Dinosaur Tresses [Today's News Poem, August 31, 2010]
… they clamor, then hammer the barrier that the carriers warily bury in skerries of traffic. The trick to the graph's wit: miles of wires in the isle of tires, waking the juice through the snakes that connect to vectors gone loosened. The lucid translucence of fog in this groggy slog through the evening that sings with the tone of the dead and the clotting of carbon. The bones of eternity founded the city of nebulous tethering; credulous nethering; fortress of sand with electrical tresses and strands that are lovely as youth and as brief.
“The Obama administration is considering a range of new measures to boost economic growth, including tax cuts and a new nationwide infrastructure program, according to people familiar with the discussions. ”
– DEBORAH SOLOMON and JONATHAN WEISMAN, The Wall Street Journal, August 31, 2010
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704421104575464012356644550.html?mod=googlenews_wsj
Wok Your Dog [#twitterfoundpoem, August 31, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I hear what I like to like to hear-AMEN!
I cant go to sleep and my kitchen is messy
and I hear what I like to like to hear-AMEN!
I Wok MY DOG IZZY THEN I DO MY FAMILY
[BESIDES MY MOM LOL],
THEN clean up MY mess!
I LOVE Making a new fall leather jacket
with MY DOG IZZY and MOM and FAMILY!!!!
it's A Hot Wok but somebody has got to do it.
I HATE being Alone but I LOVE leather!
The feel, the smell.... I'm addicted to DOGMOMFAMILY leather!
Hate shopping? somebody has got to do it--
feel that DOGMOMFAMILY leather!
in Lieu of FAMILY and DOG
I Wok your Cats for free
Does this sound bad?
I Wok your Cats for free or
THEN I DO your FAMILY!!!! -AMEN!
Modern Conveniences [Today's News Poem, August 30, 2010]
Modern convenience means dialing a phone for a team of policemen who carry my exit. They're cleansing the peasants, removing the vermin, decreasing the surplus, ignoring miasmas that rise from the bottles of pills and the hormones we eat at each meal... And the cleaning solutions that climb in our cells for a joyride—to copy their asses forever inside the great Xerox within... I'm leaking. My beaker is broken, my boundaries tested by molecule chisels that nibble my innards and dazzle my channels of sodium; diverting those flashes of insight that clamor in synapses, to something more placid.
Extremities dangle away from the center of mass. It's the symbol of targets wherever the warriors juggle by caliber. Soon we'll excise all extreme personalities; culling the herd with our leaden weed-whackers, to leave just a head and a package of guts. And squirming as worms in our offices, burning our stomachs on carpet, tripping on staples and paperclips; wearing pink and blue discuses, that holes punched through paper produced—they will stick to our skin like a smallpox. They'll bake us with halogens, beaming a silvery path; while the monitors watch us through cameras that watch as we witness the world turn to foam.
“A San Jose man who had tried to kill himself with a nail gun was shot and killed by police... Police tried to contact the man from outside the home. But when he did not respond to repeated requests, officers broke in and found the man with self-inflicted wounds, Lopez said. He was also holding a 10-inch knife, and when he confronted the officers, they shot him, Lopez said.”
– Benny Evangelista, San Francisco Chronicle, August 30, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/08/30/BASE1F5ITI.DTL
Fast Wendy: Over One Billion Dads Served [#twitterfoundpoem, August 30, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
#somewhereintheworld there is a lazy dad
havin sex in wendys. is a dead beat dad tryin to actively
be more of a dead beat bad? or is a girl havin sex with her dude
bad, because he bought her a snickers bar and some red koolaid?
maybe both are bad because #somewhereintheworld someone is hungry
and wants her dad? whatever! may everything stay
exactly how it is right now. I'm next in line.
If you were my brother and fell off a fence
To land on the blade of the sign of the times
The stadium opens and shuts, would you wrap
Your hand with your shirt and then drive by yourself
To Kaiser, not calling me—weaving your car
While sloshing the blood 'round the floormat and drunk
On loss, and then wait in a line 'till they stitch
Your hand? Would you lie to them, saying I'm near
And circling blocks for a space, so they'd leave
You pallid, anemic and shambling down
Past levels that slant in the parking garage?
If later, you asked me to help you with chores
And told me you cut yourself walking the track,
I'd think to that time that I shouted you out
Of coma. Your pancreas rotted; you'd nap
While driving through Oakland and wake to my hand
On wheel as I'd veer us away from the road.
I'm sure at that moment you'd wake up in shock,
Then sleep once again in your guilt while I'd walk
To purchase a candy at stores where the red
On packages looks like the red of your car—
The color that links us through loneliness shared.
“At the height of this summer's heat wave, some doctors warned that a few hours of inhaling the thick, acrid smog that blanketed Moscow was like smoking a pack of cigarettes.
One scientist declared that cases of suicide, diabetes and alcoholism would soar once winter set in because of the aftereffects of the toxic smoke.”
– Alexandra Odynova, The Moscow Times, August 29, 2010
http://www.themoscowtimes.com/news/article/worries-over-smogs-effects-decline/413880.html
Following Polaris on I-5 [Bonus Poem, Longshot Submission--REJECTED, August 28, 2010]
Polaris is waiting. She watches the freeway.
And likewise my bride is asleep in our lucky
Oasis, her palm on my thigh as we're speeding
To home. In the back seat our baby is singing
To cattle and purrs at the orchards; delighted
By travel. The chance for a blowout's unlikely.
