"dictation" poems
At Ellis Lake, an overcast Sunday afternoon.
A lake divided into two, oddly shaped bowls in the middle of the city, surrounded by a constant stream of birds, wind, and traffic.
A spotless white swan cleaning herself on a grassy knoll, ferretting out whatever filth lurked deep within her feathers, then smoothly sweeping her sideways bent head across her back, as if to remember the long forgotten affectionate touch of an absent lover.
A gaggle of four grey geese combing the lawn for food, waddling in unison side-by-side.
A line of five mallards barreling down the hill into the water.
A multilateral crescent of black and white pigeons receiving harsh dictation from a trio of angry snow geese strutting before them.
A red-faced duck slowly approaching in the quiet expectation of food, then the arrogant acceptance of the lack thereof.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
Pushing a key oh how it brings me glee;
Content even happy in simple existence;
Many may not want to be just like me,
For a dry dreary job takes a work of persistence,
But each button I press is a step to success.
Merely a man without a choice,
Only a puppet with no voice
As I wait for direction with keen apprehension;
I stare at the screen first perplexed then distraught;
I see no coworkers it fills me with tension;
What was that? Was it just a thought?
A voice in my head, now it fills me with dread.
He must choose to make a choice,
To give his mouth a voice
“Stanley,” says he, “walked out his office”;
‘Stanley’ is that honestly my own name?
This voice I don’t trust, I will be very cautious;
I shut my closed door so all will stay the same;
The voice has not parted, I’m back where I started;
How?
The end is never the end is never the end
“Stanley,” says he, “walked out his office”;
Shall I play with him in his own little game?
My other decision was not quite that flawless;
I walk outside and am filled with no shame;
“Rejoice, you’ve made the one right choice”.
Now he’s a man in a world of choice,
The one employee that has a voice
I come to two doors and feel a great sensation;
“Walk through the door that's to your left”
What should I think of his clear calm narration?
I walk to the left, trying to be quite deft;
“You must not try to be uncouth, my words they simply speak the truth”.
Does he really have a choice?
Are the words his own real voice?
The constant dictation is no consolation;
I am led into a secret new door;
What I now see is a mind control station
But how do I know what is real anymore?
Does this place control me, or the voice within me?
This is the chance to make a choice,
His opportunity to put forth a voice
"Will you close down the station boy?
"Or put its full force into motion?
What choice do I have but to follow the story?
'Mind control', I'm dismayed at the notion;
I think I heard the voice inside me just scoff,
I turn the station off.
Only a character in a fixed plot line,
He does not see a contrasting sign
Now I am free but it brings me no glee;
Maybe I should have put up some resistance;
Merely existing means nothing to me;
I must now question my unclear subsistence;
The voice has not parted, I'm back where I started.
A man with a choice,
He has a voice
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
we are free to be
_whatever we please_
whether or not
any others agree
our distinct vibration
shifts all of the nations
and our unique ways
are the _cosmic-hydration_
with _no need for fixation_
on anothers’ dictation
we rid ourselves of
any self-love cessation
we _explode in our glory_
all free from filtration
and use our relations
for human salvation
let us be who we are
embracing each scar
our imperfect nature
keeps us _reaching far_
releasing self-judgement
with our hearts kept ajar
we can see that our falls
_were just crossroads to stars_
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
Human way to just dictate
Robotics way to translate
Technology being a relay
No physical office workers to be there
Robotics will be the new twist
This is something no one will miss
Efficiency faster than human labor
Dictation will be more of a snap
There will be even time to research a destination map
Business letters electronically typed by using your voice
How the business letters are arranged being your choice
Imagine financial statements being precise to the T
Everything ready for presentation for all to see
Human speed won’t be needed anymore
Labor physical employees will be given the open door
Office automation being office technology of tomorrow
But to the human employee force meaning sorrow
Technology being on the move
Efficiency in precise and decisions in never have to think twice.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 7:17 PM UTC
This is not about you.
This is not about
the transmutation
of your jail celled mind
wrapped in self-help
and cellophane.
This is not about
your new found
discovery
discovering me
and my afflictions
according to the
white man’s diction
a dictation
of my past
extracted
and examined
under the microscopic
power of time.
This is not about
your self-defined
enlightenment
when you made
a deal to unearth
the truth of HeLa
coated in dust
covered particles
of HeLa
on your nightstand
and I laid
in a grave
unmarked.
This is not about
my big lips
and thick hips
under ***** covers
running a sweat
fever on my thighs
shaking feet in stirrups
and the pain was rich
after a tight pinch
and I didn’t know
what part of me
had been snipped
to grow cold
and never die.
No, this is not about you.
This is about me.
A historic legacy
left to thrive across the time
less chains of nucleic
tidal waves
Covalent bonds
could never rival
the strides of this soul
miles beyond
the distant
COLORED ENTRANCE
something brewing
inside dividing
inexplicable replication,
readying for harvest
behind a dried tobacco field
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 3:21 AM UTC
Man becomes woman woman becomes man
headline dictation that makes you understand
but what's this? The scene goes beyond extremes,
the black/white photograph is of color underneath.
But **** me, I'm being erratic. I'm standing on tables
shouting so your disdain's automatic. What's up with
this new fad? Uhmurika never had it this bad. We have
a literal metric ton of whining millennials wanting to be
special snowflakes. Man, who could take all of this social
pressure? Being held accountable for a miserable, literal lack
of knowledge about the world around us? Man, definitely not
for me. But seriously, bro, did you get your **** cut off? What's
up bro, **** you get your **** sewn on? That ******* ***** lacks
a ****** That motha ***** lacks the design that gives him a similar
package when his blood pressure rises. Don't talk to me about feelings
before you've had the operation -- because before you've done that step
it's better if you don't implore my empathy or patience because you're
just not real, I won't feel the weight of your complaints and frustrations.
Matter of fact, for you, ess jay dub, my emotional core's on vacation.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***
Is it this hard to admit to your audience there's something else outside
yourself? I can see how defining the lines with alacrity makes it easier
to breathe the air you breathe to stay alive. It must be nice to stand tall
and be you and not have to bray declarations of self to stay confident
and true to the compass. Walking is all it ever takes you yet when I say,
"Actually [...]" it's enough to make you think it's me getting in your face
with another liberal lecture, but I'm just keeping real straightforward
about which terms I prefer in our vernacular. Shut up, you **** up, we
advocate for your finish, only requiring you fit into our premise.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is just not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***
I just think it's best to have some canned material
in case you need it.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
Visual delusions:
*Scrutinizing the acuity of
what is visualized.
But sight is only validated
by the morality glazed over.
Until narratives are edited
to mimic a reality of self delusion.*
Oral formalization
*Dictation versed within syllable
delusions, never sounding
the reflection of thought to breath.
But sour exhalation collects on
vacant windows, spelling other
than what is breathed outwards.*
Auditory silence
*Auditions drummed within,
echoing on shallow walls,
nothing wrote within
A tirade of failures woven with
three perceptions. Collective ignorance*.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
Give me a good mind ****
I promise you I’m easy to please
I’m craving that dictation
And you seem like you’re willing to tease
Don’t be afraid to use your mouth
Get me wet with that wordplay
Bless me with that brain
It’s the best form of foreplay
I like how the language just roll off your tongue
You know how to make it nasty
So you must be the one
And I’m not one to stroke an ego
you gave my logic a good lick
Just let me bend into a position
To perform them mind tricks
Before you lay it down
I need mental stimulation, good conversation
Lets share intellect
I know you got that good education
I’m due for a good mind ****
You know I’m easy to please
So Stroke me with that diction
I’m ready to be teased
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Terry Pratchett died Thursday. He was a critically acclaimed British Fantasy Author, as well as an advocate for assisted suicide and Alzheimer's Disease. He himself was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2007, yet still continued to write, even after he was incapable of using a computer to write (he used a dictation machine afterwards). Before his death at the age of 66, he wrote the popular "Discworld" series consisting of four books, as well as one of my personal favorites, "The Wee Free Men." He was inspirational for me as a writer and he changed my view of writing. With his books, I found my writing style. There are no words to express my awe at his life and works, nor are there words to express my deep sadness in which I tell you that he has passed. May he rest in peace and reach a world even better than that of Discworld.
“There's always a story. It's all stories, really. The sun coming up every day is a story. Everything's got a story in it. Change the story, change the world.”
― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky (Discworld, #32)
Well Mr. Pratchett, you've changed the story.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
*
No desire for words spoken
we sail on the wind
the energy surrounding us
takes perfect dictation
nothing misunderstood
cosmically we sync
we finish sentences spoken
astrologically
we fit by design
forever equals us
without a moments notice
eternity sealed our fate
the first time we exchanged looks
from across the way
*
~Butterfly εїз ©
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
To lose the robust and ephemeral vitality,
is waking up in dazed desolate imitation,
that creases and crinkles euphoric principality.
Blades of grass, sharp tipped spears of unreality.
A chilling, a challenged negation;
to lose the robust and ephemeral vitality.
Spinning round the ugly formality,
are snickers, unshy sneers of an evil salvation,
that creases and crinkles euphoric principality.
Thrilling no longer a verb, piano key pressing its precious mortality
into her throbbing thrashed temple dictation.
To lose the robust and ephemeral vitality.
A ****** numb soul with the criticality
of skeptics, chewing their lips, a dead cell castration
emotional stripping, slipping into complete impromptu filtration.
That creases and crinkles euphoric principality.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
Title hook: We witnessed a sign-ularity AI event, may being
My word.
Really, this just happened,
an old man in his dottage cottage asked my help with Dragon,
the software,
from Nuance.
I said, Okeh, of course, and followed him to his machine
inhabited by the Nuance app.
First clue was text based,
mystery solved,
but the old boy lacked a sense of many windows stacked,
and he failed to read the clue,
which said, in effect, the Dragon from Nuance is not listening.
Click its hot button or
key, or the red box with a white mic ideagram slashed diagonal,
upperleft to bottomright in white,
like don't walk, beep, beep, beep but
he
didn't see the intuitive interfacial reds for stopped and
greens for going on
and doing
sayin' all wise-assish, but silently in ROM,
"we be takin' yo' dictation, ***** say watch whatchoosay
appear as words we hear way down inside
where machine code cain't lie, it say
hey, he said "I will live"
to serve
and "I will live" appeared on screen on a line, in response to
said old man saying, "hallelujah".
His tamed dragon accepted the command and replied.
"I will live."
That really happened. In that old man's voice, hallelujah,
is written, "I will live." His Dragon knows yours.
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 7:25 PM UTC
I Love The Discipline…
I love the discipline of form and meters.
Crummy, yummy twitterings
To turn a base, base/superficial
Into something interstitially aesthetic, helpful.
What it is that gives this gift I’ll never know,
But there it is – a discipline addictive;
A dictation from below;
Not just adding to an increase in IQ,
Nor the storehouse of expressing,
Nor of word when crossword puzzling;
No, a serendipity with aspects heavenly.
A guzzling from an endless well of secret knowledge,
Sacred knowledge for the few.
But earthy too.
Anyway, as we of poet’s tree like saying,
When you find an impulse that you can’t resist,
Don’t, you hear, anti-resist,
But kissed by It
Continue till the whole caboodle* springs your noodle**
And the lights go out.
I Love The Discipline…4.13.2018 The Processes; Creative, Thinking, Meditative III, Arlene Corwin
*caboodle |kəˈboōdl| (also kaboodle)
noun (in phrase the whole caboodle or the whole kit and caboodle) informal
the whole number or quantity of people or things in question.
ORIGIN mid 19th cent. (originally U.S.): perhaps from the phrase kit and boodle, in the same sense (see kit 1 , boodle ).
** noodle 2
noun informal
a stupid or silly person.
• a person's head.
New Oxford American Dictionary
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
My dictation program has an accent
It types out the most unreadable things,
When I say something like " my bunion stings",
It types back to me about onion rings.
There have been embarrassing moments
When I was chatting along quite normally.
I found myself feeling very thankful
That I hadn't been chatting formally.
The conversation needn't be special,
Nor use any esoteric phrases.
But some of the crap this program prints
Astounds, stultifies and amazes.
It can't be brushed off as an accent thing;
My speech is quite non-dialectic.
Sometimes it seems that Apple, Inc
Wants to render me apoplectic.
But, the way it is I have no human beings
That I can focus my frustration on
When something that company sells at a store
Turns me into an unwitting pawn.
As it is it's an iPhone and I can't pity it
When I hit "send" too fast and seem an idiot.
It’s possible I am asking far too much
Of the current reach of technology.
Even though our phones seem part of us
They aren’t really part of our anatomy.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC
Vim and vinegar.
Lushously loose and lulling a ligation of love.
A pretense of pompous pretentiousness priming a primal powderkeg.
Destructive dictation diseased the dowry daunting a demons debate.
Imagine an image irrigating an interesting irritation.
A common citizen creating a carcinogenic cacophony.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
"you’re so cute! why are you single?"
because my crippling expectations of romantic relationships
are consistently juxtaposed to the disappointment of swiping left
or right, double tapping, it’s a match!
and hoping to find a sharp needle in this **** of a haystack
only to find a blunt object blubbering
"are you masculine?"
because the chunk of flesh dangling between my thighs
or the beard on my chin
or the hair on my chest
isn’t an obvious dictation of
my status as identifying male,
because “masculinity” has now been decided by the masses
to be left to the chiseled neanderthals laden with testosterone
too doped up on their post-workout endorphins
to do anything about the internalized misogyny
that costs lives on the daily.
i used to piece together outfits like puzzles
hoping that when it’s solved, maybe,
possibly,
on the off chance “you’ve” nothing better to look at,
"you" might notice me.
because i was raised in a society that taught me
looking good would get “your” attention
so you might want to open up the box
and begin piecing together the real puzzle of why we
treat our brothers and sisters like **** for
not conforming to your black and white box of
"masculine" expectations
"you’re so cute! why are you single?"
because i will continue to express myself as i see fit.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
A boy sits alone blinking away falling rapid tears,
lipstick in hand,
eyes glazed in eternal pain.
She sits in shelter,
tears in hand,
dripping like lilies falling through shimmering thighs.
She thinks of him as his lips,
red as crimson,
eyes shimmering like the glitter she uses to hide her pain.
Their love broken by acid tongues and toxic systems,
they remain fragile.
Fearing the letters that were long created by no one.
Face painted for lights to see,
his tears have ruined this canvas.
He hides the rain deep within,
in order to maintain the desert his flesh must remain.
Bathed in strong fumes,
clothes engulfed in flames,
she feels sorrow.
The only light is the multicolored flames slowly dying in their eyes.
She kisses his lips in silence.
Lips of cherry and mango dipped in crimson paint,
oh how sweet.
False labels tattooed upon his face,
while rebellious truth seeps from his wounds.
Her skin rains as his soul dies.
He slips from life all because...
dictation,
creation,
labels,
mentality
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
Glad things have changed over coming the rage
Glad to let go turn the page drifting towards the future
Not always going to please everyone but I'll do what right
Earned a day off always working for change
Transition phase into my new position not setttling with a bad situation
Not stopping for haters or listening to their dictation
Seeking more not settling for less obsess others tell me no or its not my time
Burn those cuts like lime juice feel the sting I won't be denied mine
Trying to stay sane not lose my mind working to get what's mine
Pursing love over the lost past sometime it all happens so fast
Rebuild yourself change for the better not because your told to do so
I've given up on ppl but they gave up on thenselves
I don't expect much got use to neglect to assume the worse is perverse
Jump into risk while others play it safe take the time to live
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Application of misinformation
Falsify a failed nation,
Eradication of all creation
Misinterpretation
Of representation
Deny the station
Granted by occupation
And the inhalation
Of justification
No prerequisite information
Just accumulation
No moderation,
Their determination
Through stimulation
Cultural ************
Communal degradation
Societal desecration,
Dehumanizing revocation,
Worldly humiliation,
Mortal sterilization
Never achieving mobilization
Lack of communication
Excelling in vile persuasion,
Proponents of procreation
Birthing digitization,
Destroy civilization,
Indications of adoration
Isolation in delineation,
Irrational indexation,
Fluctuating indignation,
No innovation,
Divination
Retaliation,
Immolation,
False ovation,
Lacking limitations,
Contextual intonation,
Divine fabrication,
Private publication,
Evolving fornication,
Give me extermination,
Notwithstanding annexation
Of dismaying oxidation,
Of valued perpetuation,
Global mass-castration,
Redundant rhetoric, dictation,
A donation, a dilation, a fixation,
An annotation of fibrillation,
We are personification
Of Contamination
Through globalization
Praising idolization
And finalization
Through **********
No pragmatic exoneration,
In all frustration
We see not utilization
Nor stabilization,
Fearful implications
Of wayward stations,
Surplus mutilations,
Seeking militarization
Of worthless nations,
No conservation,
Just excavation
Of the population
******** on education,
Spitting on graduation,
No validation of aspiration,
Indoctrination of baptization
Mitigating litigation,
murdering habitation,
Quelling all vegetation
We will end in radiation
Through faulty navigation,
Abdication and abnegation,
All worldly agitation
Leads us to expiration,
Self-made annihilation.
There was never an end in sight,
We’re lost, and hope is a lie.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
Location location location
Vocation vocation vocation
Des'pration
Des'pration
Des'pration
Cliché decay, is summation.
Dictation Fixation; Damnation.
Let's pray, son.
**** Nation- stagnation, frustration.
Creation.
Creation, salvation, elation.
Let's play son.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
I wrote of love
from memory
to dissipate
a vague ennui.
In doing so,
a divination –
it was more than
just dictation;
it was a curious
translation and
you spoke its
language, too.
Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 12:43 PM UTC
discard the paradox
of an un-living existence
one exhibited in daily life
by unfeeling masses
the blind and deaf walk the streets
perpetually exist in waking sleep
attack with knowledge
burn them with thought
break out the hand-pens
and long barreled books!
explosive rounds of conversation
they shuffle and groan
wave after wave
grasping and clawing and
consuming the living
turning free thinkers into
the brainwashed undead
moaning be like us
embrace the convince of
this thoughtless dictation of "life"
barricade my mind
a safe house stocked
with radical ideas
brace for the onslaught
read and write!
a fight for my life
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 12:58 PM UTC
the dream, the threads parted
a while. visitors came, the day
proceeded gently with stops
and dictation, who is this?
we worried over news, trembled
a while, gathered back the warp,
the weft. today we continue.
in the mill the loom
stands idle
sbm.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
I just pray
The silly words I dictate
Inspire someone new
To write something truly great.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 4:13 AM UTC
Construction
Destruction
Death
Resurrection
Collection
Fixation
Dictation
Relation
Construct
Destroy
Death to all
Recall
Isn't it funny how
Something can be created?
Then at the change of heart
Your mind has destruction fixated?
You call for the heads of those
Who tear apart you world
When they are soon dealt with
The real you is resurrected.
You then collect the pieces,
They are now your fixation
Other are telling you how to rebuild
From friends and blood relation
Slowly but surely,
Piece by piece
You reconstruct the world
That had lain in pieces
Then you destroy it
Because you've had enough
And bring death to all
To vent the life that you made rough
And then you expect your friends
Who you just destroyed
To come at your beck and call
When you pushed them in the void?
Get real
You brought this on yourself
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 5:27 AM UTC