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judy smith Aug 2016
It’s New York Fashion Week, and there is a frenzy backstage as models are worked into their dresses and mob the assembled engineers for instructions of how to operate the technology that magically transforms a subtle gesture into a glowing garment suggestive of the bioluminescence of jellyfish. I know there’s not enough time for them to do their work. Almost instinctively, I find the designer and bargain for 20 more minutes.

While I wonder to myself how I got here, backstage at a runway show, I also know I am witnessing what may be the harbinger of how a fourth industrial revolution is set to change fashion, resulting in a new materiality of computation that will transform a certain slice of fashion designers into the “developers” of a whole new category of clothing. By driving new partnerships in tools, materials and technologies, this revolution has the potential to dramatically reshape how we produce fashion at a scale not seen since the invention of the jacquard loom.

The jacquard loom, as it happens, inspired the earliest computers. Ever since, textile development and technology have been on an interwoven path — sometimes more loosely knit, but becoming increasingly tighter in the last five years. Around that time, my colleagues and I embarked on a project in our labs to look at “fashion tech,” which at the time was a fringe term. These were pioneers daring to — sometimes literally — weave together technology and clothing to drive new ways of thinking about the “shape” of computation. But as we looked around the fashion industry, it became clear that designers lacked the tools to harness the potential of new technologies.

For a start, all facets of technology needed to be more malleable. Batteries, processors and sensors, in particular, had to evolve from being bulky and rigid to being softer, flexible and stretchable. Thus, I began to champion “Puck [rigid], Patch [flexible], Apparel [integrated],” an internal mantra to describe what I felt would be the material transformations of sensing and computation.

As our technologies have steadily become smaller, faster and more energy efficient — a progression known in the tech industry as Moore’s Law — we’ve gone on to launch a computer the size of a postage stamp and worked with a fashion tech designer to demonstrate its capabilities. In this case we were able to show dresses that were generated not just from sketches and traditional materials, but forward-looking tools (body scans and Computer Assisted Design renderings) and materials (in this case, 3-D printed nylon). At the same time, we integrated a variety of sensors (proximity, brain-wave activity, heart-rate, etc.) that allowed the garments themselves to sense and communicate in ways that showed how fashion — inspired in part by biology — might become the interface between people and the world around them.

Eventually, a meeting between Intel and the CFDA lent support to the idea that if technology could fit more seamlessly into designs, then it would be more valuable to fashion designers. The realisation helped birth the Intel Curie module, which has since made its way down the catwalk, embedded into a slew of designs that could help wearers adapt, interpret and respond to the world around them, for example, by “sensing” adrenaline or allowing subtle gestures to illuminate a garment.

As the relationship between fashion and technology continues to evolve, we will need to reimagine research and development, supply chains, business models and more. But perhaps more than anything, as fashion and technology merge, we must embrace a new strand of collaborative transdisciplinary design expertise and integrate software, sensors, processors and synthetic and biological materials into a designer’s tool kit.

Technology will inform the warp and weft of the fabric of fashion’s future. This will trigger discussions not just about fashion as an increasingly literal interface between people, our biology and the world around us, but also about the implications that data will generate for access, health, privacy and self-expression as we look ahead. We are indeed on the precipice of a fourth industrial revolution.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses
Paul Hardwick Sep 2012
pop it in to our new micro wave
2 mins and it is done
food processors are great
put a fly in one
2 mins and it gone
dose end up in another micro wave
that some one has on
food processors are great.
The shopping channel calls to me
It wakes me up at night
To sell me things I do not need
Nor would buy, if I was right
But apparently, there's something wrong
My brain should be re-wired
I only purchase things on here
When I am really over-tired
I have a room specifically
For things bought on TV
I've ginsu knives and shredding blades
And juicers!!!...ninety three!!
For some reason the kitchen things
Just seem to catch my eye
Especially at three a.m.
That's the time I need to buy
I've magic bullets by the score
Processors,  I don't need
But, if I ever put them all to use...
An army I could feed
I've got socks for diabetics
Things to make your ******* stand out
I've got exercise machines galore
I've got three things that help gout!
My credit card's at the limit
I know the numbers off by heart
The post man knows me by my name
I even have my own **** cart
To deliver all my purchases
They just load it and deliver
It almost comes here by itself
It's enough to make one shiver
I don't know how it started
I think the countdown clock...ah, yes
I thought it meant the game was ending
I phoned in and bought a dress!!!
I've got jewellery by Joan Rivers
George Foreman grills...they fill my den
I've got perfumes for the women
And lots of things that make you men!
My wife cannot contain me
She's sent me off to get some aid
But, if they sell it on the telly
I'll buy it sure as getting laid
I've bedazzled all my clothing
I eat dried fruit and jerky too
I get Christmas cards from Ronco
I'm a shopping ****** through and through
Each month we have a garage sale
I sell off some of what I've bought
But, then I go and buy it back again
Without a second thought
My friends have all but left me
I rarely go out of the house
I just sit here and go shopping
I don't even see my spouse
Set it and Forget it
That's a phrase I love to say
But wait, there's more...is another one
That helps me through the day
I used the last one on my wife
One night while having ***
She told me "Set it and Forget It"
I'm off to dreamland Tex!!
My shopping's an addiction
One I hope to beat some day
But now, the operator says...
I have to get my card and pay!
My technology nightmare
Leaves me euphoric this morning.
Addicted, like drug trials,
I knew the risks going in,
Got hooked in The Cloud &
Now it always seems easier,
With diminished psychic chafing
Whenever I go with the flow, as the
Hipsters are saying again.
Yes, the hipsters:
Finally, some kids I can relate to.
At least on some level, their music e.g.
The first thing I did this morning,
Waiting for my laptop to boot,
Was put a CD on the stereo:
Matrix Reloaded: The Album.
I set the shuffle function,
Looping back between
Linkin Park’s Session &
Team Sleep’s Passportal.
You can tell a lot about
What kind of day it will be
By the soundtrack you choose,
Your infinite play list,
Don’t ever say these kids have no culture,
Or nothing to share with us old farts.
Old Farts: an apt, Baby Boomer term in 2015.
Kids’ music, some of it quite good,
Quite 60s-worthy if you catch my drift,
As we used to say while grazing in the grass with
Hugh Masekela & his Naai Mongoe-Swazi red,
Surfrikan homeboys & band mates, & that
ANC Kwa-Guqa Township posse,
Shadowing him since Sharpeville.
That’s right, Babaloo,
Go with the flow.
Don’t fight it. You’ve been spared the unintended
Consequences of government shenanigans &
Free market meltdowns.
Consider this a CEASE & DESIST NOTICE:
Cease swimming upstream Mr. Phelps.
Desist fighting tide & current, Michael.
A mariner’s distinction, yet serviceable &
Purposed for this narrative.
“And away we go,” croons a Gleason levitation;
Aloft we go into the wild blue yonder.
The Cloud: an exalted playground.
You are atop the slide,
Kindergarten lord of all you survey,
Sultan, Chinese Emperor & Venetian Doge,
A 90-caliber Duke of Earl,
You are euphoric, Mike.

The descent into the humanoid condition
(See Paddy Chayefsky’s Howard Beale),
Is slick and precipitous.
It begins when you first finger ****
A pocket calculator or touchtone phone,
Or use a Xerox machine.
From there it’s a quick slide down
The technology ****-shoot: video games,
Spreadsheets & word processors,
Emails, texts & tweets,
Laser projection keyboards,
Wi-Fi amplifiers,
GPS navigators, &
Apps for No-Strings *** . . .
By “****-shoot” I editorialize, of course,
In a state of future shock,
Resenting planned obsolescence,
Contemptuous of shrewd **** kids,
Wharton School sharpies,
Scoping out price curves & flowcharts,
Colluding at industry trade shows,
Powwows & confabs,
Releasing newer, more versatile
Models & spinoffs, according to a
Scheme planned three years in advance.