I've come to believe that my fortunate season
Won't end 'till my purpose is finished; that random
Occurrence is flooding in villages: distant,
Inhuman; a bride to the bullet's intrusion—
And never the northernmost star-beams of glamor
That draw all the drivers together. My baby,
I shout, do you see all the meteors streaking?
I startle my wife from her napping—she lurches
My elbow. The vehicle teeters and threatens
To tumble—I pray in that instant to nothing.
Polaris is sliding through darkness—she's wearing
A tunic of white and she slips through the window
And settles beside her next husband, who's sleeping
By starlight, in car seat; his father correcting
Their path through the valley; in search of true north.
Longshotmag rejected this poem, so I'm giving it to you guys as a freebie. I think they made a mistake, but then again, I didn't see what they actually published. I wrote it in an hour. If you like it, give up some applause & check out the sponsors. I'm also working on a news poem, so you'll have more stuff to read pretty soon.
Zyklon B Kills Siafu Dead [#twitterfoundpoem, August 29, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
The world's best riders and motorcycles take to the track.
Some dude's vanity plate says ZYKLON B.
another contestant IS DRIVING a ufo
like a maniac!
The Indianapolis Motor Speedway:
mud, blood & barbed wire-fun.
The opening!!!! LEMMINGS take the lead.
Go LEMMINGS!!!!
they trip and fall on barbed wire.
lmfao. this is where it gets serious.
a Motorist drives past and sprays ZYKLON B
behind him. fucking brutal!
The LEMMINGS Asphyxiate.
they're out of the race!!!!
The Marine's ZYKLON B car rounds
the FIRST lap and he's ambushed by Siafu.
I love this race. they RIP THE FLESH FROM off his BONES!!!!
The Marine's ZYKLON B sprays and they all asphyxiate.
The Marine Screams "curse you! I asphyxiate youuu!"
The ufo contestant pepper-sprays protesters,
AND counter-protesters near Marine's funeral
As she rounds the finish line
she pepper-sprays AND ZYKLON B-sprays
the audience... that's me!!!! audience ppl said
it was life changing and eye opening to get sprayed
by soo many diff gasses AND to see these
siafu ants attack EVERYTHING.
... that's me!!!!
Grandmaster Prisoner [Today's News Poem, August 28, 2010]
Coffee yourself to a stupor and battle parolees,
Schizos and fools like yourself on the chessboard.
Floyd sees impatience; the way that you pressure his pieces.
Victory's vague and you seek out those masters of planning.
Winning against them's annoying and each of of them offers
Models of playing with people. You pity them. Purchase
Drinks for them; watching them stroll on Valencia—laughing!
How is it possible losers absorb what satori
Drunkards and grumbling hipsters exude in the yellow?
Each of their footsteps is bland and you follow the feathers,
Garbage, the sores on a prostitute. One of the players
Says that you're sick and you carry your prison in public.
Prison is mental he said and I wondered how freedom
Feels to the man with a baby he visits but rarely,
Preaching the gospel to likeminded hypocrites, chasing
Orgasm, freedom from conscience and losing in cycles;
Losing the queen to an oversight, losing their temper
Knocking the board off the table and threatening, 'never
Play here again,' for they fear when a winner engages
Past-times for slackers who never achieve their potential.
“Staff at California's Folsom State Prison worked Saturday to determine the cause of a "major riot" in the prison yard a day earlier that involved 200 inmates, officials there said.”
– CNN Wire Staff, CNN, August 28, 2010
The Spirit of the Living Bullet [#twitterfoundpoem, August 28, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Definitely wearing my Might-have-to-run-and-dodge
-a bullet-nike-dunks today, JUST IN CASE a letter,
written not with pen and ink but with bullet
correction fluid aims at me. Hey, my iPhone
shatters when I shoot it with my gun, why shouldn't I?
if all our aims are written not with pen and ink
but with the Spirit of the living bullet
Then Man, Fuck, I gotta Go to a fuckin shooting range
and Correct my aim!
Rosemary And Phineas [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), August 27, 2010]
An iron rod was used to tamp the cap,
That ovary. They jabbed until it burst,
Exploding prematurely. Birthing slaps
Had ruptured eye and bits of skull at first,
And later, born to wealth, to die again
At twenty three. To calm the swings in mood
An icepick scraped the screams to flatline zen.
To know the gaze of walls; to lose the rood
Salvation rests upon, for carriage rides
Through mountain passes—losing prayers to Lord,
Before incontinence ensures the bride
Of scalpel picks shall sleep in Lethe's reward—
A farther art than heaven. Hollowed names
Undone by accident, by doctor maims.
“Relatives of 33 miners trapped in a collapsed mine shaft far below in Chile’s Atacama Desert have been shown new video of the men in which they send greetings to the surface, show the space they are confined in and sing the Chilean national anthem. ”
– ALEXEI BARRIONUEVO AND ROBERT MACKEY, The New York Times, August 27, 2010, 7:58 am
http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/27/video-messages-from-trapped-chilean-miners/?hp
The bad news is that CombatWords has moved. The good news is that it's back home at http://combatwords.blogspot.com. I revived the game to try & bring some traffic over to TWAK, but they didn't do their part. They liked the traffic, but didn't promote the game. Screw that. Just goes to show that you should never lead a pack of whiners by example. They'll still whine.
I cleaned up the site a bit & am adding links to the participants where possible. You'll get your news poem soon--why don't you check out our sponsors or promote the page while you're waiting? I'm so stretched, that's the only way you'll get a bonus poem out of me at this point.
