Cloud castles

Building castles is expensive
Has bankrupted many Kingdoms across the passing eons
The concentric rings and Arsenals of Antioch and Tyre
Now in this century of simulation our dreams are rising higher.

The castles in the sky
Bricks of cumuli, a bed of cirrus,
Columns of towering stratus
What foundation is this?
What cost in shaping, holding wet air here?

The price of castles in the clouds?
Each nation building in its fear
That silence between us oh so loud
From budget surplus swiftly to two trillion in arrears.

For all the mud that crowds our feet
One thing seems perspicacious, clear
The cost of castles that will make us proud
Its clearly much too dear.

Octamarine revolution

 If
    I had learned routines
Then
    Perhaps, probably even
Probably odd
But if
    I learned routines
Push (), pop ()
Then habit becomes low energy
My thoughts might wander
To pastures and artifice unknown
Else if
    I learned Zen
Then
        Each habit would be, probably
The next action's friend.

I have not learned routines
My day snakes through divergent tasks
Demanding of attention
If the glass is half full, fill it
As Zen demands
The full awareness of all processes
The scene within, without
These habits, monastic
Where did this coil first awaken
The mind to the idea of ethic and observance
These are lost conjectures in an evidential morass
I pin the tail some years before the last ice age
In Madras.

"I have not suffered in accurate iambics"

These modern forms, are dub, Libet's delay
Second guessing my pen and what aid
Is provided from without while I am mined within
What mind is this, not twin, but octuplets
Unduplicated with which I am related
All the voices have been taken for I have not
Recalibrated the auditory connectome within my cranium
And at this moment both Ukraine and Uranium
Are aimed to urge my natural search function
The only conclusion I can infer is that we have seen
The routines of colour revolution updated in Octamarine.

N-dimensional poetry, reduced

I have encoded a memory
In complex fantasy, the thoughts of thoughts
As patterns and structures
These cats cradles enabling
New proteins. the vivid pictures and dreams
The flourishing jungle has invasive species
With fireworks. Circles, angles and lines
Our minds like Kandinsky and Constable, Cohen
All flourescesce in this evolving sequence
Of optogentic nets. What we have always
Is the old encoded complex and the fantasy
And what of Y
The clay, of our depositors and debts
What of the unseen dawn as yet
What is it that we can know, and what forget
This our play to strutt and fret
What is the application of the memory of friends
Of voices and hashtag trends
I cannot pretend this magic within my comprehension
These simple words have several.
I daily write in n-dimensions.