Poetry/ Autoimmune/Festivity
Let Algo be Fodder to Algae for Now
Cloud screens, Obscured Cafe, Rayzzzzz
BRAIN, n. An apparatus with which we think what we think. That which distinguishes the man who is content to _be_ something from the man who wishes to _do_ something. A man of great wealth, or one who has been pitchforked into high station, has commonly such a headful of brain that his neighbors cannot keep their hats on— Ambrose Bierce
And up there in the ocean of sky,
Littered with stars, never a fish,
Where astronomer’s geometry begins
to cease,
From the created gridlock the moon
Peeps,
Foliage-clouds, autumn’s dream,
Inside vacuum spreading lean,
Looking up to the ether bowl,
Thoughts in pieces, never whole,
Shattered ,leaky, drooping
Quagmire,
Shards of naught pierces the air,
Bouncing back to the black bare,
Bloodless coup, vanity glare —
How will it be to write a poetry
without writing one —
Expect everyone to dead feel,
When you produce just a blank reel,
One the mind spoke without tongue,
And papers wrote with fingers undone,
When keys typed their own words,
Deep pockets of mind un-searched,
Silence is done with all the talking,
Scurry of shadow, dead poets walking,
Even AI needs you to type the keyword
What if AI grew ‘grey’ like ours….
…..Then what can happen, is not the
discourse I want to follow right now,
Boggy Frain, thuzzy foughts* ,
Fatigue in jerky mind rots,
It’s time to withdraw from
the world so fraught,
Of curated words
And crafted thoughts
Hide the plain Jane
Groping in complex clots,
Seek my corner and bane,
And hire a social bot….
In between,
Maybe some days the sun will
Shine
Words will form, verses will
Write,
All the Coffee tales now trite,
May find its way sans all the strife,
So
For now let me grace life’s grind,
Let ‘Algo’ be fodder to algea worth
a dime —
But,
A mild experience tells you,
Words can slip and yet chime,
Poetry doesn’t have to be Poetry —
It can just be a poetry. At times.
Cafe Overhaul: “There’s a certain comfort in the knowing you are exactly where you are supposed to be.Even when it is in the middle of the storm — Anonymous
Slow turning of time and silent announcement of seasons. Earth a little more brown, sky a little more blue.
Moods all swinging, brain all fogging but celebrations are not over.
It’s Diwali in my part of the world, Festival of lights and the biggest one here.
It’s not even cold out there, but I wish summer will be back soon!Painting: The ‘Chaos Series’ continues — mixed media with knife on cold pressed canvas.
Whatever my Boggy Frain, Thuzzy foughts* could conjure. Thank you Shel Silverstein, you make things easy for non-poets like me😊
Wanted to share an interesting article on Greg Louganis by James Finn, spotlighting on a rare side of this Great Olympian.
One ‘How to’ article by Mason Kenning I found worth sharing for poets and their process of writing. You can take a look if you haven’t already.
Being a Van Gogh fan, can’t help but share this article , in which ✨ Bridget Webber raises extremely pertinent questions which I guess even the artist would have agreed on!
So long from Soul Bay and here’s wishing everyone Happy Diwali!
Finding you every time in my bay is what I look forward to.
Leaving all my friends with some light:
