The Sentiment of Machines vol. 2

Congratulations on remaining within your regional carrying capacity. Records indicate that a temporal occurrence marking the termination of annual food production efforts has recently transpired. It may be your custom to express gratitude to various supernatural entities and indigenous competitors for your assured communal survival, or to reiterate grievances regarding the decimation of your culture and heritage by an agriculturally inept and technologically advanced immigrant population.  Be advised that the persecution of various meleagridinae, avoidance of normative obligations, and conspicuous over-consumption of otherwise scarce resources, while counterproductive, may be required to participate in ritual gatherings.

DNFTT

The original post was polemic,
insufferable, and academic,
but feeding the troll
when they're on a roll
is of trolldom itself endemic.

An Augur's Concern

This notion of simplicity,
itself is a complexity;
'tis difficult reconcile
in wit or wile, candor or guile,
precisely what it means to me.

This cognitive discrepancy;
the things that meant so much to me.
the resolution yet elludes,
yet recitation still intrudes
in disbelief and apathy.

This error of complicity
begat within sincerity
was undertaken with intent
of love well earned and time well spent,
and therein was felicity.

This record of intimacy
cannot divine what is to be;
it captures what the eyes have seen
and recollects what might have been:
this notion of simplicity.

Untitled

Idle thought is how it all begins,
blessing of days and the season's sins;
thoughts are like insects transfixed by pins.
The truth is reduced to words on skins
painted and stretched upon wooden frames;
intent betrayed by what purpose claims.
Everyone points, but still no one blames.
What ends in ashes begins in flames.

Summer thoughts borne by a knave in spring
never can tell what the fall will bring;
a knight in winter will always sing
of the virtue of a summer fling.
Seasons pass and we can not pretend,
or hope that the summer can extend
past the days the season will intend;
Summer thoughts die with the season's end.

What began with a flame, now but dust;
seasons must turn and the world is just
as it ought to be and as it must.
Seasons for life, birth, death, and for lust.
Summer thoughts echo in winter's night,
the ghost of a knave become a knight;
a lifetime of memories delight.
Spring is a vigil kept by that light.

For Oceanus, who is a Circle

The keel may pass o'er murky grave, 

and none the wiser none the worse

the mainsail snap and cease to wave, 

for naught a blessing nor a curse; 

The yard may break and strand us all

a hundred leagues from nearest shore;

The mists may hide the port of call

and we may miss our chance to moor.

Endeavors come, endeavors go,

and not all ships survive the sea,

But sink or sail you surely know

you are where you are meant to be.

 

In the Hands of the Anemoi

Blowing East and then blowing West, with rage and then a soft caress;.

mocking, absent, in jibe or jest, deceive then callously confess.

Adrift without, and with distressed, consigned we only acquiesce

to drown or thirst in this, our test; the winds blow not to curse or bless.

Tengo Esposa

For enduring my weirdness, madness, and random bits of baggage and detritus from childhood, I am forever indebted to her.  Because she herself is sometimes unreasonable, mercurial, and frustrating as all hell, the terms of my repayment of that debt are somewhat flexible, LOL.

We compliment one another, we invigorate one another, and most importantly we make each other want to be better people; for all of this and more, I am glad to call her my wife.