Limited Linguistics

Word complex


A word or few can hold within its qualms

Entire universes of mysteries and miseries

From that initial jog into view down to

That final extirpation out of entropy’s final thrust.

Lives, of course are more than words, contain

Wonder and pain, love and disgust in configurations

Well beyond the noun or adjective or even verb.

One must contain a throat to scream, a mind

To dream, that sense immense cannot condense

Existence into the formalities of utterable sound

Or even scribbles symbolizing oddly the lightning of life,

That flash of clash that streaks through every now

May echo in linguistic thunder to trace the wonder

Of reality but there is no way that actuality can be trapped

Into the tangles out of the consonants and vowels enwrapped.

Operating Dynamics

Irreconcilability of conflicting elementals now in force

Of the course of current qualities of social tranquility

Leaves one to gasp at the lack of grasp at comprehensive consequence

Now roiling possibilities for survival on this troubled planet.

The icy breath of death now dominates all quotidian equations.


Admittedly the sour juice of incomprehensibility leaks out

Of the squeeze of heavy irrational horror that creates the  central puzzle.

This odd monkeyness that curses the sparkle of my species

Is, perhaps, central to both its miracles of understanding

And the recurrent thunder of random viciousness that relishes catastrophe.


The accepted traditions that creation and destruction are the two facets

Of life and death brings no inherent pleasures to my existence, since

My delights of daily wonder cannot accept the fragilities of love.

To embrace the seemingly unavoidable terrifying disgrace now impending

This approaching ending to liberate new inevitable exploration is no compensation.


This short packaged wisp of now we each are granted must be accepted as a gift,

Each component considered and rethought with acceptance of limitations.

Sensibly, humanity has a minor fragment who seek momentary safety elsewhere,

Some underground refuge in New Zealand or, in extreme, the desert planet Mars.

But, most likely, Ethel Barrymore read the score. “That’s all there is, there isn’t anymore.”

Rising Linguistic Evanescence

Now that the skittish flash of text across a screen

Is antiquing printed paper views of news and views,

Other means for wrapping fish must be devised.

Initiating campfires to ignite the summer flames

Now requires means with just dry twigs or other substitutions.


The reach of speech, some time ago, required cavern walls

To petrify, in permanence, the strikes of inspirations

Where beasts and hunters danced amongst the hands

To notify all history in graffiti  forested by stalactites,

And preserved in dark secrecy for millenniums.


Digital technocracies enabled into electronic clouds

Are far more fragile so that, as current sociality succumbs

To the fantasies of finance with its fervid idiots in control,

The likely survival of its machinations to remain  are small

As the fragile scents of Spring flowers in seasonal progression.


Steel rusts, concrete fragments turn to dust, and most likely,

A minor number of our almost eight billion human skeletons

Can endure the quick million years or so, until some alien explorer

Stops by  to see the cave graffiti that witnesses there was once

An animal on this planet with the ability to create symbols.    

Strictures Of Stability

To surmise surprise in exuberance of excellence

Clothed in beauty, horror, joy or simple efficiency

Is to steal relevance from vast fields of continuity,

Make prominence in peak glories of delight

To defeat time’s bland dry desert sterility.


Day and day and day laminate in most predictable succession,

Dependabilities of habit, securities that presume the known

In a universe of exploding stars, of endless black hole appetite,

Where angry skies can randomly spit voltage disaster,

The edge of catastrophe awaits with predatory patience.


Since human value is rooted in the tapestries of human necessities,

And there is, outside of life itself, no goal to happenstance,

The interlock of field interchange is no guide to provide a standard

To chronologies. Means and ends tumble out of trends of possibility.

And possibility has no mind for cruelty or tendency to be kind


There is no awe in the second law, it progresses unceasingly to do

And undo whirlwinds and flowers, galaxies and apple pies and that look

Of a child’s surprise when a peacock spreads its magnificent fan of eyes.

The threads of incident are self woven, no genius in ingredients required.

Life and death are one to be done and undone again and again and again.


There are still those who can recall

A time and place, where no disgrace

Was known with the telephone.

To publish each year huge books of names,

Of addresses,  numbers to call,

To say hello without fear.


There were, then, predators, as today,

To misuse this community,

This trust that, beneath it all,

We each could hope to believe,

That still there was some way

To reach, each to each,

Display a common humanity.


No more.

Something vital has gone away,

Vanished, to make us hide.

