The Wind Through the Lea

 

the wind through the lea
sings like a soft lullaby
the scythe grows heavy

 

 

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Seek Not the Enchantment

 

seek not the horned beast
for it will e’er elude thee
seek instead what’s true—

that of which it means to thee
for that is within thy grasp

 

An Ode to Elon

[Best when sung to the tune of “Froggy Went A Courting”]

The Man on Mars ain’t lookin’ at the stars
He’s thinkin’ ’bout wars
And how to power cars

There’s money to be made
In the inter-planet trade
Can’t wait to start the raid

The Man on Mars ain’t thinkin’ ’bout Earth
Cuz that tired old rock
Has lost all its worth

The Man on Mars ain’t there for humankind
He’s only there to mine
All the min’rals he can find

There’s money to be made
In the inter-planet trade
Can’t wait to start the raid

The Man on Mars is movin’ quick, you see
Cuz after pumm’ling Mars
It’s off to Mercury

 

 

#ofthejournals

 
 

Screwed

Did thine Savior truly say,
Blessed are those who do not doubt me,
Ere His mounting upon that skull-shaped hill?

If so, then needs must be to Him I pray
On a bended and shaky knee
Begging for Him to bless me, still.

For, while I have no doubt today
That the Son of God is He,
Tomorrow, without a doubt, I will.
 

#ofthejournals

Happy Cyborg Monday!

Robot Editor
This is not a Cyborg

Hey, wow! To celebrate Cyborg Monday*, you can download all my ebooks from Amazon for free for the day!

If interested, you can read a sample and download them from here.

And as always, thank you for shopping at Amazon where your feedback in the form of reviews are always welcomed (and desired).

#prayforthesingularity

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*It’s obvious to me, seeing how Jeff Bezos is embracing Cyborgs and dedicating an entire day of discounts and savings in their honor, that he doesn’t fear the AI Apocalypse quite as much as his billionaire bud Elon Musk does.

 

The Absurdity That Isn’t

An Existential Moment
 

I’m not a philosopher despite the fact that it is my belief that everyone with a thinking brain, and especially those without, is one, whether it be as a witting one or not.

No, I’m not a Philosopher, despite my occasional philosophizing about philosophical stuff, in the same regard that I’m not a Poet, despite the fact that I occasionally write poetic-like stuff.

Philosophy as a studied discipline is way too confounding for my confounded brain.

However, practicing a philosophy as a means for navigating life comes as natural to me as the act of breathing or as the desire to include unnecessary descriptive and expounding words, especially those oh so delightful words of the adverbial persuasion, into as much of my writing as possible.

For instance, I have no idea how many times other than a lot that I’ve attempted to read and understand such profound Philosophers as Kierkegaard and Nietzsche and Heidegger and Sartre and Camus and, regardless how many times it’s been, without fail and after only a few pages I have to put their books down in angry frustration and embarrassment from my inability to read the words that they have carefully and thoughtfully written for me with any sustained comprehension. It is maddening to me that, while I can read and understand just about any individual sentence of theirs, when moving on to a succeeding sentence, of which I can also read and understand, I invariably lose comprehension of the sentence which had just preceded it and which only seconds before I had understood.

If hell is other people, then a deeper hell is other people other than the people I can understand…

Continue reading “The Absurdity That Isn’t”

On Being Irishman Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde

The world is a stage,
but the play is badly cast.

 

Quantum Mutata*

THERE was a time in Europe long ago
When no man died for freedom anywhere,
But England’s lion leaping from its lair
Laid hands on the oppressor! it was so
While England could a great Republic show.
Witness the men of Piedmont, chiefest care
Of Cromwell, when with impotent despair
The Pontiff in his painted portico
Trembled before our stern ambassadors.
How comes it then that from such high estate
We have thus fallen, save that Luxury
With barren merchandise piles up the gate
Where nobler thoughts and deeds should enter by:
Else might we still be Milton’s heritors.

