Transparency is like a graduated cylinder
that exposes its contents to view;
When the liquid of clarity shows no obscurity,
the measure marks of sincerity stay true.
Transparency is like a window
that lets the truth beyond the glass be clearly seen;
When the curtain dances across the pane,
it turns into doubt's hanging screen.
Transparency is like a flashlight
that unmasks what darkness tries to hide;
When the hand of power turns the switch off,
though the battery of bureaus stays charged, facts feel denied.
Transparency is like an official receipt
that documents a record for authentication;
When the culprit leaves no certificate of traceability,
no item, amount, or date will show the transaction.
Transparency is like an open book
whose text declares what all have rights to see;
When the crook closes the pages of public awareness,
it covers the volume of its dark secrecy.
Last night I couldn't
sleep a wink at all
for
the sound of thunder
like the Gods' bowling ball
rolling on a hardwood floor
resounding on the airs
doing a number on my slumber
in the room upstairs
but
in the serenity of silence
I'll switch off the light
catch a nap
and if it's quiet tonight
hopefully
between moonbeams
be
carried away on dreams sweet dreams
ALTERED CONSCIOUSNESS
Consciousness is a curious thing.
Is it real or just a scam.
An alien simulation,
or "I think therefore I am."
Does it live unto eternity,
or switch off upon one's death.
The rub is one can't know, or not,
at least while one draws breath.
Where does it go when you're comatose,
or in a vegetative state?
Painful memories get tucked away,
and there's mirages it creates.
Is one more conscious than another,
if so, has one then faltered?
Consciousness can't be quantified
I'm just glad it can be Altered.
I built my fortress out of counting—
fourteen hundred twenty ways to say I’m safe.
The light switch: off, on, off again, again.
The stove knobs all aligned at six o’clock.
My hands know every doorknob’s texture, how
the deadbolt clicks when turned exactly twice.
I check the rearview mirror: once for cars,
and once for certainty, and once for luck.
The numbers line up clean as soldiers, march
in formation through my racing thoughts.
If I can just complete the sequence, then—
but there’s no then. There’s only one more check,
one more loop around the house at night,
one more time washing my already clean hands.
I know the math is wrong—this isn’t safety,
just arithmetic I use to build my cage.????????????????
The sun bursts through a weeping cloud, feel soft warm rain.
Through buttercups and daffodils, he calls my name.
As ripples dance across the stream, I hear his call.
He takes my hand and leads me to the waterfall.
We climb high above the rainbow, breathe freshly scented air.
Hear gentle whispers in the breeze, beyond compare.
Climbing high we see for miles, we're both enthralled.
At the thunder and the power of the waterfall.
Hand in hand we walk away, and both look back.
I know one day we will return, re-trace our tracks.
Memories of magic times, we shall recall.
And wonder at the beauty of the waterfall.
In the morning haze our arms gently entwined
Magical images dance inside my mind
Reminiscing on our perfect escape,
I slowly open my eyes and try to stay awake.
Still slumbering in this tranquil calm,
I realise it’s time to switch off my alarm.
I’m dreamily laying close to you,
And I know someday our dreams will come true.
The Failure
It is about vanity, a need to see one's name in print
The shortest of glory, five seconds, ten?
Switch off at that point of glory, and the fame can last
until someone else demands to use the tablet
A book of poetry, published in a small town in India
61 pages, and the editor and owner of the press
tells us the poems are great, not panegyrical, but ok
Sitting down to read one's thoughts only to discover
misspelling and less elegant sentences, what
The eyes had not seen before glared up with a smirk
Oh, the shame of this must keep it a secret, not tell
Should anyone ask, say the book was not published
this year and turn the talk to something else, like
The high electricity prices
I can’t pay my life
No attention. How to pay attention?
A self-driven person. A narcissistic
What can I do? Can’t take care of
On my life. He is closed. A desire
I don’t know him. Maybe an alien
Stranger. My life. Different person
Driving me. I can’t control. The Will
My will. My wished life. My desire
I don’t pay with my life. Hell. Satan
Arrived. Light. Mine. Pay with life
With life. Lost. Help find. Lost love
Can’t pay attention. Dead life on
I can’t pay attention. Heavy my love
I want to switch off my second person
“You can’t,” said the second person.
