April 27, 2016

Trade Winds and Westerlies

Hush, now, and listen in suspense
To that which claims omnipotence,
A clamor, yet so intimate
As if a breeze would break it.
A secret knows when it’s been kept
Just as a tear jilts those who’ve wept,
Even if one dare not accept
The charge that shall forsake it.
Entrapped, entangled, intertwined
As thorns and roses grace the vine
That feeds one’s soul, yet, leaves one blind
To all that they’ve aspired.
Some wish to see, yet, fear such sight
Concerned the truth, however plight,
Would only serve to expedite
They’re fate upon the pyre.
Thus, joy amassed in light of such
A grim and ghastly hallowed touch
Is laudable, and yet too much
Is deemed rather unwitting.
So let’s put to the plight a plan
And fix not on fate’s slight of hand.
Remember, lightning turns one’s sand
To glass once struck…how fitting.
Now, eyes uncluttered, brave the tide
Of realization brimming wide
Within those craving to collide
With preference and conception.
For, once exposed, once interlaced
With what one wants, one can’t erase
One’s gospel, thus, one should embrace
One’s own obliged perception.
So, here, one might find one’s regard
Amply arrayed among the stars
To revolutionize the scars
That threaten all-consumption.
Yet, irony would seek to claim
It’s loathsome spot within this game,
Reminding those that with such changes
Come the need for gumption.
That being said, a hope remains
For those inclined to fan the flame
Of enterprise, yet ascertain
Such purpose is protected.
Intent of such a magnitude
Can, without any doubt, exude
Upon one’s faith, and, thus, collude
With that which is expected.
So, climb the mountain, scale the slope
Of transformation, hold the rope
For dedication, grasp the scope
Of what, now, can transpire.
Atop the peak, from shore to shore,
A fearsome cry, a shout, a roar
Of victory forever more,
If one should so desire.
One final thought, one last refrain
That cannot help but entertain,
Shall find its way, just as the rain
To earth, into this rhyme.
To those with whom these words relate,
With whom this poem reverberates…
Ahhh, never mind, it’s rather late…
Perhaps another time.

 

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April 18, 2016

A Lament to the Digital World

What a ridiculous reality we live in today in this “digital age.” My purpose is not to complain, I’m simply lamenting the passing of the days where conversation and situations took place via a phone call or in person thus allowing the participants to engage in “human” interaction instead of typing something out in a message or a text and relying on the receiver to interpret the exact meaning behind it without any vocal inflections or human aspects to rely on. It’s impossible to effectively communicate one’s exact meaning to someone else simply through typing words..especially when you consider the fact that the language someone uses is more or less around 10% of the actual “communication” that takes place. Roughly 90% of someone’s message goes un-communicated to the recipient. I mean, hey, I know we’re working on artificial intelligence and we’re getting closer and closer each and every day to machines with massive sentient capabilities (scary) but do we really need to “artificially” box ourselves into a communicative culture that steps backwards in terms of one on one interactions while we move forward with a man-made intelligence that’s effectively becoming more and more “human?” We’re intentionally dumbing ourselves down and trading places with our creations. Perhaps the ancient “phone call” is a good starting point to getting back on track to being human.. ;)