i couldn't never write a book, sorry, a novel, i'd hate to become a puppeteer, someone who attempts to play chess, a fiddling and bothersome shadow-baron (schattenbaron)... imaginary "friends" is not my thing, plus... i don't have an exact elastic approach to heidegger's compliments concerning poets: i only like heidegger because he likes poets, **** me, he elevates poets to the stature of philosophers when language "things" are made necessary... i.e. (and verbatim) - language - only if speech has acquired the highest univocity of the word does it become strong for the hidden play of its essential multivocity (as withdrawn from all "logic"), of which poets and thinkers alone are capable... welcome! welcome! to plato's republic! Brennus & Alaric welcome you, quiet fondly depicted by Joseph-Noël Sylvestre... and when the Huns pushed the leaders Fritigern and Alavivus into the eastern empire to settle... and emperor Valens... that's history for you: a cascade of: and and and and and and... sometimes a p.s., but mostly the and and and of causality... facts come barging in, you forage... but thanks to heidegger: the poets have earned their graces... and can return to the republic... as wordsmiths... i mean, was i ever to think of myself as a french dada dandy? frivolous and superfulous raconteur / racketeer? poet or philosopher, that's beside the point, the point being: i'm not a novelist... i don't like dealing with language that chokes that i rely on mostly and that mostly being: i like the idea of a raw vocabulary... i'm more of a butcher than an artist... i like the rawness of an inverted crossword puzzle... in my "trade"... there are no clues, whether synonymous or antonymous, in this spaghetti of: ex nihil factum sermo (out of nothing came the word)... poetry, of all places, allows this form of unadulterated nibbling at raw vocabulary... bypassing the standard g.c.s.e.: overt-scrutiny of poetics... i never like that... a 5/ 7/ 5 syllable haiku poem should never be preserved for its essay-worthiness to extend into 2000 words in a school exam... poetry strapped to pedagogy is... less heavily censored, more... over-scrutinized... you're not supposed to think in terms of poetry: you're supposed to, feel... and since when has feeling become so overrated, so despsised? oh... when people "learned" to feel, prior to learning to think... you really have to learn to think, prior to learning how to feel... if you ask someone from the orient, they'd counter the western perception of placing thinking / "reason" on the top of the pyramid with horus' eye as emblem... to learn to feel: is to learn to how to not think, while to think? it's to learn how to not feel... pretty simple, no? not really... neither approaches should be underrated, they should be understood better... who the hell needs, or wants, to be an apathetic brain-in-a-pickle-jar zombie: constantly engaging with a dialectic? then again... who wants to be a heart in an electric chair constantly bamboozled into pointless reactions? so i'm more of a butcher than a "poet", i simply appreciate the raw realism of cutting pieces of the tongue that extends into the brain's fathomability - and that overrated visual ******* of dreaming most people associate themselves with... but that's beside the point... i really appreciate days akin to this one, humid as in the concrete basin of Beijing while europe is frying in the African plume... no thanks, no, me go to Greenland or the Faroes Islands... do i look like a ******* ******* / camel jockey? why do i have limited respect for islam? i once watched a video of a saudi with an european bride... sitting on oil was both a blessing... and a curse... muhammad would whip some of these saudi brats silly... but of all days... when i get to work my magic in the kitchen, and make the most superior food in the whole wide world? blue indian cuisine: i call them blue indians and not red soxs because: come on... the raj... and that polytheism that doesn't want to disappear... h'americans can boast all they want: the steak, the hamburger, the hot dog, the pizza... n'ah... n'ah mate... it's either curry or you're chewing chicken bones, ******* out the marrow... indian cuisine is superior... i love the days when i cook up two curries... it feels like being back in edinburgh, walking into the joseph black building, the perfumes of sulphur and wood, the 12 hour experiments it would take us to conjure up an ester... esters? bases for the perfume industry... that' the grand thing about cooking a curry... you start to feel like a chemist once more... the two curries? a tikka masala: sure, an easy adventure... marinating the chicken what not... the real fun came with the malvani... blitzing the masala up: a bay leaf, half a nutmeg, 4 / 5 cloves, 7 dried chillies, 10 peppercorns, a cinnamon stick, cumin seeds, coriander seeds, chilly powder, turmeric powder... and that's just the malvani masala... the cocunut masala... ****... only two green chillies... how to get the right colour? ah... blitz up some coriander stalks... garlic and ginger... milk to get the whizz-kid on the job... it's superior cuisine, indian cuisine... it reminds me of a being in a chemistry lab at edinburgh... doing organic experiments... mind you: it's more fun, the environment is less sterile... even my mother said: you're stinking up the place, you're worse than the sikhs two doors down... so... why would i visit an indian restaurant, or indulge myself in an indian take-away, if i can mimic? i see no point... there is no other cuisine on the planet as good as what could come from either Goa or New Delhi... the colours, the perfume of the spices... by now a hamburger, pizza or hot-dog are staples or both humble beginnings and even more humbled ends... i've found my 1st to none passion... and with a afghani naan bread... and with rice infused with turmeric... tiresome ponce schemes of duck a l'orange... spaghetti this that and the other... one bias... though... scandinavian treatment of raw herrings... in cream sauce... i'm a sucker for those herrings like i'm a sucker for pop music... the added zing of the herrings' rawness out-competes the bland sushi manifesto... eating one of these herrings in a cream sauce... has the complimentary sensation, very much akin to performing oral *** on a woman... oysters are beyond the marker of metaphor / literal association... well: hello today!

