Graffiti art

i can’t drown my demons, they know how to swim

here is some graffiti art i noticed
as i aimlessly wandered back alleys today

it says:

“i can’t drown my demons
they know how to SWIM”

arcane electra

the robot staggered along the snow
outside the city limits
too much rogue programming
too many recurring loops
needed to execute to resolution
in isolation
in silence

the robot’s left side
was working well enough
but there were strange clicks and whirrs
a mechanical grinding
working down the right side

for there was held
a dimensional vortex
hidden pocket hyperspace
smuggled into earthbound realm
a velvet void
filled with blackness and stars
icy cold
clear and gold
some imagined treasure
vaguely known
but largely ignored by the robot
with future encoding instructions
not yet revealed for this particular time

a shaman had once tried to cut this away
with a silver knife
in front of a crowd of women
the robot had let it all happen
patiently
so weary of the burden was he
“what did you see?!”
the wisest woman present inquired
but it was too late
for it had already been cut away
by a white wizard spellblade

this was just a subroutine
the robot let run
it was assigned to a case statement
of alternate if..then conditions
case(infinity of);
repeat until (not_ok);
let everything = be_ok;

how long?
the robot wondered
before its bio suit was inactive?
how long before that cosmic initiation?
would this occur
within this existing robot body?
or some distant, shinier one??

the robot’s father was confined
to a mental ward
dementia..
locked down because he tended to wander
purple AGG sticker on his hospital door
had a tendency to punch things when angry

no, not that program end routine
the robot decided
do..until(always);
kindness
patience
generosity
love
(five additional are withheld)
these were better functions to run

the robot felt a tinge of guilt
..as its fuzzy logic circuits
frantically screamed to remind the robot
that guilt was useless..
perhaps a better robot
would bust its dad out of there
watch his movements 24/7
change his diapers
yell into deafened ear
the same answer
to the same question
every million microseconds or so

the robot’s mother had problems too
no longer able to keep up the pretences
of success of faith
a most peculiar piece of software
stuffed into wetwear after initial manufacture
but it’s true that
robots reach the end of their programming
every day

the faint whine of protesting gyros
snapped arcane electra alert
step.. whirrrr…
step.. click.. whirrr..
glide.. crunch.. glide.. crunch
that right side
always protesting
against the hidden burden it carried

fret ye not
beloved child
seems you’ve strolled
another mile

and the robot’s face
frozen sluggish
whipped by the frigid winter winds
crinkled into a smile

magi lake

on the shores of maji lake
s/he languished
skyclad with all the rest
soaking in those sweet ultraviolets
and when their skin began to feel that inkling of a sordid burn
they jumped into those crystal waters
laughing
joyful
grinning from ear to ear
feeling ten years younger

i thought it was just me
some pleasant, private delusion
but i saw an old man
i do not know
how he made it
down the jagged cliffs
along the rusted rails
through the rocky path
to find himself on the shores of maji lake
yet
he was there

he hobbled
he stumbled
i thought he might fall down and shatter a brittle hip bone
but he made it to those blessed waters
waded out
past the gasping point
dove in, submerged himself
and when he arose from those healing waters
he walked straight and tall
cured of all ancient infirmities

he smiled
he laughed
he sloshed to the shore
all grins and happiness
health restored
by those majickal waters
on the shores of maji lake

bashful backgammonist

lost more games than i played
so refreshing to be wrong

like a chasm separated
from the writhing warmth
of consensus of society

if you find yourself here
be of good cheer

to be alienated
from the burning fires of babylon
is not so bad
not so bad

samyama

here begin the lessons of samyama

once one has meditated awhile
and gained some sense of solid silence
the sutras of samyama may be practiced

step one = quiet mind
step two = mental statement of the sutra
step three = quiet mind
step four = discover for yourself

the first sutra of samayama:

…LOVE…

dreamer dreaming

how do you know
you’re not dreaming right now?
are you pretty sure
you’re awake right now?

