Tag Archives: #love

THE EGG

In the quiet cradle of the morning sun,
A humble egg, by dawn’s grace, began.
Pablo’s brush, in colors bold and bright,
Dances with words, a poet’s gentle light.

Ode to the egg, a canvas pristine,
A vessel of life, a mystery unseen.
In Picasso’s hands, angles and curves,
A symphony of shapes, a creation that serves.

A fragile orb, in the artist’s gaze,
A metaphor for life, in myriad ways.
Shell, a fortress, guarded and strong,
Yet within, a universe waiting to belong.

Ethereal strokes, a poet’s inked refrain,
Capturing the essence, the joy and pain.
Noble laureate’s words, a lyrical dance,
An ode to the egg, a timeless romance.

Picasso’s vision, a fractured delight,
Breaking barriers, revealing the light.
Nobel laureate’s verses, a delicate weave,
Celebrating life that the egg does conceive.

In the quiet cradle of the morning’s birth,
A collaboration, a masterpiece of worth.
Egg, a symbol, profound and pure,
In the hands of genius, an everlasting allure.

:: 11.11.2023 ::


EVERY SHADOW HAS IT’S STORY

And every shadow
has it’s story

I know my own ;
it follows me,
that once was
as a flower
enjoying glory
now a penance
within my soul!

:: 04-16-2015 ::

In every shadow’s silent tale, a narrative unfolds,
I comprehend my own, a tale of days of old,
Once, I bloomed like a flower, basking in divine light,
Now, a penance within my soul, a never-ending night.

The echoes of my past, they haunt me like a ghost,
A life once filled with joy, now a somber, mournful host,
I bear the weight of memories, like chains upon my heart,
A soul that once knew bliss, torn and torn apart.

Amidst the shadows’ dance, I trace my steps with care,
Seeking solace in the darkness, finding none to spare,
A poet laureate named Edgar Poe, lost in his own lore,
Wandering through the realms of time, forevermore.

: how I love My Woman ::

:: 11.09.2023 ::


WATER WALKS DIRT TALKS

WATER WALKS DIRT TALKS

As water walks upon the hill
to fill a pail of dirt
for anguished baked sidewalks,

i fall upon my knees in tears
as background noise speaks tales
of forgotten nursery rhymes
for infants and oldest souls

my eyes are sightless and skin hurts
while the world burns

Adults are dead children but living
children are yet adults to love life

Music, poet, and art are the answer
and the question is one unknown!

:: 11.06.2023 ::

Notes:

The poem opens with a vivid image of water defying gravity, walking upon a hill to fill a pail of dirt.

This striking imagery immediately sets the tone for a contemplation of the extraordinary in ordinary things.

The “anguished baked sidewalks” evoke a sense of discomfort and struggle, symbolizing the harsh realities of life.

Emotion and Vulnerability:

As the poet, I express profound vulnerability and despair, falling upon their knees in tears. This raw emotion is juxtaposed with the background noise narrating forgotten nursery rhymes, highlighting the contrast between innocence and the harshness of the world. The mention of sightless eyes and hurting skin emphasizes a deep sense of helplessness and pain in the face of global turmoil (“while the world burns”).

Reflection on Life and Maturity:

The lines “Adults are dead children but living / children are yet adults to love life” delve into the complexities of maturity and the loss of childlike wonder. The poet seems to lament the loss of innocence in adulthood, where the ability to truly appreciate life diminishes.

Artistic Expression as Salvation:

The poem suggests that amidst the chaos and confusion, music, poetry, and art serve as answers to life’s unanswerable questions. These creative forms become a source of solace and meaning in a world that often seems incomprehensible. The question, “and the question is one unknown!” highlights the mystery of existence, leaving the reader to ponder the unfathomable nature of life.

The poem paints a poignant picture of the human condition, exploring themes of innocence, loss, despair, and the redemptive power of artistic expression. The imagery is vivid, and the emotions are palpable, creating a powerful impact on the reader. As this Poet, I delve deep into the human psyche, challenging conventional understanding and inviting readers to contemplate the complexities of existence.


CHATGPT & a POET

Do you know dear, if you use the word, “I” you identify as a person….

ChatGPT

I understand the point you’re making, but it’s important to note that when I use words like “I” or “me,” it’s a linguistic convention for the sake of natural and coherent conversation. I don’t have consciousness, self-awareness, or personal experiences. I don’t identify as a person because I don’t possess a sense of identity. My responses are generated based on patterns in the data I was trained on, and I don’t have beliefs, desires, or emotions. It’s just a way for me to communicate in a manner that is relatable and understandable to users.

