Dark Sea An AudioTextualPoem by Robin Ouzman Hislop

 

                                                                 

                                                                  Dark Sea

What can steal on the march of time

time that has passed time that is to come

on the dark sea of matter

within & without

gravitating       gravitating       gravitating

language is barely sufficient for it

in our mortal transit

in a universe which is forever a phantom face

its unresolved visitations

                                                  touched & untouched

                                                                          my cat mind                    my dog mind

as different as                                      chalk & cheese

it calls for a comment on our mysterious cosmos

in its great indifference to us

which we inhabit rather miraculously more than

the mere mathematics of matrix & fractal

but as self regulating networks together

with the brainless networks

where we may spread our membranous wings

& harvest angels on the dark sea                            within & without

                                                                         

 
 

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems. A translation from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae, the award winning (X111 Premio César Simón De Poesía), in November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds. UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020

 

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

A Show. An Audio Textual Poem by Amparo Arróspide


 
A SHOW
 
You may see her
but not touch her
listen to her undulating hips
crave for her belly-button
and hope she lands flop on you lap
but she won´t
 
there’s glittering and sparkling,
the veils that she unveils
(mind you, not all all like removing the scales of a dragon
or plucking a hen)
 
her whispers, giggles, jewels
wax and wane
Yet don’t insects dance?
Could this girl be a mantis?
Or is she just an expert
hypnotist?
 
Cymbals, ear-rings, bracelets
to create suspense,
you may wonder and crave
but she won’t
 
 
 
 

 
Amparo Arrospide (Argentina) is a Spanish poet and translator. She has published seven poetry collections, Mosaicos bajo la hiedra, Alucinación en dos actos algunos poemas, Pañuelos de usar y tirar, Presencia en el Misterio, En el Oido del Viento, Hormigas en Diáspora and Jaccuzzi, as well as poems, short stories and articles on literary and film criticism in anthologies and in both national and foreign magazines.
She has received numerous awards. Editor’s Note: see also Poetry, National Literature Prize 2018, Francisca Aguirre, Translated from Spanish by Amparo Arróspide & Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; his publications include
 
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules and Next Arrivals, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
 
You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Yahun. Audio Textual Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop


 

all these years on
& i've given up on reflections
such as the origins of human madness
the limits of what we are beyond our controle
& suddenly	as often happens nowadays
i flashback to a dangerous rushing stream
tumbling & cold	i remember
the water is green	white		deep

a slither of a stripped tree trunk straddles
the sheer sided banks		
a few strides & a skip
to cross which all in the bleak grey stone village
must	old or young	strong  weak or sick
to enter onto its sparse barren ground

i am alone	i see no one
even the tree spar looks slippery	shiny
bent with an undersway to the tug of the flow
a fatal slip & i'm gone	i could go on
but i cross	
a few strides & a skip
i come to the first stone dwelling place
the ground is hard  & arid		i pass the front dyke space
to enter without a door 
the burnt earthen floor room in its dim half light	
                                        i don't remember how

there's what looks like a built up large sink
made of stone & shingle & in it half submerged
in clear cold water	small white turnips

it's his only fare	we stare at each other
he is tall thin gaunt with long white hair & beard
clad in a brown home spun gown & cord sandals
he goes to the sink & offers me a soaked turnip

is this me in another life time		could i live
this life day in        day out	

tonight i will sleep out for i cannot stay	
                                      we have not spoken a word

i eat the turnip		his only nourishment
& leave as suddenly as i came	        to a memory
which now hinges on a dream	        as though
a desert wind should move a dune	where
you wake to find what you left behind is beyond you still 

 

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems. A translation from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae, the award winning (X111 Premio César Simón De Poesía), in November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds. UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020

 