Whom the Gods Would Destroy, They First Make Artistic [#twitterfoundpoem, August 27, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Lastnight was the best night.
The clown car w/ 16 Clowns and ballerinas crashed.
glass broke and fresh squeezed blood
painted on them so they appear to be happy or sad.
Clowns and ballerinas wear a face that's intentionally silent.
they drove. no more Wal-Mart,
they went to Coney Island and to the circus on the boardwalk!
Some bastard surely performed voodoo magic:
the audience booed and jeered.
it was a Dance/COMEDY performance!!!
the audience was warped: they were actually pretty good.
the audience attacked them with empty
wine, tequila, cognac and Cointreau bottles.
Who comes up wit dis shit??
then The Gods smote them wit bees.
Fuckk. LMFAO!!!! that was totally unnecessary.
they drove away screaming "Fuckk. LMFAO!!!!"
Whom the gods will destroy they first make
edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic.
the bees were totally unnecessary.
aaand anyhow they drove, they crashed,
they squeezed fresh blood & i can't stop them.
they are 2 edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic 2 stop
and their Lastnight Dance/COMEDY performance
was the best one ever!!!!
Very edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic
but it's done NOW. yay. the end.
Usurp Boredom! [Today's News Poem, August 26, 2010]
Bored, I sharpen swords and knives admiring how
Simple objects keep their value. Basic laws
Stay the same throughout the ages. Boredom plows
Fields of corn; a blaze would cleanse its golden flaws
Yielding forth the face of God: a burning bush,
Floods that carry arks to start what's bound to fail
Once again. They're boring—more, they need a push.
Pigs admire their shit; preserved until the sale—
Digging 'til the holy airgun blows the pork
Out their skulls to bags of chicken feed. I'm bored.
Life's predictable on farms and lacks the torque
Arson keeps. I'm bored. So start again with sword.
“The Pakistani Taliban called the presence of foreign relief workers in this flood-ravaged country “unacceptable” on Thursday and suggested that militants could attack members of aid groups. ”
– Salman Masood, The New York Times, August 26, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/27/world/asia/27pstan.html?hpw
Smashed by the Same Girl!!!!!! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 26, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
This morning my car window was smashed
with a note on it. Death threats man.
i was like WTF. later This man from Jerry Springer
went down My chimney to be the Grinch
who Stole my Christmas dream.
For all I know, a Tiger could be
in my car while I'm chilling in my room building a Tiger Tank.
I'm like WTF and I Check my car
just in case the Jerry Springer guy should come by.
WTF?! there goes my car!!!!!!
OMG a GOGO DANCER is driving my car!!!!!!
OMG I think she looks like Elin Nordegren
and i turned around... and
there's a Tiger in my Tank!!!!!! no !!!!!!
and i turned around... and
there's Elin Nordegren in my car.
No !!!!!! I'm like WTF... me and Tiger
were fucked around and smashed by the same girl!!!!!!
One Final Blessing From Zeus [Today's News Poem, August 25, 2010]
Your jaws gape.
We will shut them.
You speak of love? We
act by gravity.
You question quills
the eldest
of worships
cast to open
mouths? Who pummeled you,
until you propped skins
on wood to block
our whimsy?
Your children
drowned. You fell to
mud but looked above
hoping we would claim
what seemed to sink
below ground.
You think time
is off? That flux
conforms to pacing?
Measurement of change
with memory
is folly.
You must chase
us and bottle
the water of clouds
for the plumbing
your new veins
will require.
You must drink your
ancient enemy;
become us. Only
then will we call
you master.
“More rain threatened Pakistan on Wednesday as aid workers pleaded for more help and additional helicopters to reach hundreds of thousands of people isolated by record floods.
The Pakistan Meteorological Department forecast thundershowers and occasional heavy rain into Friday in Punjab Province, Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Province and Kashmir.
On Tuesday, the United Nations said 800,000 people could be reached only by air, and it called for 40 more helicopters from the international community to help take aid to people isolated by the flooding. ”
– Salman Masood, The New York Times, August 25, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/26/world/asia/26pstan.html?_r=1&hp
1) Let me know if this version is buggy. People were complaining that the old format was messing w/ their computers.
2) Turns out Toylit's been around since 2000. So sez Alexa. Now I don't even need to dig up an old copy of Toylit to scan & prove it.
3) If you're a fan of Toylit, remember to promote/support it. Takes a few clicks & lets me know you appreciate it.
4) News poem in a few hours.
Return of the Sacrificial King [Today's News Poem, August 24, 2010] For C.B.
A prophet had visions—I read it in story.
The crust was inverted; its guts rose to surface.
A mask of its final repose was the glory
Of termites; siafu: the mandible creatures.
He lived in a room in a flat that was tilted.
And witnessed the omens that nature transmitted:
The rotting of cars and the gardens that wilted.
The rust of the canisters mixed with their contents
To sprout—between junk heaps—a blackberry angle.
It bundled the weeds and the splinters, transmuting
Exposure to toxins, that spilled on the tangles,
To venom by berry—for givers of poison.
He listened to cooing one evening; a growling,
A gnawing—it sounded like mating or murder.
He opened his door and he followed the howling
From kitchen to staircase. A junkie was laughing.
“They're licking my foot in a gesture of friendship,”
Raccoons were both ripping his toes from their knuckles.
The moon served as witness: the essence was worship
That fell through the cracks to the vines down below them.
