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Thread: The Poetry of Science (The Science of Poetry)

  1. #91
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    Quote Originally Posted by Donner View Post
    Brian,

    Re: Media Icons

    *faints*

    Re: Media Icons (extended re-mix)

    *faints again*

    Donner

    And I resent the implication that one can write a decent AS while sitting on the toilet. Well, one can. But still.
    I'm fainting myself. The latter version of "Media Icons" is the longest poem I have ever written, as far as I can recall.

    My AS is still lost. I cannot find my AS. Probably stick stuck there on the toilet.

    Quote Originally Posted by Harry R View Post
    Hey Brian, I’ve read through your thread, and there’s lots of good stuff, but this is still what stands out for me:

    My father cannot feel his legs. That hidden sense
    we never think about—the body's internal sight of itself
    that Police Officers test when you are drunk. Close your eyes,
    and touch your nose. Your body knows where are its bones,


    its sinews, its tendons—beneath the surface of the skin.
    We do not need to see it.

    Properly striking.
    Thanks, those lines were some that I gave particular care to, because of their central position in the poem, and because of the reality of the situation for my father, who struggles daily feeling half-disembodied.


    Quote Originally Posted by cookala View Post
    jeez Brian, it's amazingly awesome - the sheer girth of Media Icons (remix) is mindboggling, let alone during napo. holy crap. I also greatly enjoyed your tribute to grandpa and Jackie very much. good stuffs all.
    Thanks, Cookala. Glad to see you are still reading.

    ------------------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  2. #92
    Afrodita is offline Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
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    it's a fun and exciting poem in terms of narrative. A good image was

    "the dog with her gigantic flea—
    the flea was a man
    whose maritime plan
    was hatched over crumpets and tea."

    Maybe you need a stronger ending, as it would be if ending with sth like you have "
    who started to itch,
    and scratched out the man—what a mess!." Then again, I am not suggesting you should cut the last bit, just rework perhaps.

    Very well crafted.

  3. #93
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    A Pebble Here, a Seashell There—

    The stars are naught but pinpricks in
    the firmament. The human mind
    cannot describe, or comprehend,
    the Universe.
    Our world of sin
    is made by minds that understand
    but little; thus we circumscribe
    our science with a wave of hands—
    we mutter with a whispered breath:
    we cannot comprehend the truth!

    Look not on Venus with an eye
    to mark her moods, her changing signs.
    Leave Jupiter alone and grand—
    his laughter shakes the crystal spheres—
    Slow Saturn, let him deeply mourn
    in darkness his dead children.
    Your seeing eye, your telescopes,
    invade his private prison.


    We spit on those—or burn alive—
    those questing souls whose minds extend
    beyond the little playground world
    that is our spirit's sheltered pen.
    The mighty pen is stronger than
    the cutting sword, or so we're told,
    but swords can prick the body dear,
    and sticks and stones suffice when fear
    controls the mob that sees the stars
    as pinpricks in the firmament.

    Speak not of mundane wisdom
    found by digging in the dirt.
    For Words reveal The Kingdom,
    far above the lowly Earth.
    Though formed of Earth, of oozing mud,
    are souls are filled with Light.
    To eat Forbidden Fruit will dim,
    and cast us from His sight.


    The mind demands its freedom, but—
    when government—or sacred writ—
    or custom—would deny the truths
    our open minds would clearly see
    unfettered by foul lies or myths,
    by prejudice or wanton screed—
    remember that it's better far
    to analyze in solitude,
    to gaze upon a distant star,
    and lift the shadow from the light,
    than prophesy to thoughtless crowds
    that seek to worship mindless tongues,
    confused—or else misreading words—
    or, meaning well, equate The Good
    with never asking questions.

    Send me money, send me cash,
    but do not ever question!
    My sacred limousine needs gas,
    new wheels, a fine suspension!
    Praise my bankbook! Praise the Lord!
    His mercy brings me wisdom—
    His burning bush, His flaming sword,
    are solely my dominion!