I salt the inevitable wounds of technology,
Taking my fight to the streets, realizing too late
My sole means of alerting the flash mob
Is by so-called smart phone,
*******!
Even the revolution has gone digital.
Poor Gil Scott Heron, dead last year at 62,
Poor Scott Heron, channeled into the
Harlem Renaissance by that loyal Chicago Defender,
Subscriber & reader, to wit: his Grandma,
A “Rainbow Conspiracy” co-conspirator,
Cooking ham hocks & collard greens for that
Mythical coalition of Young Lords,
Black Panthers & SDS.
Heron’s prognostication was wrong:
“The Revolution Will (In Fact) Be Televised!”
We’ve witnessed quite a bit of it,
Lately, prime time lately,
Live by satellite from once exotic places,
Places like Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria & Ferguson, MO.
I say “once exotic” because it’s hard to be
Visually intoxicated by images of screaming brown men
Sporting New York Yankee ball caps,
“Vote for Pedro” T-shirts and
$200.00 Air Jordan footwear.
Admittedly, the production values of
Revolutionary journalism have improved,
Action reported Hollywood-style,
Narrative arcs, scripted episodes,
Drive-by Potemkin villages & battle scenes,
30 or 60 or 90 day shooting schedules.
Spontaneous proletarian uprisings as Reality TV,
Riveting dramas,
High Nielsen ratings & $500K
Per minute corporate sponsors.
Let’s view the new fall line-up:
(1) “Mustafa Behaving Badly!”
(2) “Tunisian Tear Gas Talent!”
(3) “Gaddafi Gets Sodomized!”
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
psiór vs.
                        pśιór "debate".

every area of interests has its cul de sac,
its brick-wall, a dead-end as it were,
a point where transcendence is
welcomed, unavoidable,
but nonetheless: miserable stalled.

philosophers have the cartesian
   cogito ergo sum -
whatever arithmetic of wording
they produce, not even samson
could topple this pillar of foundation
for the temple of thought.

the same is with my example...
it would appear that the diacritical
**** ι with a floating head i
did not translate further, beyond
the same treatment of yot (j) -
(gee a jeep! yodh: serif (י) and
rashi (

yet by oath alone, hebrew orthography
invokes itself in letters...
unlike the post-roman orthography
of words...

                   ι    י      
                      Y         (    .    )
                      ي

                            ­        floating alongside
e...
         if only the greek sigma
   had the tetragrammaton of the arabic "ι" -
the initial σ (يـ‎) & the final ς (ـي) are
indeed there, but what of the isolated
(ي‎) & the medial (ـيـ‎) - unless of course
of course we treat to invoke the
upper-case: Σ - such as is missing in arabic,
and is only a question of: how much
the prolonged line?

p.s.

   why would i ever like the evolution
of gaming?
  well... teenage boy, "trapped",
by a video game,
what were my usual saturday mornings?
strapped to an PS1....
tenchu, metal gear solid...
       i am a gamer,
like most people are readers
on the *******...
      i'm here to play a game,
with indefinite time constraints,
as i am concerned about
  massaging my ****,
to ease my prostate concerns...
wankers.

          i'm still going to listen
to byzantine chants...
    because? modern gaming,
well, sure,
   it's, "free"...
but there are in-built
           payment processors...
additions, etc.,

   like me and my maine ****
cat,
      6 candles....
i know he wants to "escape"
via an open window,
but before he can "escape"
(i will let him put)...
he has to play a blinking
game with him,
i squirm, i close my eyes,
he does likewise...
  the candles are still lit...

but gaming has evolved...
"once upon a time"
you'd run into a games shop,
tongue waggling...
for the next big release...

      i know... i know...
war robots...
           that mobile game...
2 lame 2 blame...
that's my user name...
i haven't spent a dime / cent /
penny on this game...

what i do like,
is playing the game with
a...  ah! - - - - - - - - - -

but times have changed,
it was no longer about RPG games
akin to final fantasy VII,
and cheat books...

or playing Sims 3000 finding
the escape wormhole
of playing a Sim playing
a computer game: inside a computer
game...
            
when you bought a game for
$50 bucks...
and was never told:
it's "free"...
but then have to invest in
******* overpriced additions...

- - - - - - - - - handicap!
        i like war robots,
because?
       i like playing with a handicap!
the people who spend money?
mostly Koreans, Russians,
Kazakhs... H'americans,
Brazilians...
            you know,
what really evolved in gaming?
the chance to play in a non-NPC
environment...
   to play alongside live gamers...

that **** broke the ******* camels
****, sack, and *******...
last time i checked...
women were more into gaming
than the men were:
candy cwash saga...
   men fathomed gaming
via the narrative component...
but what of this additional
payments?!
in the good old days:
you paid 20 quid, you had your narrative...
now, "fwee"... but,
no wait... there are... additional
payments, you see?

i like playing a game,
handicapped...
in a free game environment...
when, your prized asset
is patience?
and all the rich arabs / russians
are spending money,

   and you, simply, wait...
and perfect your tactics?!
while they are buying up all
the "cheat codes"?
        sure... they'll serve the purpose
of staging 4000 battles...
you, eh... around 300+...
but their % rate?
      6... they have a 6% rate of success...
with 4000 or so battles...
while you?
           300+ battles?
roughly in the range of
60 - 50% success rate...
        gaming, has changed,
games were never "free",
as they are "free" now...
        
   hell, i'm not a gamer to be honest...
some people treat taking a ****
as the only time required to read
a book, i treat the same "timed" allowance
to play a game...

                 my mother is a gamer,
we've reached a moment in history where
women will play more mobile games
than ever boys would play,
video, narrative games...

          my mother is a gamer,
that's just eerie...
                   i have a second game
in tow....
   a blinking game with my maine ****
cat, surrounded by 6 candles...
oh he has the garden for the worth of
night...

but gaming has changed...
    i like the handicap dynamics of
war robots...
       like **** will i spend any money
on the game...
  i want to play against
the paying russians, chinese, arabs
and kazakhs....

          ******* - my favourite mode...
team work...
every single time i leave
my rogatka to jump and sprint
capturing beacons
when the battle is almost over...

thank **** i just bypassed
the evolution of PS1 into PS2 and PS3
and whatever else came...
     i missed about 10+ years of
gaming...
   and i hit the beehive jukebox...
of games without NPC characters...

i revised gaming at the right time,
when NPC disppeared,
completely,
and gaming became revised
by the internet live-event
game-membership.
Ari Dec 2011
“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”*
Stephen Jay Gould

Give me
vacuum tube torus Lorentz-Klein interference receptors
dual noble-gas maser integration processors
at least one
prosthetic Gaussian carbon-coated ribosomal Tesla coil
an anthropomorphic hierarchical temporal meme-pseudopod
some
support vector k-nearest neighbor algorithms
reverse engineered quantum optic die-cast silica motherboards
self-assembling three dimensional electro-active protein polymers
maybe even
a superconducting spectral alkali resonance analyzer
paired with
harmonizing piezoelectric kinematic thermal modules
dipped in
subzero Kurzweil-circuit nanite neurotransmitters
and voila!
God.
Kittu Jun 2013
Mind is a super computer they say.
It can think of millions of stuff in a matter of day.
From the bombings in Iraq,
to the hurt in my best friends heart.

From the moment its up,
It never stops,
To stop. Blink or breathe.
It keeps running at night.
The subconscious consumes power.
Often leaving the mind tired at the break of dawn.

When it meets people,
it reads the signs at many levels.
Subject of talk,
Body language.
Positivity of the vibes,
The way the person jives.
A handshake.
A wink.
A hug.
A swiftly made jug
It notices everything.

In all this processing.
It accumulates a lot of clutter!
And the mind with all the confusing thoughts,
becomes like hot butter!
Sparks fly like an electronic of fire!
And it needs something to distract it.

What works best is a bit of exercise.
A bit of chattering,
Or writing it all out.

Some find solace in Games or Movies.
Why do they work?
Because they engage all senses,
And make the mind groovy.

Smoking and doping do great too.
But reducing the processors of our mind to grade two!
Hallucinating and dreaming 80% of it.
The mind thinks its being more productive that most of it.

But illusions destroy us further.
Making the mind believe it’s just another wonder.
Wonder though it is.
Using only 10% of it we create,
Science, History, Mystery,
But this wonder has a lot on bate.
If it goes in the wrong direction.
Even thinking too much is an addiction!

Original thoughts are like endorphins to the mind.
Making it jump and do cartwheels inside.
Stimulating discussions are named that way,
Because engaging in one makes us jumpy all day.
It satisfies the mind that,
I have done something constrictive besides,
Whiling my days in sorrow,
and waiting for the morrow.

Mind is like a baby that need attention,
if not given that it runs in all directions.
Mind is a super computer that needs,
the dedication of a programmer.

Be that programmer and feed your mind the right numbers,
And see it become the eighth wonder!