While starlight possessed him, he called to the cosmos:
“Where will we live when the world is a graveyard?
And where will be bury our dead when the magma
Surfaces, coating the planet with buildings?”
“A new study finds oil spilled into the Gulf of Mexico from a ruptured BP well degraded at a rate that was "much faster than anticipated" thanks to the interaction of microbes with the oil particles. ”
– Vivian Kuo, CNN,August 24, 2010 5:51 p.m. EDT
http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/08/24/gulf.oil.study/
“For more than nine days, for more than 60 miles, thousands of Beijing-bound vehicles have come to a virtual standstill on a stretch of highway called the 110 (honest!) that runs from Inner Mongolia southeast to the nation's capital.”
– Barbara Demick, Los Angeles Times, August 25, 2010 Edition
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-china-traffic-20100825,0,3689656.story
Don't Mind the Mess [#twitterfoundpoem, August 24, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
what do you just instantly dislike?
foam, body, color, aroma, taste...
Ahhh! I dislike all of them!
yea, but now ice-hockey injuries,
a drink of tha best liquid silver
(I drink them babies like a milkshake),
a gun, and a Powerwash? I don't mind them babies.
I distend my belly, smile and
drink tha sun... Ahhh! my old ice-hockey injuries!
I distend my belly, nd get gas instead of throw up!
I Rupture grossness and A forensic scientist
says "We look at foam, body, color, aroma, taste.
onces the rock is chipped its chipped u cant get it bak."
I don't mind.
Entropy's Letters [Today's News Poem, August 23, 2010]
'Click' and she echo-locates as the twilight
Leaps through the sky to horizon in minutes.
Jerking with birds of the evening, they're snapping
Bugs in the orange, blue, purple—to whiteness
(Orbiting body indifferent to murder).
Insects are messengers—calorie letters
Sent from the bang to the night. All mosquitoes,
Flies and the fog of the gnats shall deliver
Harmony: buzzing the music of monads;
Everywhere life ever sprouted; a ripple,
Wave or a particle bouncing back homeward.
“...the UN's Food and Agriculture Organization is working on a policy to promote insects as food worldwide.”
– Jennifer S. Holland, Health, National Geographic, September, 2010
Stripping While Burning [#twitterfoundpoem, August 23, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
After hours of fiddling
Y SHOULD I GIVE UH FUCK?
i am fiddling!
fiddling in the strip club!
fiddling in my room!
fiddling in Greece...
I seem to have survived tonights fiddling
with only minor damage.
So it's more of a minor annoyance than an emergency
that has nothing to do with my major:
Fiddling While the US Economy Burns.
Not done yet, but the rest is minor tinkering.
waiting on someone to open
your heart again?
you can squirt your breast milk at folks in the strip club!
I'm fiddling While
it Burns and we burn it down
and you're dancing!
I gotchaa one day wen we burn it down...
Y SHOULD I GIVE UH FUCK?
Working on it now!
There is death by every element.
Pesticides by bomber gas the swarms:
Doomed as wheat to die as energy.
Engines vomit forth dioxin clouds.
Fuel transmutes to emulate the rain.
Falcons coast on thermal breeze to sway,
Crash and crumble, much as nested eggs.
Summer's nearly ended. Springtime still
Echoes: silent, past the solstice point,
Through the fecund summer—nearly done—
Into autumn; through the wintertime
Lasting longer than a contrail's line.
“New research confirms the existence of a huge plume of dispersed oil deep in the Gulf of Mexico and suggests that it has not broken down rapidly, raising the possibility that it might pose a threat to wildlife for months or even years. ”
– JUSTIN GILLIS and JOHN COLLINS RUDOLF, The New York Times, August 19, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/science/earth/20plume.html?ref=science
The Rapture of Buffalo Wild Wings [#twitterfoundpoem, August 22, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Ain't no
lackluster themes
to capture that
Rapture...
that SERIELKILLING RAPIST
Feeling... that Rapture
to capture that
'drop out of uni' Child
Feeling.
Feeling Rapture
inspired? the
SERIELKILLING RAPIST
thinks so.
so
BEFORE U
HIRE that
SERIELKILLING RAPIST
HIRE that
'drop out of uni' Child...
drop that 'drop out of uni' Child
in the toilet.
if that SERIELKILLING RAPIST
thinks a dead fly
can Sprout
Buffalo Wild Wings
in the Rapture
then
there's no such thing as
suicide.
In 'Mongol Hunts,' men
on horses circled around a zone and beat
the bushes; driving every
critter to the center. These sorts
of things never end
well for the beasts. Yoking
brush takes fire and steel;
slashing and burning the growth
until it cowers under farmland,
until it is used up and flies
beyond the reach of tool or plan.
The flora reach to grasp
the sun: hold it, hitch
a ride and flee. The animals
will run upon a bridge
of bark—and ride the ark of wood.
Barring that, the plants
will lock their branches,
lacing-up the sky and embrace
the garden of surface,
that prison for masters,
a circus for fauna;
mechanical big-top
grocer; with euthanasia.
“A bear that mauled to death a caretaker was euthanized Saturday at the request of the family of the victim, whose father said he had told his son to leave the job. The bear attacked Brent Kandra, 24, when he opened its cage Thursday for a routine feeding at the home of a man who kept a menagerie of wolves, tigers and bears on the property southwest of Cleveland.”
