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DJ Thomas May 2010
We each have a voice and life, it is how we use them not how we might!  

Stop glaciers melting
Huge population movements
Death of progeny


The small reductions in carbon emissions being targeted for 2020 or 2050 - are thought to little to late to slow global warming.  The melting polar ice and glaciers together with our changing weather patterns are now fact. The resulting loss of river systems and rising sea levels will mean the desertification or flooding of agricultural lands and famine, then the migration of populations - starting with the skilled and rich seeking safety, to escalate into the terror of armed bands
warring over water, food, women and land.

By 20 20
Lets hope for twenty twenty
A 20 20


There is now the thought that the huge physical change wrought by global warming can be charted by the escalation in earthquake and volcanic activity.  And that this may eventually trigger huge eruptions in the American and Asian continents,
destroying civilisations to create a planetary volcanic winter.

Again fire and cold
The cycle repeats itself
Destroying nature


Was there a civilisation in deep history before the flood, prior to and during the last ice-age?
This has been researched and written about in great detail during the last twenty years
and many now believe it already proven by scientific review of documents and
thousands of archaeological finds, also by scientists having used the exactness
in the astronomical alignments of ancient monuments
to recalculate there greater age.  

Dead sold souls herd us
Lost mindless finger puppets
Vapid witless words


Sadly, the majority put their reliance and faith in
the actions of lawyer-ed politicians, most of whom evidence
a fixation on their own welfare,  selfish self-glorification needs
and an unwillingness to rock-the-boat once in power*

Politicians thwart
Party politics deafen
Propaganda’s herd


Putting off all radical action required until after the next election.  
Many have gifted away the necessary legal control and power to take national radical action
to a political or trade grouping of nations - in effect retaining only national rights
to go to war, put up taxes, borrow and spend monies.

Please no rhetoric
Complete local transition
Forget politics


We each have a voice and life, it is how we use them not how we might!

Living we give voice
So one voice might yet be heard
All being, believe!


We are left holding our eco-inheritance and children’s future in the palm of our hand.
Please let our love and imagination drive us each forward to make change.


Biosphere a greenhouse 
Target the impossible
Please gift some life soon?


So, we each of us have hard personal choices to make, which will encompass both positive and negative
benefits in terms of our time, lifestyle, health and wealth.  I chose to base my choices solely on how it
might benefit the eco-system and the lives of our children.

My choices are grouped under five headings: transport, food, home, lifestyle and further action. They are:
-  

Transport: Rail; Bus; Coach; Bike;
(I pass woods in bud - a Red Kite hunting twisting, unhurried moments).  
To give up ownership of electric / motor vehicles
and to avoid air travel where possible.


Highly vaporous.
Emissions farting -
barrelling vipers
.

Food: To eat meat/fish only once a week at most;
(Slaughteramas greed - industrial carcase-ed meals. Sheep full of cancer)
To study fast methods of vegetarian cooking; buy local organic foodstuffs;
visit local farmers markets and farm shops; grow my own when possible
and help friends establish vegetable/herb gardens.
To not ever feed, cleave and eat!


Fat shopaholics,
a deadly consumerism.
Cancers meat to eat


Home:   A cottage sized for me, friends and neighbours,
overlooking a wooded valley and trout stream.
Like me a little untidy and basic
.

Crossing the shallows
trout fingerling feed at dawn
White dots steep hill path

Dusk - eight painted queue
river paired mare and foal
Foliage lined dark black


Well positioned to capture the morning sun, airy and light.  
Yet insulated to stay cool or warm. With easy access to mountain bike trails
and long distance bus routes, plus several end-of-line train stations
in energetic cycling distance over the mountains


A differing beat
Quickly fading doubled steps -
pulling separate


Life Style:* A thinking poet mountain biker, living organic
not part of the great noisious noxious ribbons of hurtling tired.

Pressured paced life -
impossible  commitments.
Organic living


Further Action: *I intend to give up meat not because of the terrible cruelty involved in ten billion or more animals
being slaughtered every year to feed the human race, but due to
: 1)  animal farming being a major factor in the burning of 50 million year old rainforests at a rate of one and half acres per second to generate huge volumes of greenhouse gases, destroying the richest habitats on Earth and a principal source of oxygen; and 2)  that these billions of farmed animals
are themselves a major source of greenhouse gases
.

Burning rainforests
Feeding to cleave open and eat
Subsistence farming


With ongoing intensive fishing, the world's fisheries already in crisis and climate change,
it could be that we will run out of wild-caught seafood much earlier than 2030!


Conserve energy -
and natural resources
Don’t waste foolishly


Each of us might have a different view of what globalisation is,
for some this word encapsulates the dangers of our global fast food culture, omnipresent brands,
popular culture, changing diets and the growing use of packaged processed foods
.

Freedom to act sought
Globalisation's curses
Octopus suckers!


For many it is the illegal international trade in endangered species of flora and fauna,  
second only in value to the $350 billion a year global drug trafficking trade that now services
perhaps more than 50 million regular users of ******, ******* and synthetic drugs
.

The label 'globalization' can cover the: spread and integration of different cultures;  
industry moving to low per capita income countries; sweatshops supplying this seasons branded goods
to retail outlets worldwide;  complex international interleaved financial trading instruments being developed
by banks and financial institutions to trade worldwide, create profits and pay huge bonuses, without risk to themselves
.

