The thief and kingdom's contraption - a fable

The poor thief knew
In the palace was a contraption
That controlled the whole kingdom.
So the thief stole in and took it
But couldn't make it work
And knew not what the thing could do

And so was not king
But a poor thief in a broken kingdom.

A bit (c. 2013)

Why whip your horse ?
It is a bit
And bit taught
Seeks flight
Away from ever present strikes
The hedges whip
In wilderness where dwelled
A rudimentary happiness
Now in this space
The horse is lost.

Somewhere
There is a broad path
Trod by well shod hooves
The kind of which I cast
Aside, now could surely use.

Phimaximissimo hummed - Waste man dem

Phimaximissimo hummed
Pondering the imploding quasar
How the charges summed
And what would be said by the neighbours

Phimaximissimo's pole was hot
The shifting troposphere a distraction
From the composition of knots
The neighbours expressed their dissatisfaction

A qualia of cosmic quipu
Transited an entertaining arc
Phimaximmismo pondered what gravity it outgrew
With flourish, appended a signature mark

Phimaximissimo stretched tectonics
Pulled a slight contraction mid-north
Wondering whether the appropriate tonic
Would be an extended lava bath

A fable not of bees but wasps

Perhaps it was focus lost
On what edict can enable
To argue and evade costs
Forge and falsify the labels.

That rules were not
What made all virtues tools
But wool to shroud
The eyes of fools.

Bend, burn, blind, bury
Backwards rules will turn
Be off with all the money
Before the slow law learns.

That in a world of plenty, greed
That in a world of beauty, lust
And so it was a fable
Not of bees but wasps.

The egg does not know

The egg does not know
From whence it hatched
Yet still shall unfold
The pattern etched.

Just as the gull
Will peck a red spot
On a beak
This infecting bot
Will never learn it leaked.

Phiminitto's emergence - Waste man dem [draft]

 A twinkle
A star spot flicked on
A single ray shone
On Phiminitto
A source of life was home.

~~

Into Phiminitto's starry spot dropped
A crimped metal circle
There were colours painted on the metal
A crown? A fairground ride? A bottletop?

~~

In the starry spot, the sharp shine
Of plastic and a wooden sole appeared
The metal circle's angle rang a chime
To Phiminitto a sweet orchestra to hear

~~

Sometimes the ray from where the wind blew
Would transfix Phiminitto
The round black edged revolving circles Phiminitto knew
Their metal frames and bright colours would come and go.

~~

The movement woke Phiminitto
Aligning with the influx
Digesting the regular radio
Something that tasted of muck

~~

The spot from where the wind blows shone
The round black rubber, red outline
Rolled on, black, white and another one
The first was a little behind its time.

~~

Phiminitto shifted under the currents
Relaxed, feeling capacitous
Considering what the weather was
The smaller shape became apparent.

The pilgrims parasite

This plague of pilgrim's parasite
To run for God or behind walls to fight.
What with reason we have divined
Is signs of self-defined divine in mind
Now blinded to a future bright
By flames of burning steppe alight.

This plague of pilgrim's parasite
That parses argument
Propels us argonaut
With urgency and agency
Through lattices argent.

This artificial insect God, its compound eye
Has not the resolution to see truth from lie
Nor in all the data reams
Distinguish history from dreams.

This is an earth that bares its teeth to God
Once defied rationality, now remystifies all odds
Scratches sacred scripture to re-epitaxi tracts
Sculpting neural graffitti and twisted brain hacks.
Some claim, without venom, to have coiled snakes around the rod
The pilgrims parasite now travels iron shod.

Frankincense and chaos

I shall put the shelves you pulled down the street
In the back shed to bring order, organisation
You left more, an always.
Frankincense and chaos append you in thought
Like the Egyptian Plover
Tooth pick in a Crocodile's bill
Wilful, joyous self-demolition
It must work so well in desert air
The pungent scent that touches your gum
Equivocal, enticing.
You left the Queen of Hearts, with faster to run
Forgotten so much
As in art, a master of one.

The tail that wagged the dog

It was the amp that agitated
The bug that bred
In the hair that itched
Of the tail that wagged
The dog.

The Free Press

They fought and fled
In shackles died
To have books read
And town hear cry

To make print free
Words cut and dry
So all could see
With their own eye.

And yet is seems
Under the Sun and Sky
The free press now
Were cheap to buy.

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.