Out from the womb it crawled, unaided
And unrestrained—
To wreak havoc within the people.
How was I to know?
I merely channeled this enigma, from that
Vacuum of neuron-frenzied space
Into this world of now-false utopias.
Now the world can see
The true potential of humankind—
To completely and utterly destroy and
defile all it knows.
The killing and raping of humanity by its own—
All in the harsh glow of this,
My life work;
That which has consumed its creator;
A masterpiece.
[1 November 2006]
“Does pain have a place of sacred no return?”
My brain floats behind my eyes,
a storm of sparks
thrown from woven currents—
A writhing mass of computational fury.
An enigma; yet just as bound
by the laws of the flesh;
We only fool ourselves to think it escapes
this physical reality.
The observer sees my particular set
of actions, reactions, expressions;
This is all that defines me.
There is no abstract
I
floating somewhere in grey static space.
I
am merely a fragile pattern,
set amidst the chronologic noise
of human existence.
George William (“A. E.”) Russell (1867–1935). Collected Poems by A.E. 1913.
159. Hope in Failure
THOUGH now thou hast failed and art fallen, despair not because of defeat,
Though lost for a while be thy heaven and weary of earth be thy feet,
For all will be beauty about thee hereafter through sorrowful years,
And lovely the dews for thy chilling and ruby thy heart-drip of tears.
The eyes that had gazed from afar on a beauty that blinded the eyes
Shall call forth its image for ever, its shadow in alien skies.
The heart that had striven to beat in the heart of the Mighty too soon
Shall still of that beating remember some errant and faltering tune.
For thou hast but fallen to gather the last of the secrets of power;
The beauty that breathes in thy spirit shall shape of thy sorrow a flower,
The pale bud of pity shall open the bloom of its tenderest rays,
The heart of whose shining is bright with the light of the Ancient of Days.
source: Bartleby.com
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