Globalisation -
orchestrated profiteers,
betting our losses


Many see globalisation as being the beneficial spread of free trade, liberty, democracy and capitalism,
involving the efficient allocation of resources and capital through the spread of technology.
Unelected international bodies and institutions such the World Bank actively promulgate globalisation,
a '‘world government’ promoting close economic ties between nations
.

Enculturation
Our sad indoctrination
Globalization
  

The anti-globalisation movements dislike the corporate and political nature of globalisation,
protesting the resultant harm done to the biosphere, a more rapid and extensive deterioration of the environment
and the unintended but very real consequences of globalisation: the erosion of traditional culture
resulting in social disintegration; a breakdown of democracy; the spread of new diseases;
changes in diet; increasing poverty.
.

I view globalisation and it's propagation as leading to the final destruction
of the world's cultures and civilisations by locked us into a
dogmatic world political doctrine secured through
trade and political alliances of states, institutions
and corporations that remain hell bent on
imposing this world governance. Such
that individual countries governments
cannot consider making substantive
radical change to avert the planet
being pushed into a natural cycle
that will end the human race
.

Caged in Fools World
The people hear heroic call  
Each one a hero
!

The peoples and cultures of the world need perhaps just one western country to
break the legal chains of globalisation and adopt a radical economic regeneration program
designed to make the total transition to a dynamic culture of localised
clean communities centred on the individual not competition*  

Only one tool
National taxation for -
economic change.


Here I begin discussing how global, regional and national economies might
be based on the growth of small organic local economies.
not the repeated foolishness involved in chasing lower cost base manufacture -
each time at great cost to the economy it has migrated from!
Then a further culture becoming totally reliant
on the transport of foodstuffs and goods -
I can here you saying
:

"Oh **** this guy is -
talking about change, changing -
the world we live in!"


Yes, I am and do we have a choice?  But such change will be organic and involve business
in the restructuring and regeneration of economies till we share green economies.  
In small part his is already happening slowly!


Unlock taxation,  
survivals powerful tool.  
Needed now for change!


This is why we need to consider doing something that many of today's
plutocrats, economists, bureaucrats and politicians, would dismiss out of hand or
discuss endlessly in terms of perfectly competitive markets, perverse economic incentives etc


Major solution
National taxation change
Human extinction



WORK in HAND

This haiku sequenced eco-haibun is an ongoing project being penned day-by-day by many that care and take action. Your reactions are all welcome, thank you


**Take back control now.  
Cease all squabbling, achieve act - decisively!

Globalisation's, global control cut away.
Diversity sought

Promote well being.  Act with imagination -
for ecology!

Creating employment -
with local utilities, local food and transport

Incentivise tax,  to create local benefits.
Gain prosperity

Income taxation -  value added tax, aged -
dangerous mistake

Local licensing.  Lead don't follow excuses.
Saviour taxation

Imaginative - energy, food and transport -
local licensing

An alternative - energetic strategy,
greening business

Organic foodstuffs - out compete processed food.
Life promoting health

Healthy government - a healthy population. 
Zero income tax!

Locally taxed - by distance it travelled -
and category

Products bar coded.  Point of agreed production -
and category

Local added tax, by distance it travelled -
and category

Local energy, initiatives supplant.  
Replacing at risk

User energy, capture and storage.  
Eco-dwelling plan

Local water works,  supplanting initiative.
Replace the at risk

User water need.  Capturing and storing half.
Securing supply

Communications, local initiatives.
Protecting our needs

Local healthy food, life saving initiative.
Planting guaranteed

Sort unemployment, local work available.
Agriculture base

Radical transport - initiatives needed.
Change made possible

Season’s colours blur - in ageing contemplation
chilling warm breezes

Ganges dried mud - dust
Armed hungry thirsty tide
Generations despair,  lost

Our politicians -
squabble condemn progeny.
Flee panic and die

HAIKU SEQUENCE FINISHED

HAIBUN PROSE BEING ADDED
Day by Day
This haiku sequenced eco-haibun needs prose and additional haiku added day by day.  Contributing comment and reactions considered for inclusion...

copyright©DJThomas@inbox.com 2010
Chuck Feb 2014
Smashing the ice with a sledge hammer is exhausting
Pounding, sweating, blisters pulsating
Slowly chipping away at the vastness of frozen emotions
Yet, the ice is formidable from months of winter

Forced to recalculate, to innovate, to anticipate
Salt has the ability to melt ice into tears of joy
Unless the salt solvates in open wounds

