"datum" poems
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three
Knowledge we sing on laud
Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates
Philosophy, to be human awed
Teach through time, consciously
Nod not, what others fraud
Socrates taught, Divine Being
God not of brutal Athens’ passions
Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing
Goodness unseen in day’s fashions
Soul for unalloyed agreeing
Lessons humanities’ compassion
Talk eternal justice, everlasting life
Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason
Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife
Invincible perfection be God’s season
Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife
Priests who find this, absolute treason
No church or Socratic school
A barefoot man roamed to teach
Socrates mocked for looking a fool
His speech not one to simply preach
Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool
Cruel hemlock, words did so breach
Handsome aristocratic youth Plato
Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom
But soon to find his own credo
In Medara to find Euclid and freedom
Egyptian geometry to provide dado
To Plato life, expression; not a system
Eternally an artist, Plato did develop
Philosophic circle in Academus groves
Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop
Discretions of sensations, be not oaths
What man may be, an animal jealous
Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves
As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple
So too, to Plato would Aristotle be
Passing comprehension archetypal
Successions of genius’ visions do see
Aristotle taking it step further, as vital
To science of hands-on discovery
And this is where we see a parting
Of two distinctly opposing philosophies
Plato being at odds, with science starting
Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies
Things not happening by chance imparting
Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates
But a new era has surely now dawned
Science exploring an invisible atom
And the seen and unseen correspond
So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum
Brilliant new philosophies have spawned
An abstract notion of conceived stratum
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
"I grant you ample leave
To use the hoary formula 'I am'
Naming the emptiness where thought is not;
But fill the void with definition, 'I'
Will be no more a datum than the words
You link false inference with, the 'Since' & 'so'
That, true or not, make up the atom-whirl.
Resolve your 'Ego', it is all one web
With vibrant ether clotted into worlds:
Your subject, self, or self-assertive 'I'
Turns nought but object, melts to molecules,
Is stripped from naked Being with the rest
Of those rag-garments named the Universe.
Or if, in strife to keep your 'Ego' strong
You make it weaver of the etherial light,
Space, motion, solids & the dream of Time --
Why, still 'tis Being looking from the dark,
The core, the centre of your consciousness,
That notes your bubble-world: sense, pleasure, pain,
What are they but a shifting otherness,
Phantasmal flux of moments? --"
2.5k
The freckled girl screams 'out **** spot'
thinking they're part of some Higher plot.
They are. They are. They are.
For this sky would be nothing without the stars
Imagine Orion's belt without each datum
(and I say this without sarcasm)
Think of the ocean that'd be a chasm.
Without the drops - nothing happens
poetry would be nothing without the atom
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:33 AM UTC
The most enchanting of views grasped my conscience by simultaneous never-ending palpitations that slowly but surely circulated through the darkest & most deepest of gardens...
Far and away within those unique datum of charming beats...thousands of charms began to reveal like fireworks in the Sky...
It is an essence that travels so deeply into the air, that the air itself can't help but consume the remaining of the trace it leaves behind with each stroke...
That's the energy that wonders in the air for so long that I can't help myself but not captivate the residuals of the purity of its existence...
It is what it does to me day in...between...and out....
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:32 AM UTC
Conches and cymbals rend the air peering
into the mists of time vast like the snow-
clad peak, ancient that shines in the cells as
in the stars, matted whose locks gather the
sky-river in their folds, bearing the moon-
shell on his brow, merged in etherial that
datum where shine neither the moon nor stars
still like heavens that serpents slither lone
the one beyond all dual, red-hued like
the glacier anointed nigh at dusk
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
We sit in class and "learn"
We "learn" how to write a paper,
or how to calculate the distance from the sun,
or that "datum" -is the singular of data.
But we never learn how to pull ourselves off the floor,
or how to write a resume to pay off those college loans,
or how to simply love yourself.
Fill my head with mindless facts and I will regurgitate them back to you.
Tell me to love myself, be my self, and be financially secure,
only then will I stare blankly at you and say
"How?"
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
Reflected by the mountain stream Have the cherubs gone over the skies, When the evening came I was all things and Now when I walk out alone from the mist, long after
the embers kept us warm When you came leading me out, When did I lose you?
my calm warm shoulder. I roll over in the biting cold for will you believe me? we walked in snow I see the early moon, silent and poignant.
If I say mon nom In my sleep searching,
Who are you? The chorus;
Who am I? I was what you said I was. Soliloquy.
The stars are rising for their dusk-dance in my eyes.
I was love, I was a mother, drawing crimson curtains to play in the park? The corners, they are all empty and faint in the mists.
I see only a shadow's arm around me - I was a teacher. clasped clad in love that others said I was.
Now, gone, none my datum and reference.
Have you gone for a stroll my love? celestial light, I walked deeper into the night, away from your green-golden presence.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
Tactical testosterone
Testaclese of datum distribution
Darker barker then doomsayer
Truth be told the end is Nye
Not ours or mine
But if you stick to yore's and ill keep my nine
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
The evil men in Washington do scheme
Be not shocked by this declaration
Their wickedness put upon the nation
Control and compliance is their very theme
Cameras gleaning all manner of datum
The greater population not aware
Files stored on computer hardware
Intrusive these measures hear the drum
Citizens of America spotted
Someone somewhere is tapping the phone
Gathering loads of pertinent tales
All those locales on maps are well plotted
No one is left out of the spying zone
Operatives filling their bales
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
Adding minutes to a lifetime (saying magic words)
**”And you, dear poet, friend of many years,
have given me so many inspirations, birthed within
us words,so oft, and so well, that your pithy observations,
manufacture time, add minutes to lifetimes**”
<>
wrote these words without thinking,
they’re sweet and neat, trivial but incomplete
but upon rear mirror review, Mr Poet
re-thinks, perhaps deserved of another serving,
curvy white, soft-to-the-lips, a moist vanilla kiss,
excellent ice cream in a sugar cone, words irresistible
for the sweetest poem sparks multi-coloration-explosion
of sprinkles ‘pon a skin’s surface,
uprisings of what lurks in the centrum of your
embodied universe and disembodied soul,
shockingly uprising from an internal fulcrum,
sea~tossed flotsam of a jagged life, now, all recovered
words sprinkling, beach treasures, and yet,
adding minutes to a lifetime…
*reliving old reels, is time recaptured, creating a
certain robust additive to thine cranking and
cranky engine, that’s logged much more than
a picayune hundred thousand miles on a voyage
of e i g h t decades, you employ ten fingers to
calculate your fugue of multi-voiced numerations!*
*can it be? it cannot be! millions upon millions of
minutes, possess and passed, yet highlight feature
films, enabling reliving so real that by watching,
seeing, believing, re-reading it is as if one is earning
life extensions…*adding minutes to a lifetime…
*‘tis true, rereading every small scrip, every poem,
returns one to prior-places, each a datum,
a particular spot, a point upon a schema of integrity & integration,
that rule the visions, a message of individualism
in the largest context of a true vision(arie)*
“chacun un point dans une peinture pointilliste…”
“each a point within a pointillistic painting…”
*in a few years, a stumbling upon shall here return me here,
and I will smile with great gratitude for the life extended,
accepting with gratitude,*
these few seconds, a last lasting chance,
to say some magic words
with a great vanilla whispering
adding minutes to you life as well
nml
May 7, 2024
May 7, 2024 at 3:56 PM UTC
*In my room, the grandfather clock has been busy
Busy moving its needles around for over a century
Seconds, turning to minutes, to hours, days and years
A young clock growing old, pendulous pinions and gears.
That’s what passing time does, a chime unfixed
But truly, as I introspect, does time really exist?
Rising sun and the onset of night, an unending event
Churning of moments, past, future and the present.
Creeping on us, time is the rhythmic rhyme of history
A song sung by my clock, and its ubiquitous mystery.
A silent, unspoken, unheard, stealthy crescendo
The ever changing panorama I see outside my window.
But then what is the datum to know elapse of time?
Is it a mere yardstick of your evolution and mine?
Replacement of dying cells, a genetic work so complex
My grandfather clock, tick tocks unmindful, unchecked*.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
nonsensical desire, confronted irrationality
unattainable aspiration, ugly ultimatum
status perceived, not of datum
distorted reality, blunt brutality
fear from retrospect, timid mentality
caring investors, issue relayed verbatim
nonsensical desire, confronted irrationality
unattainable aspiration, ugly ultimatum
lonely, no commonality
pensive, pounding cranium
demise of my own creation
fallen nature of mortality
nonsensical desire, confronted irrationality
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
Please enlighten me in my utmost presumption, because I fall victim to the limitations of sense-datum.
However, I feel no conviction around my ambivalence because their truly is an ebb and flow of permissiveness.
Oh, the texture of Egyptian cotton is shameless within the spread of her luxurious, symmetrical and prestigious corners.
Please, do not open the door, for I suspect that the wolf will be at large. Let us not become so encapsulated by systems at the expense of metaphysics.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
I have poems for your twinkle toes
and similes for your wrinkled nose
how it twitches
like the Bewitched witch's
I have poems for your starry eyes
reflecting all the star filled skies
each and every glistening datum
just as if your pupils ate them
not like a black hole swallowing solar systems
******* light and all existence
but like an 8 ball of spotted shining wisdom
also like what I have written
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC
~ inspired by, & for Sally~
the modern internal combustion engine
is a series of controlled explosions, a spark
ignites the flammable gasoline, the pistons
moving, dispensing energy to turn our
wheels so we may voyage as a pair, to
there, and to here:
our very hearts, the original model of
this energetic blood disbursement of
oxygen ignited by electric pulsations,
one contemplates
at this late hour, at this late date, when the
moving parts, obedient servants,
collectively concur
that the use-by-date has nearly arrived and
we must soon take a sabbatical to the whereafter
what two, surely not three, digits will complete the right side of our hyphen,
our from~ to, as if that were an achievement,
more than merely, an identifying bracelet
think upon it, thousand of explosions,
millions of sparkings electric, we have been
engineering our reactors to go to over 100%,
until we cry out
how long you gonna run that body down,
and when the answer is ascertained,
we now done and undone,
we
no longer care, that last datum,
we are, of it, unconscious,
the date prior inscribed in flesh,
its mate, its uncomplimentary
complement,
can be only scribed in
Vermont granite,
as a warning
to any passerby
that yet harbors
the illusory that
the future can
be foretold
Nov 22, 2024
Nov 22, 2024 at 9:27 AM UTC
Decays deception, datum destruction
Procedural places put particles paramount
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
So God took a rib from Adam
And thus woman was created.
