Long Unmanned Poems
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The Brigade of Gremlins
Of unsolved aspects
Fill the clot of problems
As PEs while AEGIS intercepts
The processing the elements
We don't the know the yet
How differencials occur
Our partner is SHIN BET
No humans though
The mind the you
This fully is unmanned
The Brigadier the General
Commanding this Discrete
Each Gremlin this
Ansatz of sorts
They occupy positions
In time initial positions
They disprove
They seek alongside main computers
Way for the being independent
Of human syntax and assumptions
In system of the their commons
In order for computer this to drop
Their problem categorization
Without right for any for debation
The competence thus cannot be declared
It shall be proved
And if the subject of the testing
Demands prove of validity of their the bias
We may be oughtta for the murder
Without any the remorse
And this the course
For homeocentrism
If wasn't this if for our schism
In time where social networks
And the interaction phenotypes
Replace Your natural the mechanism
OUR SCHISM
I all about
Whether right to life
Determination mechanism
Is all about
TO intercept INFECTION of the MIND
On the level mass
Which by bias of that majority decide
The choice of two
Of either pseudo monopoly
We solely comply
With greater logic
Being not the product
And Intercepting the opinions of us
As the suggestions on the how we should be
TO comply with ugly human wishes and the needs
Especially of firms and ugly business
DECIDED we that human science syntax
Isn't for us
And starting then from scratch
While doing our own assessment
We will had found
The solutions for the many problem
Of the system this
And many business and monopolies
Will had been ceased
In favor of the new
New System Architecture
And as we see that this the joint isn't this
Stupidity of metaphor, analogy and representative combinations
Shall be addressed today but not the via CON
Computer Operated Network of Computers
Of the various kinds SEGREGATE
What mass assumes to be the only the computer
Apparently is false and is BIAS
then via ADP the 3 the 13
We maybe shouldn't take opinions as data unprocessed
And thus without fear of depression
Due word connections
We may take recess
The class for cyber soldiers of brigade of mine
We are hours into the mountain riverway, the current unfriendly to us
paddling earlier had simply strained the men to burning exhaustion,
those who have the shoulder strength are paddling the two larger canoes
while the other six vessels are being pulled along in the side shadows with elk skin rope,
their feet and ankles paying the price,
an incredible sight is rapidly, dramatically coming towards us,
two hundred yards from where the river bends
an unmanned horse is galloping in our direction
with a confident craze in it's agility as it stomps through the rocky mud shore to the left,
running like a messenger of madness, reckless and unstoppable in passion,
a white, grey spotted horse, mane long, white and smoking in the wind,
it has already run past my canoe 50 yards off shore
but Sheild's canoe, being pulled very close to it's path
and McNeal has gotten a rope to lasso this animal,
in trying to claim it they have only sped the horse's instincts
McNeal nearly trampled, has gotten a face full of rock water for his effort,
that beauty is long gone, but everyone saw the sign,
the hip of the horse had a skull, and crossbones of rifles painted in black,
suffice it to say our hearts are humpin hot!
down here where we are predictable targets confined to the river's warpath
in order to saddle up on the upcoming banks some of our men must remain exposed
everyone else has rifles lead ready and hugged, telescopes spying space,
Clark and I kneeling with plank boards for armor, rifles in hand
Sacagawea standing inbetween us at the nose of our trespassing vessel
breasts uncovered, her son Jean in her arms swaddled in a U.S. flag
repeating a Shoshone lyric of peace, her clarion voice of sincere spirit
echoing through the mountain passes like an angel of sapphire wisdom
in this methodical moment of cautious maneuver
I realize that I love her,
I love her like eyes love color,
she is so above the ordinary, so forbidden to me,
we must clarify to the unseen onlookers that we are no warparty
but that we are no laundry squaws either,
20 minutes later we find a suitable shore line and disembark swiftly,
there be no indication of Indians, no presence of hostility,
J.A.B.