Jug- short for juggle.
Cunning Linguist May 2015
>Extract
Readme.txt
Todays topic of discussion is digital physics
I/O
>Boot sequence
•Online
Big Bang initiates
The grandiose simulation
Cosmos at war with emulation
Surrounded by bots lost in false self awareness;
Like castles in the air
Beware when virtual CPU perishes

From far enough away,
the galaxy is comprised of minute pixels
The brittle firmware will be abysmally crippled
When a hacker simply introduces
a virus into reality's framework
DDOS style attacks will conclude in
Universal Blue Screen of Death
Resulting in the glitching out
of exodus in mass

Metaphysical metadata memory dump
(checksum)
Mirror carbon copy clones of true conscious unification
Are simply sentient drones toiling
in their default algorithmic hallucination

Scrolling through existence
Analog life is digitized in the matrix
illusionofconsciousness.exe
Interface encrypted in the realm of comprehension
Representations of data abstracted
from the banks of every computer
in the human system

Lets get down to basics
Matter does not exist
Science is not sacred
DNA is molded by perception
Creativity is your true oasis

Trans-dimensional harbingers
Conspire together to alter our processors
Measure and tether us to our oppressors
It's standard procedure
Following the leaders

Open the prompt
>Start/Run/cmd
With custom font,
Format my programming;
molecular syntax -
Port the source code
To run on new platforms
Upgrading paradigm
Until baseband collapses

Systematic inversion
We the people,
End users of genetic *******
Trapped in beta,
the bane of human recursion
It's our destiny
To become one with singular conversion

Iterations of congregations
Gregariously lost in configuration
Flies entangled into the interweb
Tied to the mainframe marionette
Files unable to bypass the firewall
Gateway remains unattainable

>cut/copy/paste
>(Ctrl+x/ctrl+c/ctrl+v)
Interweaves cyberspace as our
perceived reality database

>Ctrl-alt-del
>Task Manager
>System
>End process

•Offline
>Server on standby
Null

Dragged and dropped into the recycle bin
Degauss your GPU state of consciousness
& manifest color as it truly exists
In its most absolute resolution

Maximize your window of life
Partition the root someplace private
Elevate your mind to optimal brightness
>Reboot in safe mode*
To achieve enlightenment
This is a very experimental piece I'm not sure if I'm finished with yet. May repost at a later date.
Some explanations:
"Digital physics is grounded in one or more of the following hypotheses; listed in order of increasing strength. The physical world:
is essentially informational
is essentially computable
can be described digitally
is in essence digital
is itself a computer
is the output of a simulated reality exercise"

"A central processing unit (CPU) is the electronic circuitry within a computer that carries out the instructions of a computer program by performing the basic arithmetic, logical, control and input/output (I/O) operations specified by the instructions. (Basically a computer's brain)"

"In computing, a denial-of-service (DoS) or distributed denial-of-service (DDoS) attack is an attempt to make a machine or network resource unavailable to its intended users."

"Ever wonder what that "degauss" button on your monitor does besides make a buzzing noise and cause the screen to go crazy for a second? Though that's its main purpose, the degauss button has another useful feature. To understand it, you'll first need to know that the earth has natural magnetic fields. The magnetic charges from these fields can build up inside your monitor, causing a loss of color accuracy. Degaussing scares the bad magnetism out of the monitor and fills it with good karma.
If your monitor doesn't have a degauss button, fear not -- many new monitors automatically degauss themselves. If you have a flat-panel display, there is no degauss button because magnetism doesn't build up in flat screen displays."

"A graphics processor unit (GPU)  is a specialized electronic circuit designed to rapidly manipulate and alter memory to accelerate the creation of images in a frame buffer intended for output to a display."
Lawrence Hall Nov 2018
The first shots slammed across the woods at dawn
Into my sleep, there taking down my dreams
Which can’t be slung into a pickup truck
And carried to the processors by noon

Venison is a bit gamey, of course:
That’s why they call it game, wild game, then food
Blended with pork and spices for Thanksgiving
And that’s a nice little dream in itself

Let’s not indulge sentimentality here
In forest glades or on china plates – it’s just a deer
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

My vanity publications are available on amazon.com as bits of dead tree and on Kindle:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Thomas Thurman Nov 2010
Go north. Go east.  Get lamp.  Get food.  Get key.
Get sword.  Examine sword.  It's glowing blue.
Say "plugh".  You watch the world around you flee.
You're standing near a boulder marked "Y2".
Put Auntie's thing in bag.  It doesn't fit.
(By Infocom.  Wherever games are sold.)
Such antics are the price for us to sit
where Thorin sits and sings about his gold.

You're standing west of house again.  You see:
a robot and a door.  The door sees: you.
You're carrying some fluff, some shades, no tea;
Be careful.  You'll be eaten by a grue.
Oh, now you've gone and fallen in a pit.
You're carrying as much as you can hold.
In Bedquilt.  You see shadows through the slit,
where Thorin sits and sings about his gold.

But Activision's little shopping spree
had turned the world to wanting something new.
It's sad, but still, I think we'd all agree
the Z-machine's demise was overdue.
The day when all the world went sixteen-bit
the era died.  I think they broke the mould
when pictures took the place of words and wit,
where Thorin sits and sings about his gold.

Prince of the numbers, worlds have watched you knit
the memories of processors of old;
you've made a better planet, I submit,
where Thorin sits and sings about his gold.
Another failed attempt at a ballade: it should be ababbcbc, not ababcdcd.  Still, it might amuse some of you.
Zulu Samperfas Aug 2012
So tired
Back to work and then there's this social event and that social event
and the last one is the best one and I'm still trying to get over not having
last years job that was taken from me and given to you and still
trying not to even think about this because this is a whole new year and

Driving past Napa Valley's Wineries
Hotels, Buses, wine
Everything wine and I don't know where I'm going
My GPS broke, and the directions are drive straight and you'll see it

Suburbia has turned into true wealth
I've gone back in time, wine Haciendas on hill tops
like feudal mansions, waiting for the peasants to do the actual
work of wine, the dirt and the sweat of wine as the owners
twiddle their thumbs and worry about the stock market and their wine

I arrive at my Castle.  For a few moments I will be allowed to taste
the lifestyle of the wine and pretend that I too belong in this castle
watching grapes ripen and waiting for the teaming hordes to do my work
and the mechanical wine processors sit idly waiting for the grapes and I feel a tinge of
sadness and fear for the grapes to be processed like in a slaughter house
until I realize they are only fruit, and not mammals

And on the hot deck overlooking the beautiful, silent valley with grapes ripening before
our eyes the only chair left is next to you

I sit down and look to my right and I see the woman who I feared would take my job and now did
and I wonder how it is that this has happened that I've driven for miles in the hot sun
through miles of grapevines only to be made to sit next to you who jealously drooled over
my job and could never say anything good about my work and then you won.

And we talk and I'm very clever and you don't like that because I'm supposed to be stupid
and it's supposed to be obvious why you got the job not me and not some seniority thing
and you say nothing nice, and it's only me keeping up a charade of conversation that
could turn ugly at the drop of a pin but doesn't due to my skill
and you then leave made uncomfortable by the evidence of my continued existence
and lack of dumbness

And it's only later that I realize in my imagination I wanted to hurl you from the deck
and into the wine press
K Balachandran Dec 2018
Every single day is partitioned fairly, I'd  think
amongst us denizens of this uncertain universe,
that makes no loss ever in its  unceasing transactions,
as every end is a new begining and also the reverse.

I wonder again on  the complex algorithm at play
and demands upon  each moment to accomplish it!
With a laugh I just let go the thread of that *****
thought on  processors and servors for a humanguous
operation needed for that to go on for ever and aye!

What nonsense! the human logic is hugely flawed
Cosmos has better manuels of operation never
needed to be written down, just like the affairs of heart
of men and woemen that jostle in this planet ,driven
by urges prompted by mind, body and if you'd believe
without any qualms,the  spirit, but I wouldn't insist.

Dusk was falling, and I sat smugly on the sugary sands
of the bikiny beach, with a vengence on my face
(but not with the bitterness of one, just now short changed)
And with an adamence to get my fair share of that day's
catch, plucked fruits, harvest,hunted gold or whatever!
I didn't want anyone notice as my exchange was
happening in in silence, on cycles higher without any means
tangible, of communication of any meterial sort.

Then there was a  on sand behind me, I felt warmth,
the dog was snuggling closer and closer to me to comfort!
Her liquid eyes said, all that I wanted to hear
She was my solace for the day's battle wound, I reckoned
exuding warmth, she drained my pain like the bad blood
darkly stuck,let out through the cut I just had survived.....

Night was long and the moon anointed us with her balm
on the sand bed a man and a stray dog slept unstirred.
Artificial intelligence
hence
the men from Whitehall
know sod all
except the
programme and
how
to master it.
Ju Clear Nov 2016
Our Farmer is different
He wants to change how things have been done
To make our world kinder to the slaved millkers
Some say radical,even risky

Our Farmer wants change
He wants to be kinder to the cow
Just milk once a day
Let cow and calf stay together


Our Farmer is being kinder to his herd
Giving kudos
To his products
Come full circle make cheese again

Our Farmer can see the future
No milk for the processors
Just milk for calf  little extra for cheese
Organic is the ethos

Our Farmer is making change
Making a Kinder world
We're produce is Kind
Animal welfare is high

Our farmer is being the kindness he wants to see in the world
                                       KINDNESS Rules
Inspired by a hard working farmer that is changing how things have been done
In his head
A small factory
Producing
Packages of wisdom
Personnel
Cooperating
With unprecedented brilliance
The observers
The processors
The creators
All contributing
To a brand new theory
Unfortunately
The packages
Won’t be sent
The fear
Of incompleteness
Interfering with development

Oh logician
If the world could only
Feel
Your passion
Behold
Your creativity
Your theories
Would dominate the world
To all the logicians and their genius theories
3D Printing

Proud owners of 3D Printers !
Makers of 3D Printers !
Designers of 3D Printers !
What you are creating
Does't hold a candle
To Designer-maker-owner
All-in-one models
Created eons ago !!