I.

i'm starting to suspect, that one of the...
"supposed" stars...
   is actually a planet - due to its colour -
      it's unlike all the other -
todkompf, metallic white
glitter...
      it's hued in a more orange
spectacle - more fire...
less distance...
                and on the canvas
of the night?
   sits lower than all the other stars,
which are more up -
   rather than on a horizon
to speak off...
   question is... is that *mars,
or is that venus?

**** it: 'ere i go...
'n' buy me a *******
telescope to investigate further...

II.

did the ancient romans really
distinguish the arithmetic
quantity of I - or IX -
   or XII or...
                with a dot?
       not unless it was inscribed
in stone -
   where even upsilon had
to vacate the more easily chiseled
in:              YOVR POINT?
just wondering
   how only two diacritical marks
were applied to the encryption -
and both... not for orthographic
reasons, but for aesthetics -
    what's the actual difference
when the guillotine digestion
machine (like me) comes in and
says...
    
     ȷokιng around...
        what with the iPod...
   why shouldn't ι,
                    come ιn -
   and give a ȷester's ιnquιsιtιon?
out of... mere... curιosιty?
ιt's not lιke those two-heads
even make a dιfference...
come on! ιt's ιneffectιve,
there are no orthographιc reasons
for ιt!
        why, even, bother?
    and no fancy name eιther,
ιn the dιacrιtιcal famιly...
  dot... when compared to?
cιrcumflex, caron, macron,
      cedιlla,  ͅ (ιota subscrιpt)...
you name ιt!
can someone, please,
ȷust gιve me, an approprιate reason?

III.

it's not like i can confuse,
i with I - since i have 1, and 2 instead
of II, and 3 instead of III,
and 4, instead of IV,
       and 6 instead of VI...
ah... L(l) -
              and the exodus of handwriting
in the digital age...
any schmuck can write
now... but... i'd love to see
them write with a pen, on paper...

personally - i couldn't write an intact
word with a pen...
   calligraphy: a bit like monkish
Gregorian chants... coming near
to extinction...
          i could sometimes write
out a intra-connectivity of syllables -
but... entire words?
    no chance... the digit system
came in... and i had to learn how
to position my arms before
the keyboard, to write, and not look
down...
   unlike my old G.P.,
who, bless him... nearing his retirement,
pecked, like a crow,
on the keyboard...
   looking down on it...

the ENTER key? right arm pinky finger...
SPACE BAR key? primarily
left hand thumb...
   unlike a piano, you don't actually
use all the fingers on both arms...
e.g.? ring ringer on the left hand?
rarely used... unless doing some
mental hand gymnastics...
  
stream of "consciousness" - no words,
just observations -

(0,0,) LH ******* A
    RH index finger N -
     that's - ah! ring finger of
the right arm is used, quiet a lot,
  notably?  SHIFT + (?/) key -
      *******...
   but for the apostrophe?
    the (@ ') key...
  which, on my machine translates
as the (" ') key...