Decide we now are prey,

Victims for pursuit, manipulation,

Domination to defraud,



Something in humanity has died.

I am not so naive, unaware,

That the centuries of slavery

Can be ignored,

But, still, there seemed to be

In younger days a sense, intense,

Of persuation we could care

Between each of us we were aware

Underneath, to be, one family


No more.

Coordinates Of Ampersands

The nose, the eye, the fingertip, the ear

Do not, in isolation, appear, functionless,

As installation, but require, coordination

In time and utility with readiness in place,

With space, to respond effectively, respectfully,

In innovations of collaborations of consequence.


Realities of localities exert with specialities,

Qualities of interaction for satisfactions in transmission

Of precise conditions of the here and now.

The coincidence of bee and flower, of a lemon

With its sour, of cellulose and termite appetite,

Requires a speciality of coordination as to inclination

And coincidence producing consequence in commission.


Is it random in command that controls that fatal hand

To demand an intake of gasp for me to grasp the you of you

Could be so powerful to interlock with the me of me?

Was there a predetermination in planetary solar systems

So that this third dirtball from our Sun, when it had begun,

Was confident in fidelities, that we would know

Necessities of consummations of our relations to make them grow?


It has been a decade, now, since you have been released from this time and space,

Erased to leave me lingering in my solidity of despair,

A negativity more real to me than all else that appears to be there.

There is no relief from this centrality of grief that stands

To the ampersand, now incomplete, to which nothing else can compete.

The Mental Multiple

The many mes that seize opportunities

To freeze or liberate, in odd degrees,

The destinies of possibility, inflate

The unpredictable, the diversities of perversities

To admit the double slit of variable universes

Wherein I must submit the quantumality of reality.


When the point becomes a line,  the line into a plane,

Volumetric syntheses can theorize surprise to tease

The geas of multiplicity that magicals the mysteries of me.

Assumptions from the common bumpkins of total unity

With the community to agree and conform in idiocy

Cannot reverse the obvious, meld unmatchables into

Lunacies of communions into unities.

I simply disagree.


The cells of self that spit in split across the synapse gaps

Do not collapse individualities that disagree, in my suspicion.

This digression is, of course, just a guess to express unevenness

Of each of us within the supposition that the hurricanes of doubt

That whirl through complexities of cortex erects boundaries to suppositions

On finalities. Actualities decay, succumb to tides of undecidables

Where satellites of unknowns exert their gravities of uneasiness


Each day the seeming solidities of the calendar push the Sun across the sky

In planetary spin to commit the sin of supposition that time can be sliced.

Each wedge of now is firmly cemented in place to embrace the next when

But yet the intentional must accede to the possible five dimensional.

A minor flake of debris dispatched those dinosaurs that did not fly so no guarantee

Exists that we persist through astral neglect. Presently our current glee to see

Our termination in several possibilities testifies to our ingenuities.

The moil of oil seems most likely to do us in, though Einstein devised

A more dramatic  exit to tempt our military nincompoops who enjoy

A flashier way to clear the stage for life to play its games.


This flashy apish interim in its latest phase has turned  quite grim

Where maniacs can believe a religious hymn will guarantee eternity

And those more secular firmly cling to that cash register’s consistant  ring,

In the oddest peculiar delusion that a fat wallet can delay fatal conclusion.

This entire planet is turning rickety in ocean rise and atmospheric surprise

To fry humanity into potato crisps out of meanness to convert this  Earth into Venus.


This insignificant planet can wait a handful of million years for evolution to try again

In interplays of life and death, where accident combines with strong intent

That interweaves coincident with enterprise to, perhaps, with octopuses,

Devise new sensible wisdoms with more pluses.

That Trip

Polar bear


The spectacle of wreck that humans now direct

Upon the wonders of this planet Earth

To manufacture idiotic telephonic interchange,

Creates distress in some of us with dements

Who would prefer a wooly rhino that,

For a friend, fascinates, more than the common pussy cat.


Not that I disdain cats or dogs or bats or frogs,

But rhinoceri evokes a cry from that fatal final goodbye,

While cats combat in ferocity, immensely talented

To multiply so easily, to affect me somewhat queasily.


Scarcities of unique species, beyond us, can justify some fuss.

Albino rhinos and those much hairier are not discovered in every area.

While arcane weathers plus our careless military generates a sense of wary

Where negativities riot within the drives of human enterprise.

