Long Hardwired Poems

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Premium Member Purpose or Obliteration

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
Form: Narrative


Bloody Cobblestones (Part 1)

My mind awakens
to this extravagant pull
  like being jerked
when standing to close
to a jet engine starting.
I feel my top rise,
   mind diving
      for the feel of the wolf
arising from its cage,
   surfing on a wave of adrenaline.

Shaking off the lethargy 
of my hibernation,
hunger stands up
   snapping at its chains,
my thoughts
traveling inches
   over the turbulent ocean
snatching tastes of scents,
      ever drawing closer
to the reason
of this rude awakening.

Every second
   another part of me
coalesces into 
    the true extension
of my morbid being.

A spark of direction
pops into my brain
and I step onto the light killing shadow
of a red oak
becoming a part of the darkness.
The glint of lights
    and the glitter of the waves
exist and de-exist 
as I pass.

Reforming in the endarkened corner
of a garden near a park,
    tiny shrubs
      entwined in vines.
Shift,
   behind an evergreen
      across the park,
Push,
   in a bookstore
      aisle three
         narrow but sleek,
Stab,
   behind my prey
      walking unsuspectingly.

Standing
   from the shadow
of the street sign in front of him
I ensnare my fingers
 around his throat
   drawing him
into the ebony silk
             that is me.
Slash,
   he slams
into a cobblestone wall
in a slim alley I’ve chosen.
Right foot sliding
I drop into a crouch,
   left finger blades
 tearing through
the flesh behind the right knee-cap
then flinging it,
 spraying a crimson trail
and hobbling my prize.
I slam myself against the wall,
staggering into its shadow
   then reforming,
      drawing him in close.
Bringing my head near his ear
  I crack my throat,
educating him to my primal cause,
  “All humans are hardwired
     to savage
ANY which cause harm
to a loved one.
Too bad for you”,
   then for emphasis
I rip off the funnel shaped appendage,
spitting it in his face.

Unrest - a Sound of Jumbos

They punch a fist in the air
Anger written on their faces
Those deaths of their own..
Having ignited hidden fires

Rushing over each other arsonist...
Reason and civility is thrown away
Adopting hardwired survival mode
They rant chant and grow furious

Distancing rules of Covid forgat
I cry with them and pray morrow
We won't be burying them too..
When the dreaded virus attacks 
Who is fueling these fires now..

At a time when the neo-revolutionaries
Risk being executed by a Covid 19 virus
Distancing they are testing a hypothesis
In a battle as old as time the surge-on

Is it the Spanish conquerors who ignited it now..
Or the Arabian enslavers who planted the seeds
Or them Templer's founders of the Newfoundland
Who appeased them fires with an in God we trust

When the puritans in Salem burnt Tituba 
Her confessions to witchcraft but coerced
A puritan community covering behind Law
Aiding and  abetting an injustice of racism
Wait now..did they but then set her free..

Where are all the gains made in rights movements
If at the tiniest spark flames allover do now ignite
Is tolerance but a subtle retreat as peoples gather..
All manner of arsenal in battle the for domination...

Sons of a lesser God are there really any now One
Yet you do recite that he called his son from Kafira
With Kemet said to have enslaved a race chosen..
Am reminded he blessed them all.. subdue the earth

Not subdue and conquer each other
Not to exploit other's guise of labour
As they enshrine a demi-god of greed
Fondly aptly its named urban culture 

This one now does call for patient(ce+...
Have they not suffered enough anguish
At this stage of the Journey-Kibrithmana
And as Moosa uplifted that bronze snake

Don a bib... We pray it not Horsemen
We heard what seven thunders spake
As angels Swoon all over the earth...
Reapers working overtime.. Jumbos