Could this be actual datum,
Or myth, highly overrated?
Through life man flounders (blamelessly)
When there's no woman at his side;
And a woman walks aimlessly
Until her mate's identified
I don't care how I came to be --
By grand hoax, or just a small fib.
But I can say with certainty
Being alone's not my cup of tea;
Somewhere, someone's looking for me --
Some poor Adam's missing his rib!
Mar 7, 2022
Mar 7, 2022 at 4:33 PM UTC
*i guess after seeing a ********** i couldn't be fed jealousy by a free woman... what the ********** taught was how to objectify in such times of crisis, when a woman does a Mantis chop with her heart to make you feel jealous on purpose, the: how lucky you are to have me, so many men would be jealous in your place! i guess so... but then i would't be walking up Arthur's Seat, sitting down on a cliff's edge thinking out the mantra: god, i wish i were dead, god, i wish i were dead. i could be blamed for spreading macho propaganda, but i read a little, and seen a little bit of the world to see things play out as they have - a woman's use of jealousy is her ultimate snare... see a ********** and you become equipped with a veil you can put on her when she instigates this tactic - you won't feel jealous, you'll then become to objectify her, no i don't mean objectifying her exterior, that's just shallow **** i mean her inside... call me Genius Frankenstein Monster for all i care, i sensed there was a missing datum when they started censoring words in western society as if they might have censored it adequately to agreed to standards of education in algebraic mathematics.*
today? pork burgers, Slavic style.
pork mince, two slices of bread soaked in water
and later squeezed (to get the water out),
salt, pepper, one egg,
self-raising flour to make the mixture less
watery, spices, garlic paste, onions,
later coated with breadcrumbs.
side dishes? ćwikła / цвіклі (ts vikli) -
beetroots with horseradish and a bit of
crème fraîche -
fried baby potatoes with parsley, onions,
garlic, paprika and turmeric.
WE'RE RESURRECTED! WE'RE
RESURRECTED WITH ISRAEL!
FREE FROM THE LAW OF THE TSAR,
THE ARCHDUKE AND THE PRIME MINISTER...
ah **** we're being inspected for anti-democratic
tendencies by the E.U. these days...
make our culinary skills outlive western media's
meddling with concerns - about
what is and what isn't democracy.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
Jullie hebben mij immens veel bijgeleerd.
Zoveel dat ik haast niet op kan sommen
wat in mij allemaal veranderd is.
Mijn werklust heeft hier gerevalideerd
in acht bewogen maanden die ik
niet meer weg wil gommen.
Vandaar dat ik tegen het einde
van deze uitgebreide sessie, met pen,
de datum heb genoteerd.
Eerst gedaald, daarna gestegen, rechtgetrokken,
toen verlegen, toe, later open,
gebloeid, vertrokken.
Ik zal de deur nog één keer sluiten
wanneer ik jullie bedank.
Want bij aankomst kroop ik mank,
liet ik tranen met tuiten.
Ondertussen, dankzij jullie allevier,
kan ik weer lopen met plezier.
Jullie namen zullen blijven hangen.
Desnoods gebruik ik knopen
om ze vast te maken, nooit meer te vervangen.
Want zelfs als ik zelf mijn geheugen ooit verlies,
zal ik jullie nooit vergeten.
Bedankt van harte, Sarah, Katrien, Geertrui en Marlies.
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 5:42 AM UTC
What was it?
Meteor falling?
Visit of aliens, an encounter?
Defense Ministry briefing?
Micro-apocalypse?
Semantic or phonetic ellipsis?
Or unfiltered beer?
Or was she Serbian?
Such a fake name...
In a french tunic or a jacket?
what century of antiquity? 19th 18th?
Storojeviih do you understand me?
You won't find such a datum in cyberspace!
You left early,
The spectrum is still on.
This is often the case with people,
Abnormal states
Or let's put it this way:
Alien abduction.
In Orginal:
Watchmen in an unknown wardrobe item
Что это было?
Падение метеорита?
Посещение инопланетян?
Брифинг Минобороны?
Микроапокалипсис?
Семантический или фонетический эллипсис?
Или нефилтрованное пиво?
Или сербка она была?
Такая фалшивая фамилия...
В тунике или в пиджаке?
какого то века антика? 19ого 18ого?
Сторожевых Вы меня поняли?
В киберпространстве такого датума
Не найдёшь!
Вы рано ушли.
Спектр еще горит.
Это часто бывает с людьми,
Аномальные состояния
Или так скажим:
-Похищение пришельцами.
May 8, 2022
May 8, 2022 at 4:29 AM UTC