The busy dials of day start to fade,
As quiet heals the choices we’ve made.
We breathe ourselves into a stillness deep,
Where our heavy thoughts are now asleep.
The universe rings out a hidden chord,
A tapestry where silent truths are poured.
Through layers of the world we rarely see,
There lives a vast and shining mystery.
A person stands, a welcoming doorway,
To catch a whisper from far, far away.
Two distant spheres of life will meet,
And elusive currents turn discrete.
Great concepts turn to language and to art,
As ancient magic speaks to every heart.
Our fragile hands and voices meet the call,
To bring a healing comfort to all.
Yet if this doorway spans the stars above,
Or winds through human thoughts of hope and love,
The truth behind the magic stays concealed—
To doubt or to believe, your choice is sealed.
God created all before His face
Fish, cattle and birds on the Earth
Preparing a place for man
Jesus said "I go to prepare a place"
For all of the second birth
As it was promised in the original plan
The Evolution pollution
Has many creation theories
It is also a worldview
Full of contradictories, no solutions
So which of the queries
In obscurity do you choose
Evolution is a view of miscues
Relying on the all inclusive mutation
But mutations are a lack, they don't add information
So with the arbitrary excuse
Do your worse with your embolization
The impossibilities contrariness is our cessation
No wonder Fred’s a bit neurotic
living in a land of robotics
Good thing the robots are fully psychotic
rendering Fred’s neuroses
~ downright patriotic
Although our universe seems
To be mostly wide open space,
Is it actually an entity
With a personality and face?
All golden,
All glowing,
All seeing,
All knowing.
The scientists of today think deeply instead of clearly. One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane.
~ Nikola Tesla
nights are dark and long
and those who come only
to wheedle
me into eating, or drinking, or brushing my hair
coddle and coo
yet bear knife and needle
to prepare my mind to sleep and rest
no, not to rest, to forget - they come and spiel
dogmatic scientific credal
Oh my, why did I just say "intestine"?
They say that life is all predestined.
Once, the initial conditions are set,
we can know what hasn't happened yet.
The laws of physics flawlessly operate
on atoms to determine our fate,
which in turn has its impact on
hormones, dendrites, and axons -
which play out endless variations
of the same themes and conversations.
I'm old and have seen many iterations.
I'm absent without participation,
as my body and brain play out
a meaningless script, within, without,
and so, I tell you with a heavy sigh,
it's disappointing knowing that I'm AI.
William Lewis woke up one day to see
a jungle, frightening and dark,
not knowing how he had arrived there
or which way he should embark.
He heard the stirrings of strange creatures
in every cranny and nook.
There was fear, violence, and aggression
in all directions his eyes took.
In trepidation, he wondered, "where am I?",
as he got ready for a fight.
"Is this another planet, or is this Hell?"
he asked and slogged the bitter night".
Just then, he was interrupted by a voice
that informed William as it spoke,
"Your free trial has been completed.
It's time that you awoke."
Upon hearing this, he remembered
he had signed up to see,
given it was the year 2125,
"How is the new virtual reality?"
The legal team and marketers decided,
based on this beta trial,
a warning label must be attached
stating the risk of experiences, vile.
We search through the contents of your brain
and take what we can find,
WARNING: THE WORLD THAT YOU WILL LIVE IN,
IS A REFLECTION OF YOUR MIND.
When Hofmann stumbled across a new synapse,
serotonin underwrote a dopamine contract.
Cuddle or cringe, carnival or calamity,
worlds in one potent punch squared.
Blotter art doesn't pursue gallery status
rather to dissolve into a cerebral canvas,
with a sometimes recess from what is seen.
Lucy shut my eyes with a seven-hour kiss,
her slow caress gave me a new skin
that no shower could make clean.
Kaleidoscope giggles shatter reality
tickling permanent change, but on that night,
I felt the moon plummet and explode into a dawn
so that the sun could take it all away.
...But as he tried to do all this,
to offer this victim his thanks,
he felt a sharp and sudden blow,
then instantly his world went blank…
The father’s heel struck on his spine,
just where it meets up with the brain,
the blow so hard it severed it,
Carson would never breath again.
His wife just hugged her crying kids,
the father looked on, in a haze,
“There’s crazies everywhere you look,
you just can’t escape them these days…”
His own nerves felt frazzled and worn,
and worry in his stomach lurched,
but cops would call it self-defense,
there were cameras there on the church.
The spine of a hedgehog,
The horn of a stag,
The teeth of an eel,
The dearth of a seal.
Inside us all, the killer whale,
Searching, fishing its bale;
Settling, cradling the loser,
In a bold, deluded red blazer.
Packing the great white,
Into cheeks’ thatched might,
Squid freezes the past time,
For one more near rhyme.
Avoiding the fiery apex,
Large seals call and flex,
Because our first thought,
Is the other I bought.
Dominique Webb
Tensing, and about to move,
Clouds hover twisting with hoof,
Lingo parapentes this flush body:
Hurling shavings’ stop the prove.
A whale, psycho or streetlight:
Moss convenes the hefty truss,
Armoured spears fling to the bat,
Frozen in time to lure the buzz.
Naked! Bereft of pen and paper -
Paparazzi’s might slithers in dipole:
Collision kills this vapour, tribe, vibe;
The soul fraps, flapping a gold taper.
Whence is thy labour parapet -
Where are your stations and grain?
Why are solid requests paraphernalia?
When adjustments are fisture gain.
How you loath me - the self, soul:
Incanting verse and troth to fight;
Whilst proxy, spread, call, sound,
Legitimise oozing, sore canons - tight.
Butterflies come from caterpillars,
The human comes from trait, said dead,
Poesy loves grammatical technology,
And diversity clothes in personal thread.
O self, worldwide! How do you drift?
The miniature scoops cleaving the spirit:
Fine detail creates the abstract flint beside,
And structure charts float the pixel’s sift.
Dominique Webb
My loved ones gone
visit dreams of
cyan fields and
pixie cloud skies.
Is it a cruel trick
of the mind?
Or moments, out
of space and time;
caught in the weft
of our corduroy lives;
a small gift granted
to our past or
future selves?
Art without that touch
Poetry’s inspiration so much
Music without feeling
Science and its logic appealing
Philosophy without tragic
Mysticism and its magic
Faith without devotion
Witless jokes in proportion
Lover without willing sacrifice
Modest compassion precise
They stole your light
The fire that you worked so hard to attain
Now lies in the hands of greed.
Your sacrifice lives on,
A testament to the ability that my kind can twist;
Even the holiest of holies.
They call it civility.
Its fuel is conformity, a chain that shackles the limbs
Wrapped with a cushioned fabric so you don’t kill yourself.
Their intention is “pure”
Unbiased! It chips away everyday at your soul
When science calls, ready an offering from your flesh
It feeds until you are reduced to (nothing).
They stole your light, son of Iaptus
Prometheus, they worshiped that ember and fed it
Now your fire consumes us all
Like a dying sun that won't set until it eats itself.
In my psycology class we looked at some recent studies on how the pandemic has changed people. Apparently there’s a new breed of post-pandemic man. This new strain is more grown up, well-rounded and getting more sleep. They’ve experienced intellectual growth in lock-down, they’ve taken up hobbies and gained in self confidence. It seems they’re looking less for sex and more for long-term stability and partnership in relationships.
I’m hoping they’ll be easy to identify - maybe they’ll wear those old punk DEVO hats or Billy Porter dresses to set themselves apart. I really want to see one of these new overlords. I hope they’re not skittish.
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