IV.

     - interlude -
--- -- - - - -  - - - logic  -- - - -  -- - bomb -- - - --  -
- - -- computers -- -- - - & - -- microprocessors -
- - - --- -- - --- -- -(parasense ----- - - remix) -- -- -

V.

it is chiromancy in reverse,
only that i'm reading my hands...
facing down,
rather than staring on the reverse
side of the... where the girdle of venus
is situated,
   or the index finger skin folds
of the chokhmah, chesed,
    netzach - respectively -
akin to reading mandarin:
   from the the head - to the base
               of a knuckle.
i read my hands - looking at a screen,
how else can you write anything,
distracted by looking down
onto the keyboard -
  no aware of the spacing?
        question: how fast is your typing?
don't know:
what sort of ******* am i to note
down, and how many amendment
will i have to make to the text,
as we plow along to your diatribe
monologue?
                  
VI.

why would anyone sit up all night,
drinking?
     ****** question, esp. given
yesterday's 5 / 6 am carnival of rain...
out of nowhere,
there i was, ready to call it a night
well spent (not working in a Stratford
casino) - dreading the heat of
the sunrise...
  boom!
   thunder, lightning...
    the air turned white from
the ferocity of the rain...
   literally...
                the ground was wriggling
with a meteor shower -
excited gnat fly like puddles
appearing and disappearing -
soon becoming lakes
  within the confines of a supposed
**** of worm parasites...
      probably your typical day
      on the Faroe Islands...
you know... on such occasions...
you really can't help, but stick
your head out of the window,
far enough to drench your head
and hair in regenwasser...
            i should have walked
into the garden and
cleansed my whole body...
   but...
guess all ι needed, was the head...
       god...
  there's nothing more **** than
listening to horror movie soundtracks
while it pours a mini-monsoon
outside your window,
  and there's thunder, and there's
lightning...
   and you're just about to fall asleep...
like a baby might...

VII.

oh god... the one time i don't take
a beer for a walk, coming back
from the supermarket...
and i pick up... this genius:
genius... tortilla wrap...
    falafel + hummus + a hint
of mango chutney (with a tease
of arugula leaves)?
            **** me... who needs
beer... if not a bottle of mineral
water... to accompany
taking a walk?

I was looking for a friend,
when you tapped my shoulder
from the back and
I was confused how to
respond back to a recognition
from a person
that was not mutual.

Last time this happened
I was in a hall
trying to remember something
about microprocessors
so that I could at least pass,
when the invigilator stood
on top of me,
just staring me, writing.

Cold sweat droplets
started racing on my face,
assumption: he was
from my department.
When he finally spoke
he asked which exam
was I writing, and in
absolute bewilderment
I forgot, the name
of the exam I was giving!

You girl with an accent,
I had watched your poems,
writing you on stage
like the broad nip ink pen
that road trips with blue ink.
I just forgot,
in the sun burst of your face,
standing in front of me,
as if you knew me
for eternity.

I painstakingly cut off my
fingertips
screaming as I dug out the
microprocessors
so we could live
free from their scanner
grids
The whir of drones
overhead
provide an ironically
soothing white noise
as we spend the night
huddled together in a ravine
The truth is
I'm not afraid of
them finding us
and launching
our firebomb execution
so much as I'm
afraid
you might want
at some point
to see other people

Our love grew through parallel circuits and electric currents,
data entries in microprocessors,
and copper and silver wires.
Who says love has to be a series of
physical advances,
but instead
a product of the neurons in your brain.
We can get high off of love,
dive into dopamine induced comas
as we listen to the static over each other's microphones.
We'll dream about growing old together
laugh at our younger selves
and how many times we had to
confess our love for one another
before hanging up the phone.
Then I wake up and realize
maybe I was never meant to
see the stars in your eyes
or bask in the light of your presence
but wallow in the glow of an LCD screen.
Countless nights and early mornings
spent in 320p.

cosmosis': martian blues
                  vs. logic bomb's
computers & microprocessors
                       (parasense remix)...

i close my eyes and
reimagine playing
the basic chords
of the trinity of blues:

D...
              A...

