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Mark Wanless May 2022
can there be a sentient
form that understands the all
no
Lo! The holiest saint, arises underneath the sun /
Whose august, resplendent rays fulminate /
Auric with excellency; golden in his eyes; /
Therefore, my pilgrimage upon this world /
Is but an ephemeral speck, an exhalation, transitory, /
For all is a preparation, a quickening /
Unto Greater Eden! /

Lo! A Land where dreaming is fallacy for /
Arcadia awakens anew with each morn: /
Love & Light brim in every living soul; /
There in my heart, I fathom The Transcendent hears my /
Beckoning cries beneath /
The adamantine moon, & /
My wishes shall be ordained at twilight. /

Lo! "Know thyself," said the sage; /
Yet, every man, /
Every woman, /
Every child, /
Falters should they fathom themselves fully. /
Ye, ignorance is not only ephemeral bliss, but existential.
(Voracious self-knowing is moored in a sea of vanity) /

Lo! Understand that meant to be understood /
By mortal eyes, yet, mind /
That there are deific forces whom devise, /
Transcending the veiled realm of our Mind's Sky; /
Therefore, we must allow ourselves /
The privilege of unknowing: /
By virtue of this advent, enlightenment is borne. /

(—Se' lah)
Excelsior Forevermore,


Sanders Maurice Foulke III, AAS


10/24/2021
Mark Wanless Sep 2021
it is not me
it is the computer

i do what it tells me to
i am puppet to the master

old reality lost
we created

we control it's true
mistakes are made

not by sentient circuits
dumb humans
Mark Wanless Aug 2019
can there be a sentient form
   that understands the all
no
why?
Blade Maiden Oct 2018
The ocean calls for my departure
don't mourn these waves
I was destined to return just like King Arthur

Scribbled words on our skin
invisible ink tells of prophecies
and all the lives that have not been

Pulled the sword from the stone
Naive to think that we'd be crowned
but rather released an angry storm

These stories speak of hate and resentment
it flows much more effortlessly
so much pain in trying to be sentient

Still I will not give in to bitterness
I wait for the storm to pass
to return to sea and drown in bliss
Tanisha Jackland Feb 2018
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. *-Herman Hesse

This willow weeps for no one

It hears the mountain's tears
riding on the backs of slow waves

This willow knows

that the sun's silence
is understood by every atom

It knows

that soon the rocks will rise up and
take arms

They will wage a war against concrete
and flesh

Soon the earth will heave a sigh of relief
and will resume feeding the willows that have
long ago stopped crying
I love willow trees and it's true, this one spoke to me. I'm simply its messenger.
the following quite quirky epistle may not exhibit the ordinary characteristics of poetry, but i decided to share this self made challenge (where every word begins with the letter "S" - no explanation can be offered why such self cerebral torture imposed, nor what motivated me to focus on the nineteenth letter of the english alphabet at the exclusion of other noble vowels and consonants.
-----------------------------------------------------­------
Sunday September seventh started seemingly same since...silver screen show secured seventy seven SeventhSeals.

Soupy Sales supreme salient strengths (starring smart snarky sidekick Springer Spaniel Socrates same species sansSnoopy) salvaged sagging sporting sorties. Slap stick stereotypical swashbuckling shticks supplied shipshape shenanigans.

Spartan stage set spurred spontaneous simply stupefying solution. Suede shod schlemiel. Sartre seasoned scenes. Sharp sticks supported sphere. Seats situated semicircular semblance.

SPCA, Siemens, Sears sponsored soiree. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious shouted satirically 'specially Saturdays seemingly sellout. Spontaneous spritely Shogun Samurai sangroid stance satiated slipups stripping stellar seasoned Skidamarinks substitutes sacredly, seminally, silently, slipstreaming soulfully saving saga.

Sometimes silly spouse studiously sought spurious strategy stringing superlatives showcasing senseless sophomoric soporific skills specifically spelling storybook sassy sharpshooters supposedly sleuthing shapeless seated sideways (sic seasonal slate smug spotified snapchatting skippers selfishly scooped sloop-ful seasonal six-packs) sinister Swiss scalpers sat sometimes squatted.

Sirens sounded secretly securing source. Strait sacks swooshed scamps scaling sensitive sentries (simply spayed seals) surveying surrounding staked spy sotted sham semicircular slipshod shelter. Snappy, Snippy, Snoopy suited Skyhawks surprisingly swooped somnambulant senseless scriveners. Sargent Salemander slipped shiny shimmering shellacked Sheppards Shutterfly sidearms sized simulated small skyscraper slinky, soapy, spooky squarely summoned, sentenced, sacrificed see swarthy Samsonite satraps Section SpecialOps.

Sometime soon savior snuck stealthily stealing sinful schleppers. sundown syzygy saw serendipitous, surreptitious, surreptitious segue-way shuttled safely Scottish shoals. Stigmatization stayed steady. Supplication statements swatted. Sole survivor swiftly spun self shaming sesquipedalian soliloquy. Sea side serenade soon spewed solipsism saving Slim Shady.





Sayonara seminal surfer swirling scarily sans sinister serpentine silent space.
Tanisha Jackland Dec 2017
I am like an old willow
hoping you will notice me
that you'd want
to hold my embrace in yours
tree branch to flesh
compromising our nuances
like old friends
diving into each others
thought bubbles
and seeking out the lit sun
in our eyes...
who's to say that the tree
is not sentient
maybe we are not tree enough
just seed thoughts
floating along
for a place to belong
a place worth settling for...
Trees are people too.
Mark Wanless Nov 2017
"Amber Noise"


The amber noise of sunrise
       the sable dead tonight
And in between a spectrum
       of beings sentient
Accost the earth with myriad feet
       pounding as a drum
A frantic beat of busyness
       gild vestibule of mind
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