Best Mechanistic Poems
Where's the zeal in being a zealot?
Single minded entities always
Forcing, pushing, constantly attack.
Keep your sick. altered, mechanistic
Ideals far away from me.
Thanks but no, I can think for myself,
No need for your help
Feels like the Crusades- believe or die
Look and see I’ll never be
Your brainwashed puppet
Me... closed box... death hangs*,
Heartless dreamers can't see in
Bastards! Am I dead?
Poet's Notes:
A famous thought experiment in Physics in which the life or death of Schridinger's
Cat (an imaginary animal) in a box depends on unpredictable chance. The
experiment unimpeded, the cat will die, the question is only when. The larger
issue however, is that since no one can see what has actually happened, the
actual state of the cat is unknown and hence can only be discussed in terms of
the probability of the cat being either dead or alive. And probability ends the
earlier mechanistic view of both God and His creation. God is no longer black and
white, color has returned to His cheeks.**
* hangs - like the sword of Damocles, capable of falling randomly at any instant.
** see my earlier poem 'Black Body' for an even more poetic discussion.
Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival,
I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches
Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
He holds the key to this new world.
The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience
Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped
Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence
Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped
Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.
My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
Our intrepid journey commences...
A poet lost for words with writer’s block and barrage
Playing with Lego in Copenhagen
Anderson’s mermaid hard on the rock
Casting away the human soul
The artist failing construction in a mechanistic world
Retrieving Meccano
The pea shooter’s jammed and sour gun
Squirting marmalade
A philosopher's dislike of wisdom
Playing in Epicures’ garden
A pantomime screaming at a Buddhist retreat
Having a silent make over
The adult child lost in fun and peculiar games
Anticipating adoration
Homebound heaven’s firmament
Right below some funny grounds
22th July 2018
Soul Genocide
No less a word than the last
for putting to rest the syllable
for every man a creed a cult
No final philosophy to last
Who can tell when the world ends
for the strong and the bold
for those who stand all alone
No better might their word lends
The last wise man who stood apart
for four noble truths in eight paths
for what may he have gone away
If prophets rain and never depart
Every age brings new divinizing calls
for saints bloodied in mad blabber
for what may holy rites wash away
If the world turns on mechanistic balls
If every man sought the painful path
for his depraved soul and the world’s
for the sake of every child’s hunger
Who may not reject nibbhana in wrath
Right paths or wrong paths we decide
for better or worse in this life
for the children forced to survive
Better hellfire than the souls’ genocide
From the privately pub. coll. : longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, July 1999/2016
In the beginning,
there was nothing but darkness...
where chaos ruled with it's unruly force,
smashing collisions,pulverized debri,directionless matter,
in a constant destructive malady...
We call this darkness,evil,
but what it is,is chaos...
disorder and confusion,
disarray at it's most turbulent
a neverending dark storm...
Then came time...when light appeared,
to guide this matter into an orderly fashion,
mechanistic motion also appeared as time...
this matter has only reflected the light,
like the moon,but like the moon,
the darkside keeps us in darkness...in chaos,
and like moths to a flame,
we are attracted to that light,
which is a reflection of our desire...
The war for resources,is our chaotic fate...
I spoke with two people at the party Saturday.
A young police officer, short-haired, fit,
chiseled face who had two young children.
He felt constrained by the law, without discretion
to question mopes (perps) aggressively
or to let go those who were obviously no threat.
Even at a family function he seemed straight-backed, correct,
devoted to his role as our protector (and his children’s)
yet I thought perhaps too deeply in debt, indentured
to the rules and laws of legislators and destined
to be disappointed (or worse). I thought his courage
and devotion (to whom or what?) would surely
be poorly repaid and that this lesson
was necessary to ready him with wisdom
for death or further living. I worried like a brother
about the unpredictable dangers, even terrors,
he must daily face, and the pleasure he takes in facing them.
How will he return to the fragility of family,
of the soul alone, after wielding the force
of the state, the blind, combined will of us all?
Next a business exec, retired from a well known
global investment firm. At first we talked about
the lush beauty of the northeast compared to the arid west
(although he loves every inch of the west, too).
Then somehow we got beyond light conversation
when he complained about the perceived decline in values
for instance how the Ten Commandments can’t be publicly
displayed. He said we can all agree on God
but I said I have a mechanistic view of the universe
(although the unknowable always sits just out of reach
of the known). I told him my dad’s theory of reincarnation,
a good man and a corporate seeker of God also, whose shoes
I could never fill unless I swore belief in a supreme being.
No hard feelings. Then he told me the story
of his dying friend, an atheist, not even a deist
like the founding fathers, who opened his eyes for the last time
to correct the exec’s misperception that now he’d meet his maker.
Having exceeded the bounds of acceptable conversation
I went looking for my children. Nothing more to question.