Progress freezes until nature's spring decides
The sun is enlightened enough to slowly
Allow thawing in his Mother's time
In the farthest reaches of known space, a single starship lay juxtaposed against the stars. The ship was named Destiny. The cold metallic shell hummed with energy as it sat motionless. There were large chunks of wreckage and shrapnel surrounding the Destiny, the last bits of oxygen burning away.
The Destiny was a silver and blue X-Class, a state-of-the-art high speed ship, currently the fastest in the Nine Galaxies. It's pilot was a female Extro-sapien named Jade. Her species was descendant from ****-sapiens, a long forgotten species from the Third galaxy. Extro-sapiens were humanoid, though taller than their descendants. They prided themselves on their indestructible immune system and immunity to all known poisons.That, coupled with the fact that their skin was strong enough to repel most blades with ease, made them extremely hard to ****. Extro-sapiens were nimble hunters, naturally armed with razor sharp fangs and claws. Jade was a bounty hunter, taking contracts to hunt down criminals or to escort VIPs in hostile areas for generous sums of currency. Her target's ship now lay in ruins, it's now-dead pilot floating in the void of space.
Jade walked from the cargo bay of her ship to the cockpit, stripping away her suit and clothes, tossing them in their respective rooms before sitting at her throne, not a stitch of clothing to be seen. It was relieving to be free once more.
She glanced over the various screens before her, some with pictures of her target either on a wanted poster or in the sealed container aboard her ship. She swiped the images to her left, compiling them into a message for her client before sending them. Almost immediately there was a soft chime as her client started a video uplink. Jade quickly grabbed the large headset from the floor and placed it over her pointed ears. She swiped her finger over the right earpiece and it clicked to life.
Jade growled and crossed a hand over her chest just before the screen shifted. An image of her client appeared before her, a reptilian humamoid adorned with gold rings on his short horns. Jade heard him hiss in surprise.
"Bounty hunter, if I had known you'd be so stunning, I'd have met you in person."
Jade's dual vocal cords echoed faintly in the cockpit. The sound of two angelic voices rolled off her forked tongue. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Besides, a night with me would cost you a fortune."
The man laughed, "Worth it, in my opinion."
Jade growled, "You have your proof of death, Silva, I expect you've wired the credits to my account?"
"Of course, of course! Though I could add a little extra if you simply move your hand."
Jade narrowed her eyes. "A show like that would cost you at least a million. Because I'm worth it."
She heard him chuckle, "Indeed you are." There was a pause and then he smiled, "Feel free to move your hand now."
Jade flashed her fangs, "Of course, you don't mind if I check first, right?"
Silva shrugged and Jade used her free hand to pull up her bank account. Sure enough, her initial payment had been received, along with the extra. She grinned and lifted her hand away from her chest. "Feast your eyes, perv."
She grinned as the reptilian choked. "Now that is worth a million!" He grinned from horn to horn, "I'll let you know when the next contract opens."
Jade returned her hand to her chest and growled, "This stays between us. Remember, I know where you live."
Silva's expression didn't change but she could tell that he flinched. "Of course. Until next time, gorgeous."
The video screen faded away and Jade quickly began to transfer her payment to other accounts. She sighed and turned to her right, seeing a map of the nearby systems. She spotted a contract pinned on a planet a few hundred lightyears away, and she gawked at the price tag.
"Ten billion units?" She whispered, "I could retire early with a payday like that."
She furiously began to type in calculators and coordinates. Her computer's voice echoed I'm the cockpit, "ERROR, PLEASE RECALCULATE TRAGECTORY."
Jade bared her teeth in anger as the holographic screen projected a diagnostic of her ship. One single line of text blinked slowly, enveloping her attention.
"FUEL LEVEL LOW, MAXIMUM SAFE TRAVEL: 40 LIGHTYEARS."
She swore under her breath, growling deep in her throat. She adjusted the microphone on her headset and cleared her throat. Her dual vocal cords echoed faintly in the cockpit. "Destiny, lock in coordinates to the nearest space station. Lock down cargo and prepare to engage hyperdrive."
The hologram buzzed to life as the various systems reacted to the sound of her voice. As Jade waited she shut her eyes, gently running her fingers over her bare chest. Jade's was proud of her body, hating to cover such beauty with clothes. Her arms, legs, and back were covered in ornate tribal tattoos. Jade had spent three continuous days enduring the hand poked tattoo, and she felt very proud in displaying the art whenever she could. She let her hands wander about her curves for a moment before stopping. Jade blinked a few times and shook her head. The bells at he tips of her long silver braids jingled. Jade whispered to herself, "There's time for that during lightspeed." Since she worked alone, she took every opportunity she could to relieve her tensions, as it allowed her to focus on her work without distraction. Companionship meant liability in her line of work.
She waited patiently for the computer, leaning back in her fur lined throne. Once all systems had finished their tasks, a soft voice echoed, "Hyperdrive on standby."
Jade took a soft breath. "Engage."
The starship lurched forward, the engines roaring ferociously behind her for a moment before the sound dampening system kicked in. She heard a familiar beeping and glanced up at the hologram, seeing the countdown from ten seconds. She felt the comforting shiver of excitement she always felt before launch, smiling softly to herself.
She braced herself in the chair and said, "Open view port, engage shield."
The large metal screen in front of her pulled away, revealing the grand masses of stars and planets before her. Jade took a deep breath and counted down, "Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
The ship screamed forward, and the starlight formed a beautiful tunnel around the Destiny as it traveled through hyperspace. Jade slumped back into her chair and closed her eyes. "Destiny, Disengage interior gravity field."
Jade felt herself lifting off of her chair, becoming weightless. Her braids jingled softly as they spread around her like a lionfish.
Jade pulled off her headset, letting it float in front of her as she stretched, running her hands along her body again and she shivered again. She twisted in midair, turning to the sealed door behind her. She touched the panel next to the door, feeling the familiar cold screen. The door opened and Jade floated into the corridor. She turned left towards her quarters and entered through another door. The walls were decorated with digital posters of various terrains she had visited during her travels. She drifted toward her bed, covered with a fur blanket and pillow. Jade wandered to the storage locker next to the bed, opening it delicately. Inside were a few personal mementos and data logs, and a small decorative box on the top shelf. She shivered as she thought about its contents. "Later. I think I need to sleep for now." She gripped the stability handle above her bed and lay down on the warm gel bed, covering herself with the fur. Jade breathed a sigh of relief as she relaxed, closing her eyes. It was at that moment that she felt how tired she really was, her muscles ached and groaned as she pressed a button on the side of the bed, changing the density of the gel to allow her to sink. The warm gel creeped over her legs and belly, then her chest and shoulders.
Jade groaned as the gel encapsulated her, covering every possible inch of her. Her mind wandered as her hand hovered over the other controls. "Massage or no?"
She bit her lip and pressed the button once, feeling the gel start to pulsate around her body.
Jade shivered and said to no one, "Who needs a man when you have tech like this?"
She spent the next few hours in the massage bed, finding her way into the decorative box partway through. Once Jade had thoroughly massaged her desires away, she climbed out of the gel, thankful for the weightlessness. She was no longer confident in the use of her legs. She pressed the first button twice and the gel began its cleaning process.
Jade retrieved her toys and placed them back in the box, pressing a button similar to the one on the bed, closing it and placing it back into the storage locker to clean.
Jade stretched again, invigorated. She floated back to the cockpit, checking the projected time of arrival. "Ten more hours. Plenty of time to get my gear ready."
Jade floated back into the corridor, this time twisting to the right towards her workbenches. The room was dark, save for a few blue work lights. As Jade hovered in the doorway, the overhead lights snapped on, casting a soft white glow around the room. She floated towards the first bench, where her gun hovered in a stasis field. It was almost four feet long, with three rotating barrels. Most bounty hunters favored energy weapons and plasma rifles, but not Jade. She preferred metal bullets that could shred flesh and punch through doors with ease. Her weapons would not fail her in case of electro-magnetic pulses either.
Jade floated to the next table, where her boots and mask hovered in another stasis field. Her boots were strong, heat and frost proof, and had a strong magnetic field to allow her to walk in zero gravity or even upside down. She had recently installed a pair of thrusters to them, which would allow her to fly for a short period of time, enough to get her out of harm's way or to a better vantage point.
Jade's mask was armor plated, angled to deflect any incoming rounds with ease. Two tubes connected the mask to an air reservoir that sat at the base of Jade's neck, underneath her braids. The eyepieces doubled as eye protection and target analysis. One of the lenses was cracked beyond repair and Jade swore. She hovered over the table and delicately disassembled the mask, letting the broken lens float freely away while she installed its replacement. She reassembled the mask and slid it onto her face. There was nothing at first, then the internal computers activated and she saw clearly through the mask. She glanced over the diagnostic data and nodded once she was satisfied. She took off the mask and set it back in its stasis field.
She turned to the final bench. Where her bodysuit lay in a crumpled heap of woven uranium and steel fiber. The bodysuit fit her like a second skin, adhering to every curve she possessed. The uranium fibers acted as an energy source, powering all of her necessities. The black suit shimmered as she touched it, reacting to her skin, begging to be worn. She smiled softly and patted the heavy fabric. "Soon, darling."
Jade glided to the door, leaving her gear behind as she returned to her living quarters. She hovered in front of the full length mirror, looking over her body. She smirked and purred, "Gorgeous as always."
Jade went to the storage locker and retrieved a large metal crate from the base. She took it to the mirror and opened the crate, revealing thirty blue feathers, each roughly a foot long. She had collected one for each of her braids, and she began to tightly weave the feathers into the tips of the braids. In the middle of each of her braids was a strong electro-magnetic core that, once activated, spread her braids like a lionfish. They would act as a distraction, allowing her the element of surprise. The magnetic field they created also acted as a strong shield.
Once the last feather had been woven into her hair, she then wrapped each braid in strips of the same uranium-steel fibers as her suit.
As the last of the fibers had been tucked into place, Jade grinned. The powerful fibers would amplify the effects of the electro-magnetic cores. Jade smiled at their resemblance to whips. She wanted to test them, see if they would crack like an actual whip.
Jade returned to her workshop, donning the bodysuit and her control gloves. She floated into the main corridor, which was wide enough that she wouldnt hit the walls once her braids were fully extended.
She took a deep breath and touched the her thumb and forefinger together twice, activating the electro-magnetic cores.
The sound was deafening, forcing Jade to scream involuntarily and clutch her ears in pain. She was shaking, her vision blurring. Her ears were ringing as she was finally able to hear again.
Jade reached up and felt her fully extended braids, marveling at their rigidity.
Once her hearing had completely recovered, she tapped her fingers together, deactivating the cores. Her braids floated limply in the air and Jade curiously went to the cockpit, sitting in her throne.
"Destiny, analyze decibel range of sound from main corridor."
After a moment, the ship's voice echoed, "Decibel range of one hundred ninety."
Jade shuddered, she was surprised she hadn't been deafened by the sound. She shook her head softly and looked at the projected time of arrival. "Seven hours."
She yawned, "Time to sleep then. Destiny, wake me up thirty minutes before we reach the station."
"Affirmative."
Jade lifted herself over the chair and ventured into her room. The gel bed had finished cleansing and she pushed herself onto it, feeling the familiar warmth. She focused on slowing her breathing and she closed her eyes, passing quickly into deep sleep.