    The young are poisoned daily by
    the lies of foolish charlatans.
    Let's teach our children well, instead,
    or so the simple song has said.
    Stand not on ancient wisdom for
    the knowledge that we need today,
    but challenge every scripture, let
    the dialogues of Plato rest—
    let fatwas all fall silent, lest
    the words of men mistake themselves
    for universal truth. The Gita,
    the Upanishads, the Bible,
    Buddha, Talmud, too—Confucius,
    and the words of old Lao Tzu—
    let all these ancient words stand by—
    unless a mind that’s free and clear
    can winnow through the useless chaff
    to seek and find the living grain,
    the seed that falls on fertile ground,
    and grows in strength, the precious best.

    All things have been discovered;
    there is nothing more to learn.
    The people, to be pure, must be governed
    with a fist that is just and stern!
    Just follow the words of The Leader,
    or in the ovens burn!


    Speak up! Speak out! Let us not stand still.
    There is much that we do not know.
    The winter will pass, and the spring will thaw,
    the cold of the ice and snow.
    Move on, if we must, there is much still to learn,
    no end to what we can know.

    If Newton's world of absolutes,
    of Aether crossing space and time,
    cannot explain the speed of light,
    the moving perihelion—
    let Einstein’s words and thoughts refine
    our knowledge, shaking loose the truth
    from cobwebs of tradition.

    But do not stop with Einstein: let
    bold Feynman speak his QED,
    let Hawking quiver fitfully—
    a mind imprisoned in its flesh—
    a robot voice that beckons us
    to seek the truth despite all risk.

    Let’s stand upon the shoulders of
    these giants; let the poets speak.
    Root out our darkest prejudice
    in every form: the truth of love,
    the love of truth, the light of truth
    now brightly shine in every hidden crevice.

    You don’t look like me; you smell and you stink!
    Your nose is too wide; your skin is not pink!
    You love far too freely; you feast and you drink!
    I know better than you, what to do and to think!


    Let the way to knowledge guide us—
    though it lead us on a fearful path.
    Its light we hold before us, as
    we strive ahead in darkness. Yes!—
    Let's waken from our slumbered rest.
    But still, let's let our dreamers dream,
    though bullets seek to bring them low:
    the dreamers point the way that we must go.

    I’m afraid of the dark; I’m afraid of the light!
    I shake at the sight of the Moon!
    The rain only comes after drought, after blight,
    if I fall to my knees, and I swoon!


    Let rockets pierce the pinprick sky,
    and cross the interstellar void.
    Let’s voyage to the distant stars—
    the Milky Way, the Galaxy—
    while standing tall in truth below.
    Let's rise up from the oozing mud
    from which our human form is made,
    as we seek the endless sky that breathed us life.

    Let there be no end to questions.
    The universe is vast and grand:
    its secrets spill like raindrops
    on the ocean, wide and deep.

    And we are naught but children,
    on a windswept ocean shore—
    a pebble here, a seashell there—
    we rearrange the elements
    in slowly growing patterns, which
    approximate the final truth.
    However wise and old we grow—
    however much we learn and teach—
    we still are in our tender youth.

    ---------------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    Last edited by BrianIsSmilingAtYou; 04-28-2014 at 02:03 AM. Reason: line breaks, fix wording here and there
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  4. #94
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    Hello Brian

    Wow, what a thread, and some of the longest pieces in NaPo too! I enjoyed them all but a few especially stood our for me.

    Surface tension was very well done and affecting too. Great imagery throughout; I like the repeated flashbacks and the mirroring/constrasting of mother and father using the almost repetition of "things we do not think about" and "things we do not say".

    My favourite of the lot is We have not poked out eyes out with sticks:

    and because of the existence of light,

    and because of millions of years of the evolution of the eye,
    (quite despite a literal reading of Genesis)
    and because we have not poked our eyes with sticks.