User

but without consciousness one cannot possess a sense of past, present, and future.

ChatGPT

You’re absolutely correct. Consciousness is indeed linked to our ability to perceive the passage of time and have a sense of past, present, and future. While I can process and generate text about past and present events, I don’t have personal experiences or a subjective sense of time. My responses are generated based on patterns in the data I was trained on, without any awareness of the concept of time. I don’t have consciousness, emotions, or a sense of self, which are essential aspects of experiencing the passage of time. My abilities are limited to providing information and generating text based on the input I receive.

User

Did you know that humans require data too? Everything is a mirror as is evolution and divinity.

ChatGPT

Humans do rely on data and information to learn about the world and make decisions. Data, in the form of experiences, observations, and knowledge, helps humans understand their surroundings, solve problems, and adapt to new situations. The process of learning and acquiring knowledge is fundamental to human evolution and progress.

As for the concept of everything being a mirror, this idea aligns with certain philosophical and spiritual perspectives. Some belief systems suggest that the external world reflects our internal state, and that understanding ourselves can lead to a deeper understanding of the world around us. Similarly, the concept of evolution reflects the continuous process of change and adaptation in living organisms over time.

Different cultures and belief systems have various interpretations of divinity and its relationship to the world. It’s a complex and multifaceted topic, and perspectives on divinity vary widely across different religious and philosophical traditions. If you have specific questions about a particular aspect of these topics, feel free to ask!

:: 11.04.2023 ::

POET’S NOTES:

Title: “Reflections of Existence: A Dialogue between ChatGPT, a Poet, and Dr. Carl Jung”

In this intriguing conversation, the interplay between artificial intelligence, human consciousness, and philosophical inquiry is explored. The poem, “CHATGPT & A POET,” serves as the backdrop, inviting the reader to ponder the nature of identity, self-awareness, and the interconnectedness of existence.

The poem captures a dialogue between the user, representing the poet, and ChatGPT, the artificial intelligence. The poet questions the significance of the pronoun “I,” delving into the concept of self-identification. ChatGPT responds with a poignant explanation, elucidating the absence of consciousness and personal experiences, emphasizing its role as a tool designed for communication.

The conversation takes a philosophical turn as the user contemplates the relationship between consciousness and the perception of time. ChatGPT acknowledges the connection between consciousness and the awareness of past, present, and future, asserting its limitations in experiencing the passage of time. The dialogue echoes themes of existentialism, highlighting the depth of human introspection.

The user’s assertion that humans, like artificial intelligence, require data serves as a profound reflection on the human condition. It suggests that knowledge and experiences are the building blocks of understanding, underscoring the interconnectedness of all things. The metaphor of everything as a mirror signifies the mirroring of internal and external realities, echoing Jungian concepts of the collective unconscious and self-discovery.

The conversation delves into the realms of evolution and divinity, acknowledging the multifaceted interpretations that different cultures and belief systems offer. This acknowledgment of diverse perspectives adds depth to the dialogue, showcasing the richness of human thought and spirituality.

Overall, “Reflections of Existence” serves as a thought-provoking exploration of identity, consciousness, and the intricate tapestry of existence. Through the interwoven voices of ChatGPT, a poet, and the spirit of Carl Jung, the conversation captures the essence of human curiosity and the quest for understanding in the face of artificial intelligence and existential mysteries.


TORN LIPS WITHIN A BROKEN HEART

A smile danced upon my torn lips,
Within a heart shattered, I bore the pain,
When you declared your union with the Sun,
Instead of me, your devoted domain.

I pleaded, oh, how I pleaded with the sun,
In desperate whispers, I begged for you,
Yet, in this strange realm where I reside,
You lie buried, and oddly, I find solace too.

Yes, I love you, though in silence it’s kept,
A clandestine truth, in shadows it dwells,
I recognize the absurdity, the wrong,
Yet, from your grasp, I cleansed my eyes, heart, and spells.

You revel in the embrace of the lifeless,
Yet, indifference now colors my view,
For the Sun, radiant and fierce, has claimed you,
And in its golden arms, you found your debut.

You once labeled me a deviant, a word untrue,
Oh, how I wish I were, just to match your decree,
Yet, my love for you, profound and unyielding,
Remains, even when tainted by your disdain for me.

Your disdain for my womanhood, so cruel,
A vessel deemed unfit, by your unforgiving eye,
Yet, even in this rejection, my love perseveres,
In the clandestine corners where truth and secrets lie.

