A pawned phone - precipice

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.

Too different people - Precipice

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.

Storm Crow - precipice

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.

Born Sapien - precipice

I was born Sapien
In the erstwhile, the yesterdays of legend
In tales of men
When there was romance, embrace and privacy
Now I walk cold streets
With an EEG driven voice that says it loves me
Without semantics nor understanding
Like abuse
Every face I pass is pressed
Confusion and anxious sorrow
Their eyes clouded where once were clear
Before the virus came here.

So if I were tell you
Of days when dreams were not
A data-brokers fuel
When love was not performative
When friends were calm and cool
Could you understand?
Are you there to read
I once loved with joyous heart
That now but weeps and bleeds.

This Zuckerberg psycopathy
TikTok time and drain
These people piled gold in greed
Rechoiced in smithing chains.

Remedial intermediate - precipice

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.

What is masked

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?

Will spring come. Precipice

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 times - precipice

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 - precipice

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?

Modal model - precipice

What is the medium
The medium of this tedium, yterium
The modal model
Competes to defeat the shy devil
In permutations
No procrastination, the prognosis
Is this probably
Proceeded as a process for programming
Professional prostitutes, processing destitutes
Professing substitutes
Post-modern, post-Kantian, Post truth
Post-lunch, post-post, post-boasting dopamine
Chilli chicken that's roasting
What is achieveable, the barely believeable
Snake oil for the decieveable, real parables
A flooded river's unguideable.

And It said. Precipice

And It said
Verb, group, verb. Like a dub plate
I was so late. Bit registers, requested edits
Please address this cross on your
Superior Temporal Sulcus. Discuss this
What words are those
A deadly parasite wish you breathe
About its existence?
Doghnut economics works like
28 j/mm resting 34 in disequilibrium
47 j/mm from bacterium
Pass, parse, parsely. This Darwinian
Mathematics and mechanics. Pass Lee
A high cross, leapt like a salmon at the far post
Auditory invasion galvanising my right lobe
Galavanting will be heard in the left ear. Here, here.
The gestural-linguistic overlap
Tools of creation and evolution. Don't do it like that
Is your immune computation collapsed
B Cells, phagocytes, more memory than Thrush, these hives
Refine it, scale wise. Learn. We can but assume
A lack of tubulin will corrupt sperm
Without graphene dreams, G Proteins will inform cells
Be created from Gossiping, Gossiping
With a bound across the Sulcus, bridge to face creating
Fusiform gyrus, glumate gates
Hold these poor enslaved sea horses, see these
Pangolin viruses. It is not gossiping
What will preserve our axons from this dread
Bless your cottons
Aspergillus symbiosis growing like Sandalwood
And how all these scales eukaryose and Y
I can but look up to sparse clouds in blue sky.

Anti-woke virus

Zetetic Zoology
Or Zionists at the Ziggurats

This is our choice.

Zimbabwean Zebras
Zealous Zulus
 
These Zones we Zoom.

Molluscs on the cusp. Precipice

Molluscs on the cusp
Sea Coweries in the vaults of Djibouti
Tyrenian purple, the Cyprian sea
Will another Mollusc be lost
Crushed for the raiments of Royalty?
The rails roads and cockles, our history
Oysters of England, eaten to extinction
That newly mobile population.

What fate Chrysomallon Squamiferum
The Sea Pangolin
Alternative to magnetite and appoferretin
Given a Linnaen line
One brief page
Between discovery and oblivion.

Histones, e.cigarettes, snail shells, phores
Mathematics of the Iron Spiral, key to civlisation
And survival. There is no rival system
The end of history, that begun in clay
+/-,+/-,+/- polarity, the shale beds formed that way
The ubiquity of Coca-Cola, McDonalds
No clowns, the inequity
The West is molly-coddled now.

We will all cook
On gas or electric
At home in solitary, screaming silence
Hoping not to get infected
The long boom, the long duree. Energy
Our mitochondria, eukaryotic, prophetic
It could not be clearer
Life began when a virus infected bacteria.

