Having entered the ‘Age of AI’
our spines to mush have turned
Bridges to common sense burned
our Luddite instincts we’ve let fly
Fear, the dominant emotion
folks ready to drown in the ocean…
The motorcar was to lead to debauchery
a dramatic increase in teenage pregnancy
The computer would replace human beings
life would lose all meaning
The motorcar and the computer we’ve somehow survived
Last I checked, more and more people alive
Perhaps we’ll manage to survive AI too
Come Halloween, don’t forget to say ‘Boo!’
_____________________________
_____________________________
444444 equals 24 trotters
6 heads
4 livers
4 hearts
6 kidneys
2 hams
Various scraps
5 hour boil time
Onions
Carrots
Greenpeppers
Garlic
Thyme
Basil
Bayleaves
2 cups of port
Rubbed sage
Salt
Pepper
_______________________________________________
Brunch Day
Sunday morning scrapple/ bacon and mushrooms
Scrambled eggs and cheese
Toast/butter and honey
Hash browns
Jam/jelly
Coffee
Beet, carrot,orange/vodka
Strawberry tart
Butternut squash tart/pecans
_____________________________________
______________________________________
Darling I may never have told you
Ain't nothing right without you
You're the star of the show
My leading lady
Keeping you happy ain't no chore
I love you
I guess I wanted you to know
Sometimes I get a little busy
we spend so much time apart
here a little something to make you smile
It comes straight from my heart
Said I love you
Ain't got no problems saying it again
_____________________________________________
Cured salmon rolled in sliced ham with sour cream eggyolk and dill....
"mush" means go to the sturdy huskies in the Yukon
mush made of cornmeal I fry up and slater syrup on
mush is great to use in a poem, a chameleon without a blush.
she rhymes with hush, shush, gush, lush, and definitely rush.
Tingly skies full of surprise, oh how I love when with surmise,
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were poetic art!
He will deliberately ambush you and your entire tush
with a gush loaded arrow he does romantically push
into hearts genuine states of goofy, gooeyed, loving mush.
No one on this earth can evade him, only love persuades him.
With silent wings, he flies towards the fun gains when his will is done.
No one has a clue concerning who will be romancing who
and there's no sense in guessing - romance is at Cupid's questing.
When cupid's arrow aims for you, there isn't much that you can do!
The egret was poking along thorough the brush
A bull name of King began to get a giant crush
The last love interest he had was a tiny blue thrush
He offered the egret a bite of his oatmeal mush
She declined politely, as had that blue thrush
mystical essence
spring has a spirit presence ...
lost on logic mush
Neuroscience
takes a world class meal
grinds it into bits
and tries to convince us
— its taste has improved
(Villanova University: April, 2025)
my daddy loved corn meal mush
mommy didn’t, she had eaten too much of it
during the depression of the thirties
I watched him cook it
because I loved daddy
he gave me a taste
with butter and maple syrup
now I loved corn meal mush too
I can hardly ever find it
but I will never forget the sweet gritty taste
and how much my love for it tickled my daddy
It was once but yet it was twice I open up my mind my spirits heart and I realize too much is never not enough oh Lord God I love you
You're my heart and my breath you're my only innocence your grace abounds your arms open wide my God you are not enough but your my all and everything
Sweet Jesus you complete me my God has created a new thing
Oh and father I thank you for your son for his Mercy's Grace is shied all my face
And in the space of time you would find a redeemed mobile quality in me
You forgiven all my transgressions and all of my iniquities
You love me so dear when I'm strong and when I'm in my fears
You set me free when I'm in captivity
So foolish of me to try to believe that I'm So unworthy thank you Father for believing in me
You're my heartbeat you're the breath you're my only innocence Your Grace a bombs your arms open wide my God my God you're on my side you are enough but you're my all and everything
My everything you're my all in my everything
3/19/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
It is an impressive break up.
The maestro conducts a symphony that
crushes eardrums with locomotive rumbling,
thumping, bumping, and dumping
of large chunks of cracking, crackling
crystalline ice pushing down river.
Hundreds of tons of ice come together –
hopefully without devastation.
It is an environment of change.
In soto voce, soft rippling rivulets,
icicles dribbling, dripping droplets,
the slushing of crusted, melting snow.
Snowshoe hares, squirrels, and wolverine
emerge into full Spring activity.
Mush dogs’ serenades ride the winds,
yipping and campaigning for dinner.
Time to secure Winter’s store of firewood,
move boats and fish wheels to higher ground.
Time to hunt and gather fresh food for stores.
Time to begin restocking fresh meats of
muskrat, beaver, duck, goose, and swan.
Time to rebuild and repair.
Break up –
one of the best times of the year.
Another Horn Haiku
president who lies
will be much to our surprise
when he should be wise
Jim Horn
In a quieten hidden corner
In a dark and danken room
Where mushrooms alone
we're meant to grow
An ugly duckling
Swanned
And out of the fog and wetting mist
A solitary flower one day did grow
And bring to bare
A shrinking violet
Placing 1st in the county show
And grew on to be mamed
QUEEN OF ALL OUR BETTER TOMORROW's
Mush-mellows and Cream
Sweet cream and butter,
sugar, milk and eggs,
the treat to eat,
and no one knows,
the secret.
“Mush” is a funny plant,
It flowers in strange places.
Where hearts cry, birds lie,
and the truth,
is well known.
Not everyone has been,
where they need to go,
or be…
But the bees in the trees,
near the rows of planted vines,
are colorful, and electric,
spending energy to make
the stars shine,
even during the day.
Crazy, wild and somewhat sane,
the idea of crushing things,
to make them sweet,
is not new.
Mush-mellows just come,
that way.
Like people,
that are happy, that know life is short.
They come to the farm for breaks,
in the day, to get away,
from the hard oranges
and treacherous tangerines,
filled with sour citrus,
confusion.
the writes a...scribble
bent folded...mutilated
reading means what...how
the words read...go fish
it's all in your head...concerned
worries are just...bait
a trap for...yourself
how then to expect...to see
mutations...within
responding's...response
to genetics...programming
basics...survival
everyone...follows
till an ending's within...sight
or sound...a music
that makes perfect...sense
a logics scale scent...again
step toward...beyond
stan sand
Love story in 25 words
By Moonbeam
Note: This is not a poem by WinkofHeart (aka Brett Somers)
I'm posting this poem for a friend of mine, Marianne Walther aka Moonbeam to help her share her voice with the world. Please comment on this poem encouraging her to open her own PoetrySoup account.
We talked for hours.
your eyes
turned my brain
into hot pudding.
you left me only
your voice by telephone.
then nothing......
only hot pudding.
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