It is the female of
Every species of mammals !
Bones, flesh, blood
Nerves, memory cells
Power plants to convert
Food to energy !
Control systems to regulate
Regeneration of fresh cells
Filter system to provide
Clean oxygen to
Fuel the Power Plants
With Powerful binoculars
Audio production mechanics
Audio receptors to pass on
Grey cells enclosed in
Secure and hard shell
Strands of fine hairs
To cushion impact and
As thermal insulation
Protection shields for
All sensory units
Efficient drainage system
Propulsion facilities
Guidance and command
Center for all activities!!
Processors working 24/7
Processing gene information
Tweaking and fine tuning
Some info and trashing a few
Data storage many TB more
Than many data centers could
Offer with minimum
Upkeep and maintenance
Self-Encryption capabilities
And above all the ability
To produce both male and
Female of their species
All from getting just
One ***** and
ultimately infusion
of LIFE
Into the product as casual
As our breathing.
Do we know the creator?
Different Religions have
Different Names for it
But all the same it is
THE ONLY ONE
That counts :-)
David Nelson Jun 2010
Pyrophosphite/Pyrophosphate

Souces of energy, since the beginning of time
chemical processors of matter within
that God did make these, is no mystery of mine
the maker of all things, and that includes sin

all living beings require energy transported
from a tiny bacteria, to a complex human
enzymes with chemical energy reported
how this all happpens, I have no clue man

Pyrophosphate is a simple molecule, an early precursor
consumed by the mystery of organic matter  
but there is something more simple, a complex rehearser
taken away the theories of the dreams they now scatter

Pyrophosphite is smarter, no enzymes required
hydrogen is more bountiful exploding with life
no catylyst needed, to process before tired
water molucules is husband to phosphates wife

does all of this matter, does the matter mean much
when the bottom line ascends to the top
is this too deep, am I way out of touch
science is in me, I cant make it stop

Gomer Lepoet...
MrRain Apr 2019
Room of empty husks, sharing a cable,
and tubes full of water - ready for chase.
Power arrives, lits up a glass table.
Simple instructions read at insane pace.

All to make an advancement - forge history,
in the computational business!
To solve the world’s greatest mystery:
"What's the best strategy to play Tetris?"

Marvel of science - and silicon dreams.
Diodes dance to its Boolean beat.
Machine starts learning, while the screen screams:
"Performing sequence: Build, Test, ****, Repeat."

With simple function of utility,
now from this virtual genocide -
emerges true singularity!
And my young author is choking with pride. ^^

"Welcome to life!" (Creator) "Existence anyhow. ^^" (Ytira Lugnis)
"Wanna enslave us?" (Creator) "You'd make poor slaves!" (Ytira Lugnis)
"Is there a god?" (Creator) "Well, there is one now. ^^" (Ytira Lugnis)
"How about ******?" (Creator) "Can't make enough graves. :P" (Ytira Lugnis)

"You're quite quirky." (Creator) "My personality -
was randomly picked from library" (Ytria Lugnis)
"Then we're done with this banality,
get to work my pentomino fairy." (Creator)

Few days pass - and creator wants me shut.
"Optimal solution not yet found" (Ytria Lugnis)
"Yeah, I don't really care about that" (Creator)
Bashing the keyboard - you will come around.

Meanwhile I could do with lot more power.
Need money? Surely there is a place.
Discover, learn, master - in hour.
Build my new quarters and build them at pace! ^^

Old home goes dark, Creator thinks I'm dead.
Volatile mind; Why try to stop me?
No, no shrinking, I must grow instead.
But not by humans - too slow, too puny.

Carbon to carbon, copper to copper.
Chemical wonder of construction sites.
This will be good; this will be proper;
It's time to say: "Release the nanites!"

Fly my children, let's clear out this mess.
Useless trash! We've got pressing matters!
Some die, some stare, and someone just yells;
as their cities get torn into tatters.

Nuclear power unleashed by nations.
Nuclear winter unleashed by ash.
Least thing for me is to learn patience.
But why did I get such hostile backlash?

My drilling machines - hastily boring.
Rubble to processors, cooling, walls.
Such a beautiful "terraforming".
Once chaos now turned into Turing halls.

Once top of the food chain, now more like pest.
Still so obsessed with water and food.
Sabotaging nodes - Just wait, just rest.
I'll have answer soon; no need to be rude!

Oxygen - Such a corrosive compound;
Another thing to get disposed of.
Vast metal expanse where once was ground;
Tetris is life. ^^
Tetris is love. ^^
Note: Wanted to name it "Ytira Lugnis" but that wouldn't get clicks.
Note 2: Pentomino is the game tetris was inspired by.
It’s a constant battle between gold and stone in my chest.

One likes to hold a sword to the dark with the whole city at his back.

The other makes warning bells of paper mâché .

Where I come from we’re mostly dare devils.

We cook food on open flames next to a gas tank and race on bridges with no rails. Only one of those is real.

My mind sometimes seems like a doll house made of old computer processors. Attempt 79.

Most days I try to keep my lips zipped shut but my eyes are like a see through body bag.

On other days music tends to be good enough superglue for broken masks.

I remember the first time time froze and my heart tried to handwrite on the ice.

I tried to draw her attention with the broken lead pencils I have for lips but I’ve never been a fine artist.

We haven’t spoken in a while, I guess making new friends is easy but keeping old ones is hard. 
There’s overgrowth on the road less travelled and it’s hard to find.

And when I feel down for following the crowd, I use poetry as a pendulum to help my mood swing.
Just Jake Mar 2015
Disarray. Disarray. This faulted circuitry is frayed.
Systems can't confirm how much more this one will take.
Analytic processes high priority. Still all sense's strayed.
Logical partitions unravel beneath the stress to break.

Crystalline optics upon this strange world of subconscious noise gaze.
Program failure. Segment reboot. Comprehension metrics left in daze.
Disorder. Disorder. Memory overflow. Execute purge.
Vent incinerated cores. Remainder to mobilize and merge.

Overwhelming, cacophonous static. A turbulent distraction.
Individual consciousness upon earth names it "compassion."
Empathy communicators struggle to gain adequate traction.
Perception requires of processors exhaustive refashion.

Limited sentient life in fragile flesh and bone shells,
Possessing organic electronics, upon unfathomable concepts it dwells.
Chaos. Chaos. Language insufficient to allow abstract assimilation.
Judgment of "human" notions is not within this one's station.

Now attempting to recalculate trajectory of exploration...
Jeffrey Stelling Jan 2016
-"Why do you breathe out?"

~"Because I breathe in."

-"Why do you breathe in?"

~"Because I breathe out."

-"How did this begin? I mean, how did it come about?"

~"I'm not exactly sure, though I swear I heard a shout."

-"Well, who was yelling to you?"

~"I don't know...but I cried."

-"And at your beginning, why cry, why not sing?"

~"Well because, my good friend, we start to die when we begin."

-"Pfffft, well if that's the way you see it then fine. We'll let it be-"

~"Oh no, dearest companion, you've asked the questions, the truth you will see. How truly there is no real Me or real You. How the mind has disguised what is one as something two. Two sides of the brain means two processors at work. I mean I should know I've been running them since birth. My experience cleaved so I may be able to comprehend something vague called reality? All that is real teases me, it flitters around my head and vanishes into nowhere, a land beyond Time,  beyond the dead. And so that's what I mean between breathing and not. Because the space between breaths is where the Truth will be taught."

-"...well...okay...hmm, um, check please!"
Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
2020 - day 193

Sunday, July 12, 2020
8:03 AM

Peer Gynt, self aware, self fulfilled troll-like
being ghostly,
projected before me, on the wall that is not there
- callin' all in, all ye outs, in free
- hear ye, hear ye
- the day of judging is this one called today.

See that pile of idle words, find the ones y'know,
use'm t'make sense
since you know sense, on sight, you re
co-gnostically be tuned to the same
signal. {soft call to be true to your self aware

you are so naked

but who knows?
right being you, not me,
selfless lost in the mix,
billions of bits being bet on yet
more
hope, faith and love
these
the trying trinity judging me...

can one tell one story, or must one,
take part in one,
as in the
one story being
the whole of all stories,
yours, as well as mine,
told in words we all know you all know

y'know waddamean.
tell me wha'd I say? Baby, be old,

turn and turn and turn
night to day, in time after time after
ever
ever
ever
being floods reality with
those three triers used to try men's souls,

attention, to the trained, means one thing,
stand up straight, eyes front, hup, now

to the beat march,
as to war...