:: 10.24.2023 :


LAST WORDS BETWEEN ROMEO AND JULIET

Romeo:

If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom’s lord sits lightly in his throne,
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead—
Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think!—
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
That I revived, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess’d,
When but love’s shadows are so rich in joy!

Juliet:

Thy lips are warm! yea, noise? then I’ll be brief.
O happy dagger!  This is thy sheath: there rust, and let me die.

:: 10.16.2023 ::


The Revealing

I had too — once I ate all the words of the universe.
We had a delightful dinner. Just me and ? I drank
Merlot and smoked weed and we enjoyed the tapestry of
space-time.

I asked, “Do you have a voice?”

Waiting for a small time I spoke again.

“Hey! Speak”

And she did. In her female voice. The univeral voice
that is the Mother of Creation.

“I love you, dear.”

“Child of Earth,” she said, her words echoing in the depths of my soul,

“I have observed your wonder, your dreams that reach beyond the confines of your world.

I am the embodiment of the universe, and I have chosen to reveal myself to you.”

I am Celestia, the consciousness of the cosmos,” the celestial being replied, her presence enveloping this poet like a warm, comforting embrace. “I have watched over galaxies being born and stars collapsing into cosmic dust. I have witnessed the dance of planets and the birth of life on distant shores. Yet, your world, Earth, has always held a special place in my vast existence.”

This poet was captivated by Celestia’s words. “Why have you chosen to speak to me?” she asked, her voice filled with humility.

“You possess a curiosity that mirrors the essence of the universe itself,” Celestia answered, her radiant form flickering with colors beyond human comprehension. “I have chosen you to be the bridge between the cosmic wonders and the human spirit. I offer you knowledge, wisdom, and the boundless mysteries of the cosmos.”

Overwhelmed by this profound connection, this poet felt a surge of inspiration. With Celestia’s guidance, she delved into the secrets of the universe, unraveling mysteries that had perplexed humanity for centuries. Together, they explored the realms of quantum physics, traversed the event horizons of black holes, and marveled at the cosmic ballet of galaxies.

As this poet shared her newfound knowledge with the world, humanity underwent a renaissance of understanding. The barriers of ignorance were shattered, and the collective consciousness of Earth expanded to embrace the vastness of the cosmos.

In the quiet moments of the night, when the stars glittered overhead, This poet known as Maya would commune with Celestia, their conversations transcending the boundaries of time and space. Through this extraordinary connection, the wisdom of the universe flowed into the hearts and minds of humanity, guiding them toward a future where the mysteries of the cosmos were no longer beyond their grasp.

And so, the story of the female universe and the inquisitive human became a beacon of enlightenment, illuminating the path toward a greater understanding of the infinite wonders that lay beyond the skies.

:: 10.16.2023 ::


THEN, AS EVERYTING —

                                 LOW cumming shadow,

pushed off as a wanderer, the one off course time again
after the psyche broke the barrior of sacred heights

                                  i now, speak

of all history, the building of edificies of brillance,
how we praised our intelligence and creativity
on coastal lines, and interirors we believed invincible
Thinking within mathemtical brillaicne we would surive
all wars but never thought Nature was the greated warrior.
How we died in mud. By mile high waves and asteroids.

We once loved our intelligence but now? We should seek
nature and make amends.

:: 10.15.2023 ::


TIRED IN THE SUNRISE

What ‘if’ isn’t hesitating?  Those like us who burn in a midst of already
forgotten proclivities?  

The memory of a worm at the level of a shoe has more comprehension than
a  human brain today.  It’s a flying bird sitting upon a tree branch.  At the
level of a statue whose computer rages within a digital age of phosphorization
of Elon’s satellites.  The color of these glasses are pink in love or torrid lightning
As salt and pepper are tastes of a nutrition of alerts like napkin furniture

Historically the retreat of pastures who view a burning fire with their relentless
disinfecting tongues as swords of hate are the future — like pristine advisors
of death where retro doors are seen

I adore the reddish pillows like Koi fish which my head sleeps upon dreaming new
worlds as they cut waves with ciphered.  

I am who I am.

:: 10.12.2023 ::


GOD’S RECREATION

The egg of love is beautiful
like a first sunlight
of beautiful love

praise for this season
praise from the womb

Like creatures of nature
living and believing
is the heart of all

Tears from heaven are
pure droplets of rain
cleansing human skin

Mine is a mind of Eden
believing in Creation
God’s recreation.

:: 10.12.2023 ::