#happystpatricksday
#gogreenandgohard

 

Image courtesy of WIKIPEDIA
Quote & Poem courtesy of
POEMHUNTER


 
*I know, I know… it’s a poem less about Ireland and more about the United Kingdom. Okay, granted — it’s all about England and its fall from dynastic grace but it sure seems applicable to today’s current United Empire, no?

 

Emily Dickinson on Daylight Saving Time*

764

Presentiment – is that long Shadow – on the Lawn –
Indicative that Suns go down –

The Notice to the startled Grass
That Darkness is about to pass –

 


*Admittedly, it’s highly unlikely that Ms. Dickinson while sitting alone upstairs staring out her pondering window penned this pensive poem about Daylight Saving Time; that being said, it’s time to throw open those curtains, spread sunshine on those foreboding winter-fouled floating dust mites of presentiments and drag those lagging Clocks for-ward and on-ward to-ward that Fresh Breath of presentiment-less and Carefree Air affectionately known as Spring, yo!**

**What’s with all the “yos” lately, yo?

 

The Profits

With words full of mystical might
Wise Prophets forebode unto thee
Thine future of terrors and frights
For only a nominal fee
 

#prayforthespindoctors

 

HAIKU CHALLENGE

HAIKU CHALLENGE
HAIKU ON GEN-X VISION
FEBRUARY 15, 2017 LEAVE A COMMENT EDIT
Nina Mariah

By: E. R. Smith

Haiku on Gen-X Vision

Gained Gen-X vision

eye strain on optic axon

mutant lens fade hue

Poetry is for Girls

humor-image

I may occasionally write the junk, but rarely do I read it.

And it is not because I don’t like it that I rarely read it…

It’s because it, the really good stuff anyway, is so durn hard to read.

I’m talking Poetry here…

Poetry with a big, bold capital P.

And it is so hard for me to read (And by read I mean read. I mean really digging into the poem and fighting through the initial confusion and the complicated and often archaic words. I mean, not just reading the poem, but studying it and trying to close the gap in time from when the poem was written to when the poem is being read by learning about the poet and where and when and why and how he or she is from and where and when and why and how he or she lived and then coming to my own understanding of what I think the poem means and then trying to apply that meaning to my own life and where and when and why and how I live it. That’s what I mean by read.) because it takes more than a little bit of effort to read it.

I certainly don’t have time for all that junk.

Continue reading “Poetry is for Girls”

Due to the current political climate, I’d like to draw your attention to…

usefule-idiots

…excerpts of two rather aged yet seemingly, and sadly so, germane posts of mine. They are quite lengthy so to read the full posts, click on the “more” links.

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The first is a political poem I penned long ago:
 

RISE UP!

It’s the bottom of the ninth.

We’re down and in desperate need of a two-out rally.

So what are we waiting for? Should we go
for the win and swing for the fence?

Or should we just drop our bats,
grab our crotches,
and wait?

Just wait for someone else to come along and bat clean up?

Just wait for them to come along and clean up all of the shit
our silence has created?

Should we wait?
Just wait for the president and the congress and the
governors and every other sleazy politician to knock
the dirt out of their spikes and lead the rally?

Or should we, instead, wait for Wall Street and the
chambers of commerce and the boards of directors
and the unions and even the goddamn Junior Achievers
to… more

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The second is a satirical attempt at humor by poking fun at the U.S. military and the American way.
 

IN DEFENSE OF THE AMERICAN WAY OF LIFE

It always struck me as completely ironic (and if I think about it too hard it verges on the sardonically so) how so many Americans join the military to defend the American “Way of Life,” and, as a reward for their patriotism and service, they are provided for by the American government and funded by the American tax payer with a “way of life” that is so completely different and diametrically opposed to the “Way of Life” they gave up to defend.

Once someone joins the military, their new “way of life” becomes part of one of the most successfully socialist ways of life that has ever existed on this irrational planet of ours…more

[NOTE: this article was written when I was thick into my GVHD issues and strung out on prednisone and dealing with steroid psychosis. While it rambles greatly, I think there still are some relevant points to be found somewhere within. Maybe?]