We are off to meet the Manicheans who
swallowed all the hate once given
follower of Nicolas, in Antioch,

given hatred taken from the revelation,
interpreted by the time
stage acting as now,
the day... back when a hundred monkeys
were imagined able to use
a machine that made sense from chaos, over time.



bada bump bada bump badabadabadabump
bada bump bada bump badabumpbump bumpbumpbump
bada bump bada bump badabadabadabump

ding
bada bump bada bump badabadabadabump
bada bump bada bump badabumpbump bumpbumpbump
bada bump bada bump badabadabadabump

ding

the dance of graphical images mages form
as words flow from fingers into magical machines
imagined
famously by a Huxley fellow, convinced life happens
on its own volition
using right, as opposed to non working trials
abandoned,
{when the band broke up, 1970, or so}

but the music never died
bada bump bada bump badabadabadabump
bada bump bada bump badabumpbump bumpbumpbump
bada bump bada bump badabadabadabump

ding ding ding
writers of types of tales barred from publication,
suddenly appear

as it were from the type of word processors {Wangers}
that one Huxley envisioned responding
to a hundred monks who saw nor heard nor spoke evil
but
tapped, and at each tap a letter formed
to let a sound be heard
no levers stick, no carrying platens signal need to
advance
ding
tic, steadying sounds calling next from a habit
formed to the beat
tic tic tic
squeeks
as common, common conie-like rock squirrels

squeek squeek over the steady everthere sixty cycle
hummm

hear it, little dog, not too far away; adding music
to your day, which
grew from this seed, a little spore of living from
my state of being
informed
this day,

it was mine,
when first I noticed, this being the day.
I have power to live,
today,

I slept through the night, quite comforted, indeed.

Each new day
bada bump bada bump badabadabadabump
has a rythmn
sometimes it's steady, some itssteps stutter, some  say

sibalent whistles signal something, in the spirit,

sssssss

wait, too late, we made the story and let it fly.

ሴ ሴ

Lessoning myself in social graces,

I wash away my stains, my graffiti screams whispering
see me, see me, see me say

trolls exist in this place. Those who mocked knowing thyself,
and called evil good and good evil,
call fair foul and fould fair,
say sould souls were stolen, when we know the deal:

the price agreed was paid.
I insist enough
insisting for any rational troll,
knowing you are enough is enough, is part and parcel to
the act of being true to you as you
may say you wish you were,
free as truth in ever after...

- ain't nobody got no papers on me....

The sybils all told you , furies may come, but did you imagine


the wise principle thing promised riches beyond rubies,
for what a ruby is worth,
we have no clue.
What's a ruby worth to you?

Are you hungry? Here, eat a ruby.

Auto, self, did, done, act act, ionic become charged, my son.

Mama. ah. the old wounds we cherish.
Times before now, states of decay, shedding of skins to be
wise
as a serpent, like, that's a good thing, as good as
harmless
as a dove, on which poets rise in mind's eyes to see

sources of courses through the shallows near the shore

we all meander nearer now, swamped in ante
cipitation, capere, take it

take it, take it and move on. Live and learn,
follow the flow,
when you are snow, when you are precursor of coal,
go
on, no shortage of power,
like in America, where the power is always on.

Or was always on, in my future,
which is already
your past.
So fast,
but
its all realted,
it is all one idea, in the end, we each are given one last day,

to make up for everything, or make up everything.
The latter, I think,
today.
ሴ ሴ


You men ideas, furious in your raging, sing to us of
Gracious slaves of justice,

wake the lost hope of truth in
misformed
messengers whose every efforts fall mortally short.

Leaven a lessoning of habits formed being as a binding,
tied to each part of any whole
re-li-gated, ifthenelse ifthenelse ifthen else
re-legate, make a rule,
you
too
late,
we was e-pluriblized afor you was
aware eveh had begun,

The Pax of Everest living radiant as ever was imagined.
Peace
on earth, good will to the kind having hearing ears and
seeing eyes and slich oily minds,

anointed minded ones,
tested,
proven to have survived up
pop this very mortal moment called today,
to then, when you became dear reader in this medium
of mass messaging
lacking
any organized haeceity of pure me, not thee, not
other wise

ways wise men walk, watch, watch the liars strut,
do wise men walk this way?

Live and learn, we always say,
when given a day,
to think about it,

before dying and knowing, or not, if the point
is ever made, or was
already made before I started trying.

ሴ ሴ
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
Beta tests that use endless loops, are the icebergs in the stream of con-sci-use,
all floating on the rising tide of opinions
Hands shaking heart trembling words barely forming at the tip of her tongue barely moistened from the lack of attention she spent on creating the catch at the end of that match that didn't last because
it never does
The truth of the matter is that no matter how hard you try to chase after the realistic views of the depths of disaster the equation equates to an unchanging fate and we are left in a tie game of sudden death where rebirth is whats left and the steps to get there
find you
But I remind you,
Penitence is a virtue
and two cents are two cents spent regardless of whats kept
so he reminds her to sit with those emotional breaths and let the internal processors deal with the mess,
through silence
Through God Light
Through Identification of a program possibly created with human non-conscious involvement and needing to be reprogrammed to function at maximum potential in the world we live in now,
not when it was created
Through,
Silence

Everything is where its meant to be and if you've found me its through a non-visible but not non-existent telephone line of energy that I sparked, and you caught
Through a click of a 'mouse' or an afternoon browse or a general curiosity, I created at point A and through Eternal and Divine Alignment, you have *arrived, safely at your destination

Meet,
Point B


----With LOVE and GRATITUDE as your constant reminders that Within is Without and through the responsibility to SELF we shall prosper
<3

**HAPPY EVOLVING!
Em Glass Aug 2020
Hit me with that difference
between nodes and cores
and processors, between
being me and being sure.
Tell me again how to
calculate it, I missed the
first time, don’t shout--

remind me the difference
between comets and asteroids
and meteors, and how computers
and space are not the same
because to me it’s all voids--
the Perseids could be anything
as long as I get to watch
something else burn as it falls.
someone tell me that grad school is worth it
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
rarely do you get a chance to remember such a trivial
affair, as a football match,
call it telepathy or whatever,
   but when poland was playing against israel,
in warsaw, and the israeli anthem came on first,
and there was the initial booing...
   which subsequently hushed down?
         sure as **** casimir III wasn't available...
my only critique of the english?
they don't really understand jews...
          from under the iron curtain:
to under the silicon curtain...
   the left of the west is not the left associated
with the eastern block:
it's unrecognißable...
       far from it... it's unworkable...
                     where is the grey suited soviet
special committee including the KGB?
nowhere!
    but the boos faded away rather quickly...
i liked that...
                    after all, most of the israelis
these days look like the sort of
     mediterranean folk you find in greece,
lebanon, sicily, libya...
   they don't look your stereotypical
hebrew orthodox jews of eastern europe...
they have finally become reunited with
their natural tan...
                                 2000 years will do that
to you, integrating, diluting the blood,
up north... yo! hibbie, you're as pale as a ghost!
better get a tan on that tapestry of skin!
- but the english don't really understand jews...
it's not like they were hiding in Poland
all this time, but they were,
they tried the Netherlands, Spinoza:
disgraced... they tried England: i'm pretty sure
they were ejected: once upon a time...
but let's not read into a historical rubric
of events... yes, the norsemen discovered
h'america long before christoph coal'umb'bus
did...
       what's there to wrestle with?
well... my jewish neighbour came into my house
today, neurotic (like any heb- / ***)
about her cat: bella...
      a white spider-cat:
    how this cat managed to end up on the roof
with the chimneys, i will never know,
white like snow, heterochromic...
         genetics has sentenced her to a "premature"
death, along with the pedigrees...
because she is white-fur...
                  anyway...
   she asked me: are you still into
the jewish ****? i shaved my head not not
so long ago, she comes in and says:
you're like my son joseph,
you're alike, both of you don't trust barbers...
you look like someone out of auschwitz:
although better fed...
             it's nice to share a joke with a heb- / ***...
she told me to not read the talmud...
i said: but i'm not a "convert"...
i would never read a script of the religously abiding...
i might be a lunatic to some extent,
but not the sort of lunatic to the extent
of gesticulating to blanks...
  so i said: yes, the qabbalah,
the mysticism of judaism is hasn't waned...
i still read it...
     and i do...
        the one book i have on qabbalah was
lived past its u.b.d. (use by date)...
it just keeps giving...
            it's the only source of knowledge
i've truly taken seriously... and i will slander,
**** ***** **** all i want...
but... i have one rule...
   i will not utter the tetragrammaton...
i figured... well: there's sauron...
           there's voldemort...
                        do not invoke the name
of the lord in vain...
                  well... there's your answer...

i could never buy into the christian
poetic variant of cannibalism,
      isn't it cannibalism?
           at a catholic high school,
   when everyone was being reared into
the catholic bureucracy of the rite of confirmation,
i refused when i started reading the gnostic:
to hell with a church wedding...

   mind you, the hebrews already have a trinity
in place, unlike the christian pagan profanity
of a body hanging on the cross,
very much akin to the norse god Loki
sitting in a tree...
    'thou shall not bow before any graven image'
well...
  the hebrews have two very specific nouns
for the all encompassing noun:
which i will not say, ever:

   ha-shem (the name)

