2022-xx
a poem written in iambic hexameter
2023-01-01 01:00
// updated 2025-11-09 13:13
// updated 2025-11-09 13:13
regarding boredom as a precious luxury
remembering when products used to last longer
seeing "society" split into two (or three)
continuing to see through the propaganda?
defining "misinformation" as "things they hate"
questioning the sustainability of faith
finding mixed results with certain experiments
needing to shrug off a pair of disappointments
diverging so greatly from the common nonsense
knowing that the dam must break eventually
disobeying rules when they no longer make sense
observing the cult phenomena of each side
retreating into the rural zones of the web
experiencing relief after this strange week
trying not to initiate interaction
lakes of coherence but oceans of dissonance
running full speed into the new orthodoxies
moving way past the point of convincing others
aiming to build new things than to fix all that broke
"cause-and-effect" has become a "slippery slope"
retreating into a monastic existence
rushing up to the hills that we might just die on
struggling on with the information psychosis
witnessing the dawn of a great revolution
let the tome of the visage be gone forever
we sure do live in constantly interesting times
going back to the sublime after months of code
do you really prefer free speech over free stuff?
showing them the truths whether they like it or not
sensing the matrix more often these days than not
considering it all as mere propaganda
rising from the ashes once again on this site
using an old format to move ahead boldly
dealing with some of the world's worst sense of timing
now trying to extricate so many demons
"the real world" not as a religion but a cult
forgetting that meaning just gets killed by meaning
having confidence in a time without tidings
knowing it was already over years ago
craving trite brevity in a verbose culture
enjoying the last of these quiet hermit days
getting a wonderful dose of chemical trails
seeking happiness only in the preferred knowns
still abruptly ending up in a wild zugzwangabout this poem
- 10 syllables per line
- original lines were once posted on twitter but are now lost
- certified human written