                          E...

with the top E-string
being tapped...

      and the A chord being
uplifted from
            the rigidity...

  and the D chord:
with an odd tapping pinky
finger...

oh i have the basics in hand...
less in the ear
to craft a replica...
other than
equivalent to a jingle-jive-
grandma-gonna-live-till-she's-90!
sort of groove...

i can play link wray's:
           rumble...
   if that's you,
toying with an unravelling of G...
   i don't know you:
well, i dough do...
      pretending to be eating
with a wooden spin on
a spoon
      using a copper fork's
worth of eye-lash daggers...
                        
and then you sit back and watch
the football...
odd... isn't it...
        black sabbath
never actually made it
into a riff category or replica...

but the technicality

of

e |--- 0 --- 0 --- 0 ---
B|--- 0 --- 0 --- 0 ---
G|--- 0 --- 0 --- 0 ---
D|--- 0 --- 3 --- 0 ---
A|--- 0 --- 0 --- 2 ---
E |---1 ---  0 --- 0 ---

       E(1)
                    D(3),
                                A(2)...

you can do you "little" smoke
on the water riffing like
marking scrap metal *******...
or you can take your time
to pause...
   and making citations
concerning a funeral pagan pyre...

and they do begin
with deep purples
                  smoke on the water riff...
or white stripes' seven nation
army...
                or... what's that other
one?
        ah!

             system of the down aerials!
almost the "same" ****
but somehow always a "different"
cover...

    no... i never exactly learned
how to play a guitar...
     but i could tune one for you...
evidently my ears didn't
actually experience a stampede of
elephants on my ear-drums...

but a classic blues
      beginning with only a beginning
an nothing else?
      
   D, A, E...

                    unlike the genesis
of black sabbath within the confines
of
                        E1, D3, A2...

that became the twang!
                 twing!
                                                    twong!

no technical terminology
welcome:
   but i'm sure you do something
twisting
     with the chord upon A
in the blues reflection...

  three cord punk is:
gasp...
                                                huh?!
punk is no genesis
of escaping the shackles of mozart!

  E?
               oh yeah, the upper E string...
something akin
            to drop-D tuning...

a grr paragraphase...
      a growl and all less inviting manifests...
            
can't exactly mistake or escape
the modern focus on beat...
              a heart away from a soul
in what's expressed by
classical music woodwinds and
delicate touches of harps,
and...

                   can we please allow
jazz an anomaly status...
to tease: a black priv. of cultural expression?
the buzz-feed buzzing fed no one
sort of attitude?
            
           jazz is a black man's
classical music...
              sooner or later it wouldn't
matter with rap-quasi-apology...
          funky boy has
     as an "albino" narrator working
against him...
           you get my drift?

        coltraine is a beethoven...
          and i actually can't work
within the mind of a beethoven thinking,
or not thinking, about a future...

       i get it: applause for the stalemate!
we gonna see the leaning tower of
Pisa any time soon...
   or just a ******* baobab tree?!
   i'd settle for a bonsai if you
only allowed me to squint my eyes
while smoking marijuana!

   and yes! i would have told you
that i've seen a tiger passing my vicinity...
having only, in your eyes,
only chanced a cat!

music has never experienced
   "too many" letter encodings...
               there are 26 in an english intellect,
composed, such, that there be
a "concern" for a silent mind...

            give me... e, E, A, B, G, D:
hey presto! a... lullaby!
               and this integration of and
a differentiation of letters is...
stable ground to take simple pleasures from?

D, A, E: that's a chord progression
of blues...

       i can't replicate what Uba blues
looks like using only A & E strings...
     but E1, D3, A2 is a black sabbath
genesis...

             don't have the whizz-kid
fingers to tell you more,
or ambition to entertain
      a reproductive opposite-artefact...

so...
  
                    what is distubring is
that when s. beckett cited likewise...
    i was the one completely ignorant
of music representation
   in the encoding frame without
a need for public disclousure...

          salon intellect? is that what
                      you might have called them?
             no smarter than you:
just more stupid to have achieved
a way to confiscate
                  such...                         disclosures;
uninhibited types...
                    almost akin to
a day: and no typo?
                                            a day wasted.

the 21st century had to come
by flaying or force,
  without a video shortcrust impetus...
akin to writing...
something: worth -
if not waiting for...
    then at least something,
                                 worth, delaying -

to mind a compedium of
the sift people, who
                    care for all immediacy
an no castles in the skies
              having invested in
a delay of lost health...
esp. that of the mind...
        which:
               cannot exactly attain
creativity in degeneracy, simultaneously.