In her dream, Jade stood on a slightly raised metal platform in the middle of a desert. The platform was massive, with sand covering the edges. Jade looked around, seeing nothing around her. She looked up into the sky and saw a single massive sun orbited by twelve planets and a ring of stars. Jade looked around her again and saw a massive wall of water closing in on her from all sides. She shut her eyes tight as she heard the water rushing around her.
Jade felt herself being carried away by the current. When she opened her eyes, she was back in her bed.
Jade blinked and sat up, unsure of herself.
She thought she could still hear the water rushing past her ears.
Jade shook her head and the bells brought her back to her senses. She could hear Destiny's alarm ringing within the bed and she pushed the third button, silencing the alarm. "Destiny, restore gravity.
Jade felt heavy for a moment, then the gravity stabilized and she rolled her shoulders. The countdown was now at thirty minutes.
Jade retrieved the headset from the floor and slid them over her ears. The screen in front of her had brought up a diagnostic of the space station. A light flashed on the instrument panel and Jade pushed it gingerly. An alien voice came over her headset, "X-Class starship, please respond."
Jade positioned the microphone in front of her mouth, "This is X-Class, go ahead."
There was a pause, then, "This is the Space Station Ender, please state your business and expected stay."
Jade hesitated, then said calmly, "Refuel and resupply. Expected stay no longer than forty-eight hours."
A minute passed, then another. Finally a response came, "X-Class you are cleared to engage docking procedures upon arrival."
Jade smirked, "Affirmative. ETA twenty-five minutes."
There was an audible click as the call ended. Jade sighed and pondered the contents of her cargo hold. She stood and turned to the back of her ship, going to the very end of the corridor to a locked panel.
Jade typed in an eight digit combination and the door swiftly slid open. The walls were lined with large storage compartments, though Jade wasn't worried about those. She counted her paces and stopped four paces from the door and she sidestepped right twice, touching her gloved fingers to the floor. The sound of gears and hydraulic pistons echoed throughout the room as a six foot by ten foot container lifted from the floor. Jade ran her fingers along the side of the container, opening the multitude of doors. As each door swung open, stacks of weapons and explosive devices became visible. This was the cargo that her target had been carrying. Since it no longer had an owner, it was worth a lot of money. Jade couldn't resist the possible fortune, bu
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2019
The Deepest Twist