if you were dreaming
how would you know?

many times i have been dreaming
and convinced myself
i was truly awake
only to later awake
to realize i had been dreaming

light switches are a good clue
if you can flick the switch
and change the light levels
you might just be awake!
if instead
the lights do not change
and some narrative explains it away
you’re still dreaming!

mirrors are an interesting second choice
you inhabit many bodies at the same time
which face shows up in the mirror?
do you recognize it easily?
do the eyes move around?
is the mirror shattered
a different reality in each twisting shard?
you might be dreaming!

who is this dreamer?
who does the dreaming?
what is the dream the dreamer dreams?

cat jumps on the bed
sun shines through the house plants
a wo/man rubs their eyes
the dreamer awakes

i was just dreaming!
what was the dream?!

..do you remember?

autotomy down

something kept the innocence
from leaking out too fast

curled around the iron heat vent
breathing slow and vast

we urgently inquired
for a new revelation
to share amongst the people of the earth
yet always was the answer the same

silence

precious silence
that great clear hot
from which all doth arise
and sublimate
and thence evaporate

not guidance

look to the bright
it’ll go alright

swimming lazy
languid in that blissful ocean

fighting for life
living life
for the thrill it might ignite
living life
for the thrill it might kill you

alive in the moment
all we really have
is right now

warbling sparrow
perches on a limb
colourful markings upon its feathered dress

brook tinkles hollow
hidden beyond the bend

the sun reflects warmly
polarized and spun
bouncing off the blue melting ice

V – Tomes

five fragile notebooks
pencil on paper etched
– some distant madness –
from the past
have been discovered!

first pages of each booklet read as follows:

I – Tome
cantor’s infinity

strive too hard
lose the context

then it came to pass
(in those days)
before the galactic core eruption
that blue star
they’d all see
sooner or later
that they were eating kraft dinner
and their minds thereby dulled

II – Tome
there is something to this
alone in nature
[redacted]
…feel better
with cat
honestly better
with nearly every
[redacted]
almost always worse
(find people
who make you feel good)

III – Tome
all of it spun
from the thriving hum
of electric blue

dark monks
“insane”

everything is great
in 2008

IV – Tome
join a think tank

at this point
how can you think
this is helping you?
all this use
makes the body hurt
makes one tired and bored

V – Tome
new beginnings
divinely unfolding now

don’t miss a thing
drink it all in
a dear nokken
jumps from the fountain

foreign acquisition

there once was a factory
thrumming and humming
thriving in the forest

employing many from the nearby village
a high tech oasis
hidden within the mountains

an offer was made
the board of directors approved
the judge approved
and the factory was sold
to a foreign acquisition

at first it was business as usual
machines still hammered out their metal symphony
chemicals wafted sickly sweet
couriers made their deliveries and pickups
the workers made their paycheques

perhaps it was inevitable
profits are king to corporations after all
beholden to shareholders
and not to employees

the first wave of layoffs hit
old friends with tears in their eyes
receiving their walking papers
sure they received some severance
(less income taxes of course)
some token counselling
and after much delay
after the severance was long gone
and their bills overdue
finally some employment insurance
(less income taxes of course)

the village adjusted
some people got new jobs
some people moved away
some people vanished and were never heard from again
perhaps they were lost in a bottle
waiting for the rent to run out
waiting for the end to come

and it was business as usual
until the next wave of layoffs hit
this time
severance would be paid out
so long as the workers maintained their posts
for some weeks or months as the case might be
to help break the factory down
and ship it off to mexico

day by day
the machines were shut down
the stock shelves were packaged up
then the shelves themselves were dismantled
and put into trucks
and shipped off to mexico

music blared over the ancient speakers
entertaining a dusty vacant floor
with nobody left to listen
to the machines that hummed no more

a small village in the forest
struggles to pay its bills
with its heart ripped out
as elsewhere
greed consumes the lot