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#sirhumbug
a salutation, a benediction, a good wish yet one  so troubling, not from a lacking, of sincerity but from opacity opacity~  the quality or state of a body that makes it impervious to the rays of light; the condition of lacking transparency or translucence; opaqueness "Because space is a vacuum, these good wish waves can travel unimpeded and at a constant speed through empty space, eventually interacting with objects like planets and telescopes upon arrival" but I am not a vacuum, a void, and do not exist within one, here in my surroundings, is much interface interference, the light you send, has bounced around endlessly forever, till it may have hit its intended target, me within, without, and surely has picked up some tagalong amoeba, bacteria, outside contradictories that may have changed its very nature, its purity disturbed, "Pure light" contains a single wavelength or frequency and cannot be broken down into other colors but my confusion is indeed a spectrum of Joseph's many colors, clashing and thrashing with each other, cohering but not of necessity, cohering, this a metaphor, you so lightly send my way,   let us redirect its warm sensibility sensitivity, let us take an /our inner glow; diffuse if one cannot send light across the cosmos, maybe across the Interpet, but just verbally, send to me please, absolutely, tagged "for immediate delivery"                                              and I will store                                               all of it,                                              in my glass jar, next to my heart,                              and just                              glow from within to the with out
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Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 5:04 PM UTC
"sending you light"
a salutation, a benediction, a good wish yet one  so troubling, not from a lacking, of sincerity but from opacity opacity~  the quality or state of a body that makes it impervious to the rays of light; the condition of lacking transparency or translucence; opaqueness "Because space is a vacuum, these good wish waves can travel unimpeded and at a constant speed through empty space, eventually interacting with objects like planets and telescopes upon arrival" but I am not a vacuum, a void, and do not exist within one, here in my surroundings, is much interface interference, the light you send, has bounced around endlessly forever, till it may have hit its intended target, me within, without, and surely has picked up some tagalong amoeba, bacteria, outside contradictories that may have changed its very nature, its purity disturbed, "Pure light" contains a single wavelength or frequency and cannot be broken down into other colors but my confusion is indeed a spectrum of Joseph's many colors, clashing and thrashing with each other, cohering but not of necessity, cohering, this a metaphor, you so lightly send my way,   let us redirect its warm sensibility sensitivity, let us take an /our inner glow; diffuse if one cannot send light across the cosmos, maybe across the Interpet, but just verbally, send to me please, absolutely, tagged "for immediate delivery"                                              and I will store                                               all of it,                                              in my glass jar, next to my heart,                              and just                              glow from within to the with out
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five years ago, June 2018, I, poet Sir Humbug, wrote:that the job of the artist was to be luminous and dangerous <> *the job of the artist is to be luminous and dangerous luminous to others by being dangerous to themselves when the words are ripped from the chest, atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes, starburst fireworks, luminous and dangerous, luminating the shared night, laminating your truths, in poems disguised and so the job, our work, begins* <> five years on, somethings have changed, indeed, the dangers of being luminous, clarifying and exposing, the requisite badge of courage, need-be more desperately earned the work is more risky, as the rules of now are none, and the risk of good taste, thoughtful caring, exposing you innards outwardly, so easy to demean and sadly that titillates the iliterati like a fire-working fireflies flashing, their in-concert of ligh attracts the oohs and aahs but too, the restless for glory, opinionated blowhard, whose critical boundaries of ill will are boundless yet, write on, right on to be where courage be the sticking point! your verbs must be pointy, your direction true, adjectives of modest innovation, craft harder, then harder again, for the work must be honest in a manner most delicate now is the time of subtlety - if one must bang pots to be heard, that you to are but a noisemaker, a loser, an addition to those lost in the din quiet passion, thoughtful insight to inside, to the tender parts, will rule the day and the blow smokers will rue the day, as their pretenses chafe and flail wayside, and your words, be like sightings of new lands where you take us utterly beholden, willing explorers to places most wonderfully luminous and dangerous!
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Jul 10, 2023
Jul 10, 2023 at 11:25 PM UTC
5 years later, the artist returns to his first job: being luminous and dangerous
five years ago, June 2018, I, poet Sir Humbug, wrote:that the job of the artist was to be luminous and dangerous <> *the job of the artist is to be luminous and dangerous luminous to others by being dangerous to themselves when the words are ripped from the chest, atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes, starburst fireworks, luminous and dangerous, luminating the shared night, laminating your truths, in poems disguised and so the job, our work, begins* <> five years on, somethings have changed, indeed, the dangers of being luminous, clarifying and exposing, the requisite badge of courage, need-be more desperately earned the work is more risky, as the rules of now are none, and the risk of good taste, thoughtful caring, exposing you innards outwardly, so easy to demean and sadly that titillates the iliterati like a fire-working fireflies flashing, their in-concert of ligh attracts the oohs and aahs but too, the restless for glory, opinionated blowhard, whose critical boundaries of ill will are boundless yet, write on, right on to be where courage be the sticking point! your verbs must be pointy, your direction true, adjectives of modest innovation, craft harder, then harder again, for the work must be honest in a manner most delicate now is the time of subtlety - if one must bang pots to be heard, that you to are but a noisemaker, a loser, an addition to those lost in the din quiet passion, thoughtful insight to inside, to the tender parts, will rule the day and the blow smokers will rue the day, as their pretenses chafe and flail wayside, and your words, be like sightings of new lands where you take us utterly beholden, willing explorers to places most wonderfully luminous and dangerous!
Continue reading...
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