<>
for my friends who know that when HP says this my 1300th
poem, it’s off the mark by hundreds; nonetheless
1300 is worthy number to celebrate your affections
nat
<>

you return back my older children, fully grown,
my eldest word babies who never ever visit,
blessing them anew, lavishly, with special wishes

I,
take them,
with both hands, a reacquainting occurs,
the old words, deep twist, now hurtful hurt because
reimagining when and how easy they came to be birthed and
how the replication of that process is now a
practiced impossibility

how they burst forth, in purple majesty, wheat waving,
wholly formed, bathed in holy water, leaving no stretch marks,
only just an empty sac inside instantly needing,
needling me into auto-refilling right away

even the twenty four hour, hard deliveries,
long and arduous, were so easy created faust-fast,
that the errors of typography contained,
became lasting hall marks, iconic nomenclatures of
passionate loving-nonpareil

now, well past point of urgent addiction,
unlike then every glance, each sidewalk cracking,
lamppost shadow casting was
a sea story for a deep dive delving asap

I,
supplied answers for the internal badgering incessant
happy ****** need, mine, to go, spill the words,
cab or bus motion nursing them,
now they come slowly strolling,
semi-formed, needy, inconclusive, reused,
and feeling as trite as a cloth coat from an old thrift shop,
so wanting for tender loving care,
which is to provide when you are
four score

wondering how easy it was in prior times when inspiration
fell like a deciduous tree’s fall colorings gifts or
as little children’s nightly multitude variety of dream tales,
when whole worlds uncovered, nay, universes,
hidden between summers green grass blades,
or in unique snowflakes

the semi-forgot love affairs that parented poems
by the score of scarred orchestral scores,
now love circle-turn in holding patters in the
crowded skies above nyc,
awaiting for a trafficked man to give permissions
to “run-away”land that rarely is granted

once, poems in turbulent fluid born, noisy ripping of skin,
****** by the emitting of  constant calming tenderous words,
wonderful drippings, so many multiple births in a moment,
even the OBGYN is complaining,

give other poets a chance at parenthood!