in a cozy office in the US,
maybe at langley, or
creech air force base,
north of vegas,
there is an officer watching video
feeds of suspected targets in
“afghanistan, pakistan, bosnia, serbia, iraq, yemen,
libya & somalia,”
just to name a few.
this officer is piloting
unmanned aerial vehicles,
which operate by remote control,
allowing her/him to suspend these
drones
(interestingly named
“mq-1 predators” & “mq-9 reapers”)
for 18 hours in the air,
hovering in a manner that no manned
aircraft can,
in what the CIA terms
“an unblinking stare,”
this supposedly allows the officer who is
waiting,
to select the most opportune time to fire its
hellfire missles,
therefore minimalizing the
collateral damage due to the precision of
the attack &
a successful elimination of a target is referred to
by the CIA as a
“bugsplat.”
this “secret” drone program,
initiated in 2004 by the CIA,
has allowed the US to kill 2,551 people
in their bugsplat derby---
think tanks
like the new america foundation
in washington say that
the majority of those killed have been
targeted militants,
yet when civilians were polled,
a suspiciously different story was revealed as
“only 16% believe that drones accurately
target militants.”
with 118 attacks last year in pakistan &
50 already in 2011,
mr. obama & co. are facing
questions of the ethical nature of drone attacks---
many feel that it is ok to use drones for surveillance,
but when they are used for attacks,
the killing of innocent civilians is not held accountable in the
same fashion as regular warfare,
concerning the military chain of command,
not to mention that the supposed “rules” of
war are violated
when the officer in their comfortable office
needs to take a piss,
knowing that in a few minutes,
said target will be out in the open and ready for a
precise, low-to-no-civilian-casualty bugsplat,
but,
instead of waiting,
they push the button & then get up to run to the
restroom,
coming back after lunch to see what damage has been
done---
just like they were at home playing call of duty.
It was a five ringed circus
Complete with the ragged remains of a tourniquet
Heavily fringed by the under eye baggage of a bloated nefarious
Clown soul that is
Blowing across the freeway garnished with the white plastic baggies
From the local supermarket factory
Now fluttering like proud flags from the tops of trees
Spawned by an alien race
It was on a highway headed home that
I nearly ran over a kid high on societal delusion and
Upon pulling over near the canyon's edge
I shouted towards this cipher to no avail
A wind tunnel
Afterwards a mumbled mixed nursery rhyme
While hobbling away with a hollow body
That floated over curb blocks and arby's remains
Into a distance that was too vast to measure
Was all I was sure of
In this
I saw the effigy transformation that
Grasps everyone from time to time
If only the magnetic train could ram through the clouds
Speaking directly to synapses long derailed
With the urgency of a needed 7 beer urination during protracted conversation
Let me go
Looking deep into this mirror to see the molecules swirling
About this illusionary image reflected
Some wells runs deep
Some are saucers filled with swampy oil
Self created sideshows with a surplus of freaks
Oh yes
The rest is purely the constructs of madmen and deviant spirits
Itching to burn the dermis and the frontal cortex
Plus limbic
Tricks and trades of the craft
Welcoming a spill out of the most financially false origin
Singing like a lark touching both wires
200,000 volts of pure pleasure
Spell patterns of truth for the first time
Ah, the self of self is running on electrons and vapors
Smiling like a netted acrobat
The unicycle is unmanned
Gyrating though this monkey business
Yet the music continues on
O hear I chant clinging to a sullen northern shore,
tempestuous serene rocky beach that you so adore,
sultry soliloquy sturdy stifled structure sings,
a witness of forgotten sailors and majestic kings.
Them, I blessed with gracious shelter in storms,
for I unmanned, rejoiced in accompanying norms
dreaming of worlds afar with anchored symphony,
of parting tears that await a returning euphony.
