I have lived many deaths
Through a many existence
Many worlds
Many times
I keep coming back
I am light reflected upon time
I am the universe looking for purpose
I am God stranded in the hourglass
I am before and after the singularity
I am the past learning It's the future
I am trapped fighting for meaning
I am Sisyphus but the hill keeps climbing
With a feeling the hill has a zenith
Only to keep going, existence is my prison
temporary release
When I make bond
And time leaves me behind
Only to find me again
I keep coming back
I go but I will always be back
In another world
In another time
Matter and antimatter
As death and as life
I really am the universe
Alpha and Omega
Omega to Alpha
I am always here in an instant
Aeon to Aeon
Man without End.
Sometimes obtuse
Mostly acute
Right on the money
Straight to the point—
You always appeal
To my better angles
1/6/2023
Geometric • Geodesic graphic image by Mark Toney using Canva Pro
The last two lines are a play on words from President Lincoln's first inaugural address when he took the oath of office to become the 16th President of the United States. Lincoln closed with the phrase "... the better angels of our nature." I'm just trying to be honest, Abe :)
You got my heart beating at scouring velocity I bet
The colors of your paint job would be Flambeau and desert sunset
You got more juice than a Holley 650 double pump carburetor
As kind and cool as the interior of a 68 continental coach door
Your mouth was built with the precision of a go no go gauge
Your voice the soothing hum of a well-bathed metal lath
With a mind that’s as on point as a floor-mounted drill press
The drafting baton that laid down your lines, curvaceous
Another thing I noticed is you shine brighter than chrome
With the simple yet complex beauty of a geodesic dome
I
see a
place with
starless skies.
I
see a
dark smooth
world
endlessly afloat
in the black,
its star
long since
blinked
out.
Covered
with small
closely spaced
geodesic domes.
Geodesic domes
all interconnected,
all with
conduits leading
to the core.
I see
a place where
time
forgot
and where
dreams
come from.
The termite culture's rich and vast,
more so, sometimes, than humankind,
with martyrs and mujahideen,
and projects ponderous yet precise,
and back-up plans, a hundredfold.
How do they do it?
Society is based on caste,
with tasks and territory assigned
by social rank. Some watch, some wean,
some whittle, weave, ward off, entice,
while food for all is fairly doled.
How do they do it?
Their architecture's unsurpassed,
with geodesic shapes, designed
with opulence almost obscene,
and altruists. Self-sacrifice
is common. And they mine for gold!
How do they do it?
Hardly least and never last,
over her subjects (all of them blind)
there reigns a massive, fertile queen,
releasing pheromones (how nice!)
She lives to forty-five years old!
How do they do it?
Yet We Endure, We Lost Devils Of Mankind
O' what boldness the soft-shoe'd thief had
when rustling through my heart's home.
Invisible- never seen, but wickedly bad
and just as complicated as a geodesic dome.
Sent ahead- her vision to my soul entice
she of wondrous eyes and softest arms.
Knowing I'd be trapped by my own device
and never resist the lures of her charms!
Life's ancient irony is that love is blind
and biggest fool, a wishful hero to be.
Yet we endure, we lost devils of mankind
desperately swimming, each in our sea.
Of earth's patient resilience, love yet stands.
Victor, across each border and all the lands!
Robert J. Lindley, 10-28-2015
Note- A sonnet dedicated to this fine day!
I woke- sweet light met my eyes
aware that everybody dies
My- how youth and dear time fly
life again- yet for another day,
or is that just another comforting lie?
But even halfcut spiders some
damn how bleed their papyrus way towards
the light to die, they later told me,
from behind an aching searchlamp
(onehundred watts, a blade
brilliant tearmuse for
my rapidwrinking visions)
during that eonslong debriefing
in our lonely hilltop geodesic keep
So how'd you fell, they said,
so far into shade, Sonnyboy
But I don't dare hear them
her hot tongues in my ear
her smoky breath is mine
Whose hand is this, they
spat, Whose dotted tees, Whose
crossing ayes -- these cramped
and spiraled hieroglyphics
denote a sanguine head
And I sat back in my
silence, smiled, and take
my timetable from the
membranous air
I hunger for something
something to fill my heart,
I hunger for something
Yes,something that will take away my hunger.
I hunger for real trust
Trust that makes me safe
If only it makes me satisfied
That I can go anywhere safely.
I hunger for direction
The direction towards righteousness
If it gives me the satisfaction I can feel
Only hoping that tomorrow will come
I hunger for peace and unity
Reunion of varied ideologies
Politically,religiously and socially
In this geodesic world
I live in a rocket
The one shaped with a pointed stick
Stitching out for everyone to see;
Then,why should I not hunger for a better one?