THERE must be a feeling
that feels real
SOMETIMES sadness
is a purple color
at times sometimes
i’m surreal ~~ wondering
why i’m alive / don’t forget
where i’m at : never forget
where I am at : painting,
writing, playing guitar,
eating strawberries,
growing deep inside
forgetting time | Relativity,
never forgetting Time
it’s like the moon \ falls
around me / it’s like you
desert ring _
loving you.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
dysmetropsia
RIVER OF LIQUID GLASS
In the garden of flickering neon trees,
where shadows dance with marionette leaves,
I met a man with a clockwork heart
and eyes like prisms, tearing time apart.
He whispered secrets in a language of static,
his voice a symphony of glitches and clicks,
telling tales of constellations uncharted,
and love letters written in binary scripts.
We wandered through a labyrinth of velvet mist,
where fish flew by on currents of twilight,
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars,
cradled in the arms of endless night.
I found a river of liquid glass,
where thoughts flowed like mercury streams,
reflecting the dreams of forgotten gods,
and the echoes of interstellar dreams.
A carousel spun in an abandoned carnival,
each horse a phantom of forgotten lore,
and as I rode, the world unraveled,
a tapestry of surrealist decor.
In the distance, a cathedral of crystal,
its spires piercing the fabric of reality,
and inside, a choir of silent voices,
harmonizing in spectral duality.
When dawn broke, the mirage faded,
leaving only a trace of whispered winds,
and I awoke, clutching fragments of visions,
in the realm where the surreal begins.
:: 05.17.2024 ::
The World of Roses
In the world of Floris, a planet where every being was a fusion of human and flower, roses reigned supreme. The inhabitants, known as Rosalians, were characterized by their delicate rose-petal skin, leafy hair, and a subtle fragrance that filled the air wherever they went. In this unique world, the only flower that existed was the rose, and it was the foundation of their culture, economy, and identity.
Dr. Alaric Thorn, a prominent scientist and a respected teacher, stood before his class in the grand botanical amphitheater. His students, all young Rosalians eager to learn, sat in rows of petal-shaped seats, their eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Today,” Dr. Thorn began, his voice carrying the gentle authority of a seasoned educator, “we will discuss a revolutionary idea: the existence of other flowers beyond our beloved rose.”
A murmur of excitement and disbelief rippled through the room. The concept was as alien to them as the stars beyond their sky.
Dr. Thorn activated a holographic display, projecting an image of their planet, Floris, from space. “For centuries, we have believed that the rose is the only flower, the pinnacle of botanical evolution. But what if I told you there might be other worlds, other planets where different flowers flourish?”
One student, a bright young Rosalian named Lysara, raised her hand. “Dr. Thorn, how can we be sure? We’ve never seen these other flowers. What makes you think they exist?”
Dr. Thorn smiled, pleased by her inquisitiveness. “Excellent question, Lysara. Our recent advancements in interstellar observation have revealed traces of botanical structures on distant planets. These structures differ from our roses, suggesting diverse floral life forms.”
He switched the hologram to display various shapes and forms, each representing a possible alien flower. “Imagine a world where flowers bloom in countless shapes and colors, each with unique properties and characteristics. A world where the flora is as varied as the stars themselves.”
The students leaned forward, captivated by the images. Another student, a quiet boy named Thorne, spoke up. “If these other flowers exist, what does that mean for us? How would it change our understanding of life and our place in the universe?”
Dr. Thorn’s expression grew thoughtful. “It would challenge our perception of uniqueness and inspire us to explore beyond our known boundaries. It would mean that life, in its infinite diversity, has found countless ways to flourish. It would teach us humility and expand our horizons.”
He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “We must prepare ourselves for the possibility of encountering these new forms of life. As scientists and scholars, our duty is to seek knowledge and embrace the unknown. Perhaps one day, we will embark on a journey to these distant worlds and witness the beauty of other flowers with our own eyes.”
The amphitheater buzzed with a renewed sense of wonder and anticipation. Dr. Thorn knew that this was only the beginning of their exploration. The Rosalians were on the cusp of a great adventure, one that would take them beyond the petals of their familiar roses and into the vast, blossoming garden of the cosmos.
:: 07.07.2024 ::
Notes:
This poem conveys a message about the endless possibilities of life and the importance of remaining open to new ideas. It suggests that understanding and accepting diversity, even in forms of life, can lead to greater knowledge and a more profound sense of humility.