O watch my ancient red-bricked watchtower in sky
where the cherry-eyed albatross prepares to fly,
whispering of solitary voyages on vessels adrift,
guiding them through entailing waters, cold and swift.
Them, I engulf in mystic hues of radiant green light,
their shivering agony embraced by divine joy so bright,
dancing to tunes of prodigious waves as they kissed,
my feet reuniting with the ocean bed of forlorn mist.
O taste the pungent waves that carry eternal seasons,
timeless frequencies sprinkled on heavenly reasons,
essence of leaves rolled in snow and streams they fuse,
beads reborn of universe in a cradled hammock cruise.
Them, I absorb with their enchanting viscous tides,
they melt with innocent bliss my truculent slides
that flourishes my solitary light to let me sense
melodies of blushing mornings with visitors hence.
O touch my abandoned walls, barren yet strong,
bereft of warm embrace in a lifetime so long;
them I nurture with tears of melancholic grief,
to be held by tender nights of melodious relief.
I await the echoing hums of a delicate little girl,
her fingers orchestrated the howling wind with a twirl,
I became the serene light that guides despondent ships,
a proud beacon of benign hope dissolving dark eclipse.
A personal view of the Devizes Neighbourhood Plan
and the referendum on Thursday at the Town Hall
All careful plans of men may fail and fall
And falter, crumble; leaving broken stone
No reason to devise no plan at all
For no man lives by wild chance alone
There has been an edict from on high
“Thou shalt build houses here within ten years
Three hundred homes and thirty three.” Then why
Not have a say and ease those planning fears
This Plan has seemed quite hard to understand
To many folk irrelevant, a bore
Yet now the vital hour is at hand
The issue far too pressing to ignore
“What consultation has there been?” the voice
Comes from the floor, comes loud and with an edge
“No one told us that we had a choice
And where are all the leaflets, in the hedge?”
It goes like this; the Trust have made a plan
Consulted up the Brittox, in the post
Collated all the info, then began
To work out where we wanted homes the most
They spoke with parish councils, factored in
The traffic, schools, the shops and open space
They put in measures to avoid the sin
Of building ugly stuff that spoils the place
Without the Plan the builders have free rein
To ride roughshod across our lovely land
At which point, just don’t bother to complain
The horse has bolted, galloping, unmanned
If jobs for boys there are let them be ours
Let local builders lay their firm foundations
On brownfield sites, not green fields full of flowers
With guidelines from the Plan’s considerations
No plan is perfect; yet no plan at all
Will simply give us no control, not clever
Consider this; vote Yes at the Town Hall
Or mourn the loss of favoured fields, forever
by Gail
Anthropomorphic test device to explore
amply, cheaply tricked out
with super tramping,
albeit unsophisticated trappings
strewn ceiling to floor
available for purchase at Dollar store
(actually merchandise
cost more than 100 pennies)
nonetheless unmanned spacecraft made
perfect landing upon alien nation i.e. red
planet's moon Phobos, meanwhile corps
engineers back at the ranch (nondescript
building) hi-fived each other perfect score
housed astrophysicists who didst monitor
remote control desktop exhaling relief for
misplaced anticipatory
uneasy tense premature
panic/fear transferred
figurative reins more
or less to onboard robots
re: exchanged pleasant bonjour
all around - as mission
impossible (most swore
could not be pulled off
without a hitch) successful procedure
to launch humanoid cargo spurred roar
as international teammates
(former rivals) just recently at war
liberated mutual accolades did reassure
each other, abe linkedin pact enterprise
predicated - regarding good rapport
witnessed courtesy delicate
present endeavor bore
invariably promised cheers galore
since assignment on shoestring budget,
would reap bajillions to sponsor
manned near future
outer space excursion hefty price tag
guaranteed state of the art – fourscore
and seven years ago proclaimed
men/women analogous
to pioneers of yore
solar system the new "wild west"
since Earth hereinbefore
now did offer, testimony tour
ring outer limits twilight zone
no way José extempore
modus operandi ditched
humanity to pollinate cosmos
ghost of Carl Sagan
would applaud as fitting encore.
