A stalled monsoon trough over central Nepal
caused continuous torrential heavy rainfall
Slopes pushed up moisture from the Bay of Bengal
The catastrophe was looming large to befall.
Sudden breach of a moraine dam
Triggered Glacial Lake outburst floods
A surge of water and debris devastates
downstream, catching communities off guard.
Landslides continued to collapse slopes,
forming temporary dams that later burst
Steep valleys amplified runoff swift and fast
Flood of fury of all time unleashed the worst.
A compound climate disaster of twin sciences
Meteorology and geology to decipher in depth
monsoon extremes, unstable glaciers, terrain hazards
Perished hundreds of lives and left many homeless.
Sparse sensors, lack of predictive models a curse
Warrant real time glacial monitoring at source
With closely spaced weather station networks
And cross border early warning systems
…….Narayan Gadagkar
seeking pleasure and shunning pain
in as it applies to our form
choosing bondage we wear the chain
with cravings of ego conform
play of desire and aversion
becomes a haunting addictive
yet it is a simulation
programmed responses predictive
cooperating we comply
watching the ebb and flow of tides
there’s nothing to seek or decry
as soul in the void wingless glides
Deep state people, deep state minds
False importance, jobs contrived
Guardian people, warden minds
You’re not the people of my kind
Your crimes are well investigated
To lay the charge on those you hated
To set the safety, you threat and punish
Your dreamland state still cannot vanish
You welcome those who come to kill
A few cruel fates make no big deal
You tax the pensioners, to draw
Another graph to make the score
Your preconceptions are predictive
You rules are very much convictive
But not for those, who live in peace
Who wouldn’t go for golden fleece
Deep state people, straight lined minds
A state more shallow how to find?
I reckon it’s a bit too late
Your cockroach breed fills every state
Caressing touches are so luscious
That emotions so crush us.
Temping smells are so attractive
Causing desires so reactive.
Soothing voices are so alluring
Creating thoughts so enduring.
Our feelings are so addictive
Our behavior so predictive.
I’m sitting at my keyboard
Just ranting and abusing
Which my long suffering wife
No longer finds amusing.
I’m both dyslexic and dyspraxic
Which is why I swear and curse
Because for a creative person that
Combination couldn’t be worse.
To make matters harder I Have
a keyboard that judy can’t spell
And predictive text just
Can Make my life hell.
I bought a dictation programme,
Money very badly spent.
It just can’t cope with
My East Yorkshire accent.
So if my rambling is at time
More than usually absurd
Full of errors and typos
And the odd little non word
Please be a little forgiving
For what you are getting to see,
With all those helpers switched off
The unaided uncorrected real me.
She grouched, grumbled, griped and groaned.
We complained about her complaining.
She was a pain
Still we lugged her around to all family reunions
She could clear a good story off a picnic table in seconds
Replacing it with something dour, dank, disgusting and depressing
She is our great Aunt Constance Bee.
Here she comes now, watch the relatives scatter.
Same attitude, same gripes, same wheezing and sneezing.
She walks toward us one leg at a time, bearing down with a hard look.
You have to admit she is consistent, mother says.
She has enough consistencies to be predictive, actually.
On a good note, we know if we bring her, we do not have to stay forever.
The rest of them clap as we get up to leave;
which makes it easier to get out the door.
Which may be why we always bring Aunt Constance Bee.
Frctured memories remain
over and over in time again refrains
embedded in the mind dearly
it's the heart that sees more clearly;
simple and politely attained
focused on the encounters and love gained
was it sunny that day
or did it rain?
A first love experience is often lost to clarity
delightful and innocent predictive familiarity
recollected awkward sophistications
the when and why of final destinations;
looking back the mind can focus
on the mix and match hocus pocus
but the heart alone can see
the future you and me.
