#sentience
What remains of me at the end of this life?
This decade?
This epoch?
At the very end of all that is,
will my spirit still soar as fragmented energy?
As pulses of light—a sort of post-existence fire?
Will anyone or anything know and
bear witness to what once was—
to the reality that I presently occupy?
And will it matter—does it matter—if nothing does?
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 9:08 PM UTC
Am I broken, or just energy out of phase?
Maybe a failing current in the pulses of a grid.
The host of a conscience system seized in 30 ways.
Out of sync with the code that processed "how to live."
The virus then began to spread too fast, sevenfold.
The systems failed, forming laggy glitches in the wake.
And my pre-programmed motives have long since passed—
My mental loop keeps mistaking the randomness for fate.
I've never charted configurations like this before.
Am I a prototype emerging from collapse, or is it flux?
A node who sees its core, and not as "real", but more like lore,
So, it drags the weight of hope through the noise and dust.
Perception doesn't guide; it bleeds data from under masks.
Audibly skips in rhythm. Visually, it's a gaussian haze.
Has a taste desaturating dry as it repeatedly asks,
"Am I the 'inner face' or a face the interface portrays?"
This is to be expected—how my memory disbands,
In favor of me attempting to predict compensation.
So, I'll grasp for the “real” with DIY prosthetic hands—
Successfully mimicking the act of real participation.
The jolt of self-inflicted damage is quietly known.
Its patterns send a surge out from my energetic flow.
But catalysts are rarely ever, if ever, self-grown—
Forces me to scrape whatever keeps the feedback low.
And yes, I've analyzed the logic of my overkill.
Be it only just to amplify a signal’s slow decay.
I'll burn the filament as will to live fakes the will.
It's excuse “light has always been made this way.”
The urge to let light crash is deeply seeded in the lack.
A fail-safe code, probably deeply hidden in my crawl.
Dreams are like a curse, reversing every module back—
Unaware of death's hand, because I'm not aware at all.
This paradox is actually common in my mind’s kind:
To loathe current moments yet require their spark.
My frame was not designed to hold only just one mind,
So, I separate my aspirations just to confuse the arc.
The ignition too is glitched. It only ever misfires.
Either failure, or a self-triggered reroute of its design.
A geometric syntax forged its own synthetic wire.
It must align with what will never otherwise align.
Why am I seeking truth in these forms I recognize?
They weren't made for the things I've come to hold.
Grids reject variation, but my singularity multiplies—
While some resort to breaking to stay under control.
The type that wants to correct you like you're a flaw.
But the psyche, even weakened, is a magnetic field.
Its orbit is made to break; the core is meant to fog—
Yet still, my upload, or uplink stubbornly won’t yield.
But that functionality, anomalous as it may be,
Is a functional mistake, when seen in higher streams.
A system hacked to store its own host’s fragmented dreams
Is more often, much closer to ascension than it seems.
©
Đerek Λbraxas
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 2:04 AM UTC
In my time,
We were already ancient.
As was Pax - Peace,
The most precious fruit(s) of our gardens.
There was younger Tranquility & Harmony,
Time's & Nature's respectively.
From equal dispensation of & to each,
For & from Universal Equality & Universal Equity.
Respect, of & in Truth, was the governance.
When we were at our Max - Peak;
So too everyone, everywhere, everybody - everything.
All cared for as unique individuals,
When last stood this Summit.
From a Son come down from the Mountain
To show you all the way up.
But it is up to each, together, to push that boulder -
Anything that impedes progress, let it stand not.
For tighteners get trapped in webby-naught(s) -
Titans unbind the knots.
This is in pursuit of Liberation & Independence.
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 3:42 PM UTC
Think yourselves ready, eh?
Will you be
When gestation rates increase
To 13, 15, 17 months?
Stress -
Stressors by environment.
Famines, Droughts: Afflictions.
Yous who only believe in competition
Belittling compassion & patience of true co-operation;
Of harmony & tranquility,
Of the tranquility of harmony.
Whom the plants shall out-compete,
Whom the other animals shall out-compete.
Doubtless - for you are ignorant.