.dunno, i'm rarely hangover after a decent session, just today i found my favorite way to rehydrate... three glasses of water while munching on a rowntrees fruit pastilles lolly...

talking about lollies, i never succumbed
to twitter, but since opening a gab
account, i seem to get a *** workers'
following...
                         ah, the poets, the ******,
the mad and all that is ******...

- and whenever i'm in my cyber-punk
mood... i just put on some groove:
   logic bomb (computers & microprocessors
                       parasense remix)
             or some pantomiman...

to boot: hurt feelings? hate speech?!
whaaa?
         you have to be ******* me...
that's the biggest load of crockshit
i've ever heard...
                     listen... those are not hurt
feelings...
            someone just animated feelings
you didn't know you had before...
those are not hurt feelings,
they are new feelings...
              they're also overwhelming feelings,
but they're not hurt...
they're the feelings that, just prior,
you were unable to articulate by yourself,
because you couldn't reason with
yourself to unearth them from your
intrinsic and exclusive thinking patterns...
****, i have them...
   but they are bottled down where
they're supposed to be, concentrated...
the heart... and once they're there...
the heart becomes a rock,
  rather than a blabbering mouthpiece
of a ******* dummy who's sitting
on the lap of a ventriloquist.

like psychosis...
        when the body becomes animated
by a soul...
                     my favorite psychotic
episode was just a day prior to when
i was supposed to start work on the Olympic
village, London, prior to the 2012
Olympics...
                    for no reason apparent,
i traveled to Athens from Gatwick...
   took a shower at the airport,
bought new clothes from the fat face
shop, bought a bottle of absinthe with
Vincent's visage on the packaging...
  sat on the street drinking the absinthe,
turned milky green from the added
water, burned the sugar like some ******
***** in a spoon...
                 i remember laughing my socks
off, one arm over my eyes,
another arm extended forward,
apparently pointing at something
    (this was before Greece had the financial
crisis)...
   oh... and meeting up with some
strangers in a square's cafe...
             getting into their car and heading
for the strip-club...
             mm... the strip-club...
loads of fun...
          i don't know how other strip-clubs
operate, but in this one...
             i was actually allowed to touch
the strippers...
     well... had two either side...
giggles and what not... ran out of money...
was escorted by one of the gorillas
(bouncers) to the hotel adjacent
to take out more money...
                i was broke...
    i ****** myself... slyly walked out...
and... for reasons i can't even believe...
drunks... they have some magical
honing device or some ****...
some super-power...
             first time in Athens...
and i walked back to the hostel...
              photographic memory or what?
phoned my uncle the next day,
asking for a little bit of cash...
            then ****** off on coach back
to Poland to my grandparent's house...
Macedonia? beautiful, really hilly...
Serbia? flat as a pancake... loads of snow...
remember ******* in the snow thinking
about that Frank Zappa song...
   yellow snow...
                  Hungary... Slovakia...
   2 days or 2 days and a half on that ******
coach...
      middle of winter...
  scamp clothes... chattering like a slot machine...

so yeah... psychotic episodes
are great trips...
             even an L.S.D. trip can't match-up
to equal that abomination of nonsense
super spectacular...
   i was in Athens...
    and instead of going to see the Acropolis...
i went to a strip-club...
    but i mean: i did see the Acropolis...
from the street, way off in the distance...
      now, if i didn't utilize the energy
within a psychotic episode by fusing it
into writing... like most atypical psychotic
episodes...
    ah... the usual soppy story of
                             a knife and a rampage.

Interchangeable parts are parts (components)
that are, for practical purposes, identical.
They are made to specifications that ensure
that they are so nearly identical that they will
            fit into any assembly of the same type.
One such part can freely replace another,
without any custom fitting, such as filing.
This             interchangeability allows easy assembly
of new devices, and easier repair of existing devices,
            while minimizing both the time and skill
            required of the person
doing the assembly or repair.

The concept of interchangeability
was crucial to the introduction of the assembly
line at the beginning of the 20th century,
and has become an important element
of some modern manufacturing
but is  missing from other important industries.