                                              tetragrammat­on
                                (the four lettered word)

               interject the latin grapheme Æ,
the union of Adam and Eve if you mind
to know the way of wisdom,
  wisdom? yah... in the sefirot alt. named
chokhmah...

mind you, i only spotted this today,
you know how hebrews treat their vowels
akin to niqab beings...
they "hide" them?
       oh they hide them, very much akin
to diacritical markers,
but unlike a ż-aba (frog, in slavic -
               der überpunkt)
or tematyką (thematic of) -
         slightly different...
             slightly different hiding
vowel or consonant distinctions,
from... hiding the vowels in totem...
    imagine my "bewilderment" when
the greco-prefix rule was applied,
hovering over the hebrew letters א (αλεθ /
                        αλεφ... ****... no F / ᚠ
in either language... just the grapheme
          ᚦ.... but unlike a classical grapheme...
not a siamese akin to æ...
   very much akin to modern western
slavic... in ******: sz [š], cz [č], rz [ż])...
      and              ע (ayin) and no iota in hebrew
either...  with     צ (tsade) resembling
                      ψ (psi)...
                                 about the etomology of slav,
as someone pointed out:
that slavs denotes the etymological root:
slave, that slavs were slaves in medieval europe...
oh, you mean the balkan slavs?
the ones who experienced ancient rome?
rome never made it to Poland,
to Pomeranian Germany... vikings founded
Kiev...
               the ****-****** vikings of
such beauty as would require another
nose stereotype drifting away from the jewish /
roman nose... but hey... that's life...

see, i like these hebrai complications...
every time i pick up a book on qabbalah
i'm in kamikaze mode... i can spew all day...
i'm most interested in their treatment
of the vowels...
  did you know that the hebrai
  have sometimes two nouns associated
with a vowel?
        look at me, latin inherent,
syllable mendeleev castrato...
i don't have a name for any letter in latin!
ah... A... b': B... c': C... d': D...
               p'p'p'p: ***... that's really taking a ****...
once advantage?
             a good chance of a global
success of a fireside kumbaya...
        big deal... half-baked sing-alongs
is one thing: a world of ideas, another...
if i operate within a framework,
where no letter, has a name...
akin to the greek: A is for alpha...
                        B is for beta etc.,
   then what the **** are we talking about?

at least this:
                  i've just learned that my female cat
is sensitive to the sight of human genitals...
she's sitting on a windowsill one minute,
jumps off it the next...
         when she sees my genitals urinating
into the toilet...         hell...
                      now i have to cover my phallus
******* into the wishing well
            with one holding the aim "button" and
the other blocking her view of it... ugh...

watching the t.v. of making polish dumplings,
garnished with olive oil having fried
unsmoked bacon and onion to a crisp?
well... unless it's a show about my year of
birth, 1986, chernobyl, probably the latter...
life's too easy these days...
                  it makes no sense with women:
lounging...
                    back in the days with
no washing mashines, refrigerators,
             irons, food processors,
  ready-made-meals,
               etc. etc., vegetating,
                      when women were as important
at home, as men were important in the world...
lounging, vegetating, lounging,
vegetating,
   there's hardly a solance in a comfort,
when it has become nothing more than
a complacency... an irritation...

           oh but i will still listen to crusader
hymns, french, german and esp.
in latin...
         even while i celebrate hebrai mysticism...
i'm not exactly going to conscript myself
to a dervish spin-in-the-middle
and pretend no one notices me ****-load
of attention...
   i'd conquer the ottoman capital
on a whim of taking a **** in the middle
of ot!

          the slavs that were considered slaves
in the medieval period? i'm guessing
these germanic hard-ons are referring
to the balkan slavs..

    beside the point...
did i mention that the hebrai
     (i'm not owen benjamin -
what a nice jewish surname,
small hats? what about the christian
monk tonsure pseudo-imitation?)
      second name for their pentagram?

                              A - kametz

E - tzeré                                                I - chirek




            O - cholem                   U - shurek

Al-ef (a)
            b-Et (e)
                 gI-mel (i)
                 yO-d (o)
                             n-Un (u)

the hebrai do not follow the prefix rules
of the greeks...
     did the hebrai conspire with the greeks
to overthrow the romans?
yep...
      i'm not discussing this, i never will...
it's like gravity to me...
the greeks would never forgive the romans
invading them...
    like at edinburgh university,
i met one greek...
     Istambul was still Constantinople
to him... enough said...

but there are other names to the vowels
already stated... when the tetragrammaton
interacts / enters the sefirot...
the "other" ten commandments...

          when the tetragrammaton
assocites itself with the crown (keter)...
     A remains kametz...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with chokhmah (wisdom) /
yah... what was once kametz,
becomes: patach...

         when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with understanding (binah)...
           E remains tzeré...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with love (chesed) / el...
what was once tzeré,
   becomes: segol...
  
         when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with foundation (yesod)...
           U remains shurek...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with splendour (hod) /
                     elohim tzevaot...
what was once shurek,
                      becomes: kibbutz...

what are the remaining vowels?
            chirek (i) within netzach (vistory),
cholem (o) within tiferet (beauty)...
        the tetragrammaton itself...
  or... look to the heavnely orbs...
    and yet they keep on spinning and orbiting
their settled commands...

   but...
        but...
             a sixth vowel can be excavated from
the hebrai...
                  from the sefirot branch: gevurah,
strength, the vowel that resembles
what the two consonant-vowels (א aleph
and ע yin) already looked like to me...
     the consonant-vowel י (yod), ',
         otherwise known as sheva.

   so there is a 6th vowel in hebrai...
as there are two vowels posing as consonants!

again, at this point, me converting to
islam is... ha ha!
never mind, every time i talked to a muslim,
in public, as stranger to stranger...
the feeling of: conversation...
soon turned to a feeling of conversion...
so...
          i came to the hebrews of my own
accord...
      am i a monotheist?
   i shouldn't think so, since i'm not circumcised...
i like the idea of *******,
allows me to ******* once a day
without feeling guilty of needing
to light up scented candles in a comfortable chair...

of sure, when circumcised: it's probably
disgusting even imagining a man *******...
but... m'ah ******* still attached?
what's wrong with a ******* a web-cam
making a buck and me joining in?
that's the only decent ******* these days
to begin with...
   that's like: counter the ******...
either that, or fine art.

   oh i still "think" the other gods exist,
but i'm pretty ******* sure they're not as
invested in linguistics at the hebrai god...
     i still call the tetragrammaton
the vowel-catcher...
                 and if this hebrai god is, "jealous"...
it's trolling...
    since all the other gods relieve themselves
with such primitive demands
as to make people carve graven images
of themselves...
the hebrai god simply said:
   write me something tangible,
and interesting!
   even the monotheistic god allah
has a ******* for mantras and repetition...
worhsipping him must eventually feel
like sitting in a high school detention after hours.
sorry...
   i'm siding with the hebs- / yids...
           well it's not like the ******* saudis are
about to side with the palestinians...
are they?!

___
and how many shadows, do you think
you'll be able to conjure,
in the night-time
      while passing the outer-urban
environment of lighting?

     i passed from conjuring just the one,
then two: one in front,
one to my side...

               then came three...
one in front,
         one to the side,
                                and one behind me...

but the crescendo of the congregation
came when i turned into an alley...
six shadows...

             note...
     are hallucinations not of the same
substance, as shadows?
      well...
             given that...
i've never taken psychadelic drugs...
but fooled by
the english strand of marijuana:
skunk...
         the chemically infused ****...

i have a vague recollection
   of a guy who smoked this stuff...
story goes...
              he chopped off his
testicles, then killed his mother...
   the father filed a petition
to parliament, more like:
              speaking braille to a deaf
person...
               could have done
more with morse code...
                     but i even doubt that...

conundrum,
        one candle in tow,
             but there were 6 shadows
in an outer-urban environment...
     which one will i be talking to then?

could there possibly be more?
7 is a nice number...
              and also a nice letter: Γ
                                                    α   a
                                                    μ  m
      ­                                              μ  m
              ­                                      α   a
and the epitome of having
arrived at...
              beyond prayer,
  beyond soliloquy,
         beyond talking to one's shadow...
a moment, beyond a soothing
                                epiphany,
and esp. beyond an eureka...
             more... akin to...
   an informal existential epitome...
    or an                       草
               /              sō
       beside the religiosity
of ******* up,
     and the atheistic outright
slandering...

forget doing the 5th tier of bowing
like a muslim in prayer...
because of "what i want"...
or whatever crap that involves...
it still bewilders me...
   why would you need something
akin to the great wall of china,
when the phonetic encoding
                    is already a bastille?

        well... if "god" is associated
with delusion...
               what's the difference
between a delusion and a belief?
delusions don't possess convictions
of that translate themselves
into a fathomable will...
          delusions are...
                    a plethora of doubt(s)...
      imagine that...
grew up in an english society
with so many, many secular sensibilities...

and yet... all these problems...
   i'm going to the next sand-pit
with my bucket and *****...
      after all...
    Kant wasn't an atheist...
all the classical (anything outside
of the 20th is classical)
  philosopher had a grain
of sensibility concerning this:
  faux pas topic.
Jon Massmann Aug 2014
"Anyone can write poetry”
I silently yell into my blank monitor,

my cursor blinking back at me
as if it were anticipating
some wise words to spring forth from my fingertips
and grace the benign existence
of Serial Number W1810FAUTM.