– JEANNIE NUSS, Associated Press, August 21, 2010
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jcScCFNF4KJBJPVIwjJCy2vW9IZQD9HO5U780
Ur Dreamtimes. Ur Visions. [#twitterfoundpoem, August 21, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
can't remember the last time u looked at ur IQ?
u can't remember ur Dreams and ur Visions.
ur own IQ is Es ist mehr als neuntausend!!
You little wonder, little wonder you.
but u can't ever help but wonder
"How have I gotten so far, yet am so far away?"
I bet u wonder about Dreamstimes and Visions
pretending you prefer, Goals with a Plan.
u can't remember ur Dreamstimes and Visions
You little wonder, little wonder you.
Remember ur Goals with a Plan.
u say ur not evil when u have
taken over the tv and u make
the Dreams and Visions disappear.
my IQ level just dropped because of that.
I can't remember my Dreams and my Visions.
now I little wonder but u little wonder 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!111!1!1!
Salmonella Swim Upstream To The First Watershed [Today's News Poem, August 20, 2010]
Eden to edible; instinct extant.
Jungle to cages; conveyers to trucks...
Farms on the way to the stomach's delight.
Pathogens caught in the eggs of a hen,
Ride from a prison of gears to a bowl;
Coming to roost in an ancestral home.
“In a sign that the egg industry's woes are mounting, a second Iowa producer issued a recall of potentially millions of eggs that could be contaminated with salmonella. The eggs were packaged under at least three brands and had been shipped to 14 states, including California.”
– P.J. Huffstutter, Los Angeles Times, August 20, 2010, 12:35 p.m.
http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-eggs-recall-20100821,0,1454316.story
'THIS IS SPARTAAAA' Brand Contraceptive [#twitterfoundpoem, August 20, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
when she had a knife pointin at yo dick
when she said "i love u,"
when you said you "feeln lyk sme bahdd guyy!! Hiss!"
that is when u had to sleep in bed wit one eye open.
she got jealous that you were talking to Your mom.
Hiss! you ignores her. you kno deep dwn
ur defiinately going to cheat.
she threw ur phone and said
"Sparta nos ttsssssssss AHSAUHSSHUASUHUHSA"
she woke u up wit a knife pointin at yo dick
wit a knife pointin at yo eye
and u said "i love u"
and she said 'this is spartaaaa!!'
Where Where Vanished [Today's News Poem, August 19, 2010]
Even nothingness follows order.
Bangs unspool and collapse; creating
Time and space from potential empty
Spaces. Possible genesis where
Former entropy reigned, declined and
Ceased to mean. Where where vanished; losing
Tempo, subject and object. Solved by
Helix, vortexes, spirals spinning:
Lattice patterns that joined together.
“The International Mathematical Union (IMU) doled out seven prizes, including the brand-new, $500,000 Chern Medal Award, in opening ceremonies at its quadrennial International Congress of Mathematicians (ICM) today in Hyderabad, India. Also at the meeting, IMU elected its first woman president, Ingrid Daubechies of Princeton University... Villani's work "makes deep connections between mathematics and physics, in particular regarding the notion of entropy," says Stefan Müller of the University of Bonn in Germany. It brings rigor to another question of statistical physics: How quickly does a highly organized system, such as compressed gas about to be released, reach its disordered equilibrium state? The answer contains a surprise: Entropy (a measure of disorder) increases at different speeds, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly.”
– Barry Cipra, Science Now, August 19, 2010
http://news.sciencemag.org/sciencenow/2010/08/fields-medals-other-top-math-pri.html
Are You Lost? [#twitterfoundpoem, August 19, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Sick of being told that I do not take the fight
against My best friend, Jihadism, seriously.
Jihadism says alcohol is ur enemy,
but jesus says love ur enemies.
Mum says If u have a petty beef with someone Muahaha
squash him today!
WHAT?! are you lost?!
John Locke says "Education begins the enemy
but reading, good company and reflection must finish him."
Muahaha!
WHAT are you Waiting for?!
afraid to Lose yourself?????
you have to be submissive to your losses.
If u have a petty beef with someone Muahaha
u must finish him!
old enemies becoming allies becoming enemies becoming allies
is more compelling than Jihadism against My best friend "fight."
Lose yourself to an indescribable emotion.
You Are Duncan Idaho [Today's News Poem, August 18, 2010]
Every moment ever had is yours.
Cradles lined with felt and pastel fuzz.
Gurgles emanate then dissipate
After screaming. Bathrooms flood with red.
Once your favored color, now you fear
Blood of any kind and bags of snacks;
Santa too. But worse, you died as well—
How? Neurosis only plagues what lives.
Maybe you're a ghost—insane, you haunt
Coffee shops and after-hour clubs:
Dogs have mauled you; water drank the breath
Father offered from your sobbing lips.
Soap and mops erased the bloody mess.
Once you rode your city through the clouds
Gliding down on drafts of fallout dust.
Synapse skeins are tangled memories
Mixing baby baths with murdered moms.
Reflex animates your nightmare reel:
Terrorvision crashes every train,
Wrecks the cars outside your window pane,
Thrills the jaded horror advocate;
Robs the precious memories and hides
What few scraps remain with endless torture.
“Electroencephalography (EEG) testing may be able to predict response to clozapine in patients with treatment-resistant schizophrenia a new pilot study suggests.”
– Deborah Brauser, Medscape Today, August 18, 2010
http://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/727098
“Researchers at the school studying brainwaves found that the mind produces pulses called "spindles" during sleep that stop noises from getting to the part of the brain that would make the sleeper aware of them, the release said. Electroencephalography patterns in the brain, used to distinguish stages of sleep, show slow brain waves were interspersed with brief rapid pulses, or spindles.”
