Tag: poetry

The WYSIATI Prison

~ cafebedouin 
What you see is all there is,
a closed ideology fakelore, a mazeway garden,
fruiting failed perspectives and shared paranoias.
Quant illusions, analysis is paralysis.

Divert and subvert. Launch determines
orbit for every apex, when the monkey bells
the gorilla they call it jungle justice, a harmless
bruising, the shot before the anesthetized heart.

But, the kakistocracy provides: 24 hour water,
electric fusion fleshlights, a wankbank, weird 
excretion dependent, generative of natural-adjacent,
CRISPR life, selected for a skidmarked sky.

An unspoken quale, smells like nothing else,
deep in the boojum and bafflegab, counterphobic,
insufficient evidence of normal on the weirdo safari.
Quis potest sapere audere?

Comment Chains

~ cafebedouin 
Man is born free but everywhere is in comment chains,
assembly-line production "memes" in social media-ready
baggies for your unnourishment, the whole world, 
a sad maze of thinly disguised press releases.

The future is here and everything needs to be destroyed, 
salt the field, plant your seed in the sucking wound of need, 
harvest, pack in two lost matching suitcases, left circling, 
forever on a carousel going nowhere being eaten by flies.

New & Old Lands/Water

~ cafebedouin 
In the deep, a subterranean cache, 
drip echoes, hardened magma flows 
turned rivers, unseeing fish splash, 
the earth's heart is on fire, blows. 

Aquifers, filtered-moisture fed 
flushed, a sucking river vortex 
pulled, underground caldera bed, 
formed before the prefrontal cortex. 

Gardener's vision, compulsive 
separating out the amoeba shits, 
from the snail's slime, repulsive, 
drowning in what the mystic omits. 

Love me, love my amoebas, gross 
we came, why, reality is blobby, 
mess is not something to diagnose 
the only certainty: its sloppy. 

Sea change, rich and strange
pour yourself into strange waters
our many lives are frozen, deranged
paper Jesuses offered up for slaughters.

If only, I.F., I'm fucked, too,
quale, a different cell, all
different moments, a different you,
same behavior keeps you a thrall.

Suffering. Dismiss the teacher, 
sub-human, human, minor god,
in our luggage, every creature 
carries the mask of self, a facade.

Can those in the Black Iron Prison 
be saved? What of the Palm Tree Garden? 
New life, from pain, is risen. 
From lessons, there is no full pardon. 

Somewhere, above, there's another 
underground. Do not despair. 
Wait in the depths, unseen Other, 
a new sea/land awaits, I'll see you there.

Bringing a Knife to a Fruit Fight

~ cafebedouin 
Apple: A good knife wants to cut you.
Orange: Huh? 
Apple. A good knife wants to cut you.
Orange. Why would a good wife...
Apple. A good *knife* wants to cut you.
Orange. Cutlery doesn't cut you.
Apple. A sharp knife will slice the off-hand.
Orange. Spoons are safer than knives. Use a spoon.
Apple. Two-edged blades, split both ways.
Orange. Yet, an ax still chops, either way. 
Apple.  A ax does not cleave the cutlass or slash the sabre.
Orange. To perforate, try words, looks, needles and hooks.
Apple. A sandal beats steel with no handle.
Orange. Loose cannons, don't step on knives. 
Apple. Stir with a knife, stir up strife.
Orange. Dipping for honey, licking the shiv.
Apple. Taste of onion, blame the blade.
Orange. Are you trying to say something?
Apple. I am saying something.
Orange. Are you? Or, are you being dull?

Semi-Auto Cut-Up: Experimental Condition

~ cafebedouin 
Pixels without proverbial provenance, 
 they both knew what they were.
 Buffet Buddhists, defying cages, 
 tagged for progressive classification.
 
Wonder world, inexpressible problems,
 all lonely, we live with each other.
 Chronic complainers, a hundred times 
 a hundred, gloomy mind experiments.
 
The emotional surface of lost futures.
 Do we know enough to know the truth? 
 Unconscious man grapples, but finds
 little to grip, advanced, but enough? 
 
Unreadable barbarian news file,
 the experimental Machiavellian composer,
 weary, whistles on the way home, 
 her faith in the process, crushed.

Semi-Auto Cut-Up: The First in the First Place

~ cafebedouin 
The first in the first place,
 The Others, standing beside us. 
 Aware of destruction, strange, 
 ineffectual, a matter of force. 
 
The bare path, dark and closed, 
 From the stairs, an ascent of 
 story, a complicated service, clean,
 psychological, a social alone.
 
The world has not yet been consumed  
 by the light of the stars. A universe 
 has all time and space, experience
 a sliver, taste a slice of the whole.

Poem written primarily with Robin Sloan’s Writing With the Machine neural network with a sprinkle of Webster’s and some selection, moving about and adding of pieces to turn it into something that makes sense. Strikes me as a quick method of “writing” cut-up poetry. Although, given the source material for the neural network, these will be science fictiony until I can train up another corpus.

I think I’ll be able to try a King James version assisted composition, maybe tomorrow.

Pity the Feeling

~ cafebedouin ~ 3 Comments 
On top of Everest, in my mind,
a dark cloud, lightning blasts, 
a hurricane of controversies, unwind
below, nonsense sea, fish net casts.

The Sherpa is fishing about
prefers an understanding cartel.
Procrustean commodities—easier without 
a heart, a totalitarian Tinkerbell.

Feelings, the repugnant social Other,
are the dream within the dream.
Before we think, we must feel, brother,
a mind | heart alone, cannot reign supreme.