Linguistics are doomed, and punctuation is moot;
words are emergency, urgency,
and strife.

Taking a breath before a sentence
doesn't emphasize anything;
it's just a waste of time.

The pitting appeal of dealing with others
is for sparring,
not for relief.

The eponymous odds against each of us
has become the very iteration
of our belief.

No one stops until something pops,
and left gaping,
all are surprised

that the very thing they cried out for
was exactly what was delivered
to their lives.

It's always great to make a choice;
only by choice do we further,
learn to discern.

And as opportunities pile up to simply choose again,
it too is moot
if you don't accept your turn.

Nothing's ever right by someone else being wrong,
left out;
only a failure of balance.

Only two can agree, and make the leap,
to include the third element:
that of allowance.

Interdependence is the key to independence,
as each one cares for self,
inside a plenty.

For we all have a point, observation and stance;
individuality is only realized
by our placement among a many.

We none are any good without the benefit of food,
and those who farm
tend lands that feed all.

They are fewer than urbans, but the plenty of sustenance,
as each hand matters,
no matter large or small.

They might claim more space than urbanites do,
but each hand multiplies,
so each finger's fruit is not forgotten.

But as more trucks and trains deliver that food
those who produce it
can have harvests left rotten.

The speed of local plenty is available,
fresh, and in-season,
as each Season abounds.

But that can all be left fallow in an instant
if a grocer reneges,
to pay a penny less a pound.

Is it class or crass to serve delicacies out of season,
and only available to a few?

Does lofty isolation include any care
of how it got there,
or how much fossil fuel was used?

Picked green to travel, and gassed along the way,
mingled with the diesel fumes
that slipstream inside,

tender foods must endure this abuse
if they are to make the trip
along their truck and rail rides.

Each leaf we pluck bets on the luck
of prosperity,
and the assumption of what feeds us,

just as futures are bet on technology's growth;
but you can't grow it,
and you can't eat it.

The sustenance of our lives always flows exponentially;
the more we learn,
the more we have tools.

Knowledge is power, but how it is wielded
is the earmark of progress,
or of fools.

A foothold is merely a footprint, on the ground;
roots only join sky in reflections,
so we can see

that only the commingling of both
cause Seasons' rise, and fall;
as above, so too, beneath.


Graphic: Puck, 1897

Novembre. 2016

Post-Election Suspect of Intellect,
the same as it ever was, Life;
it's not ours. We're only entrusted with It.

Views: 87

Comment by Ron Powell on September 3, 2018 at 5:40pm
"The eponymous odds against each of us
has become the very iteration
of our belief."

"eponymous odds".....

An absolutely marvellous phrasing...

Totally worth adopting and adapting..

My hat's off to you.

"The Drake equation is a probabilistic argument used to estimate the number of active, communicative extraterrestrial civilizations in the Milky Way galaxy.[1][2]

The equation was written in 1961 by Frank Drake, not for purposes of quantifying the number of civilizations, but as a way to stimulate scientific dialogue at the first scientific meeting on the search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI).[3][4] The equation summarizes the main concepts which scientists must contemplate when considering the question of other radio-communicative life.[3] It is more properly thought of as a Fermi problem rather than as a serious attempt to nail down a precise number.

Criticism related to the Drake equation focuses not on the equation itself, but on the fact that the estimated values for several of its factors are highly conjectural, the combined effect being that the uncertainty associated with any derived value is so large that the equation cannot be used to draw firm conclusions."


Comment by The Songbird on September 8, 2018 at 5:48pm

Boy howdy, that's a mouthful!  A Probablistic endeavor sounds in the first case to try to explore a probable, but having to have an impetus, some outcome, in order to endeavor in the first place.  The idea of an argument sounds as if someone wants to refute the idea of the exploration, quali- or quanti- tative, because they want to know what they're looking for before they know if it's there.  But I do like the word.  Mostly, it just sounds like someone is asking for a permission.  

That sense of futility without question and endeavor of/on one's own, blind acceptance, was what I meant.  I -- think? telling me about this Drake was a reference to that. 

The idea of oh! don't bother!, etc. IS that!!!  It's not cute any more, the desperation of trying to control.  All buffoonery aside, it's taking up waaaay too much time, and lots of innovation, and time, is mis-spent, since it has no fruit. 

Control what, is more the question, no?  

But - I like knowing about the endeavor, nonetheless, if it's true.  And where, if anywhere, it went, for that matter.  If the world shifts because of it, surely I'll not be the only one to find out, either!  

The axis we know of is only as stable as we suppose it to be, and only its own repetition has informed us that.  [   ..  ]  (  ..?..)  { ..!..}  Is // the same as \\?  **

**parenthetical aspirations


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