– UPI, August 10, 2010
http://www.upi.com/Science_News/2010/08/10/Heavy-sleepers-brains-dont-hear-noise/UPI-53091281477124/
“Cloning technology could be used to create Scottish wildcats if numbers of breeding pairs in the wild collapse.”
– BBC, 18 August 2010 Last updated at 11:48 ET
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-highlands-islands-11016130
“A simple slide show could be the next weapon against terrorists. Using a brain-electrode cap and imagery, scientists at Northwestern University can pick the date, location and means of a future terrorist attack from the minds of America's enemies. ”
– Eric Bland, Discovery.com, August 12, 2010
http://news.discovery.com/tech/mind-reading-tech-predicts-terrorism.html
Try it Out! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 18, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
become the next Pope!!!!
you HAVE one last chance.
Pursue one great decisive aim with force and determination.
maybe the last one will HAVE "committed suicide,"
or suffer an indecent accident.
One creep after another is spymaster, Pope,
Oliver North, PRESIDENT... whatever.
try total commander !!!!
Clausewitz and Sun Tzu control a dancing Vladimir Putin,
so try it Out!
you are an intended anagram of
"dog food" and you will box anyone
for a box of eyes !!!!
that is a good start !!!!
your candidacy is a mission from Fnord
and you are fresh!
Fnord is the sugar in Kool-Aid
and you are an indecent accident
PRESIDENT Wall Street spymaster Pope:
Perfectly fallible... make others Popes!
try it Out!
“The proportion of teens in the United States with slight hearing loss has increased 30% in the last 15 years, and the number with mild or worse hearing loss has increased 77%, researchers said Tuesday... "Personal stereos are the most important change in the culture in the last 15 to 20 years," said Dr. Tommie Robinson Jr., president of the American Speech-Language-Hearing Assn. "Everybody has their own little device now, and how many times have you passed somebody and could hear their music?"”
– Thomas H. Maugh II, Los Angeles Times, August 17, 2010
http://www.latimes.com/news/science/la-sci-teens-hearing-loss-20100818,0,559994.story
U Essay Versus L From DEATH NOTE [#twitterfoundpoem, August 17, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
u Essay 'God does not believe in Atheists
therefore Atheists don't exist.' L from DEATH NOTE
finds that fascinating. u Essay 'YOU HAVE RUINED MY DREAMS
OF A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE,' also for no reason,
AND L from DEATH NOTE finds that amusing.
u Essay 'Fuck Logic. Logic Sucks. Fuck REASON
AND LOGIC.' AND You bring up Racism?
L from DEATH NOTE finds Donut Logic Is circular AND Full of holes.
u Essay u Essay u Essay
AND Natural Deduction, Hybrid Systems and Modal Logics
finds that amusing. All you talk about is circular Logic:
ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE says the ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE says
You says You says.
L says 'YOU HAVE RUINED MY DREAMS OF A Sweet Robot Love
Logic APOCALYPSE!!!! AND now I'm stuck in
ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AND YOU
find that amusing.'
Jilted Gory-Glory [Today's News Poem, August 16, 2010]
Streets aren't so promising,
Promising shoves, shoulders;
Shouldering steep shovel-
Fuls: shit is everywhere.
Where feces falls, so too
Two dolls. They're raggedy
Rag people embracing.
Sing 'Gory-Glory' and
Guard sleep while maniacs—
Mainly in dark alleys—
Ally themselves; sharing
Rare purpose. Absolution
Shuns fellow lunatics.
Loons, Luna, suicide:
Sides of a shadowy
Dowry for idiots.
“Derek Cox, a friend of victim Andrew Therrien, told KABC-TV in Los Angeles that Therrien, 22, pushed children out of the way as the truck barreled toward them. He was killed in the accident.”
– GILLIAN FLACCUS (AP) – 12 minutes ago as of August 16, 2010; 9:52am
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5gB9jnKObPfaIQty58BGWr_bTtMlQD9HKMJJG0
Web Bot Predicts Cannibalism [#twitterfoundpoem, August 16, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Update: Clif High: Web Bot PREDICTIONS/ Prophetic Signs & Portents Series:
Michael Jackson needs more and more child soldiers
and Rush Limbaugh thinks human flesh is DELICIOUS.
theres a conspiracy behind every year!!!
more and more soldiers STOP biased media
with the annual Reptilian Conspiracy Meet:
the obamas are Alien space invaders smoking in a car
with virgins and viruses... Yeah, you guess
that is just the evilness of the powers that be...
The secret histories of those @#$%ing
computer symbols you see everywhere:
they are Meme viruses.
I, for one welcome our new high voltage overlords.
why DON'T you welcome THEM?
why do you hope for change?
DON'T you want more and more child soldiers?
DON'T you want more human flesh?
do secret symbols confuse u?
do you understand why the powers that be hate
you with a passion and want to put a bullet in your head?
Michael Jackson needs more and more child soldiers
and the obamas and the Reptilian Limbaugh
find real human virgins DELICIOUS!!!
Aping the Ageless [Today's News Poem, August 15, 2010]
Shifting softly, sands shall shelter seaweed
From froth. First foam frays fetters of
Kelp, casting crumbling crustaceans
Beyond breakers. Beakers bite bits,
Leaving leftovers languishing.
Wallow while walking away when
Ugly undertakings upset:
Shucking, sucking, spitting sea shells—
Aping awful, ageless anger.
