
Just conceive such a change taking place in one's mistress!
What romance would be left?-who can flatter or kiss trees?
And, for mercy's sake, how could one keep up a dialogue
With a dull wooden thing that will live and will die a log,-
Not to say that the thought would forever intrude
That you've less chance to win her the more she is wood?
Ah! it went to my heart, and the memory still grieves,
To see those loved graces all taking their leaves;
Those charms beyond speech, so enchanting but now,
As they left me forever, each making its bough!
If her tongue _had_ a tang sometimes more than was right,
Her new bark is worse than ten times her old bite.'

Now, Daphne-before she was happily treeified-
Over all other blossoms the lily had deified,
And when she expected the god on a visit
('Twas before he had made his intentions explicit),
Some buds she arranged with a vast deal of care,
To look as if artlessly twined in her hair,
Where they seemed, as he said, when he paid his addresses,
Like the day breaking through, the long night of her tresses;
So whenever he wished to be quite irresistible,
Like a man with eight trumps in his hand at a whist-table
(I feared me at first that the rhyme was untwistable,
Though I might have lugged in an allusion to Cristabel),-
He would take up a lily, and gloomily look in it,
As I shall at the--, when they cut up my book in it.

Well, here, after all the bad rhyme I've been spinning,
I've got back at last to my story's beginning:
Sitting there, as I say, in the shade of his mistress,
As dull as a volume of old Chester mysteries,

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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

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The theory has to be interpreted that extra dimensions beyond the ordinary four dimensions the three spatial dimensions plus time are sufficiently small that they haven't been observed yet.

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Connected (Love & Life Poem)

We are connected to this life by many threads
Which we only notice when they are broken
Whether family, friends, work or welfare, all
Pull us apart in different dimensions in time.

You are connected to me by small pleasures
Which we only notice when we stop giving
Whether interest, intent, wish or wisdom, all
Pull us apart in different dimensions in space.

We are connected to each other for ever now
Which we only notice when we are apart again
Whether travel, trust, freedom or failure, all
Pull us apart in different dimensions in love.

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To the Committee of the Cayley Portrait Fund

O wretched race of men, to space confined!
What honour can ye pay to him, whose mind
To that which lies beyond hath penetrated?
The symbols he bath formed shall sound his praise,
And lead him on through unimagined ways
To conquests new, in worlds not yet created.

First, ye Determinants! in ordered row
And massive column ranged, before him go,
To form a phalanx for his safe protection.
Ye powers of the nth roots of — 1!
Around his head in ceaseless cycles run,
As unembodied spirits of direction.

And you, ye undevelopable scrolls!
Above the host wave your emblazoned rolls,
Ruled for the record of his bright inventions.
Ye Cubic surfaces! by threes and nines
Draw round his camp your seven-and-twenty lines—
The seal of Solomon in three dimensions.

March on, symbolic host! with step sublime,
Up to the flaming bounds of Space and Time!
There pause, until by Dickenson depicted,
In two dimensions, we the form may trace
Of him whose soul, too large for vulgar space,
In n dimensions flourished unrestricted.

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Hieroglyphic Beguile Meant

HIEROGLYPHIC BEGUILE...MEANT


I sought inspiring way to play “beguile”
blood's flood rush-blushing flush, then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It dawned that very few can reconcile
emotions' brakes while breaking conscious state,
to draw more definitions for “beguile”.
Most, blind behind closed minds, can’t conjugate
dimensions manifold, unfold, translate,
decypher hieroglyphics of soft smile.

It takes so many lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds both varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of soft smile.
Content observing content, context, style,
expressive inner eyes deliberate,
a worthwhile definition for “beguile”,
hidden in hieroglyphics of soft smile.

There are two definitions for “beguile”
one shares, one snares love, fair disguising hate -
what’s truth mid hieroglyphics of Your smile?
What if snare scare replaced rare care to dial
confusion more than loving fusion’s state,
refusal, ersatz aura ringed by rile?
What if those hieroglyphics hid heart vile,
whose slyness surface smiles would compensate
with blushing rushes should “beguile” prove guile.

What would remain of love’s fair sceptered isle?
Who could clear conscience e’er exonerate
from name of blame whose fame would flame defile,
mark Lethe dark, where no stark hopes beguile
lost soul, shade forfeit, damned, banned, intestate
parody pornographic, mercantile.

True torment, false beguilement takes to trial,
ensures despair, bare cell disconsolate,
Cupid's gilt arrows dipped in venom vile -
envy, greed, to feed perversions' weight
with appetites that needs exaggerate,
deform, intentions turned from narrow, straight,
to swift descent from paradise exile,
sharp fall before dupe hieroglyphic smile! ...

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Craddock’s Time Theory Age Relative

light years apart
in space time
continuum

youth three-dimensional
stretching into mathematical models

age a fourth dimension
spatial dimensions

our spacetime passing each other
is space and time in a single continuum


our shared Euclidean space
on this plane of existence
is but the trap of physical flesh

our atoms bound at every point
in three-dimensional Euclidean space

by flesh infused fixed points
determined by three coordinates


yet our thoughts are timeless
infinite bound by no scientific laws

they can flow spread be anywhere any time

in universe at instant thought speed
instant in arrival at multiple locations


they enter into realities past curved space
worn holes are for porous slow minds

higher dimensions bypass imagination

non-Euclidean geometry the cage play pen
Einstein’s general theory of relativity


a manifold universe of but three
dimensions of space one of time

denies all time existing simultaneously
within a God state span spun within eternity

supergalatic subatomic levels are but focused lenses

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The critical method which denies literary modernity would appear - and even, in certain respects, would be - the most modern of critical movements.

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There is a lack of critical assessment of the past. But you have to understand that the current ruling elite is actually the old ruling elite. So they are incapable of a self-critical approach to the past.

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