#paradigm wobble
Bad News Poem Conclusion: Eyes glued at the television Staring at the screen for another vision Of bad news. "Worst Week" in the headline On the newspaper clip And I wonder why I took my index Out for a dip In the thread, the blasted Web of Covid-19 hashtags And plot lines These are a "Sign of the times" And "It is all bad" My eyes Strain Wobble from socket I hope for some positive spin Maybe history will Provide the cure? Yeah, sure! Except history repeats So that means that even back In ancient times, they had bad news So, what did they do? Perhaps, art? The cure for what ails us Feeds and Sustains us In these times Of containment We draw wobbly eyes Four eyes Of surprise at what We are seeing We draw some lines and Find Geometric signs And make up Stories of the glory Still To rise We don't talk of demise, but of Moon Shine Rid the world of its isolation... it's our Salvation In these bad news times Four eyes Staring and caring for one another My Sisters, Brothers, Fathers, and Mother, please be with us Heal us and Reveal to us A power like no other in The Multiverse Where, even at its worst...it Awe Inspires and Delights us With chaos that Provides opportunities to be Better than we were before For We are all in this together and there is no other place To be (or not to be) Than here with you and You with me and Not Alone #art #poetry #painting #darklore #walkabouts #museums #vispo #myths #literature #music #legends #dance #folklore #storytelling #maggsvibo #humanities #fairytales #blog #repository #talltales #gothichorror #festivals #artexhibitions #books #galleries #augmentedreality #exploration #AI #robots
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DEAR READER
Welcome to my literature, music, and visual poetry project. My blog represents a method for deciphering the fragments left behind in the Anthropocene. Writers use ashes as a metaphorical device in storytelling. Have you ever wondered about the symbolism of ashes? Archaeological fragments of tablet, papyrus, bone, scroll, and pottery are recognizable the world over. In our digital era, however, our lost folkloric works disintegrate into dust. In this sense, I consume the silver flakes and use my he{art] as a vessel to rise from dystopic wastelands. I share lore through the oral tradition. Ashes to Ashes we continue on ∞ to infinity ∞ We are ash. We are stories. We are star dust. We are eternal.
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November 2024
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