, , , , , , , , , , , ,

A spark comes upon the field.
Glowing white as it transcends.
Bright paths of glory showing true.
And if the world is making due.
And if the populace makes peace.
Maybe it will be hospitable for a next gen.
And violence won’t be our disgrace.

What is it to think? To lay by the pool of epiphanies. To conjure up combating ideas and flowering concepts, taking pleasure in a casual whiff of rising petals. To be consumed by Rodin’s trap, the elemental chaos of a ceaselessly speaking mind. Whirring data centres computing away the life cycle, spending days lost in the hustle of matters. Are we not brains with flesh and bone to protect them?

The quizzical instrumentals of life force ruminating. A server cloud holding onto blooming insights, blazing fast nodes lighting up with crazed alarm, hear the siren song ting ting away amid a lonely vessel. Traveling without moving; the beacon shines loudly and we are blind to the slaughter. Innumerable neurons rising and falling, reaching pinnacles of existence then stamped out of oblivion never to see the host’s golden years. A perpetual autumn, life’s calamitous dirty trick. We shed tears and hymns over undeveloped pods resembling aliens in the fray, raising fists and protests over the rubbing out of lifeless forms not even having the bare minimum of consciousness. Untainted peas gestating without a care; empty half fetuses sparking such venom and controversy. If only they knew what avengers we have in our midsts.

Dull brains just a waiting.
Forming pods busy feeding.
Cords of plenty sustaining little monkey.
Simple simian a simon waiting to be.
In this world and in this body.
Causing harm among the party.
Freedom rings on ears empty.
Earth in shambles fools aplenty.
They think a certain way but maybe they mean well.
Spilling curses and condemning us to hell.
Are we bad mortals or trying to heed our fill?
Untested parents unable to foot the bill.
First world third world every world is full.
Baby rates, mortality rates, maybe growth is null.

And I ask myself the question yet again and forever more, what to do, what to see, what am I living for? The brain game is so soothing and I feel I am searching. For truth and glory and first answers to the reason we are here. Spending days wrapped in fog. Unclear heads bobbing along. Where’s the spark, where’s the key? Has this become idolatry? Saving grace and worshipping mind. Golden calf amid the grind. Wherefore and whereafter, always questions for this lot. Simple humans begetting quandaries and furthering the plot. Ask away, dwell in the mire, theorems find a way. Am I closer to the finish line? Am I done with the brain game.

It grabs me, it haunts me, it plays at little pricks. Enhanced interrogation and I’m all pick up sticks. Play the Queen, play the game, every body plays the game. Pick up pads and joysticks for the holographic display. Virtual playground and who’s got you in their sights. All the world a stage, all of life a fix, all the people silenced, all the gods at six six six. Make me believe Mr. Deadman, turn me on right quick. Metal monks and paper cranes shredding life to bits. Grow within the chaos, mature upon the flux. The universe is a symphony and your being is requiem redux.