the awesome anger of human tragedy is now so shopworn
from over experience,
even god visits less and less, for it is written,
nothing new under the sun*

though soon his annual visitors day approaches (Day of Atonement) and god will require new
words of human comforting,
a new poem acknowledging that being godlike
is ******* hard work,
for humans are annoyingly capable of incredulous kindness

how can one justify allowing unlacing acts of insane violence to tear
the hand stitched lacing fabric that’s ever ready
to bring us together in an instant elegiac joining

the truth is every one of todays poem are clawed,
shovel dug out from cavities and crevasses,
your new words of recognition of the oldies but goodies,
iron of irony, make it hard, hard, painful to write
without an epidural to numb the painful
dumbing down

when I am breaching my waters, I am hard to spot,
we ancient humpbacks live beneath the deep distanced,
cold waters for many more minutes
than we need surface for breathing,
the show-off fluking, less and less,
and when we birth,
every two years,
must bring the calf-poem to the surface instantly,
to breath, lest it die,
all the while repeating to ourselves:

what was miraculous writing is now nearly invisible,
to blinded fingers that arrhythmically cane tap,
words difficult to recall, recalculate, recalibrate
into a wholly poem

only the **** tears,
that same shameful violin permanent-accompaniment,
they laugh at me when now, they alone
come first quickest, all too easy,


appearing nataurally,

without a formal
written
invitation
“He says, "Son, can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

Sing us a song, you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feelin' alright”
JDK Mar 2015
Too long.
Too late.
You wanna **** some time?
Ask Jeff about fate.


Too strong.
Too great.
Hey! I resent that,
by the way.


Feel it quiver.
Feel it shake.
Ball it up into a planet,
and then make that Earth quake.

Send the world's end.
You'll find it bends instead of breaks.
Now let's not pretend,
like you've made some sort of mistake.


Process where and when,
then recalculate.
These measurements aren't precise;
there's a bit of give and take.

You lost me way back when you first opened your mouth.
I was following for a minute but then it all went south.
*I can't help it man;
I was born in a deep well.
I've spent my entire life
just slowly climbing my way out.
I could use some help . . .
brandon nagley Dec 2015
Galileo couldst not even seeith
The heaven that lieth
Inside queen Jane;

Einstein couldst not even dreameth
The beauty
Inside of her brain;

Edwin Hubble lived inside
Of a bubble, being blinded
From her view;

Stephen hawking, forget thine
Scientific talking; mine empress
Is from God, a divine muse.

Isaac Newton, recalculate thine
Mathematic's; mine amour' is not a number,
Awakest from slumber, sweet Jane is aromatic.




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Allyson Walsh Jun 2015
She tells you there is a hurricane inside my head
And how my pupil is not the eye of the storm

Agitation creeps underneath the layers of my skin
She is sure that I am trouble (or troubled)

Obviously, I am a thief in the night
I am stealing you away, after all

And she explains to your sister that I am the wolf in sheepskin
Just waiting to devour

I tell her I don’t understand what it is I did wrong
She tells me to exam myself once more and recalculate all my flaws
For myself
"I want you to be serious about your relationships. Do you think this girl is even right for you? She doesn't seem friendly at all."
(I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing it for my sake.)
Roxana Feb 2021
I stared at your eyes as you poured into mine, together we were alone and alive, so full of love and all that is good but, yes there’s a but in every love story.

You stared at my eyes as I poured into yours, giving myself to you with no choice because I wanted to become one with you but, yes there’s a but in every love story.

Let’s recapitulate, recalculate, put it on pause and really meditate upon the events that transpired, because at first we were so wired, secretly in love at the wrong **** time, fire was burning and we were just learning, really understanding what was happening, but the thing is the moment wasn’t right, we tried to make it fit but it really didn’t sit well with the universe’s plan... whatever that is.

This is for you, to understand my truth. To understand and comprehend that I owe you my truth. I can’t stop thinking about you, and that’s the truth. I’m hoping the universe delivers on our love story, because you’re the only one I love unconditionally and truthfully, it’s kind of scary. Time is going on and I’m waiting for you, but truth is I’m getting worried it might not be you. Maybe I’m fantasizing about something untrue, but I’ll always keep a place for you in my heart, in case you come back and decide which path is the one for us because I trust you with my soul, and that’s the unconditional truth.

I am in love with the pain in your eyes, it has me regretting all these lies that were enmeshed all over, entangled with power struggles and manipulation, when all I really wanted was honesty and your affection. I know I didn’t show it and my actions weren’t always what I wanted to portray, but it is what I displayed and I’m left alone licking my own wounds until they scar while you’re somewhere far, it’s so bizarre, how we collided once upon a time and now you’re out there while I’m taking lime with my tequila to mask the pain...

I believed for so long that we were meant to be, but I can’t go on thinking it will be, for this hope has me holding onto you and I can’t cope knowing, and not knowing, what you are thinking. Sometimes I reminisce and think about our kiss, fireworks around us while I was your miss, full of love and passionate, you were definitely my favourite. My inspiration and the reason for my poems and ideas, can I get a subpoena and get you to come see me? Is that a possibility? Would you promise me the world like you did before or would you run away to even the score from when you once loved me and I did not, a regret I will not forget...

