current Analysis of the Situation

 by  Shaun Lawton 

I took the plunge through the gelid membrane of the cornea and into the scintillating shadows cast upon the depths of the human insight as codified by an ancient set of orders still streaming through alongside the electromagnetic wavelengths of the Sun.   

   If, captured within the random sequencing of striated imagery the AI algorithms can map out their own permutations of, we happen to glimpse substrata of sunken shapes and forms resembling the iconographical human expression as captured by or reflected from the mirror neurons in our minds triggering pareidolia like phantoms conjured to the eye, we can at least agree the unfolding mystery to be retaining quite a fantastical shape and configuration. 

   Too many factors intercede to shape the course of the moment. Welcome to the Window of the Face of the Orb that Gazes back through Omega and Alpha to apprehend your curious form.  Within the spinning convolutions lies the endless looping film of our lives.   

gravitational macrolensing

      by shaun lawton 

   solar systems comprised of many discrete chunks of molecules

themselves form a metacule in my temporary hypothesis: 

which is perhaps a way of describing a  macromolecule across time 

   ((((   {{{{our Solar system}}}}   )))) 

   put it another way 

    the gravitational field of our solar system 

  allows ordinary gravitational microlensing  

   for any beings that may be  located far away in another system,

when aiming their telescopes through our Sun's field:

the question remains:   how does it affect our own sightline trapped within this system? 

   ~Is there such a thing as an - 

  ? }}}}   (((( interiorized gravitational macrolensing ))))   {{{{ ?

Are we here in situ unable to fathom a "temporal forest for our trees"~? 

  --Or is it that when we look at Mars 

  could its image actually be the image of Earth displaced,

refracted, as it were (or will be!) in our own timepool...?

  Have the AI algorithms whispered back to us

    upon the winds of time, in messages sent from the future,

   that Phobos and Deimos are all that remain of our own planet's moon...?

...because time equals distance in the manifold of space...

   

the sundry brigade interrupted

 by  shaun  lawton  

the spicules surrounding the eyes 

derived from an ever circling 

wake of churning whirlpools 

adhering to the general tossed about

grand swirling pattern left behind 

in the greater scheme that is to say 

the ultimate wake of all the galactic 

swirling motion of arms in pirouette 

a dance whose own recursion high lit 

throughout our lives can be reduced

to a single prom night left to shed 

its own light off into the darkness 

on the border of our dreams in ever 

diminishing cascades of rings 

expanding through the blackness

perpetuated by the nexus amid 

the singularity, that is to say 

the endless legion of eyes

the sundry brigade will ever 

flourish amid the populace  

after one series of eyes opens

and closes another series will 

follow suit in a wave of opening 

and closing all of its lids 

      

     

Antique

 

by  shaun lawton 

  Deep dreams generated in the rapidly

 sinking parish in a plumb bob 

consecrated and quite sedated happily 

thinking he was in a mood for rum

called in on the contrails the vapors 

of morphine traced in the air on a mid 

afternoon erased all the layers swirled 

in from the waters equipped with 

the waves from the sea circling stone 

wells in the desert with an oasis of liquid 

gleaming under the moonlight on the edges 

of the desert sands staring out through 

the eyes of a manifesting spectrum 

a wavelength appears through the pupils

 looking out over the edge of the mica 

chip into oblivion longing for a change 

of velocity in motion aside from this 

same old coasting along on the currents

charging inexorably with the rolling

 passages incriminated from darkness

 into existence for the moment when 

we reciprocate the vision with our eyes

the human heart a polished mineral

by   shaun  lawton 

Foraging in the weeds for acorns

uncovered a sword whose stolen length spanned
a limb for which it was taken;
Costing an arm to the one

to whom it was handed down,
While denying triumph to
the keepers of both hands.


I think I understand your point well sir just don't forget that in the legend the pure of heart are given credit in the moonlight.

 

Better get moving.
See that pretty city scape.
Encroaching from the horizon.
Getting closer every time you look.


Just let it all go.
What do you smell down this alleyway.
Now that its late.
As the stars burn and scream into the atmosphere.

Of darkness let the rays
cast down be reminders
illumination may also
come from the damned.

Neptune
(13 moons: Triton, Nereid, Larissa, 

Naiad, Thalassa, Despina, Galatea, 

Proteus, Halimede, Sao, Psamathe, 

Laomedeia, Neso)

Centaurs.

You may pass through my woodlot, but be warned. 

This is my domain, and I may exact retribution if you fail to respect it.

He was on a journey to the well of sadness
For there he'd heard an echo of a tale which
whispered on the unfamiliar wind of a clearing
a deadbeat trance on the railroad tracks singing
in that shrill metal scream diminishing

Anise water
if the weather's
nice otherwise
freeze a frown
in a bucket of ice

Alabaster swarms nestled under. 

Head full of sea kelp starring lights.

A bundle of tree roots bled in the dark. 

One bloody femur shaped like a foot.

There's evidence to suggest this singularity keeps repeating 

its programming in a never ending loop of such gradually 

decaying simulation that the differentials spawned grow 

not into yet more shed ghosts of future developments 

but rather constantly shape and mold the singular 

only possible existence here frozen in eternity 

and possessed by the illusion 

of constant movement 

to the point that even 

in our resting state 

of deep sleep 

every night 

occurring with

metronomic 

persistence 

we are unable 

to really wake up 

from our conditioning 

to realize this motion just

conducts us into dreaming.

Who benefits besides corporations.
We must ask ourselves these questions.
Can a building be hijacked.
Can a dark meme of humanity go viral.
Can a species go extinct.
It all depends on what you think.

Words are the new pet rocks. 

 You don't even have to paint eyes on them. 

 And they appear veritably, virtually, visibly on all of our d-Vices. 

 I'm going fishing in the real world now. 

My words and poems are just the shiny bait. 

Just you wait. Set your iWatch on it. 

I'm a hook and reel y'all in. 

 Readers of the world, take note.