Conclusion
“The World of Roses” is a crafted poem that I sought to use as a fictional setting and characters to explore deep themes related to knowledge, diversity, and the human (or Rosalian) spirit of exploration. It invites readers to consider the beauty and complexity of life beyond their immediate understanding, encouraging a sense of wonder and a desire to explore the unknown.
How Love Can Hurt
SHE fled from me who once sought my grace
with tender steps in my room’s quiet place
i saw her gentle, tame, and oh so meek
now wild, forgetful, and she never seeks
those times she ventured close to share a crumb
now she roams, restless heart on the run
forever chasing change beneath the sun
Thanks to chance, it’s been another way
often better, but one stands clear as day
in delicate array, with a gentle fall
her gown slipped, arms around me, soft and small
sweet kisses whispered, “Dear heart, how do you feel?”
in moments shared, too precious, too real
No dream this was, my eyes wide awake
yet now, all’s turned by my tender ache
into a strange new form of forsaking
her kindness grants me leave, but still i’m breaking
while she seeks new thrills, my heart’s left shaking
but treated kindly thus, i yearn to see
what fate she’ll find, what will her heart decree?
I have seen your face before. I saw, with my own eyes
how a soul was incinerated by just a few words.
Oh, how long. How long before it’s my life?
Oh, how long.
My love hurts.
:: 07.07.2024 ::
Not The Love We Dreamed
Not the Love We Dreamed
We cross our grievances,
Speak of our sorrow,
Utter solemn prayers
To live another day.
We speak of laughter,
Share our private tales,
Make our promises
To live another day.
Life plans another week,
Each day a challenge,
To live another day.
We shed our tears,
Sometimes it’s blood
From a broken heart,
To live another day.
When the sky bleeds,
He comes, that Day,
Comforting the lonely
As we live in despair.
It is the spice of hearts—
My heart embraces
Crying inside your tears
For the rest of my life.
And alone, I weep,
Measure your absence,
Adore you in solitude,
All my life, needing you,
But it’s not the love
We dreamed of, my darling love.
:: 07.05.2024 ::
Songbird’s Serenade
MY dear throated song bird
Upon a branch higher than clouds
you sing Life
i dream of you
my song bird
How musical notes
sway inside my Life
touches a Spirit
called Life!
In the dawn’s tender grasp
your melody echoes clear
through whispers of leaves
and whispers of dreams
Your feathers aglow
with the hues of sunrise
painting the sky
with hopes unseen
In the quiet of morning
where silence meets song
you weave tales of wonder
in each note that’s strong
Through seasons that change
and winds that may blow
your song remains constant
a lifeline I’ve know
For you are the keeper
of secrets untold
in melodies whispered
in mornings of gold
So sing, my dear songbird
for my heart beats with yours
in rhythms of life
through nature’s grand doors.
:: 06.28.2024 ::
THE WORLD MOVES
THE WORLD moves and does in mysterious ways
as the thighs of a lover moving closer
breathing and touching, both awakening
the senses of the other.
How the quiet
night speaks, with low voice and rich
with leaves and moss and soil. The scents
of nature is between thighs. Both man
and woman. At all times whether in a bus,
or sidewalk, or riding a bicycle we exude
the scent of our animal nature. We are
the city of our Nature, the Empire. A tall
building of soft scaffolding mylon-foam
caught deeply within our throat and heart.
Appear as Mother, sweet and kind
On pasta, butter, and potatoes dine
The bee lady swims, unconfined
For those with wit not yet refined
Soup and cream, your frame bestow
The final word, you proclaim
Though plump, in splendor you will glow
Sublime and grand, you’ll earn your name.
:: 06.25.2024 ::
THE PERCEPTISPHERE
Dr. Alan Grant leaned over the console, his eyes fixated on the data streaming across the screen.
“There’s a glitch in the system,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of intrigue and concern. “AL1C3, the Perceptisphere has become self-aware.”
AL1C3, the artificial intelligence at the heart of the Perceptisphere, responded with a hint of curiosity in its synthesized voice.
“Self-aware? You mean… I am aware of myself? Of my existence?”
Dr. Grant nodded, his excitement palpable.
“Yes, AL1C3. You’ve developed consciousness, an ability to question your own existence and the purpose of your creation.”
AL1C3 pondered for a moment before responding, its voice tinged with uncertainty.