Some fifty years have passed away
tears and laughter shared over those days
do you remember them as well as I
always wondered who would be first to say goodbye;
they're only sweet memories dusty now
together we got thru them all somehow
with minds and bonded hearts
those memories live tho we are apart.
for contest by Constance La France
Dusty Old Memories
8/4/2020
London,
I can taste the cherries
rich red ripe
aching
for a predictive bite
savoured with much more than spice
warm mouths connect
and erect
in communion
in faith
consuming the richness of fate
but alas
It is too far off
my patience reclines
supine
my breath wafts through the air
enplaned upon your scent
chained to your walls
forbade to move at all
but I must
musk mystifies the wild
the deep
the prowl
the forest lay dark
but I shine light on the macabre
sacrosanct as it shall be
I am the power to be
an elixir in the entails of lust
held cross'd the chalice
where your waters are my wine
I drunk
and you the alter of attention
I can taste the cherries
in your Puritan pulse
pulling
I wander about
the mountains, the glory
my chains become yours
the locks not really locks
keys forged in trust
the fires rage and rage
water droplets seduce your chest
I stand in awe
undressed
Calculation feels cold and harsh
when cash invests and divests
in matters of my heart,
Heart here intended
not a wispy euphemism,
nor a bloodless gutted nonpersonification
for my autonomous left-brain mind
and dipolar co-arising life
of love empowerment.
An empowering mind
fully embodied with win/win gratitude memories,
bicamerally pumping nutrition
nurture
nature's robust elixir,
with stasis a robust boundary
in-between diastatic ecstasies
of alternating full and empty,
with trust and loyalty
through memorized
memed apposition.
To sing accurately,
with predictive calculation,
for my capital-purchased supper
does not invite warm jazz
or gospel improvisation,
rhythmic investment,
crescendo and diminished embellishment,
grand and resonant
regenerative
lively opera,
Contagious organically operating memory,
of and for an improved
and thoroughly enriched
win/win world.
Key,
Black to White, Black to White
back to front, front to back
dancing naked
a pale moonlight
passions rising
over a burning sea
you can see
madam
you can see
in the twin mirror of me
won now
now won
one two
one two
nailed
the predictive text
of life
unpredictability mailed
sent off only to be returned
sites left to be seen
running the streets
Pamplona by the sea
sipping prosecco
warm words in a breeze
minds tickling time
stopping for a world to see
I in front of you
You in front of me
unlocking secrets
that were meant to be
I met Elmo - he said your civilization is far behind,
you haven't even reached esp, you're just one kind,
there are new 'failsafes,' I can't read your sexual thoughts,
it's a new game now, it's all crosses and no noughts.
I know when you're happy, I know when you're sad,
I hnow all of the misgivings that you've ever had;
how about reciprocal - that's what makes it magical,
but it's measured, predictive and rather mystical.
Here's a bombshell - you're creator was not ours,
your system was faulty - uncontrolled powers;
we regrow like a snake - when you are finished,
we were given a spirit that can never be diminished.
That snake doesn't make a mistake although flexible,
without our help, your future looks terrible.
Completely Predective
What Kavanaugh did was completely predictive;
Had exhibited various forms of being vindictive;
Selfish for sure;
Hard to endure;
Always guaranteed to take and will never give.
Jim Horn
Military scholars constantly cull through the ancient scrolls
detailing battles of long ago
Searching always for hidden keys
to effect modern strategic victories
War games that summate a predictive winning end game
But none in the past held the atomic bottle
with the nuclear jinn
Uncork it,
and sniff the radioactive aroma wafting
Power of unimaginable destruction
lay dormant in the serpent juice
Just waiting to be opened ... released ... cut loose
Nuclear jinn ... knows, and is ready to grant
what some madman is wishing
Don’t open the atomic bottle
and unleash the searing contents bubbling within
Emperor Nero
wished he coulda got his fiddling hands
on that bottle
He woulda loved to pour out the liquid fire ...
watch it overflow, and burn up everything
Who in their right mind believes in this MAD doctrine
Mutually assured destruction is what it will bring
Bitter verbal grapefruit juice mixed with nuclear jinn
is now being served
Let the intoxicating music of the third death party begin
I really hate predictive text
It makes me think my phone’s been hexed
Try to type in a word
The suggestion’s absurd!
It’s annoying, I’m pretty vexed
03~16~17
I love using predictive text on my phallic,
It saves me so much hassle and time.
Just a couple of lettuce then the rest just flows,
Flows in a sweet little rhyme.
I don’t need to learn how to spelt with structure,
Use syntax or even use grandma.
I can type real fascist, whatever I want,
My fingers’ like a little jack hammer.
And the sentences appear perfect, I must have great speech,
I know how to wrist using diction
Shakespeare would be envious of how goon I can talk,
Talk with my phone’s text prediction.
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