He spoke of how they used to sit and talk,
While we just sit, scroll, and TikTok.
Through cold or warm and quiet nights,
They shared their hearts beneath the lights.
Now we’ve got brains in Copilot,
Ask ChatGPT — it gives the logic.
No leafing through the bookish towers,
Just Google, Gemini, and digital hours.
We hail the age of innovation,
Yet lose the art of conversation.
No more reading hearts and faces,
We learn from screens, not human traces.
Grandpa still holds the sweetest stories,
His mind a vault of golden memories.
But our world spins a different way —
Maybe each Gen has its own decay.
When told to quit the endless scroll,
To feel again, connect and console,
We say, “It’s like water — can’t survive without,”
Yet drown in silence while we shout.
Please check The book from amazon / kindle,
NOTIFICATIONS FROM NIRVANA - ODYSSEY OF A DIGITALLY DISTRACTED DISCIPLE FROM SCROLL TO SOUL
I live in this continuum,
Where I sit, I scroll, I rot.
This blissful poison hypnotizes me in,
An artifice far deadlier than I thought.
It promises me sweet lies,
Feeding on the pith of my mind.
I grow my own nicotine,
A toxin that turns me blind.
Stronger than any drug it seems,
It drags me out of reality.
I escape to the realms of fractured dreams,
Only to suffer their calamity.
I live in this continuum,
Where my soul resigns to the comfort I crave.
In this abyss I dwell,
I have learned to dig up my own grave.
23/01/25
A violin is like a lover--
A beautiful work of Art--
Precious, delicate, fragile.
It has to be handled with care,
Caressed, fondled, touched,
Hugged--but not too tight,
Or break it might
And hurt you in its breaking.
Hold the violin by its neck
The way you would hold your lover--
Firm but with the right pressure.
Look at it at arm’s length,
Admire its waist,
Lay your chin on its rest,
Close your eyes and feel
Your lover’s chest.
Press its strings as if you were
Pressing your lover’s skin,
With fingertips tripping over
Like the dainty feet of a dancer.
And the violin’s scroll--
Isn’t it a pretty sight?
Like a lover’s head bowed
When you were still both shy.
May 1, 2024
Lower Fairview, Baguio City
In the calabash of life,
a profound journey unfolds
as the space
gracefully passes the baton
in the art of apprenticeship.
Success resonates like a fine chant,
akin to the resonance of the four-lobed kola nut
the water that flows,
immersing its feet
into gin and tradition.
The apprentice,
the Soldier's seed,
navigates the delicate balance
between the sun's dreams
and the moon's ways.
Hips sway
after the clover of the stars,
creating a dance
that echoes the celestial rhythm,
Taking nature in the fashion it is.
Within energy’s forte,
the apprentice remains steadfast,
untouched
by the mystic's contagion.
Breeze gently gives life to the air,
ensuring that peace
never topples over,
while the living
is meticulously scripted
in the sealed scroll of existence
The Apprentice knew anew.
In the scroll
where life is inscribed,
the celestial and clay beings converge.
The earth walks ways
where water was weaned
before birth,
guiding life in eleven directions —
light, lead, love, logic, luxury,
and power
flavored on six sticks of nature.
Heal sadness with gladness
Play jazz, smile that courteous smile
Ease illness with illness
Pour some wine, stop for a while
Before the journey begins
Scroll down your inner book
Find that spring, where you once have been
Give it a longer look.
“Mice” is nice but might be called “mouses”
if a couple is next to a screen
and there is no screaming from me
except in excitement at my selection.
That Razer Viper V2 Pro
so light and quick under my palm.
Point, click and scroll with complete control.
Sexy as that is, mine’s plain old gray,
like an old man in a squeaky wheelchair.
And my guy started the whole shebang
when he started the mouse wheel turning
in my mind. He said he was taking mice
to India. I chortled at the thought of two
as well as the word choice. How cool
that I can pound on a tablet screen
to ask “the boss” the proper way.
Improperly, the internet replies
that both are right. How can both be right?
I just know my guy is wrong because
the opposite means his wife is…
I can’t even say it. Mice or mouses,
marriage lice or louses. Scroll wheel
turning, turning, turning and “Proud Mary
burnin’” daylight, agreeing to disagree.
*lyrics by John Cameron Fogerty
You will see heaven and earth roll up as a scroll
You will read the Word, written in twigs and rocks
You will hear the scroll of the Word quake as light sets
You will feel starlight pearl bracelets, engraved in gold
You will wear white garments made of moonlight silk
You will taste gnosis fruit before you taste night’s death
You will breathe the Garden of Glory, here and now
You will smell its grapevines in and out of you
You will live in Heaven’s Green Garden, the New Earth
in ours mundane days
everything passes, we pass...
days, years, centuries
Tangled branch of sacred knowledge,
These trees are the college.
Buried within cold expression,
there is an ever present lesson.
Consumed by the essence,
of a warm convalescence.
Universal intent,
for the love that was spent,
since the early event,
to besiege what was meant.
I choose to thrive.
I am alive.
I’m sinking in;
eternal spin.
I choose to grow,
the need to know.
To trust the written,
elder scroll.
Reaching out to infinitude
when words have come to an end.
Yan Yu
Presence, without;
the space framed
but left empty.
Mountains float
as a fisherman
ignores, wishing
only for a fish
to feed his family.
Empty space is
space for us
to not ignore.
We fill it with
our emptiness –
and together
the picture paints
your presence.
SCROLL OF LIFE
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
Goodbye my love
My heart breaks to leave
The love you gave me
Will stay in my heart
Your beauty is undeniable
Your pale soft skin
Sweet rose lips
Please forgive my sin
Your essence will always stay by me
But I am a mere peasant
And you are a queen
If I never return
To once again be with you
Just remember, my queen
That I will always love you.
Golden Scroll
Your golden words in divine scroll,
As the time takes its toll,
Its true copy deep in my heart,
Every moment tears my soul apart,
May I read your words aloud,
Unveil the sunshine, let go the cloud,
"Still adore the first day I saw you,
Blue dress, long hair, beauty came true,
Your glittering eyes and a sweet smile,
Nothing could have been more fragile,
Slowly as I knew your heart,
You were rather better smart,
Humble to all and very kind,
I could read your intense thoughtful mind,
Even if some day far I am gone,
With you will ever stay my clone ,
Forget not all our meets and treats,
Sweet and at times sour greets,
Blush on your face and rosy grace,
Icy cold winters and firing embrace,
You were looking far more bright,
Forget not our first intimate delight !
Thanks to you for keeping patience,
You have proved to be of great endurance,
Losing me shouldn't lessen your glow,
Wish time had stopped or moved slow !"
Golden words today have turned amber,
Eyes wet, heart fuming to smoky chamber !
Written on 2/8/14
Contest- fill up the scroll
Sponsor- Isaiah Zerbst
Ranked 3rd
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