    Particularly liked this bit and wondered where it was going, and enjoyed finding out. I like the way stick poking you wove it back towards, and then again at, the end. I thought N's wariness of religious dogma, of the denial of our senses, the poking out eyes out with sticks was sensitively and well done (assuming I'm read this right).

    Geeky science girl was fun, not to mention slightly raunchy towards the end.

    Loved No lie I'm a big fan of the extended limerick and this was fast moving fun!

    All the best,

    Matt

  5. #95
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    Quote Originally Posted by Afrodita View Post
    it's a fun and exciting poem in terms of narrative. A good image was

    "the dog with her gigantic flea—
    the flea was a man
    whose maritime plan
    was hatched over crumpets and tea."

    Maybe you need a stronger ending, as it would be if ending with sth like you have "
    who started to itch,
    and scratched out the man—what a mess!." Then again, I am not suggesting you should cut the last bit, just rework perhaps.

    Very well crafted.
    Thanks. I had originally intended to continue with a new sequence following the current ending, where he might alight, as a fly, on the wing of a bird, or just fly alone (or land on a cow, and try to fly off with it; who knows?).

    Therefore, it does not necessarily surprise me that you find the ending a bit perfunctory, but I tried to get past that with the percussive "No lie!" at the end.


    Quote Originally Posted by GreaterMandalaofUselessness View Post
    Hello Brian

    Wow, what a thread, and some of the longest pieces in NaPo too! I enjoyed them all but a few especially stood our for me.

    Surface tension was very well done and affecting too. Great imagery throughout; I like the repeated flashbacks and the mirroring/constrasting of mother and father using the almost repetition of "things we do not think about" and "things we do not say".

    My favourite of the lot is We have not poked out eyes out with sticks:

    and because of the existence of light,

    and because of millions of years of the evolution of the eye,
    (quite despite a literal reading of Genesis)
    and because we have not poked our eyes with sticks.

    Particularly liked this bit and wondered where it was going, and enjoyed finding out. I like the way stick poking you wove it back towards, and then again at, the end. I thought N's wariness of religious dogma, of the denial of our senses, the poking out eyes out with sticks was sensitively and well done (assuming I'm read this right).

    Geeky science girl was fun, not to mention slightly raunchy towards the end.

    Loved No lie I'm a big fan of the extended limerick and this was fast moving fun!

    All the best,

    Matt
    Thanks. "Surface Tension" has gotten some good reviews, as has "We Have Not Poked Our Eyes with Sticks". Oddly, I still have not performed "Surface Tension" in front of an audience, although I have done many of the rest.

    I am surprised by the positive reaction to "No lie!"

    I had felt, when I posted it, that it would get a more tepid reaction. You never know.

    BrianIs AtYou
    Last edited by BrianIsSmilingAtYou; 04-28-2014 at 03:47 AM.
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  6. #96
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    Mu!


    Peonies and Butteryfly, by Katsushika Hokusai

    Butterflies soar from
    Fuji to Yokosuka.
    Carried by the air,

    they land on the deck
    of the aircraft carrier,
    George Washington. Mu!


    Sailors aboard the aircraft carrier USS George Washington (CVN 73) form the phrase "Hajimemashite," which means "Nice to meet you" in Japanese, as they arrive at Fleet Activities Yokosuka, Japan.

    ---------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    Last edited by BrianIsSmilingAtYou; 04-27-2014 at 10:29 PM. Reason: add pictures
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  7. #97
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    I decided to make a poem of part of my response to Donner:

    Searching for an American Sentence

    I wrote an American Sentence,
    while sitting on the toilet—
    a sentence with class,
    a lovely AS—
    but now I have forgot it.

    My AS is grass.
    I can’t find my AS.
    Alas! Alas!
    I bet that my AS
    is still stuck on the toilet.


    -------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    Last edited by BrianIsSmilingAtYou; 04-28-2014 at 03:43 AM.
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  8. #98
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    My Mistress Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun (Remix)

    My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun;
    one glance from her would kill a dragon dead,
    The sun may fuse hot protons into one,
    but she will crush your balls 'til you turn red.