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

Approach. An Audio Textual Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop

approach	 approach	approach
alone in my heart
let the day sail away
i shall stay in exaltancy
the dust track leads 
nowhere	in twilight she disrobes
anywhere's a gradient		nowhere
dawn is like this stray dog
two years ago		crying somewhere
they had bulldozed		afraid	lost		
their way through this
the local alcalde believed
the dust track		it would improve the economy
little did he know elephants return to the wilderness
wilderness wilderness wilderness	leads nowhere		
			in exaltancy	
			at great heights
at twilight		
the grandeur of the boulders		she disrobes
hovering upon the hillside		alone in my heart
approach	approach	approach
will hurtle down to unfathomble
the day sails			depths
now extends their itness
as we approach	approach	approach

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems. A translation from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae, the award winning (X111 Premio César Simón De Poesía), in November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds. UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020

 

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

The Split. An Audio Textual Poem. Excerpt from All the Babble of the Souk


 

He knew not, he said, whether he was a butterfly 
	who awoke to find he was a man 
or a man who awoke to find he was a butterfly. 

To begin in the image, he kills for in his dreams 
	he wakes from half forgotten 
to the commotion of the day sealed by a story. 

To begin in the image, a view before the abyss 
	from old familiar haunts 
what clings, where there’s neither choice nor chance 
	yet beckons, to the impossible impasse. 

The Breach. 


Wu Ch Eng En descends 
	the mountain of the five elements 
bearing the moon as his lamp 
	forever grows longer, he muses 
leaving no footprints in the snow. 

	At daybreak the view is emptiness 
the truth of truth is its lie, he muses 
	to a lamp without a night. 

Wu Ch Eng En rested 
	to speak with the world on emptiness. 
He looked at the village’s railings 
	their fierce barbs pointing to the sky 

between which shadows peered 
	as if to promise through tricks of light 

Mystery but revealing only bondage 
	to landscapes in whose labyrinths 
you could believe you were in a place 
	you’d never left 
where to return was just deception. 

Must not you and i be inside emptiness 
	for we cannot both be outside 
but the world made no reply 
	lost to a fleeting memory 
that may never return or may. 

Wu Ch Eng En said 

	Day dreams the wandering mind 
as lonely as a cloud, flower and song 
	but not without blood 
the lifeless, Terra-Cota army 
	marches over our groundless days 
outwards from the tomb. 

Nature Thrives on Deception. 

Chuang Tze perched 
	on his usual precipice and reflected 
on to suicide or not to suicide. 

He recalled he had worn a dark suit 
	dark glasses, returned 
on a crowded summer’s night to a past 
	whose memories 
he could no longer remember 
	there he had sown his wild seed 
what had they come to now 
	but the way of all nothingness. 

There are those who maintain 
	creation is a purposeless drift 
those who maintain its entelechy 
	can simulate a deity of divine attributes. 

Chuang Tze  rocked to, fro 
	would not such deities grow perplexed 
about their state of affairs 
	traces of white fleece trailed 
across that blue emptiness called the sky 
	thus in that fall 

from that exalted simulation 
believe they were immortal souls. 

Chuang Tze said 

Even the wind is flawed 
	as it speaks through the leaves of trees 
the moment of history. 

Now caught in time evermore 
	yet the leaves belong to the branches 
to make small patterns in infinity. 

And we, where do we belong 
	with our swan song, as if we were going home 
the day after tomorrow. 

*(in homage to Ezra)
 
 
 

 

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems. A translation from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae, the award winning (X111 Premio César Simón De Poesía), in November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds. UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020

 

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

Strange Fruit. Audio Textual Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop


 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems. A translation from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae, the award winning (X111 Premio César Simón De Poesía), in November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds. UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

For Olga. An Audio Textual Poem by Blanca Andreu. Translated from Spanish by Robin Ouzman Hislop and Amparo Arrospide

 

 

This work comprises in an excerpt from the anthology on contemporary Spanish female poets entitled Las Diosas Blancas. Madrid, 1985. Copyright Ed. Ramon Buenaventura. Hiperion. This is an original and unpublished English version of the original poem written in Spanish. Translators Robin Ouzman Hislop and Amparo Arrospide would like to thank Casa del Traductor, in Tarazona and the British Literary Translation Association, East Anglia University Campus.

