Best Hardwired Poems
I dreamed I was inside a bulb—
a cathedral of filament and glass—
not dead
not born…..
but shumming**.
Glass walls curved like time
sealed but translucent
my fingers curled around voltage
like a secret
God was transcending.
The socket hummed a lullaby
of static.
Every breath of mine made sparks
the air electric
with grief
and longing.
I saw myself outside the bulb
in a room wallpapered with eyes—
each iris twitching
like a seismograph.
They watched
as I shimmered like an angel
in a jar of fire
as if I were proof
of something
too holy
or too hideous
to name.
The room beyond
glistened with wallpapered surveillance—
each gaze a blink
each blink
a test of identity
a hymn of entropy
and wonder.
I touched the glass—
cool as frozen memory
thin as a promise—
and the world on the other side
shuddered
like a dream woken
too soon
My thoughts turned tungsten—
spiraled
stubborn
resisting
the spark of enlightenment
or extinction
I spoke
and the words bent back
like boomerangs
buzzing
with static regret
A child approached
barefoot
real
impossibly tender…..
She looked like someone
I might have loved
if time had taken pity.
She placed her palm on the bulb—
her skin against my sorrow
the warmth of it
startling
as mercy
a forgiveness.
“Why are you in there?”
she asked
or perhaps
thought—
her voice the color
of candlelight.
I tried to answer
but my vocal cords was hardwired
my tongue
a fuse
My words came back
distorted
looped
charred
as if language
were combustible.
For a moment
I flickered
between purpose
and obliteration
Then
the ceiling cracked open
like a wound
and light poured down—
not to reveal
like revelation
like judgment—
to burn away
the questions
And I understood—
not everything illuminated
is meant to be seen
not all vision
is freedom…..
Some truths
are meant to flicker
fragile and holy
inside the bulb of the soul
unspoken
unchosen
alive.
================
**Shumming: Shimmering Humming
The mind is an echo
Reflecting someone's belief
Like the notion of death
That leads us to grief
Merely bundles of thought
Tied up in the past
Forming identity layers
We compare and contrast
Programmed for survival
Hardwired with fear
Emotional alarm systems
For when I am not here
The mind is deceiving
With a compass I roam
One dwells in yourself
To find the way home
She’s so neg neurodegenerative,
so womb retro Neanderthal
Her backward moving bellow decisions
aren’t thoroughly modern mellow
Got lip kicker high heels
that testosterone neuter kills
Miss So and So
loves to cold-heartedly
iron cast her anvil anger with
dragon breath death blows
She’s so con method constrictive,
so anaconda pocket squeeze avarice addictive
Those boa belly estrogen rolls
always take their masculine squeal toll
Her every hip sway diamondback pulse suggestion
is cobra hardwired for a vow recoil bosom confession
Miss No Good So and So
is a sultry eyelash she-devil
Delivering a bottomless pit of insomnia pain
everywhere she pillow goes
Dr. Evil,
pacing back and forth in his laboratory,
had a vexing problem he was trying to solve
How to get the masses
to let corporate government
have complete control of their lives
Then came a thought from the dark side
Give them free access to all
Let their greedy little minds
be able to lust after all they see
Give them internet with content unfettered
Keep them chained to the screen,
to thwart their ability to not comply
Condition them to believe mind-control is better
No more free thought or free will divine
Herd them into sites
that will allow them to gorge with delight
on all of their most lewd and animalistic desires
Buy this, sell that
Indulge in banal, weird chit-chat
Every perversion of the mind is now hardwired
Let their imaginations run free
Then offer them a microchip
for a small fee and a snip
Oh they gladly will do all that you say
if you promise not to take away,
take away their virtual stimuli fix
Resistance purged, resistance nixed
Once they willingly go under the laser knife,
those poor bastards then will be marked for life
Once their freewill is willingly sacrificed,
yes, those lost souls will then be marked for life
Across the shadowed byte desert, a lone warrior limped.
Impelled by a spirited misanthropy, he plied the
idle partitions of mind and thirst.
An orphaned amorist, passionate, but alone.
And as he stumbled, the adders whispered hoarsely, and
the diodes siphoned the darkness, revealing the
atrophy, the phantom.
The showering bits, hardwired through his dreams,
despised his trophy; reality.
It was stormy with the pathos of insanity...
---===|||===---
And still, he wandered vainly through this parched land,
searching; His reward glimmering quietly across the code,
which danced between his groping fingers.