Pimp In a Fur Suit

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/

Hand In Hand

I changed my mind when you showed me the truth,
I tested each and every one of you,
I took my time, and did it in purpose,
I knew exactly what I was doing, because i tested the spirits,
I've been called a fool on many occasions,
Yet I knew it was never foolish, it's called intelligence,
I press in a little harder, because i want to see,
The face behind the makeup, so I know exactly what I'm seeing, 
God hardwired me to pay attention to detail so many times,
That i notice things others might throw out without even trying,
I want to see what I'm up against, I am a watchman,
I wake up at the crack of dawn and pray against it,
The treasure I have is to watch my God intercede,
I wasn't aiming for their acceptance, or so they believe,
My heart has mourned losses, yet he reminds me I'm not lost,
I knew many of the positions he's placed me in would come with a higher cost,
I knew it would entail some abandonment, or cause my heart to cry,
But what you don't see are the tears I cry for you, and all the prayers in the middle of the night,
I'm not ashamed of the sensitivity of my spirit, or whatever draws me near,
He protects my heart day and night, he takes away the fear,
He directs the perspectives of my emotions and places then in order everytime,
He also uses them to bring me closer to him, to reflect, and see my own life,
My heart will still remain giving, and sometimes the most rewarding is when you can't see,
Because that is when faith kicks into high gear, disciplining the hour I first believed,
There is no lost cause when faith directs your steps, because it's really not about the outcomes at hand,
It's the frame of mind and heart to trust in His love, and walk with him hand in hand.


The Evolved Brain

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
Form: Rhyme

While You Are Here

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?
© Toni Orban  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Fathering Trust

Fathering Trust
by Odin Roark

The gift of trust
How rare
How precious
How precarious

From the cradle
To the nursing home
We strive to believe
Hoping risks valid
Disappointments mere lessons
Measured doubt a badge of courage
Even as we learn
Little can be embraced as truth

For most

Somewhere along the way
The trusting child
Becomes a questioning adult
Tiered with experience
Learned patience
Tenacity to succeed
Yet painfully reticent
With such responsibility

Some move into parenting
Sometimes short the necessary dues paid

With fathers
Certain hardwired elements of conscience
Drive duty into a labyrinth of guilt
As all they wish to fulfill
Falls short
No fault of their own

At such times
All that might be left
Is the trust of a child
Of a mate
Yes
Even the family dog
Patiently waiting for scraps

For fathers who persevere
For families who recognize
Earned returns require patience
Credence is often the only security they have

For solvency is not about one's bank account
It is about earned trust
Learned from the cradle
Challenged indefinitely
Misunderstood at times
Too often dashed upon the rocks of old age
Never having been appreciated

Like mothers
Fathers usually try their best
For when all is truly said and done
Such effort for our behalf asks only of trust
The single most precious gem
Anyone can take to the other side

To my trusted teacher of so much
Happy Father's Day Pop
You are missed
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

Mastery of Self

The anxious sense of self
Forged in a flawed reality
The blind internal drives
Percolating in the cortex just beneath

Ubiquitous is the struggle
Antiquities impressions preside
Reptilian hardwired features
Dominance – an extreme will to survive

Anxiety, fear, and anger
Emotions hard to please
Audacious insatiable appetites
Malignant cancerous disease

The struggle - the fight
A metaphorical demonic hold
We fall - dropping to our knees
Surrendering to our insufferable lonely souls

A metamorphosis occurs
Emerging - as if from a really bad dream
Awareness to the Truth
Nothing - is as it seems

We’re not worthless and dirty
Decrepit and weak
We’re a conscious creature of habit
That’s what makes us special and unique

The subconscious desires are what move us
They indiscriminately influence our lives
But consumed in abundance
Tragically – will lead to our demise

So be ravenous in moderation
Temper - don’t deny
Learn to live in the present moment
Be real – not a fictitious virtuous disguise

Awareness of our human nature
Acceptance – the glory; the triumph of our past
Appreciation for this opportunity
Autonomy - liberation manifest at last

The mastery of self
Striving to fulfill all that be one can be
Transcending all self-expectations
Profound – a unique master in modernity
Form: Rhyme

Marked

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

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