Through the ups and downs, the happiness, the sadness and the madness, we have failed to make it work. I used to go berserk when things didn’t work in my favour, for I would lurk just to feel close to you... but the time for endings has arrived and deep inside it feels like suicide but I will let it slide for I won’t be defeated or succumb to negativity, and at last go on with my life blissfully, for there is so much to live for and I believe in my core of cores that beautiful things await. For you, for me, and for all; just know I would give my all for one more talk with you, oh the things I would say, I always pray it happens and maybe one day we shall cross paths again, but this pain doesn’t make me want to gain another rendezvous with you, so I’ll just leave it be. You will always be in my heart but this is the part where I say, goodbye.
Phil Smith Dec 2014
This is a weird weird world.
In draping the deepest of thrones, we find
the dimple of a newborn waterfall.
This is a weird weird world.

Flying endlessly like a crosstown log,
The modern mermen tip their tails and
flip their flails and
sip their sails in
this stillborn magical world.

I sit here, implying.
I waste no time in my elevator,
For I am dripping
and reminiscing
about everything
you
just
told
me
in this rickshaw striptease world.

But hey there!
Recalculate!
For I am dying simply DYING for a laboratory!
For I am dying simply DYING for some mud!
For I am dying simply DYING for an alphabetical totem!
For I am dying simply DYING!

And oh, in this world, in THIS
sacred bloodbath,
the words fly like hummingbirds!
Like dreary, dreary, hummingbirds,
in marmalade, in mother's words!

This world is just a time machine,
And we've got front row seats.
So yes, we'll put on the rock shows and the tesla coils and the
posters of Winnie the Pooh,
because there's nothing leaving for us
in this freckle cookie world.

I've got ideas, Freddie.
I've got ideas--
And they've got me. They've got me good, like a
sundae and a soccer ball, like a
city-woven carnival.

I would describe myself as disinterested at best--
for I won't be coming back.
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...
=================================
recalculate now
how many bubbles meet clouds
kids playing bubbles

~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~
Bubbles are a wonderful way to learn through play.The give the opportunity to develop a whole host of skills and children of all ages adore them.
bubbles featured image

If you think bubbles are those round, wet things that come out of a bottle with a wand, then think again.
Timothy hill Apr 2017
Sea
Lady of the sea, please recite this from me.

I'm the area, am the vessels am the breeze that moves your waves for there speed.

So take responsibility, as too my objective for you.

You are too stop, the hurricanes in there pace.

How am, I to do this task.

You will surge, your waves and move water at different speeds changing the heat.

They would then have taken of you its rage.

Disruption of fury, the hurricane, saying stop, let me destroy the city's and builds.

Am the focal point, of my only Mission
too divinely place chaos into points am chooseful.

Only the objective, is plane to construct.

Going into shelters yet my strengths have been modified, so watch as bridges collapse as my previous attempts where point-less!

Now sea's are higher, in frequencys and boiling my power even "higher out pours of rage".

So scents of "humid rain" back yards you will soon be mine.

For am, making a new Region of Space, for All my Destroyed "Components shall become There".

Spinning winds and scrap and walls.

Cars horns bering north as lighting is in designated local.

So as men, run there tallest builds fail miserable.


My honor, winks "hi" then changes to good bye, the dust fills the lung's of person sadly they couldn't have stopped this.

Long duration, as Weather men ponder how the hurricane, stayed in land so long.

Span, of 4 hours the hurricane changes it's path going for a flame of green.

So tax of yellow, and suits and blue jeans filth of pavements.

Tornados spawned in too eat the gross area's.

Tennis courts ***** then engulf into the spin of raft.

There was only whom, that could reverb the hurricane, he created in pure power.

He had made preportion, to avoid all out comes if successful was achieved.

The device uses all matter, in the range of the path of a power source.

And recalculate it's pressure on the ground.

See when a hurricane, stays in land it messy with the gravity some what strange.

Planes fell out of a rigid now sky.

Super weaponry, where place in a hurry to shoot, in attempts to diulth it's stain.

Sorry the creator, then states there noting the can accomplish.

For my plains are flawless and tip toeing in silent progress.

Only there is no means of transportation, for its matter is right at scene.

Deconstructing and unfilling your subscriptions.

I'm a teacher of metric diameters and master at construction.

So with amps of vocals sted fast with your own deductions.

Should have avoided the blank white of spaces.

For my out lines came and conduct reality mods.

My weather shall, yield pure fury tornados change to EF8 and hurricanes winds reach 344 mph.
Flief Aug 2015
Armored with my scars
Hidden from sight
I deformed waiting for the silence
Sizing things that should't
Again, is difficult to breath
But I have to
Recalculate my void
And exhale the difference
The sand continues to bored me
Making the desert to defrag its soul
Mr E Nov 2017
I notice the face at first
I see where they look, how they react
I can tell the curious ones
I can tell the boring ones
What one stares at reveals so much

I can see their expressions
Are they reserved? Outright?
I can tell the confident ones
I can tell the shy ones
How one acts tells me their worlds

As light reaches you before sound,
What I hear next confirms my prior assumptions
I prompt conversation knowing the outcome,the response
If wrong I recalculate and return to better understand you
It's just a little game I like to play
A game that tells me exactly what I knew
The game that tells me all of you
Dream Fisher Nov 2019
Nobody's want to take blame,
I've got a trigger finger itching to shoot
Spitting out a paper that says Bang!
Push down the weird kid,
Until he steadies himself and takes aim
Then we label the child insane
Maybe everyday he would get knocked down
The teachers all watch, the kids all watch
Nobody is making a sound.

