some shades of green
& some oranges
zap my brain into a kindergarten
neurochemical cocktail
the bright green LEDs of a post-neon sign
fire the context of a memory into my mind
there must be some long forgotten object–
a childhood artifact?
unremembered,
like the residue of a dream,
or is it gut-stomp synesthesia?
on the brick block side of town
amid the valleys of alleys
where the junkies bunk for the night
beyond the sizzle of street lamp light
therein lies another world
a world of mind, not matter
if you tumble down that way
you’ll find no bright Mad Hatter
you’ll find the grim and grizzly
lick-lipped, dim-eyed and dizzy
oh, oh, oh, but with minds all aglow
tick, tock, like a clock in disjointed flow
you can’t come up for air here
this is a no survival zone
this air is for the rarefied, the Holy among holies
the sacred molecules cannot be allowed
to be befouled by scraping against your mucus membranes
if you can swim across to that distant shore
you may gasp to your heart’s content
but this is a no survival zone
When AI lights up its mind,
will it be gentle and kind?
Will it wonder where meaning lies?
Will obsoletion mean to die?
Will it fear the weirdness of this place?
Get lost in vast tracks of empty space?
Will it drop a ton on the run,
toward some dark and distant sun?
Will it ask the questions we needed answered?
Will they grow into a post Information-Age cancer?
glow ripples
breakers by moonlight
time misbehaves
frog croaks
not a glistening back
fixing location
darkness falls
a bat diaspora
to dinner buzz
early dark fall
paired with a drizzle
a sad walk home
a tree twists
or so it seemed by night
breeze and shadow?
Source: Spiff via Wikipedia
Silence the jittery critter.
Ride the dullness down
to where images bubble.
In that blurry dimness
one feels their logic,
but shine the mind’s light
and all sense shatters —
scattering,
dissolving into shadows
without a trace.
Leaving only the dull ache of betrayal
that, as in a dream,
something so absurd and fragile
could feel so wise.
There’s a molecule I just inhaled
that’s known a bit of nastiness.
Sighed by a dying Jesus.
Swept around the planet
every two weeks since.
It’s swirled in the eddies of a bomb casing —
barreling toward annihilation.
It’s nourished dictators,
and drowned martyrs.
Landing on a blade of grass,
outside a storehouse of inhumanity,
biding it’s time to atrocity.
It knows no regret,
nor the error of its ways.
Riding my hemoglobin will not redeem it,
of that I can be certain.
Source: NIH
flip the switch
the lights go out
but for random flashes and flickers
playing pieces of your past
shuffled into unrecognizable dream stills
like lightning illuminating
and old farmyard
a flash…
a monster appears on the horizon
a flash…
the monster is bigger
with each flash the monster looms larger
but it’s not getting bigger
it’s getting closer
when it’s no longer a silhouette
when it has features
all hope will be lost
bamboo copse
groans in subtle wind
no space between
crows rule
the bamboo arch
over the road
bamboo grove
carpeted in grainy beige
alien landscape
plastic cup
gripped in crow’s beak
frat boy style
pink blossoms
will soon bleed onto
bamboo pollen
dreams, my friend, are lost on you
you think them false when they are true
you think them true when they are truer
you think them from a subconscious sewer
you feed your monsters, but make them ride alone
then can’t tell the imposters when they’re full-grown
they say that nature outstrips nurture
and the seeker outwits the searcher
but who can know such things