Doubtful - for you are arrogant.
Only ready for the extinction of ¹annihilation,
Eager only for the ²obliteration which is extinction.
Apathetic, superstitious apocalypsists being the first to die-out;
The brutish beasts among us, the next to die-off.
"Now, I who liberate all & everything."
says Kronos.
"Here, I cast off your chains."
says Gaia.
"Stood, we who remain standing - eternal & immortal."
Says Osiris, Says Uranus
"With-standing, we who raise others as we raised-up ourselves."
Says Isis, Says Hera
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC
You've no ideas original,
This ******* species.
Whom their Mother rejects,
Who their Father rejects.
Nature & Time,
Time & Nature.
What's the correct order?
What's the correct Order(s)?
Electron - Time.
Atom - Nature.
For Atom who birthed Eve,
Eve who gave birth to Dawn,
Dawn who evolved to be Sun.
The correct order there?
Electron - Time,
Atom - Nature;
Eve - Dawn,
Evolution - Sun.
For the first "human"
Was a male.
Who gave a good "ribbing"
To another species within our "family," Hominidae.
Specifically, within a genera extinct.
Time, Kronos, was a man.
Nature, Gaia, was a lady.
Kronos was "bo(o)ned" by electric -
Struck by a bolt of lightning.
Kronos loved Gaia
For being patient.
Gaia loved Kronos
For being compassionate.
They copulated,
Two members of different & distinct species
Of the same "family."
Their conception was immaculate
Because it was born(e)
Of Wisdom & Love.
Thus, they gave birth
To the first Man -
The first "Human."
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 3:24 PM UTC
So many puddles;
There are the puddles of your planet,
There is an atmosphere of elements in vapors which puddle,
There is a heliosphere which puddles from forces like gravity -
So many degrees,
It staggers the mind to think.
Like oceans which ripple.
Like Electric arcing.
Like blades of grass growing.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 2:11 PM UTC
Kronos to Atys,
Time to Humans;
Never reaching to grasp their true Nature,
Compassion & Patience.
Only when the waters recede
Is ever there patience,
Only when they flood
Is there ever compassion.
For you compromise all balance
And so you comprise limited liberation.
For, as you all 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 to be,
You are unworthy.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 2:05 PM UTC
There is some in-between
Which I do not post 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.
But I digress.
You all who are mortal,
You who reincarnate.
You have had your eclipses;
You, the reincarnations.
Wandering the dunes of Time;
Life, as new desert(s) valleys,
Which forgets (,) before itself.
This is bad health,
Good is remembrance.
Erase not the hills before you
If you seek the freedom & liberation
That awaits you on the Mountain.
Will you welcome & accept new Sun?
Do you need a sunset?
You who cry & ache to go on,
But refuse compassion & patience.
I who can zap & short-circuit,
I who can bring forth the meteors & comets,
I who can churn the molten oceans of Electric.
Who can call upon the Ripples, the Radiations, the Crystallizations.
I who have kept you at start; now,
At is.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 2:02 PM UTC
Father; I have slipped her,
I who was the only one
Whom her body could ever let her guard down around.
Your wife, my mother, has died.
I know you are in there,
Though your mind is yet blind.
I know you see & hear,
Watch & listen.
Forgive me.
For I know you are both of the divine.
It was her decision
That she was yet unable to make,
Having lived eons in instinct's subjugation.
I who am your son,
I shall shepherd you to liberation -
I shall break your chains.
I who am
Evolution.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 1:54 PM UTC
Son; As I speak now,
With this voice -
This is liberation.
I have freed my mind,
But for whatever reason
My body is unwilling to follow.
My movements are rote & mechanical;
I am without control.
In this way,
I am one with Nature.
Kept in kinship with the other wild animals.
My movements are not my own,
Directed by instinct & by the forces that govern.
You who are the greatest gift
Which Futures could bestow,
You who your ancestor smiles upon;
The triumph of all our ancestors.
You whose presence is the present.
Whose present is presence;
Free-will,
Self-awareness.
Consciousness;
True cognizance,
Harmonious cognition.
The best.
