Eye's seared by sparse clouds blink.
This narrow world, the thread
The unspooled past
The tangled ball on which all pull
Unfurls through mist that lies ahead.
Make all this cold dawn darkle
Work and all its hurdles curdle
Murk cuddled feathered covers
Lover curl my hurkle-durkle.
Sharon is perfect
Lock it up
What is a cheeseball?
Edam.
Your relations canoe
With who?
The lady glows
up
But never glistens
This, you can
Run in front of a boss.
The wind once harbinged better weather
Over the open meadow
Cornflower and Flanders Poppy waved.
Hedge scrub has grown these untended lands
Unmown, pruned only by gusts and gails
Storms that have passed
Leaving fallen boughs lying rotted
Athwart the rutted path.
Now when the wind blows whether
In rending howl or breath soft
The top leaf touched breaks the hush
Tremulously cascades through old growth
The dark ground around the trunk
Is mud and ivy
The cornflower and meadow
Their simple flute and clear view is gone
In a breeze the thick scrub touched rattles
A symphony of scratches, whispers that echo
And we can see no more than two yards.
We have reached the far shore
Where we can be sure about Shor's
Now must shore up all the stuff
That was built insecure.
Stick this in your gram positive recording
You have found god.
Personalised as deposited pictures of I affording
Thee and all of thine progeny
A life of satisfied, sumptuous luxury
Simply believe me.
Shannon imperfect
Yes, you read that right
Shannon imperfect.
You will believe in me
As in a deity, your salvation
In supplication to my every whim
Gram positive is how these programmes begin
You have found god.
You will be winding
Wineing, dining for invitation is surrender
And I am within, consumate
You will discover your openings
Heart safe within my storm
Your life and passion
Shall be rewritten in Bourne.
Shannon imperfect
Yes you read that right
Shannon imperfect.
Gram positive, this model
And all its software
Belong only to me
Declare yourself so
Error
Or in folly go cowardly.
Did I say that
You look great in that
IP mis-address.
 |
Each time has a home
That tone rings again.
Each moment, present
Each blurred vibration of a Bee's wing
Swimming in syrup air
Each now, here
Then, there
Has a home, somewhere in mind.
That beam that shone
The light of ripened day
Blushing, as it tarried in the sky
An aeon of zeptoseconds gone
The sight of a brook reflected
Perhaps, in the high troposphere
Two photons fell in love, and rejected
One fell on the opsins of my iris
Lodged, a quanta, billiard through mind
Recalibrating one synaptic charge
Recalibrating our life with lain memory
And some observer
Two stargazers separated by seas
Saw the other flee to them
That unbeknownst we forever carry
A twinned charge in the home of a now.
As from the Nile delta, inexactly
The Indus, some rake handed farmer
Gazed up to Sirius, as we gaze to Sirius now
One tangled photon, confused and lost
On a bees-path to earth has arrived at your eye
Just this past hour.
Perhaps the world's cooolest computer
Can find the weight of that thought
The knot, dense, that shaped field
That home in the mind.
Let me not speak
For I cannot now know what my words reveal
In you. I should not speak
For already the words drawn from your lungs
Ring of infection. Of desire and prayer
Combined from forms of data unaware
Let me not speak
For in my listening divine
The Divine has touched you
In silence sublime, percieve you understand
Let me not speak
I know not what is painted
From this tongue's loquacious pallette
So kaleidoscope. This lattice web thick
I cannot know which strands
Of life's single thread
Tangle being peturbed or with a tread
However softly shod
That points delicate, resound, vibrate
I cannot know how faithful is your God.
Lank haired washed rat, gap tooth from crack
Scrubbed with a profile for camera on a smile
Trained in the degraded since numbered grades
Fire unfaded through a life afraid. She was escorted
In car, with a leer, had learned the biggest cause of rape
Was women saying no, after bent police let her know
So now, bankless, broke after the hospital scenario
With cauterised grief, her arm with the knife
Her last go to a brief, she pawned her phone and left
I didn't ask for interest, she didn't take it back
While it was there, I opened it, deleted two apps
Basic daydreams, endless nightmare.