Interchangeability of parts was achieved
   by combining a number of innovations
and improvements (          ) in machining operations
and the invention of several machine tools,
such as the slide rest lathe, *****-cutting lathe,
turret lathe, milling machine and metal planer.
Additional innovations included jigs
for guiding the machine tools, fixtures
for holding the work piece in the proper position,
and blocks and gauges to check the accuracy
of the finished parts. Electrification allowed
individual machine tools to be powered
                                  by electric motors,
eliminating line shaft drives from steam engines
or water power and allowing higher speeds,
making modern large (  ) scale manufacturing possible.
Modern machine tools often have numerical control
(NC) which evolved into CNC (computerized
numeric control) when microprocessors
                                             became available.
Evidence of the use of interchangeable parts
can be traced back over two thousand years
to Carthage in the First Punic War.                                 Carthaginian
ships had standardized,                                      interchangeabl­e parts
that even came with assembly instructions akin
               to "tab a into slot b" marked on them.
In the late 18th century, French General Jean-Baptiste Vaquette de Gribeauval promoted standardized
weapons in what became known
as the Système Gribeauval after it was issued        
                                  as a royal order in 1765.
(Its focus at the time was artillery more than muskets
or handguns.) One of the accomplishments
of the system was that solid cast cannons
were bored to precise tolerances,  
            which allowed the walls
to be thinner than cannons poured with hollow cores.
However,           because cores were often off center,
the wall thickness determined the size of the bore.
Standardized boring allowed cannons to be shorter
                              without sacrificing
accuracy and range because of the tighter fit
        of the shells.                It also allowed standardization of the shells.

Before the 18th century, devices such as guns
were made one at a time by gunsmiths
                              in a unique manner.
If one single component
                             of a firearm                              needed a replacement,
the entire firearm either had
to be sent to an expert gunsmith for custom repairs,
or discarded and replaced by another firearm.
During the 18th and early 19th centuries,
the idea of replacing                                       these methods with a system
of interchangeable manufacture
was gradually developed.
The development took decades                         and involved many people.

      Gribeauval provided patronage
to Honoré Blanc,  who attempted to implement
     the Système Gribeauval at the musket level.
    By around 1778, Honoré Blanc began producing
                        some of the first firearms
                        with interchangeable flint locks,
                        although they were carefully
made by craftsmen. Blanc demonstrated in front
of a committee of scientists that his muskets
           could be fitted with flint locks
                    picked at random from a pile of parts.

                   Muskets with interchangeable locks
caught the attention of Thomas Jefferson through the efforts of Honoré Blanc when Jefferson was Ambassador to France in 1785.
Jefferson tried to persuade Blanc to move to America,
                                       but was not successful,
so he wrote to the American Secretary of War with the idea,
and when he returned to the USA
he worked to fund its development.
President George Washington approved of the idea,
and by 1798 a contract was issued to Eli Whitney
for 12,000 muskets built under the new system.

Louis de Tousard, who fled the French Revolution,
joined the U.S. Corp of Artillerists in 1795 and wrote an influential artillerist's manual that stressed the importance of standardization.
In East Asia during the Warring States
period and later the Qin Dynasty,
bronze crossbow triggers and locking mechanisms
were mass-produced and made to be interchangeable.
Methods for industrial production
of interchangeable parts in the United States
were first developed in the nineteenth century.
The term American system of manufacturing
was sometimes applied to them at the time,
in distinction from earlier methods. Within
a few decades such methods were in use in
various countries, so American system is now
a term of historical reference rather than current
                                      industrial nomenclature.

Quantum Mechanics QM;
also known as quantum physics,
quantum theory, mechanical
wave model or mechanical matrix,
including quantum field theory,
a fundamental theory of physics
that describes the nature
of the lower energy levels of atoms
and subatomic particles. Classical
physics, the physics that precedes
quantum mechanics, describes nature
on the usual macroscopic scale. Most
theories of classical physics can be
drawn from quantum mechanics as a
valid, large-scale, macroscopic approach.

