IN THE TANGLED WEB OF TIME
How much longer in time,
Must we victims of injustice,
Still march and sing—our feet
Grown weary as facades of justice
Quietly seek to deafen our voices?
Today, we remain footnotes of history;
Ourstory, a cocooned legacy of
A pregnant dream hanging
In the tangled web of time:-
Matrices of pseudo gains,
Continue to tease unripe minds
With bigoted scams of liberty.
Today, in due time and due season,
We will rise from the pit we’re now in—
Rise and catch the fallen dream,
And lay it in the warm nest of the bosom
Of liberation—incubating the waiting vision
Of our destined realities, singing redemption songs:
Ringing bells of freedom, dancing to the beat of liberty:-
Indeed, the flame of determination burns eternally,
And the love-journey of the unshackled continues
On to the trysting place: Where we shall, in due time,
Come together in the onederful oneness of the
Onement of the peace and love of God’s liberation:-
Acelerating between cosine delta’s energetic forces, gravitates home inertia
Joule’s kinetic level’s magnetic number, oval propagating quantum radius’
S-matrices, time unifying vector wavelength X’s yellow Zeta
What of mankind’s delusions and illusions of mind, M intertwine
ONE happily splits into TWO
joy of THREE becomes FOUR’s stability
salt transforms into amber in FIVE’s multiplicities
SIX races into externalisations and insertion
matrices to dust as SEVEN links Earth to Heaven
EIGHT the Ouroboros ~ Infinity’ Gift as leaven
NINE summation and crescendo _______we begin once more...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A rustling of digital leaves
in the binary breeze.
Odd fractals of ones and zeros
crash in waves of a subliminal sea.
Rotations of carbon and nanowires
collecting in my shadow.
Ghost of man-made reality
in matrices of ions.
The light of a binary universe in transit.
Coils of cool light drifting
through my Silicon Soul.
A leaf curves and descends
into decaying isotopes.
I feel the event horizon
of god’s information overload.
A rustling of skeletal circuitry
in a binary breeze.
All is not what it seems: odd filaments
of nanites and nanoseconds.
Feeling the rush of cold
in a binary breeze along subliminal seas.
It was his first flight,
He had desired lofty height.
He loved fighter jets,
He talked about it on his dates.
Though he failed his enrolment exams twice,
He knew life is like throwing dice.
Sky flight was his all-time favourite movie,
Unlike the bird’s movie, Covey.
He passed his simulation practices,
He preferred them to algebra matrices.
He heard so many noises in the sky,
He landed in a lost city called Fey.
November 6, 2022.
but we should be able to go back
review with now mature eyes
those infinite mangers
where we were dumped
at the end of the treadmill
in the drying area
of the assembly line.
we should be able to see
what expressions our matrices had
if they were happy and smiled
or kept a stern manner
an absent look
serious and frowning.
because the gods
were always extruders
injecting flesh, bones and fluids
in our humanoid molds
and we being just the elusive fruits
generated in series by the macabre verb
from a divine pack of sociopaths
deciding to engender us
to play to make it hurt.
Mother of All Mathematical Matrices
We did look at her dimensions over there;
LWH and hips started to carefully compare;
Really equal ratio;
Not reduce or grow;
Figured out her figure was a perfect square.
Not only perfect was it forever being;
In theorem created by a Pythagorean,
And each amenity
Contained infinity;
Beyond belief we had been believing.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC
Continually equal and always agreeing.
IN THE TANGLED WEB OF TIME…
How long
must we still march
and sing---
our feet grown weary
and facades of justice
quietly silencing our voices?
Today
we remain footnotes
to his story---
our story
a cocooned legacy
of a pregnant dream
hanging
in the tangled web of time.
Matrices
of pseudo gains
continue
to tease un-ripened minds
with scams of liberty.
Today
in due time
in due season
we will rise up
from the pit we’re in---
rise up
and catch the fallen dream
laying it in the warm nest
of the bosom of liberation---
and incubate the waiting vision
of our destined realities
singing songs of redemption---
ringing bells of freedom
dancing to the beat of liberty:
Indeed
the flame of determination
burns eternally
and the love-journey
of the unshackled
continues toward the trysting place.
Tingling toes
of the megabyte cavalry
callouses scraping
along private roads
Cascading matrices
on the plasma periphery
peasantry bleating
on official commands
Stewing a cauldron
a festering foment
watering nations
from acid-soaked cans
BE SAFE!
say the oracles
so buying a check
but electing the cavalry
leaves the infantry wet
I am the sum of the ages
beginning before my mother,
before my grandmother,
and before my grandmother's mother.
I am the product of their matriarchal choices,
the quotient of their actions, reflections, and self-images.
I am the difference of their generations.
And I bequeath the equation of this inheritance
to the matrices of my living legacies.
These thoughts of mine
sing serenades,
out of key,
and silently.
Sentences into phrases
is what I want.
I want the wanting.
Your phrases are
beautiful
but unorganized.
Do you even realize?
She says you’re too smart
for your own good.
For a week,
I thought you insane.
Debussy drifts down
minor scales
while we sleep.
You talked in your dreams,
in Schoenberg matrices
and chromatic choruses;
I tried to wake you up
to no avail.
You kept me up all
night, actually.
But, in the morning,
I made you breakfast anyway.
I didn’t even ask of the woman’s
name you spoke of.
I cannot curse your
unconscious. Your dreams
are not mine to judge.
Reality has you in my arms,
...or does it?
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