Fight the algorithms
that tell us what to do,
to make us predictable,
unoriginal and bankable.
Have you witnessed how
increasingly bland and homogenous
our lives are becoming?
Choose freedom
avoid the diaries of commerce
that riff on the ubiquity of apps
resist the reductive tropes
of our published and circulated,
perspective customer identities.
Fight the algorithms
with their embedded back-lot
familiarity, built around class
and consumerism.
Try to understand the
vague, inscrutable and
purposefully circuitous.
Or stop overthinking
and embrace liberating surrender.
That’s the path I’ve chosen.
.
.
The Gates by Da Vinci's Notebook
Talk Down Dijon
This sandwich is destitute
And the dijon has expired
A miraculous vision appeared to me, a gentle lady
One who gloriously gazed on my face
What is the life of but Art and Science?
The Shepherd's Dream?
When there are no living to remember the dead.
God knew of the culpability
The rearrangement of kitchen condiments
The kitchen being a cathedral of failure
Church of pie
I am the balcony in the balcony scene
And I'm exploring mental health through poetry
Hoggish, empty, splod.
What's up with this,
just want wine Dijon.
Can't find the stuff,
guess it's all gone.
The country's turned nutty,
heard it from a song.
But I got some gummies,
it's only Dijon.
It's spring and fresh Farmers Market
asparagus always calls for a quiche,
so I dig out the May,1986 Milk Calendar
recipe, you can’t get more Canadian.
We use a pressed wheat germ crust because
we’re not good at real pastry, the secret is
cold hands according to Sarah’s mother
and I guess we’re too hot handed.
Sauté 1 cup of chopped onion,
lightly steam approximately one
pound of chopped asparagus and place
onions and asparagus at bottom of pie crust.
Beat 3 of our neighbour’s farm fresh eggs
(4 ‘large’ store-bought eggs), then add
two-thirds cup plain yogourt, a cup of milk,
and a cup and a half of shredded old cheddar cheese
(yes, very much the 1986 Milk calendar but I
did use canola oil instead of butter for the sauté)
a tsp each of salt and dried dill (2 tbsp fresh if available),
one tbsp Dijon mustard and cinnamon and
nutmeg to taste (in my case this means a lot).
Pour egg mix over onions and asparagus over pie
(if desired top with a wheel of asparagus spears).
Bake at 375? for 35 minutes, let. cool for 10
and savour the taste of spring.
Some colors of diversity
a mosaic mixture of the light spectrum shaded:
This of, yellow: mustard, tuscany, cream, corn, flax.
This of, orange: fire, pumpkin, ochre, dijon, honey, rust.
This of, red: ferrari, candy, chili, apple, raspberry, burgundy.
This of, violet: mauve, mulberry, lavender, orchid, grape.
Also of:
Greens: moss, lime, emerald, fern, mint, olive.
Blues: azure, baby blue, sky, olympic, sapphire, navy.
Browns: mocha, tawny, coffee, caramel, cinnamon.
Grays: fossil, mink, pearl river, thunder, smoke, steel.
These are only of some of many shade Colors:
Yet, Skin shades can be white, black, brown, red, or yellow.
For this write, it is shaded black on white.
It being shown on pages or on screens.
The True shades that reveal the author’s true light.
Yellow Mustard joined Olive Oil
At the motel, Blue Cheese Lagoon
Afraid he was much too anxious
Because she said he came to soon!
But he then knew what was ado
His cousin Dijon was more quick
Yellow Mustard was disappointed
Unaware Olive Oil was so slick
But the other condiments knew
They didn't need a measuring cup
They said it was in front of you
Come on Yellow Mustard Catch up!
The water, cloaked in the mist of a yellow dawn,
Summoned souls to the shore of beguiling dreams.
Sail true, My pilot, My hope,
Into thy Dijon Fantasy.
Written 3/3/2016 For U/C Contest Yellow Picture 4
Beetle fobs on a trashed out war plane equals the dogma of a hidden few. Vessels whisper in a breeze. And no ant could utilise its soul. As all have a duty. All firm a line. Military precision in a cute cut curve. Jeopardy is an anarchy. And upon ancient lands. Monarchs were monarchs when they did rule. Now no more. Cease to confuse. Adorn a painting with a guilded leather wand. Induces a coma of though to exact a mighty wrong. Si tail end of feathered beats should never be ignored. Taken to the bosum of the wide oak torso. In unison it strives to live. Lead. Leads. Lead. Leads. Led. Leaden. Community forms. Arrives justice in panned out pancakes. No to planning. And further more no more £% or €$ and prevailing is the wishes of the smallest tapered shrew. With a snout for a nose and in tune wars. To unblemish the smoked sand. And then the Sanskrit will outsway the doctrines and fly over and over and over and over and over the fantastic plaza of ancient soil. Mishpa deyoo Ceylon crinna elloo fatma imman imman imman Dijon xxxxxxxxx valour vapours z.z.z. At 0% of an applet ha ha ha ha ha ha ha xx xx xx love you lots xxxxxx kisses kissing kiss. Xx
Bleach
I see you all have eyes
but I don't think you see anything.
I see you are all dressed in the flesh and the blood
but I don't think that you are real.
At least you don't want to be.
Your teeth don't even look real.
And they stink of bleach, wasted money and low self-esteem.
Your tan looks like a batch of over -cooked French fries smothered in orange juice and Dijon mustard.
Your fashion sense is handicap.
Disabled from any form of intelligence or care.
I see you all have mirrors
but I don't think you look into them.
I want to break those mirrors with my bare fist
and not even bother to pull out the bits of glass or treat the cuts.
Because there is pain in that.
And pain is the one and only thing that I know of to be real anymore.
-Bryce Stoskopf
Dijon, Monte *****, Santiago, Monte Carlo, palaces, kingdoms-n-castles, places
I travel without planes, boats or passports, places where my mind go with
whomever follows, Daesh’a we both said I do, it’s Déjà Vu, I saw you before I
knew you, so when I saw you, I knew it was you, I love you, I do, your mind,
your heart-n-soul, places I go I can’t live without you, so like my mind, I live with
you, I do, wherever my mind goes, I’m always with you, I love you, I do, it’s Déjà
Vu, when I saw you, I knew it was you, Daesh’a I love you, I do, my Déjà Vu, I
saw you before I knew it was you, so when I saw you, I knew it was you,
Daesh’a my wife, my Déjà Vu, I do.
To you plump puffball,
Squatter of the mushroom fungi.
May your soils be rich
And your spores be many!
Moonstone child of nocturnal reverie
Pride tempts to invite fallacious vanity.
Creamy alabaster skin,
Spongy firm of flesh within.
A saucy lunar face to taunt the sun.
His nomadic gaze leaves no course for fun.
The sun edges off towards autumn skies,
Pragmatically steady; contemplatively wise.
The sun may have kissed her on a whim,
Crazed butterfly flutters; needles to pins.
Translucent skin, her conceit and crown,
Blushes from saffron hue, to Dijon brown.
Physical metamorphosis; transmutations collide,
She becomes a phase converted seasonal bride.
To celebrate this new found core,
She sends up clouds of dust, and sleepy spores.
Carpe Diem.
flax seed bread lightly toasted, with
piri piri chicken, warm
with flavor, then mixed with onion of fine dice
to the mixture, dont forget
dijon, and leaf of green lettuce crisp
milk plus chocolate
this will be good
stir into the world of internet
digital screen white keyboard
usb external hard-drive sits on my desk - bored
not sure why a zip-lock bag full of raw almonds
leans on his chords.
bending them out of shape
or why the plate didnt catch all the flaxseeds
crowding his space.
independent mr. cell phone winks at my wrist watch
waiting for a response.
i sit back and watch writing poetry at my desk.
I’m a server…
delivery complete.
The machine works
like this…
”... you deserve what you get…”
”... you get what you deserve…”
Can I have the mustard please
”... care for some Catch up Sir?...”
the mustard has seeds…
Dijon… ;)
”... you don’t have yellow?...”
I asked but the cook said know.
”...you know something…”
I know that I like catch up
I like it best on a good stake
Least when the goods take… too long.
”...never hesitate…”
Please… order something.
Is the menu knew?
It is and it’s a Catch!22
“nowin”
See it as you do. ;)