I am a student. “Yes.” Said Satan.
I can’t pay my life
Paid. Said Satan
A cemetery
Pays lives
I can’t pay
My life
Paid
Love
Satan
I am
Hell
Not a lot of ocelots
are seen in the day
they prefer the evening
or the night
if an ocelot you're hot to spot
altho' it's quite a long shot
an ocelot you want to sight
you may even hit the jackpot
if you do it right
all you've really got to do
is switch off the light
Gaza
The baby
Wrapped in a blanket
Looks at the camera
Emaciated face
Large eyes
Incomprehensively
Looks at me
I lower my gaze
Who is going to
Switch off
The killing machine
This harvester of
Of death
Not yet, not yet
IT IS TO BE
To be or not to be, that is the question
That was the famous playwright, I recall
But to some, it might offer a suggestion
That we have no choice about life at all
I can tell you now that we certainly do
There’s a big debate about legal suicide
A sufferer may still try to smile at you
Who really knows what goes on inside
So does any person have the legal right
And what has the law got to do with it
Deciding it is best to switch off the light
Or asking, Is it better just to wait a bit
Is it better to sleep, perchance to dream
Looking for a nod, but show sympathy
A most difficult decision, it would seem
Well, given the Bard’s choice, it is to be
AI as soldiers
We see them walking naked through the town’s square, and organs not needed for the time being, the onlookers are not offended but worried about the strident gates of the new being walking like a soldier in a merciless army killing creatures big and small that have blood and have the sense of smelling the roses and is capable of falling in love and admire a full moon their overlord is a person dressed in a half-length black coat, who has the chip that can switch off the monstrous development into junk science an adolescent boy’s dream of tomorrow.
Wait
This can't be a mistake
The morning light
Is just too bright
We've overslept
Curled up in bed
Now we must rush
Gone that soothing hush
Toilet flushing
Teeth fast brushing
Coffee churning
Toast now burning
Swallow fast
Needs to last
Stuff all over
Where's the roller
Switch off lights
Well miss our flights
Connections short
Should we abort
No time to think
I need a drink
Get in the car
The Airports’ far
Traffic's a pain
This is insane
Check-in slow
With bags in tow
Our gates a mile
All rush - no style
People milling
My headache drilling
Boardings slow
I'm about to blow
The seat's a squeeze
But I collapse with ease
At least we're here
I need that beer
Our chatter muted
With strength diluted
We crack a smile
Gone is the bile
Thoughts of the beach
Within our reach
Where we can lay
For the whole day
Fall in a heap
Recover - sleep
Sand in our hair
Without a care
The sound of waves
Heavenly daze
switch off the dark news
check out the sky’s brilliant hues ~
say 'bye to your blues
L ive your life level bes T.
O cean of tears - cease this fiasc O.
V iva la Vida, never to see he R
E ver again, except death comes soo N.
R omantic days and nights platea U.
S uppose you don’t switch off the bedlam P?
*Live life
Love is…too much, too little, and just right.
Love is…what keeps hope in sight.
Love is…the flickering in the dark of a long lost light.
Love is…my throat caught in a lightly bleeding bite.
Long has it been that love is all that and more
Once it was the strength and warmth in my core
Vague memories, fleeting feelings, and aching is all my mind stores.
Eventually it’ll be okay, I say, as the next drink pours.
I have been adrift, falling into a rift,
Swift switch off the cliff til lift proves a gift.
.epoh sniamer ereht wohemos dnA
.epor eurt dna derettat taht ot ylmrif sdloh dnaH
.epoc ot efil yad yreve htiw spleh dna ,si evol dnarG
Love is…something about which to write.
Love is…full feelings once the flame ignites.
Love is…cold when it ends in lonely nights.
Love is…too much…too little…and just right…
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