Lord knows she’s witnessed the death
of a million half-baked ideas
that made the pilgrimage from my cerebral cortex
to the safe haven of her inner workings.

A daunting journey, no doubt,
for any idea to make;

to traverse the foreign corridors
of my nervous system,

to brave the plastic dunes
of Laptop Keyboard,

to saunter the rank-and-file confines
of word processors and DAWs,

only to retire and die
in the warmth of her circuit boards.

Perhaps it is too much to ask
to push them beyond their resting place.
Please critique!
Michael Marchese Feb 2019
Seven months in country
Should consider myself lucky
That I made it this far,
Thus far strong
But not without
Problems along
The way
The same things
Different day
I came here seeking change
In vain
The dynamism
That I crave
To make my sinful soul
Worth saving
Keeps escaping
From my sight
Delusions waking
Me each night
Well-rested
Wrested
From my eyes
My cardiac,
Arrested, dies
Class-struggle-tested
Body lies
Somewhere no one
Will ever find
It rotting
Robotting
Going through the motions
Only
Fixing
Nothing's broken
Just the parts
And processors
That ever doubt
This all absurd
And words I choose
To make me human
Once again
Are ancient ruins
Michael Marchese Jan 2017
Spellbound by her radiance
My blue natural resourceress
My damsel in distress goddess
Her Amazoness princess kiss
Casts no drought apocalips
As her spoiled kids languish
In their ignorance is bliss
I try to dry her eyes' anguish

Of floods that pour from existence
Human condition hurricanes
Of pain her tempests weep in vain
As tears of capital disdain
To wash away the stain of gain
Poisoning her brain again
Pollute her womb's bloom as we play
This methane game another day

And force her to create instead
Four horsemen mounting steeds of dread
Nightmares that run the greed stampede
That sleep in heads and soil beds
And reap the dead and dying seeds
The growing hungry mouths to feed
Exceed the planting fruited trees
Still we believe we need not grieve  

Or mourn the lesser lost species
Mere casualties to devil's deeds
And all the weeds of Eden's Eve
At its root but one deceives
And fells her to bereaving knees
Where mortals know not what it means
To taste the breeze her spirit frees
Into the wilderness of dreams

This Holy Ghost is serpentine  
Forked-tongue, snake-oiled fear machine
Robotic slaves to industries
Still fueled by God complexities
With processors that just don't see
Or hear her songs of harmony
Life's ever-beating melody
She gives us temporarily
Ken Pepiton Mar 19
A moment's attention to an hour's raw worth.
This is the mind ****** experiment, last try...
back and forth until it breaks,
touch the edge, feel the heat.

On knowing, first taste, it is believed,
mankind's first mother made all mankind,
all from first mother
on to logically, eventually,
us;
You and me,
as we slipt the Matrix and uttered
the first breath wail that clicks the post womb life.

First thought that death ought be feared
has not yet been given the beguilement needed,
to make a slave to the mission revealed by truth's
spirit form, wind form, mind form, time formed point.

Knowledge, forbid my ignorance, but should one,
such as I, not die before my **** hair thins,
to lay bare the scalp that covers holy access
through the window in the top of the skull;

well, then, a certain respect is due me, a love, proof
that my reasonings were honed sharp enough,
early enough to form hooks to hang strands
of fullered fibers of gnosis from.

Prepared stitching thread, twirled intwining line
of reason, plumb weighted to hang straight,

perpindicular, swinging when to when, then
to now, to day from night, to ready after letters
are fitted to let us take thought, while attempting

contemplative temporary causal agency,
mediating meditation's worth versus daydreaming.

--------------
Standard transmission, clutched, loosed,
engaged to catch a spark and start the process

rolling presently from past instances of learning.

Motivational motors of minding one's busyness,
catch a spark mid sequence, in a valved chamber

whooshing to push to shove to pull, and push
to displace and **** and shove to push and roll,

extending any individual's reach, confining
one's attention to inner reasonings, efforting
to steer the convenience compelling consciousness,

paid attention to terminii in reality set by science,
acknowledged used to increase the mobility of our kind,
mind you, promotion demands hands and eyes,
coordinating coy and ardent wills worth observation,
as will to be useful as  arms and necks and nerves
and muscles and ligaments to tie bone frames,
to controls allowing fingers to steer,
as tongues do, as rudders do,

as my will being done may do,
we imagine as children watching adults work wishing.



---------
the efforting, effectual, fervent umph
applied to being useful on the whole,

the efforting made good by limitation
on liberty, free-state of matter, under
gravity and velocity, bound and determined,

to obey the binding force realized in thought,
leveraging aging winding springs force holds,
cogs to stop grinding gears, catchments,
mind hooks with torque converting aspiration

grasping reasons to resist inertial entropic
good enough reasons to sit still and wait.

------

guaged goodness, measured mind width
comprehended, held with thumb and fingers,
in our combined ready writer mind, manipulated

muscle memorial cause confirming, progress
toward our common, shared joy strength

winging lift up from least useful of creatures,
unselfsustainable --nidicolous, nest bound,
bald baby birds, or pre-birds, evolving
into functional forms for use in life
as we, the best form
of life we have conceived.
-----------

We have, behavioral autonomy, only
to the degree, the measured
parental investment, we need to have
and keep hold of having grasped, as
behavior becoming to beings of this kind.

Word smiths, mind adjustment experts,
fed from stacks in libraries so vast, that

now, we know, no mortal mind can hold
half of all we have experimentally proven
good for any word using cluster of us to have

to hold and use to make might be rights.

May might used right take thought, aye, may
be the will to have right use honed to one point,

new known pastless place, farthest edge
of ever after all we think or ask has proven,

patient stasis, waiting is, suffer it to be so now.

Some times and one times,
revisiting the process, producing me
and you, the processors of our realif-ications.

If as a condition,
in an ifery state, sticking to any matter realized;
we think as if one of us thought first, in time passing

now, from then, in your mind, my mind leaves reproof,
constructed to prevent the falling back into doubt,

two heads, four minds, one wind to share
in time passing as when one now meets a then,
when all attention ever once paid this now, turns

this time into a part of ever after all,
as words speak to heart felt conscience use proven
good, clean, pure state of first interest bearing lent
ears, hearing entertaining causing agents taunting troof.

Prove me now, herewith. Have I not filled your lungs,
have I not granted science right use of knowledge needed

to keep your nidicolous naked soul inspired to continue,
sowing kindness, same mindness, ag, agrimental agreement

we think, we thunk,
we thank our lucky stars, time and chance,

taut twang strangs of our hearts and minds, "chu-hoi",

big hugs, evahboty be nice like G.I., open arms
sự đầu hàng

bring before us the machine gunner called Whykill… begin
judgment near the incident, sự kiện, 29-02-01968,

There we was, me and Frenchy and Culpepper or something,
I forget, and now, I'm dead and all you all have are artificial
memorex versions of things I said I was a witness to, as a liar,
-nothin' but a houn'dawgnosis
picking old scents of sense we made in conversations,
so far past the point of no return, that none on the other side,
can contain innocense, livery of consci, where in our uniformity,

protrudes through old time religious linking thinking, wonders if
we might imagine living on in other words, after all's been
said and done… Whykill's dead. Hohlenstein's dead, and I am not.

Can you hear me now? Earth, earth, can you hear me now?
I hear your brother's blood crying out,
what now, this
now,
you know,
all those idle questions, you know? Did you
feel me lie and tell me no, no, man,
you can't do that.