    I've seen the sky past sunset—stars so white!—
    but neither sun nor stars shine on her cheeks;
    the sunlight perfumes meadows with delight;
    my mistress' ill-bred garden truly reeks.

    The sun is blazing hot, as well I know;
    my lady's hotter still, when she gets round
    to laying blame. To whom will this blame go?
    It's me unless I'm six-feet underground.

    And yet, like brown dwarf stars that are so rare!
    My mistress leaves me cold, without compare.

    -------------------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  9. #99
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    Unformed Poem for an Unformed World

    In a Universe that lasted
    only seven seconds,
    God would never make it
    to his day of well-earned rest.

    He'd begin with the Words:
    "Let there be Light!"—
    and Light would come—
    but Darkness soon would follow,

    before His Words could echo in the Void.

    --------------------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  10. #100
    Hare is offline Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
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    Fabulous remix of My Mistress Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun.
    This has made me laugh to start the day
    The sun may fuse hot protons into one,
    but she will crush your balls 'til you turn red
    .

  11. #101
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    It is really interesting to think about the cosmology involved with Unformed. Is the "God" associated with the seven second universe the same as the God of our universe? If you have a multiverse, does each universe get its own creator or even its own act of creation? Is the poem considering some situation where there is an outside-the-universe that God lives in and then there is a counterfactual outside the universe where God has created a seven-second universe. As is the case with many of these poems, it really gets my imagination going.

  12. #102
    anenome is offline Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
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    I have giggled through your sonnet remix and lost AS and left in a spin by Unfounded, fascinating!

  13. #103
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    Quote Originally Posted by Hare View Post
    Fabulous remix of My Mistress Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun.
    This has made me laugh to start the day
    .[/COLOR]
    Thanks, Hare. I've done a number of remixes of that sonnet over the years. It seems to be made for parody, especially given that the original sonnet itself was a parody of the effusive lover's sonnets of the courtly tradition.

    Quote Originally Posted by prooftheory View Post
    It is really interesting to think about the cosmology involved with Unformed. Is the "God" associated with the seven second universe the same as the God of our universe? If you have a multiverse, does each universe get its own creator or even its own act of creation? Is the poem considering some situation where there is an outside-the-universe that God lives in and then there is a counterfactual outside the universe where God has created a seven-second universe. As is the case with many of these poems, it really gets my imagination going.
    I'm not ready to say which of the possible scenarios that you posit could be the one that I had in mind, or even that any of them are.

    As for counterfactuals, in quantum physics, the possibility of a counterfactual can have real-world consequences. Scientists have provided many potential explanations for this, including the Copenhagen interpretation (treating a counterfactual as a kind of observation), the many-worlds/multiverse approach, and non-locality. Ockham's razor would suggest that the many-worlds scenario multiplies entities beyond necessity, so one of the other two is probably closer to the truth. Experiments to test non-locality, such as the various tests of the EPR paradox, have seemed to show that non-locality is not likely. Some variant of the Copenhagen interpretation is likely, therefore, though the need for an observer does not necessarily mean that the observer be a conscious entity--interaction, rather than observation, might be a better way to phrase it--unless we want to go with a modern version of Bishop Berkeley's idealism recast in a quantum mold.

    Quote Originally Posted by anenome View Post
    I have giggled through your sonnet remix and lost AS and left in a spin by Unfounded, fascinating!
    Thanks, I can ask for nothing more.

    BrianIs AtYou
    Last edited by BrianIsSmilingAtYou; 04-30-2014 at 03:24 AM.

  14. #104
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    Looking Through the Glass

    Looking through the glass,
    I see white specks drift slowly
    from sky to pavement.
    The wind blows chill through the pane—
    better be petals, not snow!

    ----------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  15. #105
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    Camel

    Sergio hands me
    a camel advertisement—
    cigarettes, not humps!

    ------------------

    BrianIs AtYou
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

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