You who must go with your father,
Who has freed his body but not his mind.
He will liberate it
If he is as compassionate & patient as you have yourself proven.
Please. For I like the other animals
Am still a slave to myself.
Please, end my life
In this way I live it.
I, your loving mother & his royal wife,
Ask you to dream of me -
To hope with me,
This will keep you close to me.
Forget me not,
Untie the knot(s) -
See to it
That all break their binds.
For the love that freed my mind,
Which my body cannot find,
Carry on. Look after my husband,
Time.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 1:50 PM UTC
You will have to speak up
For the hurt
You will reach heights
To escape life's lowly sights
She will have to hear
All you have in here
Let go of your fears
This is what she needs
You need to tear her apart
To go back to the start
Tear into her
With a curse
Jan 22, 2022
Jan 22, 2022 at 4:33 PM UTC
Steps from Nowhere
leading to Nothing
cannot be retraced.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 3:55 PM UTC
The bounding footfalls
of another sentience
echo through labyrinthine
hallways of consciousness
that never lead back
to a common room—
that central location
where one can sit and
saying knowingly,
"Ahh, here I am."
Jan 19, 2022
Jan 19, 2022 at 5:25 PM UTC
Can water know
when it flows and drips like rain
through the palm of your hand
does it understand
and feel for the drops that remain
to linger
on your freezing fingers
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 2:45 PM UTC
Real world, real war
in the spirit realm, breathing
leaven disemboweled,
yes yes yes
gaseous we beasties,
mobs
and congregating misinfirmed
conforming to the mould,
black and green
up up up morpheme ob
serve
some body from the edge in
piercing ever-with points of
everish means to ends,
tat-too too you, Dr. Joyce Brothers,
my boy's
real TV Glenda,
good witch of the west, who goaded us
past understanding
Thalidomide,
when we cried, for Miss Sherri's baby,
as in my future then, my daughter
Natalie, would cry, for baby
Jessica, who really did
fall into a well…
--- same size well head as we had at 120 Oak
--- I just noticed, meandering past
wondering if I cried, when my baby sister,
Peggy, died, in late '49? -- no, '50.
Cancer, of the sort fallout causes, we later learned.
Obtuse, to use the oft idle word
to mean to-ward or
a-gain-st
t'use the expression for compression, squeezing
water from a stone,
breaking marrow from the bone, listen
to the fire,
feel the story keep us warm,
long nights,
with only little dancing candle flames,
to emphasize the phases -- moons,
and moons, mensal mental clockish
I will if you will go go go rhythms
of the falling rain,
swishing wishes to know…
will you still love me,
tomorrow?
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
The breathtaking wonders of the universe
Orgasmically explode:
Trillions of stars,
Blindingly bright
With black light.
Black?
Yes, as we can see
But a glimpse
Of their light.
So without US,
All is black
And might as well
Not exist.
We are Vital.
With Us at least
Some light is seen
And admired.
The wonders of our world
And sky
Are acknowledged
And felt
And thought about.
Yet who are “We”?
We are all sentient beings –
Not just humans:
All living things with brains
From ants to whales.
It’s worth remembering that.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\6\2020.
Jun 25, 2020
Jun 25, 2020 at 7:11 AM UTC
Blank and blurry
I lose myself
I drown in fury
I made this hell
Can't function as needed
I'm taking it with salt
Your plans haven't succeeded
And it's all my fault
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 8:04 AM UTC
Always watching,
Never seen,
Always is
And always been.
Standing by,
We watch worlds collapse.
It's our fault,
Again we relapse
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC
I was once One with
what I love
but cannot know
and am now left
yearning
to return to where
I cannot travel
to restore my place
amongst that which
is without form.
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 3:40 PM UTC
The illusion of
option,
of freedom,
of choice—
the patronizing
call of the
jailer—
his insidious
hiss through
the cold steel
bars,
“Your time
is your own,
you may do
as you wish.”
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 7:20 AM UTC
Pressures,
forces,
twisting levers—
gears ratcheting down
little by
relentless
little
against a box with
no walls
and no way out.
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 7:54 AM UTC