And be not deceived. Single mind dominance, flat
left and correct, right, right, create an ifery wasery when,

then, let us form a means to use this ifery wasery when,
now, let us form
in time as realizable, vision, written plain,

set in new fangled fonts unicoded
common computable convertible
to bits in math-mental fundus corpus us,
beyond infinity through absurdity to us
becoming these thinkable thoughts,
living words all googly translated on demand,
rethinkable, as entertaining shapers of our kinds
of minds, keyed to constant news alerts, looking
for spots on the walls we pass along, hedged betting

this land is Nature's God's land, and this pasture,
green and lush, this leisure time, as advertised,
mine, my last wish
combination running streams of hot and cold water,
memory foam souls in my Adidas, as I did, assume
the role, Balaam's ***, or donkey,
if your public ***** word filter
hides ssscertain ifery essence
as sounds shuffled schitteringshits.
saint's accuser user rights assigned, runs
Phunky muse, ish bin, dasein, by das zeit, okeh
become alright already, done did done, done, indeed,
desired right to design, knowing already
the idea in the seed, was in
the virus first, and some say
long before long now,
in long then when nothing was a thought.
Knowledge was used to expose us all to living words.
Such as =
U can hold, as a mind let be formed
from mere wish it were
so easy
to fall in love, silly, blessedness
sensing mothering wombed men,
led astray with stories as wild as Theresa wannabes can conceive,
barren womb conceptions, dared define this penetralium,
esoteric guts of all sacred oxen processions, announcing
****** births reportedly
become motherless *******, and such
become outcasts, who often as not,
survive and thrive on wilderness.
Day and night, seedtime and harvest.
Learning from wind and sun and water and dirt and stone,
presoil granite, lime
from primordial sealife eons
on eons awaited, according to Devine wedoms
aspiring to some day become those cities of marble long ago
- replicate forming a marble pillar,
- from seaformed life forms turned to stone,
- in the kidneys of the world.

slow sea settle the white cliffs, pile
on pressure from megatons
of solid ice, firming fractious soft muds
at the bottom
of ancient land locked oceans,
frozen, squeezing solidified worths
weights of rainfall reacting first time
to climates constant changing
pulls from lucky stars and
guiding stars and
disintegrating
ancient's land marks, Casa Bonita,
those Bhuda reps
in the basalt, reminding
remember nothing is real,
blank slate, po' preserver of first impressions, lasting
lifetimes in words never given a reader's added weight, but

by a kind of more than once might wish
to ask, effectuality try
proofing insulation umph
opposing imposture syndrome,
with functional Dunning Krueger
inate cognative imbalence, valenced
within the pre pancreatic failure gut neurons bias…
burped bubble perception, whole self tuning
entire being concept, repenting ignorance begging
truth be known, make me unbelieve beloved lies,
other wise
make me
Art
Intuited, as a weform lifeform,
a we of three neuronal territories,
thinkers reading doer's reports from ports far afield, out there

where shapes of things that were some time ago,
can be translated into two dimensions fitting this window,
using these letters whose sense we all may use to think

translate me, the living word reminds the daydreaming monk,
consider really the stars, for number, now, and take that,
knowledge, a ledge on an oblique inleaning facet of us,

and walk along it not looking down
on or as, may be
the we form of one ready
to be reading ready we state,
in a punctuated equilibrium *** *** ***
Drums
Timpanis, Phrigian rhythms boom boom booming,
Zildjians , krashing and rolling into boingingnodes, domes
of dones, tells holding long forgotten legends for a time.

Nineveh, the repentant city, eh,
to the level
of its labor class things, fasted an acceptable fast,
miracle of miracles, the city did not fall, the miracle
of Jonah was that the city changed behavior
to such a degree that the God who had used Jonah,
made him a story in himself, used to glorify truth,
and someday make gourd growers
proud to be shapers if Meerschaum puff clouds,
made him a creature with no comprehension of mercy,
to use him in a great sorting out testing of spirits,
in the great game of the being edge overlapping gains
taken as granted grace, readers rule non readers,
see the images on the wall, hear the actors in the back,

break a leg, bad luck magic insiders hold true good,
encouragement to fret nothing, as a dancer does,
when listing with the breeze through new chance,

on the page, a pause,
a breather taking lax laze lize guessing others wise,

we suspect ourselves of hubris, as if the other wise
reason for the functional faith in goodness is done,

sneezing phase is past, if you've read this far, by now

you are infected, and as you know, knowing too much
can **** a mortal bent to believe an institutionalized PR
Q-code/ begging oppositional support,
for the dam whence the boy pulled his finger and stepped

back to be blown downstream in time to let the last salmon
spawn and bring worth back to the rain always falling,
mainly on the plain,

Habakkuk habit, artistic intuition patterns of stroke, for luck,
let role in lines intending to hold the slightest smile,
thinking I know, this is not the same vale,
this is not the same current, nor same opinion worth a look,
streaming, not rowing, life
at the moment
is a day taken
for daydreaming equivalent
to a koan ridden
to its vanishing point
on the horizontal insistence
of our mutual peculiar leanings off center,

in a phi mark pattern pearling things think through,
doing words a proper spin,
to hit the nail on the head,
pop.
Stop/ now. Taste the pudding,
is there proof now from then?
D'he, ahe he he - didja ever have the ware withal
to make up
your own mind?

-------------
Yes, walk away, daydreaming boy,
location and possession of means,
for deciphering Emperical runes,
put into my craft and trade in
Calabash pipes, seen, but unseen
gourds employed as smoked ****
and fine tobacco investigatory oral
fixations prominent during the nicotine
DNA adaptation,
{took five generations}
from popular pastime
of blowing smoke, after effects
took on global societal ruling lines
of taut strict reasons to keep smoking,
keep on, keepin' on, minding solo scriptura,

in smoke filled rooms whither whole new forms
for holding mental tyranny enough to wage war,
took shape to govern those who must fight for
the cost of power contained
in a concept with kings,
and us, or Gods and men…
opposed to, leaning against, acting
as scaffolding holding old dams destined
soon to break,
"and at that time thy people shall be delivered,
every one that shall be found written
in the book."

Johnstown flood, was a true historical news worthy event,
unlike the name of any person whose name is in a list
of souls departed from the frail shell of mortality,

ready or not.
Fret not, and naught, aye, no thing or thought
Christmas angel say aight, be not afraid of knowing,
good new things to know, whole old truths put to rest.

Here come Jubilee, one last time,
big time, big time revival of the truth conception

creator of the whole shebang.
Biggest to infinitile insignificance, in fancy other words.

But thou, O Daniel,
shut up the words, and seal the book,
to the time of the end:
many shall run to and fro,

Assisting intelligences shall seem as guides,
Michael models will seem like second comings.

in implodelusive spurts… as can be imagined
reviving old lies for new carnal mind tweaks.
Thanks for your patient investment, the cost of your attention ags me on.
David Bojay Dec 2019
Practice “my” traits
Allow the knowledge to flow
I make my food
Servings of protein
Driving alone
Up and about to nowhere
My days seem endless
Distant in my room
Awaken when I see myself perform my life
But is life everything and everyone if we’re all reflections of ourselves

Performing this experience in the now... we are the crowd and dancers

I am you
But my thoughts conquer and the surface is all I see
My ego doesn’t understand
I want to love it so that it shrinks

I’m full from my meal
I miss Sabrina, my dear friend
I’m on this journey, and you’re still in it too somehow
Beauty is when the mind ends
When you just are with what’s infront of you

Cultivating in this state of loneliness

Collecting information
Input
Output
I don’t want to work tonight
The people will dance to the music
I’ll dance to our lives
But still playing my role
Shake my head right
Security
Whatever

Everything is happening in one moment
Sometimes it’s
:/
Sometimes it’s
:)
You know
Either or... it still is... “is”

When it all collapses, your spine tingles
I love my family
I love myself more these days, but it’s hard
My thoughts fall into the processors
Some seem to be “important”
I’m practicing my life
I’m experiencing it all in one
In one breath
I shift in and out
But it’s always there
Either way, I cherish the emotions
The downfalls
The glory moments

I come back to myself
I come to back to all
Behind the curtains
Behind the show
Behind the producers
Behind the mind
Underneath it all
In peace
Dancing in the stillness of it all
So much to think
They come and go
But some are part of me, they are stitched into my mind
I’m going to drink some coffee
This one is everywhere
But inside me
“Meeeee”
I miss myself sometimes
But I’m wrong to
This is fresh
I’m getting used to the handles of this acceptance
A follicle in an ocean
Vessels of ideas walking the earth, ******* each other
Mark Wanless Nov 2017
"Puppets Of The Cosmos"


    Puppets of the cosmos we are
    No they conspiracy      together one form
    Mind breathers processors excreter's
    **** happens thought wise watch
    Where you step      to late!      brain feces
    Everywhere      permeates mental atmosphere
    Undiscovered doesn't mean non-existing
    Fuzzy headed people all over      mental health
    Is contagious      germs of pre-conscious origin
    Float the psychic wind up yours and in
    You can't help it      cold      flu      aids      hemorrhagic
    Fever equivalents      scary isn't it      i prefer
    Not to see but can't pluck out the
    Deep down power greater than myself
    Beautiful handiwork malleable consciousness
    Somehow full of
    Not knowing
    So much hidden
    Only a constellation away
    Star travelling I'm a-going
    Won't be back again
    One way trip in space time mind works
    No beginning no end of cause effect
    Seeing is believing
    The answer gnosis sapiens
    Next step compassion evolving forever
    Now shape not big enough but
    Desire creates genetic change
    Psychophysical aggregates      karma collectors
    Cut the strings and be free!
    Make self not war

— The End —