Sonnet for the start of false spring

The sun has left frost dust on bonnets, rooves
The bright morning will bring with it false spring
Buds of calamitous ignorance prove
Curious sheep at the abbatoir opening

Cast of this act speak barely a murmur
Still information falls like a monsoon
Gutters, swollen, are steaming with rumour
Hive mind, herd sickness, their place have assumed

The caravan of packets blossoming
March Hare, Maladie de Primavera
A tail not captured in its telling
Which in speaking makes truth but the rarer

Once again harsh hailstorms in lost April
Will strike tender petals off the apple.

Tensors for Karma

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.

Through tensors
Can we produce Karma
Calculated where we believed gods lived?

Can we impute the interests of all over time
Is our mathematics insufficient
To extract the complex coefficient
Must we pretend all dance a single separate line?

Would the world be calmer
The right people tenser
If through sparse clouds
We used tensors for Karma?

Hurkle-durkle

Make all this cold dawn darkle
Work and all its hurdles curdle
Murk cuddled feathered covers
Lover curl my hurkle-durkle.

Sharon is perfect - post poetic poetry

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.

How the wind sounds now

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.

If peace

If peace
Is to be given chance of breath
We must make life
A better choice than death.

Ode to Shor's algo

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.

Gram positive - precipice

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.

Does a sick horse chase the setting sun

Does a sick horse chase the setting sun?
Does its fever make it sweat and run
Does a fevered rider burn all upon which they come
Does a sick horse chase the setting sun

At the end of a Western
When the dirty work's been done
The hero rides in which direction?
Does a sick horse chase the setting sun.

For one millenium, Christendom
Rode East to take Jerusalem
When Genghis in one life time
Rode West and all succumbed.

Does a sick horse chase the setting sun

You have to love something

You have to love something
Tell a lie
You don't, but a little love
Goes a long way
And I try
Day by day
To find my heart, make space
Even if it's just
A bowl or my favourite plate
Even if its just
How you snip a blade of grass
Even for a moment
That passerby you ask
But it helps to love something
I like to say you have to
But I don't make the rules
So I will find a little more to love
I hope you can too.

Each time has a home -Precipice

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 - precipice

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.

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.