Poetry

[Dekalb_Blues]

I wish I could write profound poetry.

But all my profound went to my life.

Cheers, Not Sure!  Viva Life!


De Semi-Profundis

Thank God! in these days
of poor burdened Poet's
Muse-veiling o'erload
at mere and sheer level
of Being-Here-Now
in brave Despite of triste
World's harrowing Catalyst:
Joy!-- there be spry-wit Machine
to free one job, it seems,
from the ink-stainéd hands
of the struggling, scrabbling,
scribbling Seeker!


Voilà:
http://www.languageisavirus.com/automati...erator.php


 
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So numb below the bullshit

Dark and evil near the earth

We condone grotesque bugs below the vapors

Awaken! The King will come again
 
Totally blue beneath the land

We sense numb balls in the vapors

Zounds! The sin is gone

So numb below the bullshit

You poke tiny delusions beneath the bullshit

We Reach! The life was hard
 
wary grieving

trying to recall

a ticking clock

On what journey

the sailor

forget to go home

while the world changed

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This artificial-intelligence-generated poem is rather a good thing, I think; it seems to say something and say it well, if one is generously forgiving and resilient in seeing allegory.  Though numb under the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune--still, We reach!  Our King returns!  O Sailors, do not forget to go Home howsoever the world may... change.  Zounds!

May I take this opportunity to symbolize my gratitude to Life Itself, without the gracious offices of which I should not be here at all-- and there would go my day all shot to hell.  Perhaps some of us here transiently haunting this virtual Ukiyo-e ("Floating World") like ghostly avatars of our natural selves, would with me feel gratitude in this regard. Even if one is not currently incarnating Shakespeare (or is it de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford?), Rumi, Sappho, or the White Goddess Herself [I myself tend to channel William Topaz McGonagall on one of his off days] and thus not past-master at selectively maintaining eloquent and unashamed silence in the face of the unspeakable majesty of the Infinite Creation, it's O.K. to simply be in your being-ness, and let said being speak in riddles or poems or curt communiqués or dadaisms or Zippo-lighter tricks, or whatnot, or naught, precisely as its sweet will wills it as it flits along with the greatest of ease in the cosmic breeze.  Personally, I've got a little saying: There's a lot to be said for ineffability.

As a certain social memory complex has pointed out, apropos:

"Each of those in this group is striving to use, digest, and diversify the information which we are sending this instrument into the channels of the mind/body/spirit complex without distortion. The few whom you will illuminate by sharing your light are far more than enough reason for the greatest possible effort. To serve one is to serve all. Therefore, we ... state that indeed it is the only activity worth doing: to learn/teach or teach/learn. There is nothing else which is of aid in demonstrating the original thought except your very being, and the distortions that come from the unexplained, inarticulate, or mystery-clad being are many. Thus, to attempt to discern and weave your way through as many group mind/body/spirit distortions as possible among your peoples in the course of your teaching is a very good effort to make. We can speak no more valiantly of your desire to serve."

Also, incidentally, while I'm thinking of the connection-- this I came upon recently: channeled material from one Emmanuel (an entity self-evidently on the up-and-up, polarity-wise) regarding the burning question, "Can dolphins speak to us?':

"In the animal world
a dolphin expresses its love and awareness
by simply being what it is.

A dolphin has seen great Light
and feels great love
and now wishes to reach out
to share such love.

The consciousness of love within this being
is seeking a place to express itself.

Love is a gift that must be given.

When a dolphin is asked to communicate
in thought patterns similar to humans'
you are pressing it to emerge
from its place of beingness too quickly
for its best interests.

Oh, my friends, can you not let things
speak to you in their own language?"