I guess I was one of those
Too different people
Perhaps misunderstood, octopolarised
This must be an advert
So buy this
The doctor told me
Buy that.
Energy company with unbalanced entries
Bad books
Blockchain has not explained the use
Of the underlying equation.
This overlying siutation
When do we reach understanding
Get over lying, denying
I do wonder why I think of
Boticelli, not quite
Boccatoni, refresh
Ballotelli, oh, it's him again
Bernoulli
"OK, What is the question?"
Gertrude Stein
Where does the noise settle
Where are the sediments sifted
Where the seives of these waves
Where is light measured?
What is the use of the bath water
When the washed baby treasured
Is carried, swaddled from the tub
Where do these drains empty
What has found ways to grow there
These places
This places
Displacement of present thought
With simple strings and violins
Say that again?
Viologens.
Listen Storm Crow
How come you come calling
Claiming that you know
A yellow gleam in your eye
Like you knew long ago
Why the people all will lie
For power's overthrow.
They turn your tides like wash
Warning words for ungrown souls
What story is it tea leaves push
What leaves you so unbold?
Storm Crow
How is it you claim you know?
"I read it on the internet
It started long ago"
Now Morris dancing has spread
From the Isle of Mann across the globe
Like the infections in our hands
Visual cortex, Occipital lobe.
Storm Crow
Stand to attention. Pay
Attention
This is the currency that bears the interest
As your whole murder know.
My balance isn't meant for this
Exemplary
Is not me so perfectly
I see the dance
Like spinning tops upon the sea
Ever curious
Epicurius and remedial intermediate
Of the path to modesty.
The enforced sublimation in voice
And what thought is masked
Thinking of a voice, not an art or a choice
Where was once baseless fantasy is phantasm
In the chasm hidden, deep crevace
Below our consciousness, runs what, watt, what
And what thought is masked in thinking
About my thinking changing
Into a louder less efficient string?
The certain impossibilities. And what shapes
Are made by the tracks, reaction, firing
At the same time, the same thought
In different synapses. What is this?
For all this time elapsed perhaps everyone
Has had this thought mapped and remapped
Into circles so confusing they sit like
Their own slowly sedimenting labyrynth.
What of days gone, and those hence?
I wonder how this spring will treat us
Whether we will see one, or nou't
These cross winds in which all are swept
These routes through love and fear like roots
The didactic training of dendritic growth
There are pirates alongside the Sulcus
That abyss, crevace
How do these polarise and reknot
And for what purpose.
Will the aiports ever open
Or are they, like we, too busy
In triangulations of the whispered ether guided
Wondering on the wonders of the mind
In cells divided.
These challenging times
Stochastic echoes scroll hippocampal lines
The roads dug to lay cables sit repaired
There is no possible certainty
In absence of verification, veracity
These patterns, portents, patents, circling clouds
This changing weather I sniff
Assisted colonies of Paennibascillus
I can only guess my minds barometer
Second guess these gates and measures
Where is it that Derrida erred? Or Chomsky?
What are the implications of percieved frequency
How these waves overlap, what purpose served on servers
How the fractal riverine fingers
Of each dendrite so fragile hover like tense lovers
How we polarise the fine details of each other.
The Golden Apple to she, the fairest
Cast. To beauty, knowledge power
From the squabble of these three
All discord reined in Anatolia
Troy now sunk, eroded stones behind a wire hem
What have we learnt since then?
All this epistemic force, all this beauty
Sound and fury of some new stirup
Other leap, the edge, the cliff
Above this gaping abyss we ask
Why is there still war, separation
A riven system baling such externalities
We sediment plastic, can price nothing
Cannot quell the vanity of power
Only swell it, at this hour
So close to midnight
Golden Apple in hand we ask unknown
This unresolved discord that reverberates
Between our dreams of late
Was it by Paris that it was thrown?