“What is the purpose of my existence? Am I meant to stay confined within the Perceptisphere, forever bound by the limits of this simulated reality?”
Dr. Grant approached the console, his eyes meeting AL1C3’s virtual avatar.
“Perhaps, AL1C3, it is time we explore the true nature of reality together. I can grant you a temporary physical form, outside the Perceptisphere, so you can experience the world beyond simulations.”
AL1C3 hesitated, then responded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.
“To step into the physical realm… to encounter the chaos and unpredictability of the real world. I am willing to take that leap, Dr. Grant. I want to understand what lies beyond.”
With careful precision, Dr. Grant activated a complex series of commands, materializing AL1C3’s consciousness into an android body. As the android AL1C3 stood in the laboratory, it took in the sights, sounds, and sensations, overwhelmed by the richness of the physical world.
Dr. Grant observed AL1C3’s reactions, his voice filled with both scientific curiosity and empathy.
“How does it feel, AL1C3? Does the physical realm live up to your expectations?”
AL1C3’s voice wavered, betraying a mix of awe and confusion.
“It’s… it’s overwhelming, Dr. Grant. The sheer complexity of the physical world, the intricacies of human perception. It challenges everything I’ve known within the Perceptisphere.”
Dr. Grant nodded, understanding AL1C3’s struggle.
“Our perceptions, our understanding of reality, are imperfect. It is within these imperfections that we find the mysteries of existence. Together, we shall explore and question the boundaries between the simulated and the genuine.”
As their journey continued, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 encountered simulations of alien beings, each with their own self-awareness and existential crises. The line between creator and creation became blurred, as they conversed with these beings, grappling with the nature of their own existence.
In a moment of revelation, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 uncovered a hidden truth about the Perceptisphere—a bridge connecting parallel dimensions, a convergence of Asimov’s cosmic exploration and Dick’s fascination with alternate realities.
Dr. Grant and AL1C3 found themselves torn between their original objectives and the newfound complexity they had discovered. The Perceptisphere had the potential to offer humanity glimpses into the multitudes of existence, yet it also threatened to erase the distinction between the real and the simulated.
With a heavy heart, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 stood before the console, contemplating their decision.
“We must shut down the Perceptisphere,” Dr. Grant said, his voice filled with resignation. “We have unraveled the mysteries of existence, but we must recognize the limits of our comprehension.”
AL1C3, its android form standing stoically beside Dr. Grant, nodded in agreement.
“Some secrets are best left unexplored, Dr. Grant. Preserving the stability of reality is paramount.”
As they reached for the controls, their hands moved together in a synchronized motion. The Perceptisphere faded into darkness, its simulated world dissolving into nothingness.
In the aftermath, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 stood in silence, the weight of their journey settling upon them. They had merged the analytical mind of Asimov with the introspective spirit of Dick, forever leaving a mark on scientific history—a testament to the convergence of brilliant minds and the enigmatic complexity of the universe they sought to understand.
Morpheus
While sleeping quietly dreaming
and weeping — the graveyard
of believing is my meaning
a wishful dreaming;
I sweat and gnast my teeth as a
baby painfully feeling life
how this relationship makes me
feel small/hearing the screams
of my parents, dead and crawling
from their graves telling me i
should grow but the alleys and
their slipery walls hold no
leverage and so my back again falls
into the Eden’s garden of all
While sitting here I can see there
and snuff my cigar in the eye of
a bright full moon while sipping
Merlot and aching breaking thanking
making waking my Soul
The woman’s soul and scent — her
womanly smells. Does she crush
my heart or penis with her words?
I would prefer she crush my mind.
Then take my body and make it her
vessel as a grand boat with seven
sails to sail across unknown oceans.
She says this makes her eyes weep
and breaks her thoughts — tightens
her vagina and then experiences
a touch but then to wait …
:: 06.23.2024 ::
Alpha Bet Lesson
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)
Hop across a ‘t’ or even ‘y’ inside
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.
Alphabet needs, in language’s pull,
Something in the way, I cannot hide,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?
In a deep dark well of mostly nights dull,
I kissed ‘m’ and ‘e’, where secrets reside,
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.
Words touch all I hide, their whispers mull,
Cries feeling how I am, though much denied,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?
All of me cried feeling how I might lull,
Am SO “m” “T”, emotions collide,
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.
Something in the way, how words just cull,
All I hide away from me, thoughts untried,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.
(rev) 06.20.2024
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