Aphorisms roamed in the chaos, and margins shifted
as he compiled the disorder which roared within his mind.
Slowly, his child emerged. At last, execution!
---===|||===---
But the young one, so perfect, so delicate, required more
than he could give. The decision was made...
| end parent process |
on behalf of the little guy
deep behind enemy territory
welcome to the nameless republic
all good capitalists want a monopoly
all good physicians need you sick
the National Antidote Party broke down the door
I told them everything I know
so they let me off the meat hook
loosened my bindings and necktie
hammered nails in my head instead
powerful radio transmitter nails
don't get too close I'll bend your spoon
gimme a shot of Moonbeam barkeep
and a round for my ill-bandaged crew
we'll drink to the muse Pandemonia
don't get too close she’ll bend yer crank
with another specious spectacle
not necessarily Beauty's anointed
but a piston riding party girl nonetheless
I let you touch happy place
and now my theory on the blinding of Oedipus
which first off requires a family unit
for the inherent predispositions of childbirth
they made me walk upon magic carpet tacks
so me and my echo are here a little late
and a little paraplegic and screaming headaches
this is after all a holy epic of pilgrimage
from the sands of Delirium to the banks of Delusia
a simultaneous ambiance one for each eye
an ancient art form somewhat updated
coordinating the cascades of impulses
yet still black as the inside of a cow I mean crow
this epic deals with a touchy subject
intercession of the gods
grab your hat mister
we're going for a little joy ride
where anything including countries
can be bought sold and stolen
by the mutilators of comparison
hardwired and proud of it the fools
built for Survival the TV show
but times change and
survival meant finding parking
where one can escalate from emaciation
to farting obesity overnight
unrecognized even when brightly illuminated
we know only one thing for certain
that the Universe is knowable
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
World shifts, the air thins
In a coastal town...
slatted blinds, every hue from
Warm reds to harsher blues
Hardwired to heaven
Homing instinct with
Different wavelengths
Sunlight scatters
They're more elusive
Ubiquitous in nature
Occasionally frightening
Peaceful yet troubled
Superficial beauty
Bewildering imperfections
Sunlight fades to darkness
What mischief, what gentle
Assistance they can give
In legend, lore
Contest by Charlotte Puddlefoot, " Something Completely Different: Cut-Up Poems
There's a perturbation beneath the surface
An impulsive dilemma of wants and needs
It's a cognitive battle
Should I refrain, or should I feed?
The desires are instinctive
The hardwired cravings are insatiable inside
Change is like trying to outrun our own shadow
Or like separating the self, from the I
It's not life that's bothering us
It an internal narrative that consumes and controls
We must learn to observe the dialogue
It provides personal awareness, it makes us whole
When we learn to let go of the externals
We gain control of our life
We learn to live in the present moment
We take past wrongs, and make them right
In the end - life is what we make it
Perception creates our unique reality
We’re all part of something bigger
Take a breath - now let it be
Intimacy is all I want, it's all I desire
But for now we'll let our words, be the fuel to our fire
I'm hardwired, to never give in and never give up,
but I've given into your heart, now your heart is all that I want
And lift you up, when you're down, I wanna turn you around
Lead you on the path into my life, yeah my heart is where you're bound
Cause without a sound, you could be gone and I could lose you,
So I sit around, and I savor the spark before it defuses
The feelings are true, I developed them only for you,
Intimate emotions combining with my devotion to see it through,
To tell the truth, there's billions of girls in the world,
But the only girl that I want, my feelings will forever be unfurled
And when I hear her voice, I melt, my skeleton fries,
cause we're a thousand miles away, but it's different in my eyes,
We're together, we could hear each others voices and live on forever,
The most beautiful girl in the world, so I gotta stay clever
I often think what it would be like
living the life of an aristocrat
And I wonder what life would be
like
if I was handicapped
I think a lot because even thou
ignorance is bliss
Life is too short to not give a piss,
I am the product of destiny and will,
my outcome is contradiction
Both try to dominate inside me
causing friction
So sparks fly, I try to extinguish the
fire
But I’m only human, hardwired,
misguided by instinct and desire,
Man is nothing but a soul, with
little to no control
Trying to avoid a fall into the
wormhole
You wake up in the morning then
sleep again
Breathing machines increasing
tolerance to pain
This modern world we inhabit
Is millions and millions of years old
And out of this world evolved a brain
That became self aware; and eventually out of control
Hardwired with a conglomeration of Instincts and awareness
This creates conundrums for mankind
This brain desperately seeks peace
But is at the mercy of an addictive, loquacious mind
This mind longs to be in the moment
But it's misguided efforts take it further away
So it distracts itself with modern trivialities
Only to return to the comfort of familiar pain
Plagued with cognitive biases
The only mammal with self disdain
The burden of awareness
The price a conscious creature has to pay
This mind adapted from an environment
That’s far removed from modern times
These traits are the driving force of our behavior
Sadly, most will suffer, until the day they die
We ask, “why are we self destructive?”
