What's on your Brain. Objectivity affects what force, before Subjectivity is manifest?

Nearby Resident

These Streets, are a Maze;
This Place: it's a Puzzle.
I need some Direction.
If not, i be Bound
for a Muzzle!

Dear, old Street: i'm amazed;
Displaced, i am Puzzled.
I find these things Binding
So much, I do fuss then-
and-now, for a Guzzle.

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READERS: NOTE

VERY IMPORTANT:

IF YOU PARTICIPATE IN SOCIAL NETWORK, TWEET / LIKE (etc.) BUTTONS, please do not simply “page-down” through the various articles, then stop and read one, and click a button there. Though I appreciate the participation, I ask you...

Instead, please click the title; the header; the name of the artcle; the text which is bold, at the top of each entry, then proceed with reading the body, specific to the title so the social network buttons point to what you want (otherwise, only the root web site itself is in focus).
Only from within each individual article will the many mind-blowing, interactive features become visible, and operate as desired.

Directive: I want you to click the "Like" and "Tweet" buttons, PER TITLE, not per web site, as many do in error (although, done in good will).
Additional: The viewing experience is enhanced, as clicking an article title provides a list of "Related Items".

WHY SO Important?

The Social Network (e.g. Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Reddit, Delicious, etc.): the Name of the Game.

I STILL DON'T CARE

Right you are to care so little about it, but I beg you follow this one little plea:
Click the title, first, then when on the singular, article-page, read and click social network buttons from the Article view. This ensures any Tweet / Like actions will point to the appropriate article per your wish. Many thanks for your cooperation!

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Through the Smoking-Glass

The time has come
“The Rockstar” said
To speak of oblong things
Of blues and reds
and other meds
let bring on all-that-sings
Sweet melody:
blissful silence
will it ring? so sweetly as to be

out with reason
out with rhyme:
prithee thee, lay me under
foot by feet,
and for all time.

Weakness: this is nothing more
and nothing new
pathetic he, indeed.
So easily
it is, this to abhor.

This:
is true.

These years go by
burning on through
Pain: but wants
for quickness too.
Put this thing out,
prithee you: Extinguish ever more
so, these senseless lines
Sew it up in time
a needle, or a knit?

But
nothing.

Nothing becomes of it.
I hope I die, before I wake
One less thing
might you forsake

What fires they tell
If there is Hell, perhaps
oh well: I might canoe
upon its fiery lake!

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