"epsilon" poems
i
why don´ t they just make a machine
that does our living,lily,darling,
save a lot of messing..
we live all these years and then
slowly our memory depletes them
(though they say all memory lives within..)
if we were programmed at the beginning
some kind of limiting of emotion
ambition etc..
alpha to epsilon
brain washing
soma..
*** but no reproduction
endless fun
order..
is belonging
art gone
the way sure..
simple dogma
love or go
love..*
ii
lily says
love is meaningless
unless we are ready to
die..
who is..
would i..
i
stood
high
to the very
devil..
fall over
weebil..ha..
but to die
and see sun
rise no more..
little bird
sing
in
the silent
dawn
sweet voice
eternal greeting..
blithe angel
o children
of the future..
messenger of
the gods..
loyal gaurdian
to ever
and never..
outside
and know
a silent cosmos..
be born anew
to heart
be found..?
*through-out the poem are references to the
brilliant novel brave new world.for which i make no
apology but as a mark of respect to great talent of
aldous huxley..
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC
*Kuharap renggang antara kita hanya sejauh epsilon, sayangku.
Tak ada sela bahkan tuk menilik pelupuk mata masing-masing.
Dan jika limit epsilon menuju nol
Maka ini tenggat kita, sayangku
Bekukan ponsel pintarmu
Abaikan saja waktu menyiram tanaman petang ini
Lebih-lebih biarkan jemuran dibasahi gerimis
Kita tak punya banyak waktu, sayangku
Mari nikmati
Sedemikian sehingga gairah renjana menemani percakapan masa lalu kita*
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
From ivory towers
to the streets of Paris
the hopeful and hopeless
devour what they've gathered
they all want their chance on the parade
but on epsilon streets it only rains
erroneous stale induced calm
of tropical hibiscus and cool lemon grass
in neat little packaging
and the suits milk their crops
and shout
make me king!
yeah one day I'll be king!
and none of this will mean anything!
and the lions will all be tamed!
because they all want their chance
their chance on the parade
the young and the widowed
the lonely the echos
our self induced coma
oh god give him soma!
oh give him some functionality
his cold lips feel no reason to breathe
the reason
the treason
vociferous silence
buy one get one free
or sit there in silence
because everything's on offer
there's nothing to scoff at
the birth of today
for the death of tomorrow
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 8:15 AM UTC
The sun never shines, the moon never sleeps,
Beneath the sky's blanket the earth is still.
Irises blossom and irises weep
And narcissi thrive in the uncertain chill.
Radiant colours have painted the fields,
Green of the gammas and epsilon black.
Change is a force only nature can wield,
Grief is a certainty nature brings back.
The sun never shines, the sky's never rich.
Cursed with a greyness of which it won't shed.
Monchromatic and bleak and eldritch,
Stitched to horizons with lavender thread.
Spring, in my youth, was a beautiful sight,
Desolate land would be painted anew.
Now that I've aged I can see through its sleight,
Engulfed by despair as the grass is by dew.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
you can never under-estimate the humanity
of one example,
as you already exampled undermining
the humanity of "you", or whatever choice
of pronoun that befits your idea of superiority -
as said Japan attacked, China retaliatory -
Mongol kept apart - bereaving Scandinavia
bereft due to the European ploy fancy;
you can never under-estimate the humanity
of one example,
as you already exampled undermining
the humanity of "you", or whatever choice
of pronoun that benefits with your idea of superiority -
as said Pearl Harbour: war against war
rather than war against society - indeed modernity
with the man in the high castle rather than
i'm the king of the castle - whereby the softened
consonants rather the hardened vowels -
ð adjacent of j - verifiable ðe- or -dje,
dje - or thus extreme English definite articulate of θη -
i won't give you answers, forget it ****
i don't have a lifetime or likened vein of thought -
variations of f and some vowel, θ- e-i -φ - gobble up
a blah... due to η we endow θ with a calibre of vowel necessary,
fully... eta is like a missing diacritic on emicron, shortened,
ah **** epsilon - one and the same...
still involved, softening, duck-quack-and-feather cushioning,
i admit it's regardless of being 90 years of age
skipping rope and boa entanglement to myth
in memory of a life actually lived -
the stink of my great-grandmother's apartment
the coal-set-piece of what could be a baking oven...
the whole place was scented in ferns...
i don't know why, ferns, it was just ferns...
it wasn't Parisian perfumes, it, was, just, ferns...
it was't the next trend of clothing, it was just fur,
you watched your neighbour's television because
you didn't have your own... ferns! ferns! ferns!
the myth told to children about a golden fern leaf,
the myth of Gutwin and the bee that stung my shin -
it's so long ago, i wish it remained,
all i have is America i'll never see, ever hear,
ever touch, America is just an advert, it's nothing,
all i have is America i'll never savour, ever feel,
ever know, it's just abstract, all i'll get from America
is Apache alcoholism as worth writing about
rather than taking a selfie... and that's about it...
otherwise i'm left with kardashian celluloid -
globalisation really has made London a village
and Abridge a capital.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
Woe to you, my dear Epsilon! You were ill-fated by machines,
Those that breathed life into your *****
Those that brought bliss to puppeteers.
Alas, poor Epsilon! You cannot dismantle the tower,
For you are of bad faith, the roots grew deep
Far beyond lamentation.
Play me a song, foolish Epsilon! Express to me your sorrow,
Compose for me the hymn of your alienation,
A requiem for subservience.
Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 10:43 AM UTC
In this life, we are all placed
into a category from birth:
Alphas or Epsilons, firsts and lasts.
And the Alphas go on to live beautiful lives
with wonderful significant others and
successful children and
fulfilled dreams and
intelligent thoughts and
perfect luck.
And the Epsilons go on to live sub par lives
with average significant others and
delinquent children and
nonexistent dreams and
subservient thoughts and
no knowledge or experience of luck.
But Epsilons are so endearingly stupid
that you cannot help but feel sorry for them
and so we pretend to love them, we tell them
that they are special, that they are beautiful.
But there is nothing more dangerous than allowing
an Epsilon to have a sense of self-worth, of self-respect
because once they believe that they are more than the picture
you have painted of them, they will refuse you and your
inadequate "love".
Everyone falls for the Alphas, darling.
It's the natural order of things
And we, the Epsilons, we go on living
our insignificant,
sub par,
hopeless
little Epsilon lives.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC
(an almost lipogram)
It is missing!
Just as a lost paramour
or a forlorn suitor of a now hollow past,
causing a lack of all glamour.
My lass’s familiar touch hiding
astray in murky clouds of a dulling rainbow,
my writing turns to a wan pallid world
as I scour my mind to supplant this loss.
Assailing yon dragon with quill in hand
I spurn my awaiting angst,
stalking as Orion’s own conspirator
disavowing all doubts of my own ability.
Sallying forth I do not tarry.
Words assault a wall of lofty doubts
born of naught but a foolish phobia.
Scaling mighty ramparts,
my anima’s flight attacks a radiant moon.
Until, with a final onslaught
my thoughts find laconic catharsis.
As twilight’s shroud is found approaching,
with a concluding flourish of a now
worn writing tool,
my lost lass of misty pasts...
returns.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
i'm dead serious about conceptualising a su doku...
i'm on the basis of fractions...
praxis 9
/ 4
optical coordination of stressors of furthered insertion
for some reason i cited:
9 x 6 = 51
and then 9 x 9 = 81...
**** 1 is such a difficult number to muster /
master in a goemetric class...
1 isn't exactly geometrically "sound" -
hello φoνoς -
alternatively, when you're doing a really hard su doku,
quote this quasi-copernican interpretation,
i.e. doing the puzzle "lying down"...
i dunno(h)... when complexity arises
numbers "lying down" makes perfect sense...
su doku?
it's like onomatopoeia in terms of arrangement...
81? and it's still a perfect square?!
o.k. o.k. (leo getz style),
ω
3 ß
m
what the **** was alternative to the said?
u p
d
o
w
n p
u
d o w n
by now you're ****** kidding...
M
3 Σ
W my name's matthew,
so you can imagine why i get all hot and bothered
about this variation.
now for some dead etymology (i,e,
i don't give a **** where the words came from,
i just like the way they sound) -
poligon,
okop.
all, if any, emotional intelligence equates
itself toward an intensity status...
i.e. the more you feel, the more
your emotional competence...
for sure... apathy is the "placebo" guarantee
cure for any type of pathos -
or the λoγoς of guaranteed explanations.
to be honest?
λoγoς has been reduced to a suffix status
with that basic "accomplishment" of -ology.
another "funny" word... by was of saying:
it's actually a city...
Płock -
Łódz*,
alternatively? let's juggle
ò (grave) & ó (acute)....
now i see the funny side of the tetragrammaton
concept... it really is omnipresent...
between ò & ó
you want the sort of incisor that's basically |
straight...
something that really might **** off god
once and for all...
with nietzsche it didn't really happen...
i mean an |
o
that would get rid of god in
the classical roman sense of: oh...
and return to the omicron basis
for having revealed a phonetic encoding
that's simply O... and that means doing away with
the god's portion of a hammer (H) -
or the second syllable of the name:
η - weh...
eta weh...
i'd start translation phonetic encoding if i were you...
that variant stated? eta?
it's also called: a short e....
the opposite like loki to thor?
epsilon... and it's called the long e...
in greek it's ε, in latin it's the basis for avoiding
diacritical confrontation / application...
i.e. ee in the word keep, e.g.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
the resurrection of the roman empire happened a long time,
it probably happened when the latinißed
(in english the german eszett works miracles in terms
of how the s and z mingle in certain words, interchanging
in certain words, where even an s is involved in spelling a word,
it’s not necessarily pronunciated, e.g. empiricism is written thus
but necessarily it could be empiricißm) started using
revised arabic digits, given the near synonymous simplicity
of both systems of notation - the near skeletal orientation
of the eye sockets proved that the characters of the language
had to involve a complication - the insurgence of the diacritical
marks on certain letters is keenly metaphorical as the descent
of the resurrected rome, via the heart thumping in the vatican,
the caesars becoming popes and hypocrites deliberating on
what’s supposed to be hidden and what’s to be revealed -
while cyrillic became neo-greek, after all:
Γ (gamma / ge) ι (iota / dotted ι)
ε (epsilon / ze) κ (kappa / ka)
Η (eta / en) o (omicron / o)
π (pi / pe) τ (tau / te)
υ (upsilon / u) φ (phi / ef)
ρ (rho / er) χ (chi / kha)
~ψ (psi) i.e. ш (sha);
and because the greeks developed actual names for letters,
it was only rational to employ these letters as scientific
constants ranging with popular demand in physics and chemistry.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
french garçon - son - ç / s / ς.
and i let the wind turn the page, while
i held onto the last word, i let the wind
turn the page had it not have been held like
a woman in a marriage, and indeed the
wind flipped the page - yes, the perfumery of
books, old or new, stale or freshly baked -
i wanted the wind to turn the pages
of this remnant upheaval of readied reading -
as scenic as i could have wanted -
i let loose the page from under
my fingers, and the wind turned the page...
how i became entombed in
the company of the god Éolides
(εωλιδης) -
and what a happy repose it came to be -
yes, the greeks proved to be the
true aesthetic masters -
dependence on pronuciation's elongation
and curbing - a macron on the omicron
is an omega - etc. - and the epsilon (ε)
should be coupled with eta (η)
in terms of style, as sigma (σ / ς), already is -
but it will be hard, having to digitalise
handwriting, and how easily we can
impose words on the page, without
the smooth rekindling of the waves of
an incoming tide of inspired thinking
known as the birch forerunner, scout.
hence the new testament fitted with the old:
y omega w omicron / y epsilon w eta /
y theta w phi - i.e. yωwo / yεwη / yθwφ;
but of course i'm implying the same treatment
for o and ω like i'm implying for the above
mentioned ε and η akin to handwritten
ease of the two sigmas (σ / ς) - the latter written
at the end of words, the former in between.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
motłoch: meaning rabble, disfranchised mob -
the affix -ch, denoted as a hark -
motłoch etymology isn't a history:
młot = hammer
Loch, i gather means congregation,
Haggis or czarna kiszka...
(blackened intestines)...
there be i to befriend
a Malcolm or a Macbeth -
there i interim dwell:
abiding i, Cnut of the north,
or as some care to say
escaping the ᚠ (the Iron hur!),
there be lots chosen and every
turn at a choice a roundabout
with ᚠᚨᚱ - ᛝᛟᚱᛞ -
far njord or
njordé - variant softening of consonants
heading toward variant of theta / phi;
sigma and south
enigma and epsilon and east,
westward and Y....
there we were confidants in
absolved stresses, and there once more:
revisionists, mavericks,
befriending
frying, flying,
flay thru the fathom -
or the she sells sea shells on the sea shore
θought: φaθom? luckily it wasn't
****** nor condor;
but enough diatribe wording to make lecherous
scavengers congregate and feast.
numb numb nibble nibble, pecking yum;
i always loved hyenas,
i ascribed foxes to be akin to them,
less grey and more orange...
but the laughter twinned them together:
and the night really belonged to them,
and i belonged with the night.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 6:07 PM UTC
Tears upon burnt pages quench the flames beyond time's comprehension.
Utter devastation tastes so woefully divine.
Place the paper platters face-down lest the battered beasties mention
something yet unknown to me, yet also truly mine.
Cramped, I think, I felt so cramped, stuck spaciously between two corners.
Painful in a mental sense, but physically unscathed.
Ruptured tetrahedrons spread a message known to few informers,
governments sent crumbling by the grassroots of today.
Epsilon command sent out another suicidal mission,
destination overclocked to speak a titan's tale.
Suddenly, the ruskies think they own the key to taming fission.
Foolish in their eagerness, the safety measures fail.
Recognition sends the suits into a soon-seditious spiral.
Ugliness, in vogue, becomes the newest game to play.
Rapture in an abstract sense, oh joy to those in moments final;
tempted by a concept for which sanity must pay.
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 10:33 PM UTC
Watching the fog as it lifts clear of the day is
like watching a life drifting slowly away,
slowly meandering
hither and yon
( hither and yon are words soon to be gone)
and a Mexican with a mandolin
pulls on a cigarillo
as he pops a cloud with a pin,
daydreams and Sunday
Church
in this house of a higher creation
it's half past six and time to
get your skates on,
ps
Babylon does not come after Epsilon
but it's all Greek
which is nice,
May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 1:38 AM UTC
i already said that i made a mistake:
hijab and niqab...
but hence the q.
a question, not a queue
standing outside the kew gardens...
but this enforced diacritical markings
over j-ay hey!
or iota (ι) -
it's enforced...
why not a candle í of the acute iota?
he-dziab = hijab
you don't say hi / high all of a sudden,
followed-up with jab...
the diacritical
**** of iota, can morph into an "umlaut"
whereby i can morph into a "digraph",
i.e. hi- = ee...
or simply ē (which is what prolongs
the stress on the letter).
what could i ever conclude with
having written the following?
well... the first philosophy book i ever
bought... in camden town,
plato's θηæτητυς
and i do treat eta (η), as if it were epsilon (ε)
with an acute diacritical mark hovering
over it.
anyway... it only took
over two-thousand years of history
to deal with...
so there's plato's theaetetus: "strange"
how siamese consonants are named digraphs,
while siamese vowels are named graphemes...
there are more digraphs than graphemes,
since there are only two graphemes: æ & œ,
no other variants, i.e., well that's one
to claim, although segregated by . . and
those are two unique words.
yet in the theaetetus dialogue,
socrates is talking about S O
so- (+) -crat- (+) -es,
a syllable broken down into letters (units) -
but this is the 21st century,
and what minor detail occurred in
the 20th century?
something similar, i suppose...
the same concerning bringing it down to just
two letters...
heidegger's ponderings (iv, 221):
why do i two g's in my name?
at first i'd suggest he asks the question
as a case of vanity, but i suspect there's
a question concerning aesthetics of spelling...
at least in english that's the case,
the germans write like chemists,
they compound excessively,
and they don't hyphenate their words like
their english cousins...
so he goes on to state why his nickname
is gg (jee-jee)
g1. güte (benevolence, not pity)
g2. geduld (patience, supreme will)...
sure, but why not géduld?
ah... because that would be frown-ser
(french) - and that would hardly be patience,
it would be a 35 hour working week...
other nations frown and say:
you're ******* lazy!
and the french reply: qui-z la
pita-mont (πíta-mąnt) / (we're patient).
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 12:26 PM UTC
sometimes you really get this feeling of, well,
i really can't be bothered when puzzles become too difficult,
that i end up, not enjoying them.
who the hell wants to engage in a puzzle that
they can't solve?
it's not exactly cheating,
and it's doubly-not "exactly" taking the easy
road...
the brain is fat... it's not a muscle...
you can't exactly create tendons branching out,
out of "thin air", stressors like sūdoku...
doing these puzzles is like
translating a chair into a massive bean bag...
otherwise known by the chair, as a dream of:
the boogie man...
the chair is "thinking", ****
i'm going to become redundant!
but at no. 9049, i finally found, the last, possible conceptualisation
of the asian ideograms, that ezra pound fascinated himself
over, to knock on the doors of an asylum...
all it became? i'm a reductionist in this perspecgtive...
all it became?
start doing the puzzle, and all that matters
is your eyes differentiating between + & x...
that's all it became,
a question that said: can't + be an algebraic
unit of abstract meaning that can be toyed with?
looks similar to x...
but sūdoku, really can be reduced to an +,
as in, once you start solving a puzzle, your eyes dart around
to provoke the acronym n.e.w.s.,
funny enough... after you reach the + stage,
you can bypass the x, and... ha ha... this being written
in england... jack (of the union) has to come along...
so the darting of the eyes turn into george and andrew...
\ /
+
/ \
but that's my final say on the japanese puzzle...
i suppose that's a way of saying: there's an x
inside a +... like there's **** symbolism in the hindu symbol of
the ********
but this is the zenith, or the limit of conceptualißing
the sūdoku puzzle.
oh, you know what name cats have given me?
ya-beł... i once wrote it like a jehovah's witness,
y becomes j becomes dz -
no, not ya-beew...
i can't explain to you refining
the phonetic encoding...
not since letters in the alphabet have such
****** names, comared to the greek: alpha
(n.a.t.o. encoding) alpha,
beta... bravo...
gamma... golf...
delta delta...
epsilon echo...
zeta zulu...
theta / phi foxtrot...
i'm not going to write the whole of the two alphabets out...
**** it.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
There is a place in boundless Space
where constants are not so.
Where entropy runs in reverse,
There Time must backward flow.
Imagine two parallel railroad tracks,
Set across the arc of space.
Our train is bound forever West,
headed towards that sunset place.
Now imagine that I could disembark
at a station on the way.
Eastbound tickets would be expensive
but I’d sure be glad to pay.
I’d buy a seat for Epsilon
and watch the past flash by
like the memories a brain recalls
in the seconds before it dies.
I’d de-train the day before you left,
knowing what I knew not then.
Then we would have another chance
To enjoy what might have been.
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 7:53 AM UTC