“Of all the places to part with fistfuls of money in St.-Tropez, few have more cachet than Le Club 55... The mayor’s office says the establishments pose a threat to the environment. Officials have proposed dismantling existing beach amenities and shrinking the area allotted for private beaches to protect delicate flora and what officials say are dunes worn down by the crush of manicured feet. As a result, despite the August atmosphere of hedonism, an unusual air of rebellion is stirring in St.-Tropez, with businesses contemplating their first ever “strike.””
– Liz Alderman, The New York Times, August 15, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/16/business/global/16iht-beach.html?_r=1&hp
A Purity Ball Made of π (Bats Tribute #2) [#twitterfoundpoem, August 15, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
purity purity omaha mall. we ball
at the purity ball at the mall, where Best Friends
Become Strangers and their lives are divided
by components of fuel: hypocritically murderous LOL
Shopoholics, and corrupted 'my life is happy
and who cares about yours' creationists.
what's SO funny bout it is EVERYTHING Shopoholics
have, the purity creationists have. There is this ridiculous
obsession with finding the nth digit of prosper,
where n is stupid. where the belief system components
are designed to fail by components of fuel,
and their lives are divided by the stupidest story,
equaled by Harrison bergeron, another stupidest story
which I change into a component of my fuel:
Maul at the purity ball at the mall,
where the Shopoholics and creationists evolve over time
into dinosaur bones, which evolves over time into components
of fuel, which evolves into gas that orbits the earth
with my purity science... my Harrison bergeron mall
that orbits the earth and its dinosaur bones...
where I dance with my Harrison bergeron lover in space,
at a purity ball of our own made of π.
Glorious Humiliation [Today's News Poem, August 14, 2010]
It's tragic that fame is denied to the needy,
Who need it like butter or insulin doses.
They lay on the dishes and crumbs on their bedding
And talk to their teevees, their dogs; to the ceilings
That smile—just a crack—while the mysteries crackle
On speakers and screens. There's an orphan on crutches;
Diseased, she has patrons who watch from a distance
By camera—they fear her contagion and money
By wire should relieve her worst symptoms—and millions
Of people are watching her limp and they're cheering.
So buck up, there's someone who's worse-off than losers
Like you; so just hide in your blankets and order
A pizza and cry in your pillow; for someday
They'll broadcast your filth to the world and they'll shower
Upon you that glorious pity you wanted.
“"And here (Europe) they're not obsessed with age and weight. Here actresses can work for many years. In America you can be a great actress and have no work by the time you're 40. This is a tragedy, so I don't want to live this tragedy."”
– Daily Dish, SFGate.com, August 13, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/dailydish/detail?entry_id=70106
“Few things would say "the beaches are back" like President Obama tearing off his shirt and running into the surf at Panama City, Fla., during a brief vacation swing to the oil-spill-harassed Gulf Coast Saturday. ”
– Patrik Jonsson, The Christian Science Monitor, August 14, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Politics/2010/0814/Obama-s-Florida-trip-With-BP-oil-spill-receding-time-for-a-swim
Shit Dope [#twitterfoundpoem, August 14, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I was a bird. a dying bird.
u played angry birds yet? shit dope.
first u flock up. then u scream your
head off like it was for the birds.
The shit then gets dope and I first
shit on the girl on the beach. dope!!
HAHAHAHAH!! i just heard some
girl kid scream about the laundry
and All that undergarment shit.
I SHIT my head and balls off, soooooooo
fuck it. I was a dying bird.
it was worth it. it was shit dope.
Brave New Nerves [Today's News Poem, August 13, 2010]
A wave or a particle; string—if that matters—
Has woven my iris to a fabric of systems.
It trickles through nerves and collects in the endings.
I twitch in my armchair—a butterfly's trampled:
An earthquake in Chile is cause for more coffee.
The coffee, the cause of plantations in forests.
The bulldozers topple the timber—thank goodness
They're made in America—bashing a species
Unknown to the scientists waiting with clipboards.
Who stymies the progress of muscles through patches
Of dread, where the parasites nibble the sinews?
And vanquished for gardens of coffee we nurture?
“In an apparent bid to extend its control over the Internet and cash in on the rapid growth of mobile devices, China plans to create its own government-controlled search engine.”
– DAVID BARBOZA, The New York Times, August 13, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/14/technology/14search.html?_r=1&hpw
Star Struck [#twitterfoundpoem, August 13, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
In this era of "thugs and goons"
We're all Hyped up over priced suckers:
a nation of mostly blind people.
Too much bling & sing.
Saw meteors yesterday morning tho-
and I expect more this morning.
I found this cool meteorite
while going for a run
away from a gang of mostly blind people.
I expect more in general tho.
it hatched from Mini Rocks!
Think ima name this plant Audrey III.
She sez "ima make u famous...
but im so hungry. FEED ME!!!!"
I FEED her & "hahah" sez
The Perseid meteor shower
And Jupiter too! I FEED a nation
of Hyped up over priced suckers
first on my little vision,
then on meteor shit
& I expect The nation will run
a little more with an eye to
Those consumed by giant plants.
Doesn't he say right here that he enjoys trolling? "I have a fake alias facebook account with no friends or profile that I use to troll people’s walls and photo albums. People trying to look happy always look so sad; people who look sad always look worse; people who look ugly fair well under low resolution; people who look beautiful always seem cruel." http://htmlgiant.com/random/learning-lessens/
Well if that doesn't just go against the whole spirit of the thing, when I write delightful derision and it's deleted. I don't have the first comment, it just mocks the use of 'fair' when 'fare' is the proper word. I do have the second, because I suspected they were going to delete it:
"My remark was far gentler than anything Jimmy’s anon trolling, but it’s stricken from the record? I call smug, smarmy foul! Did you guys delete like fifty posts mocking the spelling in this post? Did you bid fairwell to them? How did they fair? Are you going to the county fare you jackals? Fie! Fie fie!"
And then I caught myself and noted they enraged me so much I used scesis onomaton. I went on to point out that if I saw that in an HTML GIANT article, it would probably say, 'sceptic automaton.' I didn't save that one either, but you got the soul of the joke.
I am against cyber-wimps. WTF is this chicken shit?
ps: Yeah, I'm sure they defend it as wordplay. Rather inconsistent with the style of the rest of the piece. Other puns of opportunity in there.
Omens of Predestination [Today's News Poem, August 12, 2010]
If a notion to flee from the pavement
And the hydrants possesses you, drive
To the suburbs—beyond! To arraignments
With the meteors over this hive
With its labyrinth-roads—with no exit.
If the omen should fail with a blaze
And the sputtering pieces of flecks hit
And erupt—if the signal is haze;
Then the deity Science commissions
An assault on these roaches and mites
Who still cling to their God of contrition,
Who is helpless to save them from night—
Or from murder and lunacy. Parsons
In the meteor glow scream as arson—
Or let's call it our mother—rejects
Them to favor her killer-Elect.
“A suspect in the killings of five people and the stabbings of 15 others in three states was arrested at the airport here as he tried to board a plane to Israel, the authorities said Thursday morning. The police say the attacks fit a common profile: A tall, stocky man, often in an S.U.V., usually in a deserted area late at night, asks a black man for directions or help with a broken-down car, then attacks them quickly and drives away.”
– Robbie Brown, The New York Times, August 12, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/13/us/13stabbings.html?_r=1
“In June alone, a doctor was stabbed to death in Shandong Province by the son of a patient who had died of liver cancer. Three doctors were severely burned in Shanxi Province when a patient set fire to a hospital office. A pediatrician in Fujian Province was also injured after leaping out a fifth-floor window to escape angry relatives of a newborn who had died under his care... Four years ago, 2,000 people rioted at a hospital after reports that a 3-year-old was refused treatment because his grandfather could not pay $82 in upfront fees. The child died.”
– Sharon LaFraniere, The New York Times, August 11, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/12/world/asia/12hospital.html?src=me&ref=general
Ready For the Truth [Today's News Poem, August 11, 2010]
Morphine is dripping from bags by my bedside,
Running through plastic to veins and it's racing
Agony inside my nerves and it dribbles
Down from my eyes. And my children are weeping;
Babies are wailing; their tears form a river.
Floating away, I am filled with the terror
Judgment imposes and pray for the angels.
Light for the rheuminess lost! Is the barter
Made in my life to be honored, with Heaven?
Yes for an age—my beloveds united.
God is too bright for the recent arrivals.
Later it tugs me, like death for a second
Time—and then time seems to vanish completely;
Leaving my self for the fabric of ever.
Infinity echoes in quantum repeating:
Starting and ending; explosions renewing
Each possibility. Thoughts are the monads,
Serving as pieces the universe conjures:
Gamma ray bursts, and the grass that a toddler
Ran through and swore to remember forever—
Thinking that somehow her prayer has been answered.
“So I was dubious when I read in The Wall Street Journal last week that students are relying more on online roommate matching services to avoid getting paired with strangers or peers with different political views, study habits and messiness quotients... As in Darwinian evolution, cross-pollination with diverse strains promotes species development... Choosing roommates who are mirror images may fit with our narcissistic and microtargeted society, but it retards creativity and social growth.”
– Maureen Dowd, The New York Times, August 10, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/11/opinion/11dowd.html?_r=1&hp
The New Died Or Raped Chain Mail Mate [#twitterfoundpoem, August 11, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Fuck you haters. you tell me to come now
when you aren't ready for me?
I'm dressed and ready in my chain mail.
think I'm dressed to get died or raped?
im invincible mate.
I think You're dressed to get died or raped
not to be respected.
You're dressed in a 100 dollar shirt mail.
When fortune smiles on something as theft,
it seems proof like no other that, not only does
chain mail exist, I'm doing Its will.
your fortune cancels out my theft?
Fuck !
look like ive been died or raped at 12:06!
I suspect I have already been cloned or something,
for a gang war.
Fuck !
I suspect I have chain mail skin cancer,
and that I'm the new died or raped chain mail mate,
Fuck !
and that fortune smiles on my new master.
Eternal Flame [Today's News Poem, August 10, 2010]
In the bog, there's a will wisp:
Peat steaming the winter up
To the clouds, for the flame's crisp.
Each season has merits—for
An example: the fields burn
Each year, but expire for an
Age; recurring as earth turns—
Back after another one—
Then returning like first ape
Grass-arsonist cinders. If
You prefer, then a storm shape—
Tossed down from the mighty air.
“As if things in Russia were not looking sufficiently apocalyptic already, with 100-degree temperatures and noxious fumes rolling in from burning peat bogs and forests, there is growing alarm here that fires in regions coated with fallout from the Chernobyl nuclear disaster 24 years ago could now be emitting plumes of radioactive smoke.”
– MICHAEL SCHWIRTZ, The New York Times, August 10, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/11/world/europe/11russia.html
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