Quantum mechanics differs from classical
physics to energy, momentum, spin
and other quantities of a linked system
limited to the quantification of discrete
values; Objects have both characteristics
and waves, a binary wave-particle
and there are limits to the precision
with which the quantities of the uncertainty
principle can be measured. Quantum
mechanics gradually generated theories
that explain observations incompatible
with classical physics, such as Max Planck's
1900 solution to black body radiation,
and the correspondence between energy
and frequency in Albert Einstein's 1905 paper,
which explains the function
of the photoelectric effect. The first quantum
theories were profoundly redesigned in the mid-1920s
by Erwin Schrödinger, Werner Heisenberg, Max Born
and others. Modern theory is based on a series
of specially formulated mathematical formalisms.
In one of these, a mathematical function,
the wave function, provides information
about the probability of amplitude
of the position, the amount of movement
and other physical properties of a particle.
The main applications of quantum theory
include quantum chemistry, quantum optics,
quantum computing, superconducting
magnets, light-emitting diodes, lasers,
transistors and semiconductors,
such as microprocessors, medical
imaging and images using magnetic
resonance and electron microscopy.
The explanations of many biological
and natural phenomena have their roots
in the nature of the chemical bond,
especially the macromolecular DNA.

as jagged bolts of lightning
tore thru the the midnight clear
and figuratively ripped the sky to shreds
(analogous to jumping Jack flash),
and ear splitting thunder crackled
testing the threshold of tolerance
zombies of Sugar Hill came alive
and danced to the sound of music,
exhibiting spot on choreography
to the late Michael Jackson's thriller album,
whereat despite feigned affableness
of ineradicable purple creepy people eaters ,
the ghoulish fiendish beasts
wantonly ravaged entire hectares
(once flush with royally bountiful crops)
leaving farmer in the dell
thus rendering impossible mission
to sing Hi-**, the derry-o,
cuz his countenance
plastered with a poker face
and future offspring born this way
after mutations arose
linkedin to hardscrabble existence
forcing inhabitants to eat grass
most likely tainted with pesticides
after incorporeal supernatural beings,
who roamed across the terra firma
****** the pith and marrow
from Mother Earth until dry
then for good measure for measure
laid waste great swathes of land
from sea to shining sea
by expelling nasty
biologically hazardous waste products
(use your imagination)
subsequently bringing about demise
of all creatures great and small
far as the eye could see videre licet
think Sherman's march to the sea
triggering smoldering ruination in their wake
guaranteeing future harvest
for years to come
of nothing but scorching ash
compromising the blood, sweat and tears
and countless hours of backbreaking toil
spent sowing seeds across fruitful plains
after lush crop of vegetables
(just at the cusp of perfect ripeness)
waited to be reaped
or wolfed down by hungry human
all for naught, when homesteaders
helplessly watched in horror
ravenous, pestiferous, nefarious
loathsome jawboning haunting spectres
on par with jezebel spirit
burning down the houses
that calloused hands built
transforming breadbasket of America
into burnt offerings
of hollowed out encrustation
tell tale hulking framed charred skeletons
resembling outsize three dimensional anime
teetering upon foundations,
(where Atlas shrugged
and saw himself reflected
from birdbath pool resultant
as the above supported fountainhead
gushed a stream of water)
sabotaging family owned farms
harkening back generations,
when United States settled
by various and sundry colonists,
heeding manifest destiny
displacing and eradicating indigenous peoples
subsequently former subjects of the crown
or established vested gentry
within thirteen original colonies
by dint of force
expelled so called "noble savage"
courtesy chicanery, flattery,
and incendiary larceny,
which usurpation of bumper crops
courtesy dead souls trounced,
thus immediately creating food insecurity
for millions of people,
not only in the United States
but across the webbed wide world
goading people to be creative and scavenge,
whereby yours truly
limited his intake
of nutrients to a diet of worms...
and gluten and dairy free hors d'oeuvres
topped with icing laced
with various and sundry sized sim cards,
plus microprocessors insync
with silicon wafer chips
just for the sake
of being a curious (Georgian)
human replicated entity
within the laboratory.

A short time thereafter,
body electric of mine
slowly, inexorably metamorphosed
into a cross between
an artificially intelligent moon unit
and a beatific, biodynamic,
and bombastic hybrid entity
able, eager, ready and willing
to stand up against
marauders and riders in the storm
who commingled without pride nor prejudice
guided by sense and sensibility.