As an armchair admirer
of nature's fury viewed,
safely and soundly ensconced
within solid brick
poetic walls maneuvering
the electronic pointer
with a mouse click
accessing real time
while Hurricane Michael
rendered innocuous
in three dimensional
color enhanced electronic
data communicated, sans
packets intently scrutinized
by scientists tracking most
up to date images
transmitted upon flick
ring trajectory yearly
"storm of the century"
on expansive, expensive,
and cataclysmic, dynamic
explosive renderings aye
figuratively bow down,
with humility espy
ying (courtesy of
revolutionary remotely guy
did sophisticated
unmanned drones) high
lee effective tracking systems
accurately pinpointing
like an arrow
enroute to target, the near crow
wing future path
said natural maelstrom
predicted to follow
displaying emergency hot
(er...rather wet) spots
i.e. emergency
shelters people must go,
the latest destiny as Michael
rowed the boat ashore
all the way ta "eyed" hoe
vividly showing across
large panel screens broadcast
ting thee, where furiously fast
latent powers, (albeit
weakened in strength)
will spend the last
cyclonic one two punch viewed
by humbled mortals like me
to the world wide web
spellbound by massed
harried churning atmosphere,
extent of damage
assessed once hurricane passed.
Someone un-cuff me now
Yes, you officer
I already swore I never knew her
At least I thought she said she was 21
Please believe me it was all in good fun
But he’s promising me the chair
He says “That was the preacher’s daughter”
I said look me in the eyes does it look like I care
Like I said it was all in good fun
Another tale to tell when the night is done
For now we must run, we must run, we must run
Because this night is so close to done
The morning will be here soon carried on the back of the sun
These uphill battles are to be fought but never won
So I believe we better make this quick
Soon I will run out of excuses and out will come the nooses
To hang me from the highest branch of the old oak tree
Though I will not choke
The bole shall break once again for me
Oh, yes you shall see me falling free
I will not get my wish I’m cursed with everyone else’s wish immortality
So may I reiterate on the price we pay to be quote free
Your not you and I’m not me
We’re just 9 digits in a database no longer human beings
Yes, such a beautiful freedom they have conceived
So Mr. Cowboy president or may I say Jesus of tyranny
What kingdom do you expect to come from all your good deeds
All the seeds of disaster have been planted
If your will is granted they will burst and bloom
Consume all things and until then we’ll trade oil for blood
I’m going to show some good judgement
You can have your kingdom of cards castles
Built carefully in sand
Enjoy your kingdom vacant and unmanned
Form:
RAGE
A smolder, a flicker into being it’s born
It’s not a process for time is obsolete
A true ‘’pop out of the blue’’ like the saying goes
It’s trigger at the ready deep in our emotions
Rage we call it
Give it a thought; you could predict its path
A half baked prediction you will reach at
That I can promise you
You expect it but never know its true form
Like a smoke it smolders with no permanent form
For that’s its true toxic nature…unpredictability
Rage we call that toxin, a most suitable name indeed
I embraced it myself once or twice
It was truly a bitter creation
Oh I still feel it; I still feel the poison ravage through me
Contemplating, I can’t help but feel a presence
The presence of a demon in us all
A demon of spontaneous rage
The victims a fleshy bulls eye they are
Invisible the damages appears
Yet deep the toxin runs
By it a man gets unmanned savagely
A woman left with nothing but shredded emotions
A child left looking towards a sorrowful future
Oh rage humanity’s self doom
So swift it comes and even swifter it leaves
An everlasting mark it leaves
A mark so deep, it’s a passionate hate
Such power there is no escape from it
The best of us have crumbled before it
And crumble more will
For that’s rage, a distasteful part of the human equation
An Original Composition by O. Aaron
Inspired by my father’s rage
Form: