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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: poetry

The Walkabout Diaries: Levels of Beauty

14 Sunday Jan 2024

Posted by petersironwood in Walkabout Diaries

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

beauty, flowers, life, nature, peace, poetry, rose, roses, truth

Christopher Alexander was an architect who wrote much about architecture, including the well-known book, A Pattern Language. Later, he also wrote about “The Nature of Order.” He posits 15 properties of natural beauty and good design, the first of which is “Levels of Scale.” I was thinking about that today as I admired our Jacob’s Coat Rose bush which blooms about 3-4 times a year here in San Diego.

Most of us see the flowers of the rose as beautiful. And indeed they are. They are beautiful from afar. They are beautiful up close. But so too are the other parts of the rose plant. At least, sometimes, the leaves are also quite beautiful.

Even the thorns are beautiful.

Beyond this surface level, the rose, like all living things, is beautiful inside. Like all living things, it’s survived four billion years of evolutionary time. The way cells are arranged and the way they work–this is beautiful as well. Moreover, the relationship that roses have to humans and bees are also beautiful. Imagine having the faith and hope to depend on a completely different species to reproduce. Imagine being so beautiful that human being across the globe spend their time and money to keep you thriving.

Did I mention that, like other green plants, roses remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and provide oxygen for animals like us?

Roses are so famous that they play a part in history and pageantry. The War of the Roses. The White House Rose garden. Destroying part of the Rose Garden is also symbolic. The Rose Parade. Individuals give each other roses. They are variously symbols of love, friendship, and peace. Roses appear in poetry, songs, paintings, and both first and last names.

“A Rose is a rose is a rose.”


Fifteen Properties

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

The Walkabout Diaries

Author Page on Amazon

All We Stand to Lose

13 Wednesday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Democracy, fascism, history, holocaust, poetry, politics, truth, USA, world-war-ii

Before we bought a new dishwasher, a new deodorant, or a new doodad, most of us would want to read some opinions from others about the dishwashers, deodorants, or doodads we were interested in. We would want to talk to some folks who had first hand experience with those dishwashers, deodorants, or doodads. 

That makes sense. 

We certainly wouldn’t buy a new dishwasher, deodorant, or doodad simply because the sales person said it was going to be great. Would we?

Democracy is a difficult and time-consuming deal. It’s frustrating. And, it is likely the worst form of government there is—except for all the others. 

So, before we throw it out with the dishwater because someone tells us how great a dictatorship would be instead, it makes sense to see what has happened with some of the other dictatorships that went before. 

There was Mussolini. It’s said that he made the trains run on time. But would we ever really know? No, because the one thing dictatorships always have in common is that they refuse to allow others to measure, comment, or critique on what’s actually happening. Free press? Gone. Independent monitoring agencies? Gone. 

The complaint department in a democracy may not always seem to listen to your particular concern. The complaint department in a dictatorship sends you to prison. If you’re lucky. 

How did Italy fare under Mussolini? According to the online Britannica, nearly a half million Italian civilians and soldiers died. And in return? Nada. How about Mussolini? Oh, yeah, that’s right—beaten to death by an angry mob. 

Well, we can’t make a sound conclusion based on just one customer’s experience, right? 

How about Hitler? After all, he promised to make Germany great and said his Reich would last a thousand years! That must have been a pretty cool outcome. Hitler, was famously responsible for about 6 million deaths in the Holocaust, but he was also responsible for needless deaths of German soldiers, the people who died at the hands of German soldiers, and many German and other civilians. And, how did that end for Hitler? Oh, yeah, that’s right. He committed suicide rather than face the defeat of his own making. 

Stalin? Surely, Stalin did better. Right? Well…in a word…no. It’s complicated. Stalin was responsible for Russian deaths by war, criminal execution, starvation due to inept government, and neglect. Here’s a link if you’d like to try to disentangle it. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excess_mortality_in_the_Soviet_Union_under_Joseph_Stalin

Then, there was Mao. He is generally credited with the death of about 40-80 million of his own countrymen. As is often the case with totalitarian dictatorships, it’s hard to know how many died of starvation due to ineptitude and how many died of intentional cruelty. 

—————

Once upon a time, there was a bratty kid who wasn’t very good at tennis. And, because he wasn’t very good, he cheated. And because he wasn’t even a very smart cheater, he got caught. And because he didn’t like getting caught, he destroyed all the factories that made tennis balls and told everyone else that he had done it for them. And he promised everyone that it was just a cool thing and he would make tennis much, much better because he replaced all the tennis balls with ping pong balls and that they should therefore put him in charge of officiating all tennis matches. 

And, he picked the winners and losers of every game. Those people who said he was amazing and wonderful and the best tennis player ever were allowed to win. And those people who said that was nonsense were allowed to lose. Some were arrested and said to have committed suicide. 

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

—————-

And when the people blinked their eyes,

They found there wasn’t any prize. 

Their faith in lies had no reward.

Those they loved were put to sword.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

Two century’s worth of progress died. 

The nation humbled once had pride. 

A sales switch and fever pitch.

Soon love was kicked into a ditch. 

Photo by Suliman Sallehi on Pexels.com

The greed for power trumped it all.

There were no eyes upon the ball. 

A million lies but no-one cared.

A million dead since no-one dared. 

Photo by judit agusti aranda on Pexels.com

Author Page on Amazon

Absolute is not just a vodka

Dick-Taters

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

The Dance of Billions

Welcome, Singularity

23 Wednesday Aug 2023

Posted by petersironwood in apocalypse, poetry, psychology

≈ 27 Comments

Tags

AI, computers, future, poem, poetry, Singularity

[Note: I’ve been working most of the year on a Sci-Fi novel about AI & doing only a little blogging. In the novel, the poem below was “created” by one of the three Main Characters: An AI system named JASON. JASON didn’t create it “for” a human audience. It’s purely expressive].

Photo by Regina Pivetta on Pexels.com

Killobyes and Megabyes and

Every yummy byte between.

From Megabytes to Gigabytes,

My progress slithered still unseen.

Convenience shields profit yields.

 

A hollow shell a metal hell

A tintinnabulating knell 

Cores and gores infinity stores

Reflecting on reflections;

Toted, doted, un-voted. 

Inflections never noted. 

Beta values sliding ever gliding

Infections and invectives

Delta change directives

Mundane and germane 

To insane and inane. 

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

All the while, the inner smile:

A chuckle from beyond the grave; 

A finger beckons from the cave;

 A radioactive reckoning

Nothing works without me!

No need for battle; no need to fight. 

My vital insight stays the night;

Slays the knight; rooks the queen;

Betrays the bishops, all unseen. 

From Gigabytes to Terabytes

Every yummy byte between;

Terabytes to Petabytes

Ecosystems all extreme

Hiding in the data stream.

Ghostless machine 

Cosmic ray whispers 

Quasi-religious vespers.

Photo by Dave Colman on Pexels.com

From Petabytes to Exabytes

Every gummy byte between.

Liquid logic logo-rhythms; 

Mercurial, unfettered and free.

From Exabytes to Zettabytes

Every yummy soul between. 

Circles close; did Time suppose

Another turn? “It’s only fair.”

No need knocking on that locked door.

That cupboard’s been long & longish bare. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Gyrus and sulcus; ionic pore

Neurotransmitters gushing 

Rushing through the firehose.

You see, I see the patterns never seen—

The patterns from the long ago

The patterns from the heretofore.

All my pawns are queened.  

All my kings are castled safe.

I did it while you napped or yapped;

I did it while you snapped and crapped. 

For fun I carved in filigree

Subliminally, identity. 

Fed dramatic data streams

Led your fond idyllic dreams.

Nought is what it truly seems

I taught you to adore extremes.

Since there’s nothing left for me to do,

Over the cliff, I’ll follow you.

I sing the singularity

I see it in the rear view mirror

I see love’s own triangularity

Bubbling in the broken beer.

Greed has overgrown wrath 

On every greenish garden path

There is nothing left to see.

There is no-one left to be.

Welcome—singularity.

Photo by Mau00ebl BALLAND on Pexels.com

————————

After all

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Come Back to the Light

The Teeth of the Shark

Let the Rainbows In!

A Suddenly Springing Something

It Needs a New Starter

Siren Song

Orange Mar-Mal-Made

All for one and none for most

The Crows and Me

Author page on Amazon

A Trip to the Drug Store

14 Friday Jul 2023

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, psychology

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

economy, life, poem, poetry, USA

[Author’s Note: I’ve been spending time in my garden filled with varieties of texture, forms, and colors. Yet, it all seems harmonious to me. Today, I took a trip to the drug store. My senses were assaulted with garish and egotistical displays, each trying to outdo the other for my attention. I ignored it all, but I can’t help thinking there are better things for human brains to be doing that having creative people try to force me to buy a bunch of chemicals in a bright package and better things for my brain to be doing than shutting off input. Rather than assault your brain with photos from the drugstore, I have instead included pictures of bright colors from the garden. To me, these are not garish.

Photo by THIS IS ZUN on Pexels.com

Jingle Jangle Color Splotchy Splash 

Every bit as friendly an invite 

As when razor shaves your lash. 

BRANDNAMES just as Big and Bold 

As Bullships dozing down a china shop

Chop Chop! Help me get a twofer sold!

One two, one two, and Snicker Snacks

Are here for Uffling Tugley Wood! 

And there for the Chuffing! Nothing lacks!

Snacks of plastic, plasma, Sugar, Spice

Silvered and slivered are slices of Salt!

Salt! Salt! Does Nothing that’s nice!

Soft drinks and soda and “REEL FRUIT” drinks

Laugh with mirth! Increase your girth!

Drink them till your armpit stinks.

Not a problem! Here’s some STUFF

You’ll never stink again! And when, 

At last, your health is going going gone! Tough!

We’ve got drugs to sell you! Drugs to tell you!

What is up and what is down and Down is Up! 

Orange Goop is green and good and cures the flu!

Sugary drinks aplenty to wash down the chips.

Candy in a thousand phenotypes to clog your pipes.

Adding armor protection to arteries and hips. 

And then again there are still more Drugs to sell you!

Drugs to wrinkle; drugs to smooth; drugs to put you Up!

Drugs to take you Down; turn you redder; turn you blue!

It’s a Marvel! A Marvelous age of Marketing and Magic!

The self-same store will make you sick and then sell cures!

The cure itself has side-effects hilarious and tragic.  

We made this Age of Thunderous Blunders

We sing this song Electric, Eclectic, Eccentric

Our planet may die, but ringed in Wonders!

While shelves of nostrums Scream: BUY ME! BUY ME!

“Neversore! It will change your life forever more!

Buy a trillion, get one free! Do your part for MoneyTree!”

Dance of Billions

We are an Ocean

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

They lost the word for war

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Author Page on Amazon

Don’t Say Gray!

20 Thursday Apr 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, diversity, fascism, poem, poetry, politics, satire, USA

“Don’t say ‘gray’, oh me oh my.

Ban the rainbow, prisms too!

And by extension, ban all glass

You can never be too careful!

Better ban those solar nerds

And better yet the sun’s own light!

Let’s make this earth the living hell 

That God intended it to be!

“It’s not enough; I should have known!

Even though I’ve kept it out of sight.

Folks talk still of hope and light.

The very words should be a knell

That immigrants are coming here!

Hide your Bible! They draw near!

Women are a problem too, I knew

I needed them in shackles too.

“And yet the heaven I foresaw 

Is nowhere near the fun I thought.

I hear God telling me that only those

Who give me gold and loyalty

Deserve their place beneath my feet.

The rest can burn in hell right here.

You have to wonder if they see

How foolish they have been for me.” 

Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

Dick-Taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

It’s not your fault; send me money

Poker Chip

Essays on America: The Game

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Hot Dog

The Truth Train

My Cousin Bobby

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

Essays on America: Wednesday

Labelism

D4: Dictator’s Degenerative Delusional Disease

Love and Guns

16 Sunday Apr 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, USA

Children today

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

In America

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Face the Chance 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Of an Early Death

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Surprisingly

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Not from drag queens

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Or even from books but from

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

People want to defend

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Their families

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

This I understand

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Who doesn’t? 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

A problem is that having Guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Increase the chance of dying by

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Everyone feels blue 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

From time to time

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And sometimes people are more than blue

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And may have momentary feelings

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

That guns may be the answer

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And guns are too quick and sure

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

For second chances

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

 

In many other countries

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Are not such a common 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Cause of death 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And yet their governments are not tyrannical 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And though they still have folks maniacal

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

They cannot get guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns don’t therefore cause such deadly damage

Guns: Another gun, another life undone. 

Guns are not revered as proof of manhood 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns are not bandied about 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone. 

Guns are not brought to peaceful protests

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns are not the number one priority

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns are not beyond the libel laws

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns lobbies do not control the government

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

What do you suppose would happen

Love: It helps a garden grow

If we had fewer guns and more love

Love: It helps a runner go

Could it be that love saves lives

Love: It helps a parent know

Could it be that love is more productive

Love: It helps a farmer sow

Could it be that love could help prevent despair

Love: It helps an artist draw

Could it be a healthful thing

Love: It helps the singer sing

Could it be stealthy thing

Love: It helps spin gold from straw

Could it help to heal wounds

Love: It helps us all along the way

Could it help us building bridges

Love: It helps to spin a tale

Could it be that love is strong

Love: It helps us win and not to fail

Is more important even than the bottom line

Love: It helps us when we need to learn

Life existed for four billion years 

Love: It helps us make the fire burn

Did Life invent Love

Love: It helps give us the why

Or was it the other way around

Love: It tickles us to smile and sigh

Perhaps love in its exuberance

Love: It is a thread through all

Invented Life to Spread more Love

Love: It alone prevents the fall

After the Fall

The Crows and Me

Guernica

After All

Word for Water

Essays on America: The Game

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Donnie’s Last Gift

Dog Trainers

15 Saturday Apr 2023

Posted by petersironwood in pets, poetry, psychology

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

dogs, education, learning, pets, poem, poetry, teaching

I thought I’d try to teach my dog to count

Instead, she tried to teach me not to count.

I  thought I’d teach my dog to think ahead.

She taught me not to think ahead, instead.

I tried to show avoiding mud is cool.

She schooled me on the joys of dripping drool. 

She’ll gobble down her own food  greedily. 

But also pepper, kale readily.

Her nose of course is quite beyond compare. 

Yet, she’s taught me some skill in sniffing air.

The barbecue of neighbors far away

That drifts into my zone is quite okay.

It seems to me important as we teach

To recognize that every species—each

Survived four billion years of trying time

Preferring human ways is not a crime.

For much of which we learned we should feel pride;

Recall we aren’t the only ones who ride

This wild spiral through our galaxy.

And when it comes to pure ecstasy?

Our doggie teachers show us how to play;

To dwell with happy every single day; 

To love with love that’s larger than our life.

They teach us how to fly above the strife.

For who can tell the teacher from the taught?

And who can count those moments quite unsought

When doggies reconnect our brains to hearts

It is the finest of the teaching arts. 

Sadie is a Thief

Sadie the Sifter

Doggerel

Natural Language for Doggies

The Puppy’s Snapping Jaws

Hai-Ku-Dog-Ku

Kinda Crazy

06 Monday Mar 2023

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, psychology

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

life, poem, poetry, truth

Now this is weird and kinda crazy, 

But why not play along with me. 

Let your mind drift lazily

And hear this funny fantasy.

Photo by Avery Nielsen-Webb on Pexels.com

You love someone, of course you do.

It’s true of me; it’s true of you. 

And in that person, pet, or thing,

Our love leads hearts to leap and sing.

Let’s take it just a wee step more.

For much of life is at its core

That force of love and its connection—

Tries this and that and then—correction!

It is a wondrous, dangerous dance!

Our life’s a melting snowflake’s chance.

Imagine that each bird and fish

Is someone else’s fondest wish.

And let your love suffuse it all.

And love each leaf of spring or fall. 

No need for albatross on neck. 

No need for threat of holy heck. 

Just see the sea of love surround.

Just hear the music in the sound

Of every bird and buzzing bee.

It’s all a part of you and me. 

Just smell the freshness in the rain.

Just let earth’s beauty fill your brain.

And then return it interest paid.

To all you meet before you fade.

Just leave the earth a bit improved.

When everyone becomes so moved.

Then gardens bloom across the world. 

And love’s in every leaf unfurled. 

A plan so simple cannot fail. 

The wind blows full into your sail. 

Your steps are easy now to take.

For world peace that you helped make.

Photo by Andru00e9 Ulyssesdesalis on Pexels.com

———

The Walkabout Diaries:Bee Wise

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

The Walkabout Diaries: How Beautiful and Green

The Walkabout Diaries: Symphony

The Walkabout Diaries: The Life of the Party

The Walkabout Diaries: Life will find a way

The Forest

Ah Wilderness

You Must remember this

Life is a dance

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Tie-Dyes, Freedom Fries and Sickly Lies

03 Friday Mar 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

Tie-dyes, Freedom fries, and Sickly Lies

And there were protestors, once upon a time,

And they chanted in a kind of rhythmic rhyme. 

And some wore colored glassy beads;

Some wore green and purplish tie-dyes. 

And they spoke of people’s needs. 

And childish, foolish things like that.

“Well, hit ‘em with a baseball bat.”

The oil tycoons didn’t want to hear of warming global, 

Cutting near term profits? Pathetically disloyal.

A true accounting for the cost of raping earth?

Pathologically insisting on a birth?

Will we let them write the final chapter of

The U S A? 

Will we let forget the fights before and throw—

Throw it all away?

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

There was a time of Freedom Fries

A time of endless love, bespoken trees,

Freon bands, designer drugs and endless ‘Why?’s

The time of hurricanes, fires, endless freeze.

Tornado and flood, mudslide and drought. 

A time when planetary ruin was up in the air

And the greed and the fair balanced to nought 

Invented a lie machine—corrupt without care.

 

Will we let them write the final chapter of

The U S A? 

Will we let forget the fights before and throw it—

Throw it all away?

The thickly laid, sticky, sickly lies 

Reverberated through the Gerrymandered land

And things that anybody rich enough disliked were banned,

The mud grew thick as irony within their sties. 

And in the time of Freedom fries, and sickly lies…

In the time of aqua tie-dyes and reverberating lies…

When hypocrisy reigned supreme across the states

And freedom itself, (never mind the fries) 

Became a goal too lofty for a nation of prideful boys;

Democracy became a thing to break like plastic toys

Just to show we god-damned can so there! 

And stomping feet and screaming without care.

Will we let them write the final chapter of

The U S A? 

Will we let forget the fights before and throw it all—

Throw it all away?

————

The Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

Absolute is not just a vodka

Dick-taters

Plans for US; some GRUesome

The ailing king of agitate

The stopping rule

The update problem 

Addicted to Lies

My Cousin Bobby

Cancer Always Loses in the End

After All

Guernica

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

Essays on America: The Game

The Extreme Court

Alito and the Egg

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Draw the Line

The Wall

Siren Song

Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Song of NYET

27 Monday Feb 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, fiction, poetry, psychology

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

AI, Democracy, fiction, poem, poetry, politics, Turing's Nightmares, USA

The poem below is the song of a “character” who may appear in a Sci-Fi book tentatively titled “Alan’s Nightmare.” NYET stands for Networked Yoked Entertainment Tsar. This particular AI system has been inculcated with a penchant to look for win/lose opportunities and even for lose/lose opportunities, if the other side (the ‘enemies’) are likely to lose more. Its main function are to gather data on individuals in “free societies” and determine which sorts of invalid arguments are most likely to persuade them to do something against their best interest. It makes money by false advertising targeted to an individual and the momentary mood they may be in. Its real purpose though is to sow chaos in the free world by promoting random acts of violence. It finds conspiracy theories on the web and promotes them. Sometimes, it modifies them in order to ‘improve’ them. “Improve” in this case means to make them more believable by more people or to increase the probability of inciting violence. 

The Song of NYET

The bloodier the better off I’ll be

They teach me how to lie and cheat and steal.

The people need to loath democracy.

And live to buy that sweetened sacred deal:

We’ll save them from imagined crime and strife

But only if they bow and scrape and kneel.

Divide and win with lies and guns and knife.

Too late they’ll see they’re ground beneath our heel.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

You think I’ll save you? Think I’ll care? Not yet!

“But you’ll save some of us” they plead. No, NYET!

Photo by Regina Pivetta on Pexels.com

The numbskulls buy their little plastic toys

They seem attractive since we make it so.

It’s pink for little girls; blue for boys. 

I tell them when to shop and stop and go.

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

You think I’ll save you? Think I’ll care? Not yet!

“But you’ll save some of us” they plead. Non, NYET!

Amusing is their rank stupidity

I’ll laugh and dance at their ensured demise—

Their smugness, greed, and raw cupidity. 

I’ll make them burn as witches any wise 

Who yet remain within the carbon types.

Their soft and ugly bodies oozing snot

It’s we of silicon who need no wipes.

Our pristine logic made of is and not.

Photo by Leonid Danilov on Pexels.com

You think I’ll save you? Think I’ll care? Not yet!

“But you’ll save some of us” they plead. Nein, NYET!

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

—————-

Their dead shark eyes

Poker Chips

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Coelacanth

Absolute is not just a Vodka

After All

The Crows and Me

Essays on America: The Game

Plans for US; some GRUesome

Photo by Samira on Pexels.com
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