We’re confused about why we’re not focused on what's at hand
We refuse to acknowledge our shortcomings
Like an ostrich, we stick our head further in the sand
We attempt to excuse our destructive behavior
We make a halfhearted promise to try
But the problems not food, drugs, or alcohol
Those are just symptoms, not the why?
So, many become a victim
They conclude, no discipline or impulse control
They deflect by saying, “ it's hard”
Not understanding, where there's suffering, there is potential growth
Human perceptions are contingent
Filtered through an ancient neural development history
Hence, the human dilemma
Unfortunately, what we find, is what we bring
Am I not exactly what you wanted to believe in.
You move through thoughts as smoke through the air invasive and sticky sticking to the conscious a millisecond per nanosecond hovering just there just long enough to register… the register your chemicals pattern know their way and flood and flow just enough to not let you know of what your unscious plans are for you,
And many have told you your profile is becoming and now you only speak to people with head turned and your eyes askew,
Hardwired into your physiology, your superior rectus and medial rectus on overtime,
Should you have the time to shoot the breeze…
You left me standing in Mont Martre dealing solo with the street vendors, who wanted the Euro and a peek up my skirt all the while trying to rip me off
Their invasive eyes spying at my legs…their psyches at full mast attempting to tempt me to part with currency. I am fluent in foolish.
Am I not exactly what you wanted me to believe in?
You are lost at sea, damaged and wave-weary desiring so much to reach a shore,
To hear a voice, hold a hand, human connection. You intentionally albeit unknowingly keep your self at sea, professing the need for solid earth under your feet
while all the while you wile-
away your time
upon salted, foam-crested waves you keep your mast full -- wind behind you directing you maintain your aqueous journey…It is the longing and pain you keep close to your breast. The longing is what you don’t profess: The longing is what you live for.
Are you not exactly what I wanted to believe in?
1.) I’m mostly brain-dead nine to five,
But suddenly I come alive
When I have an idea for a song.
For me there is no greater boon
Than putting lyrics to a tune.
I feel like a genius all day long.
2.) Music sends you to foreign place:
Around the world or outer space--
Russia, China, Africa or France.
It can raise you up or take you down
With a major or a minor sound;
Lull you to sleep or make you wanna dance.
3.) Music is so fundamental,
You might say its elemental.
It’s in our cultural identity.
Babies can sing before they talk,
And like to dance before they walk.
Seems it’s hardwired in our circuitry.
4.) We proclaim our liberties
And reverence our dieties,
With our anthems and our sacred hymns.
My hope for ‘eternal glory’
Is a catchy song that tells a story.
For me that is like a priceless gem.
Chorus
The Nirvana in my universe:
Composing clever rhymes and verse,
And putting them into a melody.
Choosing a scale to fit the words
Helps me find the proper chords--
Turning chaos into harmony.
Declare me as nonsense,
Your deaf-eared head shaking
unstrung with disorder
dusty cobwebs of bent thoughts
--and a paltry two cents
(I know what you really mean though)
“my $0.02 > your $0.02”
Truly rich men need not admit such fears,
for their wallets only open
less the close minded
Our solace seems born between the dark and the day,
beneath the fullest of moons
=spun of white silk and dust
But today's clay breaks asunder--
Blank checks like yester's echoes
painting freedoms amongst the longest halls
each hardwired in a plethora of words ending in some form,
of hateful [-ism]
Yet I manage to only hear one voice
the voice that tells me to be kind with my rage--
to rip the paint from the walls with talons draped in silk
to dine alone on these sharp tasting thoughts of vengeance
One rose with a hundred sharpened thorns, my mind blooms--
and forgotten be the thoughts that deny my good sense,
to only listen to your two
July 26, 2016
Counting them on one hand,
the fingers dismembered,
but remembered 'siempre' and
a day beyond that, because
hardwired to give it, both body
and soul, should anyone ASK,
she was playing a role. She
gives amnesty now, knowing
needs were at odds in petitioning
the gods: seeking Asclepius,
not Eros, desperate to heal.