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Careful, you might find out…
Behind the scenes of all your doubt..
Pretend if you will to know all truth.
Overlooking the programming of your societal youth…
Be careful if you shall and close tight your mind…
Because the truth is on going, a continuing crime..
Traveler Tim
AI
When it comes to intelligence,
maybe it doesn't really matter if it is human born or human made, as long as it is humane.
If,
you cannot stave the storm.
Be the storm.
Life is a roller coaster ride. Remember to express it well, every twist and turn. Scream when frightened, laugh when exhilarated... don't stay untouched.
 Jun 6 Anais Vionet
lizie
it’s weird.
it feels like everything i do
is for you to notice.

but somehow,
you notice things
no one else ever has.
things even i
never knew were there.
i feel like a silly child! but it’s true. everything i do is for you to notice. i think you do. sometimes
There's something about the rain
that brings comfort from the pain.

That washes away the tears,
or at least masks their stains.

That chills a burning heart,
numbs the throbbing pain
turning the world blue in solidarity.

Do the angels cry with you?

Sometimes it seems they do,
as we lift our heads for Clarity.

Smiling through the pain
for there's something about the rain,
and in knowing the world is crying with you!
Just something that came to me today
 Jun 6 Anais Vionet
lizie
for once,
no one talked over me.
the air felt light.
we kept meeting eyes
across the noise.
not awkward,
just right.
“When Clay Weeps”
A poetic tribute to Gilgamesh and Enkidu

Beneath a sky of burning stars,
Uruk's high walls gleamed like scars
cut into time—immense, precise—
where kings were gods, and men were dice.

Gilgamesh, carved out of storm and sun,
two-thirds divine, yet wholly undone,
bored with power, drunk on might,
wrestled shadows in the heat of night.

Then came Enkidu, beast-born and bold,
with eyes like flint and hair like mold
of forest boughs, of untouched place—
the wilderness written on his face.

They met like meteors—fierce and fast—
and fought until their rage was past.
Then, laughing, stood where blood had pooled,
and in that moment, gods were fooled.

They crossed into cedar-scented gloom,
to fell a giant, shape their doom.
And when the gods struck back with grief,
they cleaved the world with disbelief.

Enkidu’s breath fled in the dark,
his voice a ghost, his limbs grown stark.
And Gilgamesh—stone turned to skin—
sought death’s edge to pull him in.

He wandered roads where no man goes,
spoke with alewives, fought with crows,
and found the flood that washed the land,
held time’s seed in his trembling hand.

But life, a serpent, sly and thin,
stole the fruit he held within.
So he returned, not with the key,
but with the tale of what can’t be.

He carved in stone his city’s face,
a wall, a name, a time, a place.
For though we die and dust returns,
a soul may live if someone learns.
The Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the oldest surviving works of literature, is hardly easy reading. But Andrew George’s translation from the Akkadian is strikingly accessible – a meditation on power and mortality.

I enlisted the poetic talent of Chat GPT to craft a verse unclasping the essence of a small part of this 4000 year old poem from ancient Iraq.

A fascination unleashed.
Cheers M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
It travels in my rucksack
To and fro each way
Snuggled in the darkness
For days and days and days

🍎 🍏 🍎

I had such good intentions
A perfect little snack
To keep me fit and healthy
In a bag upon my back

🍎 🍏 🍎

Now and then I'd get it out
To see if it was bruised
Or pop it back into the fridge
Only then to be rechoosed

🍎 🍏 🍎

I'd always be so happy
To have an apple in my bag
If feeling rather peckish
It's the first thing I could snag

🍎 🍏 🍎

But this battered little apple
Would be left without a bite
Languishing in darkness
Tucked away, out of sight

🍎 🍏 🍎

Today i'll eat this apple!
I promised everyday
And off we went again
And did i eat it?? Nay...

🍎 🍏 🍎

F'rall the times it went to work
It've earnt a pretty penny
Instead of all the bruises
Of that, there were many

🍎 🍏 🍎

So this morning i decided
To set my apple free
As it was now inedible
Well, at least for me

🍎 🍏 🍎

So i went into the garden
And hung the apple from a tree
So the birds could have the pleasure
Of an apple for their tea

🍎 🍏 🍎

The birds they did obliged me
With rawcus crows of joy
Pecking like jack hammers
The apple they'd destroy

🍎 🍏 🍎

So I've made myself a promise
To not waste another fruit
Now in my bag, a small companion

Jeremy, my pet newt.

🦎
Please excuse the grammar and spelling... and even if some of the words exist at all  😀
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