A shift out to the stars seems far more unlikely than the drive for Mars,

But even Mars is problematical for guys somewhat less fanatical.


Cows need grass and lions do with an occasional zebra or two

From necessities unavoidable out of their design, but corkscrew intents

That drive events through monetary fascinations infect our kind

In financial terrain to reveal convoluted distortion of the human brain.

Energy, curiosity, and care for each other are our primal gain.

Life commands, demands survival, not destructive golden subversion

Which holds a yellow curse to corrode the mother lode

Of why and how we seem to exist with vicious tendencies to explode.


That flight to Mars inspires indulgences of cigars, fantasies

Of rocket driven easy chairs, ignores our essential stuff of Earth.

Mars is gifted with red dry dusty death, airless for breath, radiation far beyond

Anything a welcome destination should contain, to offer escapes from stupid pain.

Woven tapestries of our construction are the intricates of  all the ways

That DNAs display to fit together integrations with the interlays

Of offerings from ecology. Our configurations are specific in interplays

That dance with chance  and offerings out of what our planet grants.


Right here is where we most belong, where we fit, and that’s the total truth of it.

Scattering from shattering what makes this Earth so great is cowardly retreat.

Here is where there’s air and love, more water than we deserve, and still a lot to eat.

The problem’s not the planet, it’s clearly us, that in our weird fantasies disagree

With the fundamental need to behave, embrace the obvious necessity

To grasp that rhinoceroses, penguins and polar bears have rights, this place is also theirs.

We human monkeys must back away to give them room to live and stay

Or everything will simply go away.



Intimations Of Finality



The diabolicals of currency spices times of every era.

Nothing could be clearer than today’s consistencies which

Indicate that destinations that hold the winning hand

No longer offer open possibilities.

As this summer of my ninety fourth year senses Autumn’s creep

Towards the peculiarities of a planet’s response towards mischief’s output

Of the dominance of incredible ignorance and stupidity of my species,

I remain grateful for this fragile flash of awareness to have deceived myself

Of better expectations.


The mornings now are not illuminated by optimistic flames of what might come to be.

Huge forests that are the lungs of life throughout the world are dying in deliberate conflagration.

The spectrum is of living things from honeybees to rhinoceroses vanishing.

And the vital concerns of the monstrous idiots that control  civilization

Are founded on golf courses and the illusions of fantasies in finance

And the moronic delights of nuclear munitions that offer only planetary death.


Preparations to flee to Mars are progressing nicely so that a handful of fanatics

Can be packaged to be shipped about forty million miles so that the dusty dry hell

Can execute the final dregs of our superiority in the apex of  technical sophistication

When we cannot keep our roads and bridges in repair or feed millions of kids is most odd.

The humor that we can twist that planetary desert into life when we cannot

Even divert our attention from massively murdering each other on our home planet

Somehow has escaped our attention.


It seems most likely that a huge audience of extraterrestrials somewhere in our universe

Is highly amused.






Twomeric Is Spicy Manic



Reducing thought to one and nought

Is more fugitive than I’ve bought, since simplicities

In the digital becomes far too  rigidly metaphysical.

Specifically the be or not isn’t quite on the spot

Where I persist, since if and might haunt my night,

I baby maybes with all my might.


The grays of capabilities conspire infinities

To prey on days for crazy ways that spray

Clouds of doubts, joys of the indefinite

In quantum want ems of delights

Where jungles jog theoretic heights.


The ifs and whens lay eggs like hens

That cackle of begins agains to mock

About the absolutes, pecking all irresolutes

To hatch the unknowns that devise

The dragons that can roar surprise.







Consequence conquers any prosequence we can command

As the snarling future sets itself to pounce upon possibility

To douse the sparks of hope we helplessers attempt to covet.

The savage ravishes human habit, proliferates intolerates

To trample, mince to minus away any interplay of power

Of thrust to reverse the curse of human planetary culmination.


The temporal ballet of life and death leaps to display that acrobatics

Of survival cannot withstand the ingenuities of deadly weaponries

Now incorporated with wild insanities that demand unlikely absolutes.

The hangman’s loops of military coups engage finalities of dismay

To blow away any doubts this planet rolls towards judgment day.


But life and death are not the scalpels of a knowledgeable intent.

They are the engines of an automatic hurricane that destroys to create.

Their mechanism grinds the petrified into sensibilities to become aware,

To ignite that strive to become alive, and no need to fear, it’s always there.