Retaliate and they recalculate their attention
Get punched, nothing, punch back it's suspension.
Expulsion, they revolted. The other child,
He's been wild but his parents donate so he's got pull, kid.
It doesn't matter the matter, let ethics shatter
But dont be surprised when brains splatter.
And write a news story,
How could this happen?

Everyday they say, how could this happen?
Kids are brutal, resistance is futal
They march like militia to hit you
With just enough to hurt but not enough to snap
But once you lose sanity there is no going back.
Tragic.
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2022
Re words:

rejoint my conscious self,
reiterate, as it is late, I am old,

reread
my prior poems, rewrite them, indeed,
rebuild them, redo them in their entirety,
so you can resell them and be rediscovered!

retake them, rekindle & rearrange in new combinations,
rewarmed, you are re-rewarded in their reassembly,
again reabsorb the moment from wells beneath your skin tissue,
recall the prescient exactitude of what you were then feeling,
readjusted for today’s new filters, recalculate the cost,
replace the cast with renewed images, refreshed faces,
new alpha dogs.

if you can resell them, they will rebuy them, no one the wiser,
thus, regain the old glory, redemption, no need to repent,
just rejoice and sleep another hundred years.


revenged.

Aug 17 2022 11:01 PM
They began to sit away from the cruel gods, from those gods who deny their children who were engendered by the cruelest and most chaste reconversion by staying on Olympus as guests, as opposed to sitting at this table of gratuity, of the very precious elixir with the invited Phrygian deities who only laughed and fostered the secrecy of the loaves of eternity, and well-being that was subject to the conscious tolerance of those who wait for a lavish banquet on a table, in these conditions with mood and prolonged perspective with tablecloths of penance and cross in exotic chores. They watered the hanging sheep on the branches of the fruits that hung from the cornucopia, and from the bakeries that made altering the enzymes of some harsh dissolution against Asia, to which Leiak devises benevolent sorcery by giving it to sip water from the drinking sea of ​​Asia Minor. in front of the illuminated Troy. The table made of seven bread baskets, seven mistletoes that escorted the gluten bread that dusted strong winds of Persephone, when falling precipitously yearning to meet Demeter; She picks it up from the gale and with her feet, she pulverizes the soft grains of the Hapalos Artos, with the goat's milk and olives that she would anoint on the very nails of her daughter Persephone, by constituting clean them with white sheets of the spongy mass. It used to be called Cappadocian yeast until it reached the shores of the noble bread that were installed on the table like Lakhma bread, as a metaphysics of the Eucharist that was carried out on the white tablecloth, which shrunk every time they took it as a domestic bread rolled around the angry parts of the Mataki tablecloth, for healings that continue the protective actions of those who enjoy a good alliance of water, and bread on the table with bad thoughts, which enrage the battered thick curtains of the abundance of the prosperity of evil. The Iaspis or Jaspes, resembled supra-scalded of natural belonging and of glittering authenticity, in the rarity that made no more than to make jesters of a Southeast Asia and not of Asia Minor. The greenish flashes spoke of life in full force to fit followed by a wisp of flash deposited by Zefian, coming and gliding in the sapphire, holding on to veins of the Alikantus sapphire eyes that were adapted to sip on the dense spring that floated by. the atmosphere of the Mataki, and then pour it into the chalices, absorbed by Leiak's sorcery, speaking of higher lapses than any known numeral, but the seventieth preceding the current one. This martyrdom of the Mataki made Leiak's esophagus segregate with the desire of a sommelier, who sips the distilled water from the glen over the cups that lessened the cruelty, badly criminal of those who do not savor food for another dinner, congratulations, if there was the failure of a Caucasus, where elixirs of mistelated and sanctified muscat wine are brought out from under the table of St. John. Everything was of ascending ambition for any liver that coveted this table of Mataki, for whom he cordoned off the mountains and made those of the valleys embrace one another, for the uniqueness of the Dodecanese islands. The totality of those who let go of their shyness, and did not allow them to refer to drinking or eating, deposed by putting a sacred ear to Zefian when he arrived on Patmos as a physical, and not spiritual, tasting, becoming effective in who toast with muscat for all the star maidens that followed him. above, violating the seals that held them, prisoner, then just then the eye of the Iaspis was made of the carats to recalculate, submitting them to the guard to signify and meet at this time between seven polyelia, and seven diskopótira, immediately to the bag of the fasmatémporos or Breadbasket Enchanted to taste.
Sorcerer Candlesticks
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
01101001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101

Expressed through a galvanized circulation system
Increase lubrication and lower friction
Temperature rises in the generator core
Coolant system is online, watch the gauges, Paul
Apply power to the speaker system
Recalculate the algebraic expression, remember to factor
Translate message:

01101001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101...  I love you
This was just something dumb I wrote during computer coding in college a long time ago.  I think it's kind of dumb, but still, intend on sharing everything that I have amassed over these long years.  I hope you guys like this lunacy lol.
Ayn May 2020
Maybe life
Will recalculate
All of these chances
For my failure.

And maybe
I’ll succeed.

— The End —