The system reports temporal governance has improved
stability is now assumed
territory has been optimized
boundaries no longer require revision
decisions move through approved channels
desire is no longer a variable
people comply within expected ranges
habits were adjusted quietly
uncertainty reduced until it disappeared
time was reorganized
not divided, only arranged
even weather responds within acceptable deviation
wind behaves correctly
silence is logged as normal output
no interruptions recorded
a system check runs
nothing unusual detected
another check follows
still nothing
the system repeats the check
because repetition confirms stability
no further variables remain
only checking continues
status remains stable
there is nothing left to correct
and still the system continues monitoring
because monitoring has no end condition
the emperor is not recorded as collapsed
collapse is not a valid category!
______________________________
A faint light begins to appear on the horizon before the sun rises visibly. It is the chariot of sun arriving to herald dawn. A magical happening occurring every day that almost goes unnoticed. But look at the horses that pulled the chariot. They feel, credit goes to them to bring about demise of darkness and breaking forth of light of the day. (Horses symbolize sense organs and the mind minding them, a domain of ego claiming credit for all that happens). The truth is: it is the soul/atman that enables all of it. A voice within seems to say….
_________________________
Hold thy hyped horses
And feel not like a proud frog
Through diurnal courses,
Everything gets laid as logged,
Howl not, thou art but a cog.
_______________________
Musings | 23.05.2026 | day/dawn, darkness, horse, light, sun, Tanka
I had never been to the magical potions shop
but when I heard of it, my questions would not stop
I begged my parents to take me there
But they were not magical and did not care
My enchanted crow was hidden away in my room
He got on my computer and logged into Zoom
Asked a murder of crows for a map which was given immediately.
I am now shopping at a potions shop, with my best friend, Bree.
I joined this site called Poetry Soup
So I could write about turds or poop
I’m not sure that some folk in this group
Know humor, or are just out of the loop
I was stunned to be awarded Poem of the Day
I was so thrilled, I didn’t know what to say
Until trolls on the site made nasty remarks
But their bullying ways are their trademarks
At first Soup was fun I’d read work late at night
But this year I have hardly logged on to the site
It’s a pity that I’ve been deterred from writing
I sought peace and quiet and not back biting
My poetry style is straight from the heart
Who cares if I write about a foul smelly fart
I don’t care if folk don’t like poems on flatus
Because I write for fun not poet laureate status
38.
Ode to the Flower of February 2011
Got thee on Feb's final day
In CapSU when clouds are gray –
Got no flower before thee
On Valentine's Day must be
When my Ramayan students
On program displayed talents
Where showered they some flowers
For Rama-Sita lovers
But after presentation
My mind forgot its mission
Oh flower of February
Alas! Why you slipped from me?
Need to think another day
What'ver flower come what may
Days passed not so important
To get one I'm reluctant
Resolved to wait ‘til last day
And found one on a pathway
After logged out from admin
To lib while JS pendin!
-02/28/2011
(Dumarao)
*Ode to the 7 Flowers of 2011
A fly on the wall told me
the powerful don’t fear truth—only witnesses.
He’s logged more secrets
than a courthouse basement,
watched officials repaint rust
and call it progress,
heard promises reinforced
with duct tape and declarations—
and every time the powerless speak,
someone swats at the sound.
Once a pond o’ time
there was this grin-frog
He desired a dry, lil’ e-pad
his marsh-no-mellow
~ water-logged!
Winter Withers
…… its way into the woods
and waits….and wonders….and watches
until…. No-one is looking.
Boorishly, an ally introduces itself,
an iced-sliced wind to quiver-shiver
the woods’ most tender saplings;
to shudder the aged evergreens
with sharpened, encrusted crystals
sandpapering the toughest, roughest bark.
Weather warning complete,
Winter then crunches forward,
cold shouldering its way through the night
to finally rest against a solitary cabin.
Inside that logged shelter, Man awakens
allowing his thoughts freedom
from the waiting room of his mind.
Man has learned how to listen,
but much more importantly,
this man has listened how to learn!
What he now sharply tells himself is…
Winter has arrived; survival demands action.
Man has lived for a year with Mother Nature
after his severance with city life;
he now feels a yearning for the three R’s:
reconnecting, refiguring and relocating.
Man can’t allow Winter’s weathered wings
to embrace him with glacial isolation
nor allow its benumbed playmate… Loneliness
to knock, again, on that fragile, front door.
Ian Souter
Time cleans out the rusty clogged drains
to forget the gritty dusty details
logged in echoes, stored for recall,
too messy, too truthful to retain.
I wonder why?
'cause the rough stuff
lodges in dreams stored
in the gooey
caramel centers
of chocolate creams.
We met on the seam
between two drownings,
his cuff snagged in the kelp,
my mouth lined with moss.
He grinned
like a man who'd forgotten the surface,
held out his hand like a memory.
I took it.
We spun a waltz—
water-logged feet brushing
the roof of the wreck,
the nape of our need.
My dress leaked its scales,
his coat shed pastured wool,
each step stirring
the schools of ash-bright fish
undulating in rhythm.
When the tide pulled harder,
he didn’t let go.
When the tide pulled harder,
neither did I.
What else could we do
but dance,
until the water conceded—
we were breathing inside her.
Queen Cat is a snapchat sensation
Ten million followers log into her site daily
To view her outfits and her headdresses
To see what she eats for lunch, dinner and supper
To view which friends have come over to dine
On Monday Queen Cat was dressed as a flapper
Tuesday she was a pirate queen, Wednesday a frog
This is Thursday; her site has not been updated yet
Millions of viewers are logged in, breathlessly waiting
They want to see her calendar
What are Queen Cat’s plans for today?
Queen Cat’s owner has quit her day job
Advertisers have turned her hobby into a career.
She has made over a million dollars with this site.
She logs in and begins posting photos.
In between rain drops of nimbostratus skies,
he sheds salty tears at our ocean's demise..
Sharks with their peculiar odd strides,
dead sea lions and whales wash in on oily tides..
Deep in the jungle where the lions abide, he
hears the baby elephants cries. Alone, now
orphaned from dawn til dusk, their mother's
slaughtered to sell the tusks..
Acres of forests rich in oaks and pines logged,
decimated for the needs of mankind..
This gracious gift given at his command to allow
humans to be guardians over seas and land.
God entrusted us with our planet earth, not to
dominate nature on land and surf..
Our planet, exploited, depleted, hurting.
God is sadly disappointed and that is for certain.
You holding hands with my loneliness
Your place
The thief in my bed
The beggar in my dreams
Nothing sweet will ever belong to me
I'm at odds with the life I'm permanently renting
But you
I'll let you steal my pain, paint my face with a skin numbing smile
Losing track of time
Devotedly logged in to your stratosphere
Eyes longing to close held open by the promise of this pleasure, the feeling of you running through my mind
A love so divinely pure
Our hands will only meet through the screen
I am a virgin, I have never been touched by a man since I was created.
I have never known a man, I have never been logged, my features still remain intact.
I am a rainforest based in the Amazon basin of Brazil.
No logger has touched my growth, they come and go naturally
Life cycle turning full circle.
I am a virgin, I have never been logged by a logger.
I am a rainforest based in the Amazon basin of Brazil.
Occasionally, when I am drowning,
you rise up from that deep sea,
and though my mind is water-logged,
you push my dream-body to shore,
where you breathe your soul into mine.
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