Backed and sponsored by the cabinet Our heads on the server and internet BCI experiments while we're under the duvet Foot-soldiers follow orders on their handset Rockwell is not paranoid They've seen us on the TV, iPad, iPhone, and Android The BCI app that makes us annoyed Please God, destroy that satellite with an android My doctor is like Sigmund Freud Give him the anti psychotic steroid For making money off the unemployed
Some people in the past, present, and future will go life being used in research and experiments, for a period of time, some will be compensated others may never see their tormentor, others will be killed. For the people who have had such an experience.
Strange and funny It may sound Two Austrian scientists After long drawn research Have found Swallowing sperms Effects are profound Spermidine in sperms Makes you look young Aging process is slowed down Amazing spermidine Restoring damaged cells Story doesn't end here May cure Alzheimer's And Parkinson's diseases Would be a boon If it proves to be true Gurus and Sadhgurus Now please tell Is there any precedent On the subject In your scriptures You often boast so well Telling us of knowledge written in scriptures Thousands of years back Scientific discoveries and research have now brought Convincing the common man of what you tell Validation by science You often quote and sell As far as I know You all preach celibacy *** only for procreation What would you say If men ******* Swallow their gel?
The trouble you have With the letter M Sure makes funny bubbles Beneath the surface
What then should we talk of This morning? Miss Kelly, perhaps
Every room Is an island, my child
Never isolate your love
Let it run to the sea It's where I will always be
Thomas W. Case's Historical Figure Poetry Challenge, Margaret Howe Lovatt. In the 1960s, she took part in a NASA-funded research project in which she attempted to teach a dolphin named Peter to understand and mimic human speech. This while living in a half-submerged dwelling to have continuous contact with him.
Encephalon is the flagitious syndicate target To imprison the saintly and resistant population In the research agenda which is classified We are selected guinea pigs in a nightmare To the unethical secret operations Unknown to many, is the silent suffering Of isolated victims living amongst the community Satellite surveillance includes electromagnetic harassment That burning, thought stealing, control of limbs feeling I was done by the hoary Navy's sonar Poor dolphins washed up Cornwall's beach(1) After sonar echoed in my right lughole Mind control technology has evolved The community are recruited by false propaganda Thats the local police, council, library, not restricted to neighbours Old style Cointelpro is in play Discredited, slanders, and victim blaming Who can we share with but other targets Nobody asked which human is for "use" in trials?
After the two, I underestimated you. Time was wasted till four days left to finish. Piece of cake drove me insane. All the more did I rip my hairs out When you gave me that smirk Daring me to complete you if I could... Ever. The more I tried the more I knew, Petrified before the reality As I scrutinized at my reflection in the mirror With saggy eyes that lost its light And back at you; unfinished masterpiece of Frankenstein. Chained down by the inscriptions of nightmare I give up all hopes to be free.
The last 2 days I perceive to be Long yet way too short. Truly the hands are moving forth without mercy As I am writing this poem instead of My 3rd ten page paper.
In my dreams there are smoke detectors and crashes and lies. There is a kiss in an atrium right before it catches fire. There is placate, stay straight, evacuate. Neodymium nitrate always smells a certain way and always looks a certain blue. Why does an alarm go off after I dream I've kissed you, but never if you kiss me? What doesn't my brain want me to see? As Orion slinks into view I stand mixing solvents at the centrifuge. There is always a healthy dose of things I don't know. Always something for Orion to pin with her next arrow. If I am not here, asking questions of the world, demanding answers from what I put into test tubes, the next thing could be you.
the *question which is never easy to ask has an *answer which is never easy to swallow
between introduction and conclusion lies a happy marriage of one jolly void and one fuzzy wish list via (this) credibility and (that) validity of all the methods jammed in a rainbow of paradigms and databases
a qualitative doubt vs a quantitative solution critiqued to death is not always a one way topic but the only way forward (to prove!)
I can smile but I am not allowed to fear nor like, nor hate, nor presume, nor love my finding although I desperately cling to a forbidden bias (reference this!)
passion is a dangerous domain (I googled it)
This poem was inspired by studying for my Research module as part of my MSc.
what person could have known how a cataclysm rolls in slowly obscuring the towering force of nature what person could have known that there was a tip to that tower how cold is the view from its peak now clouded by teardrops now rising through though heaven made mist of the sky rising from a cotton mouth to make a liar of the tongue what person could have known for we do not speak of a lonely tower but to climb it we do not speak of a distant summit but to find it we do not speak but we see it rising from a bluff on a cold shoulder turned away from gruff land on a plain sky residing it is not enough to pierce the sky to see through it where there is a window there is a view it must be seen to be true where there is a cloud there is the sun shrouded though it seems get high enough to find the clue what person could have known that you were here alone watching for a break in the storm unless it was them all and the tower was home to everyone all at once
Been a while since I wrote but the storm rolled in, it’s raining in Sydney and I have finished teaching for another year. Time to reflect on success and failure. We reach out and hope to enrich even a single mind, too often trapped inside our own fear, but we try