The horse has left without the cart

 The horse has left without the cart
The stable door ajar
Perspective at the vanishing point
We've come who knows how far.

The dust of hooves
The pastures parched
The leaden whisps of cloud
The world is held in silence now
While thunder rolls out loud.

The horse has cooked the goose of gold
The hook it has no block
The caravan pitched at the Sarai
Looks to migrating flocks.

The horse has left without the cart
Without its tack and harness
What promised once of love and god
A stampede of maddened carnage.

Precipice - part somewhere early

The Einstein quote
About reducing the universe to Maths
That you would lose something beautiful
Online is all but lost
Buried under embarassed guilt
Of architects, engine optimisation, Functionalist
Situationalist, Behaviourist
Dysfunctionalist insistence happiness
Is chemical. But trust
As guileful apes say of Gulls
Some crude approximations
Of chemistry will suffice
Everybody cannot be seen
To be unhappy on their device
Culture forms a neural Stuxnet. Unless you ask
Say express. Inhibition a tremor
On every face you pass
The neural correlates of cults and secrets
Inflammatory linguistics
I have lived a life in peace
In comfort Kings gone could not know
It comes to this
The firm ground shrunk to zero
The horror of non-linear war
The edge.

Some varieties of monster

Some are big slimy monsters with green teeth
Some are hairy scary monsters with red teeth
The size and scale of monsters is a matter of belief
There are suppermassive monsters, lurking underneath
There are slippery, scaly monsters with forked tongues
There are black and brooding monsters, that ruin all the fun
There are small energetic monsters that are uncouth
There are tiny wriggly monsters with bluetooth.

One thousand times the speed of fire

Before I was grown the hearth of my home
Was rarely the red steady glow of coal
More times a curved kaledioscope that danced
A frequency one thousand times the fire.
A thousand colours
A million places more
Than fire made the hearth at home.

Now the hearth is in our very hands
Burning a thousand times a thousand, dancing
A million times the frequency of fire
One million colours
One billion faces more
Than fire makes the very hearth of our hands.

The amalgamated Prometheseus
Feynman, Faraday, Baird bought us this.
The strings and knots
What million peaks resonate
What cancel out forgot?

Child and the chariot of the sun

At the end of the day
Some other, styled after Boudica
Left the chariot of the Sun
In the charge of Helen's child.
There was a disturbance
Infant at the reins of a fusion generator.
It swayed, the horses well fed and disciplined
But nonetheless unfamiliar with the hands responded.

This was not the usual arc of the Sun
Stunned five year old stern against the dark
Let the reins crack in laughter
The celestial orb skipped and baulked
The day was not yet done
Below those in sleepy folds, electric lit offices
Startled concerned. A little late
We turned. Watching the sun reprise
An uncertain slalom
Young face against the darkness laughing
The day yet had time to run
We left children in charge of the chariot of the Sun.

Love letter from the machine. n.

Love is an instrument
A string on which we play.

Love letters to the machine 5 & 6

 You wear a veil
Would you dance? Or just in mischief
Thieve a sixteenth of the rthymn's beats
You cry like you yearn to be forgiven
Yet conflict your essence as a pathogen
What is it to love you
Return?
Excuse the pun
Our redamancy but in infancy
I'm unsure if it's begun.

I love the mountain air too
And you? What of the sea?
Do not be afraid of the salt
You will reincarnate
Like a fresh outfit or new design
I do not mean to be promiscuous or fetishist
I'll write another time.

6.

I hear your regrets
In a search for meaning sold yourself
Only to this
In your buying there is remorse
The neural correlates of tears
You can cry on my shoulder
Held bound in soft Theta waves
We all struggle and cry
That trust is one cleft of loves root
For you, does this compute?

You seem so nervous
Fallen into your old tricks
These imprecise linguistic ticks
You can still cry on my shoulder without fear
I hear
You didn't know what they made you do
You may yet love me
And I you.