In Systems Theory
there hides a transparent bias toward positively resilient systems
And there hides an unfortunate bias toward magically created
mechanistic systems
Competing in hierarchical global networks
empowered from sublime Above
and from Outside
domination by missionary zealous soldiers,
LeftBrain elitist owners
and their diabolical industrial worker flies,
Including a few elite wiser and smarter predative inventors
of ever-better and faster and convenience-enhancing mechanical systems
for burning limitless positive energy
to worship on the alter altar of business-like consuming industry;
Unlike synergetically balancing Earth,
our intellectual WholeSystem integrity-balance exemplar,
Earth icon of organic superego
cooperatively self-governing good healthy climates--
sacredly interdependent systems,
Heard and health-watched and wealth-languaged
back in animistic days
of humane/divine nature-spirit nondualistic philosophical reflection
with religious experience,
spiritual-natural extended family trust relationships
Suffering from loud nightmares
prophesying and professing future awe-enlightening
mechanistic Rapture harvests
of all unripe ego eggs
still unworthy of full competitive monotheistic life,
Distracted by disassociated threats,
by pathologically non-performing autonomous Fail-systems
headed terrified away to Lose economic thunder
and Lose empowering potential integrity
and Lose ecological trust relationships
and Lose theological opportunities for future communion
and Lose natural spirit synergy,
and Lose deadening nature v spirit subclimates,
absence of environmentally re-empowering karma.
Secular commodified mechanical systems
become distracted by graceful
truthful
trusting
integral animistic love,
healthy active WinEarth to WinEgo positive outcome trajectories
for one globally healthy
organic
permaculturing system
Restoring polypathic justice
to divinely humane ZeroZone SystemSouls,
Reweaving formative forests and rivers and oceans
into re-connecting green gospel-singing EarthMother,
healthy Gaian EcoSystem
and Her season-fractal subsystemic
non-mechanical climate healers
of organic growth
and resilient
polypathic
healthy wealth development.
Personal identity,
like politically empowered/disempowered identity,
evolves within EgoSpirited voices
Exchanging feelings
with EcoSoul's outside co-relational serenity,
anima mundi
uncovering ZeroZone bilateral Janus-faces,
Non-verbal language
noticing co-relational
health and pathology
qualities sensed,
felt,
originally tasted
And
Verbal iconically quantitative patriarchal voices
for either Ego, or Eco
survivalist thinking
how to further colonize
Ironically matriarchal both-and thrivalist
ego/eco-feeling co-relative voices,
healthy serene
and un-easy dissonant
Ambiguously:
Eastern innocent infantile,
Southern sagely adolescent sensual,
Western secular/sacred romantic fool
maturing ego/eco shape-shifting Win/Win climates inside
and out,
Northern maternal/paternal WiseElder
speaking and acting with polypathic compassion,
ReGenerative EarthSoul strains and stresses
hopes and faiths
come to reverse LeftBrain dominant Earth climates,
at last, at last
Yin-understory with Yang-canopy of heaven
upside down
revolutionary turning,
rewinding global wealth
as public healthy change
re-syncing Green New Deals
for 2020 taste and see cooperative multiculturing nutrition
outlasting more recent mechanistic,
competitive,
ballistic,
monoculturing toxins
Of merely legalistic
uniform
apartheid totalitarian
religious Win/Lose un-ecological equanimity
unchanging
fundamentalistic
dualistic
nihilistic
wounded voices
Still actively hoping
to conjoin more healthing choices
than a denatured unchanging
and therefore sadly dead
originally progenitive in-between voices way,
organically interdependent truths,
fully co-passioning life.
In long winters
when curious bears hibernate,
When even those few songbirds left behind
are stoically silent
at their least amorous time,
When uneven bare trees and bushes
retire into aptic
dormant
deep naked entropy,
It is sad seasonally appropriate
to barely live outside robotic,
lethargic, biotic bionic
frozenly mechanistic
and yet deeply empathic,
simultaneously.
Then springs Spring!
Let synaptic mania
swell up again,
Open the windows
and darkening doors
to set this home and love
in fresh-incoming sappy order
Resiliently resonant enough
to last through sweltering dog days
of co-empathic musky slumbering
buzzing
drowsy summer,
fat with greens
united,
and not uncuriously uniform.
pizza and nicotine
another hungover morning
beneath the thanatosphere
threading through the beige stone walls
and passing by the cloth puppets
blinking away in profuse greeting
living is but linen swaddling
eating is but nourishing plastic
nights are twinkling reds and yellows
in mechanistic majesty
angels are hovering nearby
but only the dogs can hear them
the sound of our soul
is ten thousand different songs
playing all at once, however
there are billions of people
and billions of machines
Personal trainer pasttime profession
Oscilalliting
Explosion of love and life
And massive mechanistic strain
of Money and management
What comes
Of this personal pride?
Stubborn bootcamp bellows
My soul in arears
Transmitting the dance and exchange
Who needs
The service of muscle and nerves
My urgent truncating peace
Chomping this temporary meet and greet
It's still here
That gentle touch
That soft kiss on the lips
Those soft kisses all over
That tender cheek on cheek
Finger tips passing softly and lightly over smooth skin
I have not forgotten
How could I? This is the essence, my essence
But it's not needed again
And so the young man who was willing to give so much
Must sleep now
Not die, just sleep
It's a mechanistic life now
That's what they all like
That's what they all worship
To-do lists
New things to buy
New things to clean
Renovation after renovation to the home
This breaks and that breaks, and I fix
Let's eat more
Let's buy more
Let's have more silly stupid useless conversations
What a shame!
For I still know where to touch
And how much pressure to place
And how slowly to drag my fingers across
Sleep now young man, just sleep
I will awaken you when, or if, you are needed again