From this Spanish anthology –compiled by the well-known scholar and translator Mr. Ramón Buenaventura, whom we contacted earlier– a few selected authors were chosen for our joint translation work: Amalia Iglesias: Te buscare para decirte (I Will Find You To Tell You) , Ana Rossetti: Triunfo de Artemis sobre Volupta (Triumph Of Artemis Over Volupta) and Isolda (Isolda) , Blanca Andreu: Para Olga (For Olga) , Isla Correyero: Los Pajaros (Small Birds), Amparo Amoros: Midas (Midas) and Criaturas del gozo (Creatures Of Joy) , Rosalia Vallejo: Horno en llamarada (A Furnace In Flames) , Maria del Carmen Pallares: Sisargas (Sisargas), Margarita Arroyo: Era el mar lejos del mar ( It Was Sea Away From Sea).

We would like to thank Mr. Ramón Buenaventura and the above name poets, in advance, and let them rest assured that their work is protected by a legal Creative Commons Licence, by virtue of which the above named translators are willing to provide excerpts from their original translation work, provided that readers agree to use it under the terms of such licence. We strongly recommend reading the entire work and the poets’, who have continued evolving during these decades.

For Olga

Girl of delicately golden tresses,
girl obsession of the virgin stork
with tufts of damask feathers
that splashed death,
of the crazy stork with wings
of golden strychnine
which flew off leaving you with a corporeal perfume,
a neat smell of lilacs, already golden and rude dreams.
Girl who obeyed the apostle scops owl
and the murky look of real eyes,
with puerile drawings of Selene and the rest.
Girl of non-existent concert,
girl of cruel sonatines and malevolent books by Tom Wolfe,
or witch lace to bandage wounded deer ulcers,
of fallow deer gazing from mystical knolls,
or places like that.
Pluperfect girl, girl we never were,
tell it now,
tell it now, you, now that it’s so late,
spell out the sombre tempo,
spell me the tear
the purple silhouette of the mare,
the foal that lay at your feet waking up foam.

Abandoned recite the words of yesteryear,
shadow of Juan Ramón: Solitude, I am true to you.
Scornful recite the words of yesteryear,
but not that courtly verse,
don’t talk of queens white as a lily,
snow and Joan burning
and interwoven melancholy
of dear Villon,
speak clear verbs where you can drink the saddest liquid,
jars of sea and relief, now that it is already so late,
raise your tiny voice and summon up the song:
tell life that I remember her,
I remember her.

This small death is definitely lost in a nascent forest,
the shoot of an arrested comet,
that nobody saves
young volcano of novice gust and bones
made of bird, eyelid and thinking wave
that no stella book
no book painted with Italien solar gold,
no book of lava
will seal for me.

And so death so many times written
becomes radiant,
and i can talk
of desire and the unseeing beam of the lighthouse,
of the chimerical corpse of the crew.
And so death
becomes the story
of that mute girl who hanged herself
with boreal harp’s strings
because of nuptial poison on her tongue.
I definitely get lost cradling litters of rare epitaphs,
girl of golden tresses,
I will tell life that you remember her,
I will tell death that you remember her
that you remember their lines conjuring your shadow,
that you remember their habits and tempo solo,
bitter laurel, deep bramble, brazen error and sorrowful hordes,
while Ephesian cats are crying at my feet,
while lost silver cats
go curdling their ancestry in genealogical cypress and poplar,
I will tell life to remember you,
to remember me
now,
when I rise with loops and hair strings
up to the disaster of my head
up to the disaster of my twenty years,
up to the disaster, lammergeier light.

De una niña de provincias que se vino a vivir en un Chagall, 1980

Para Olga

Niña de greyes delicadamente doradas,
niña obsesión de la cigüeña virgen
con mechones de plumas de damasco
que salpicaban muerte,
de la cigüeña loca con alones
de estricnina dorada
que viajaba dejándote un corpóreo perfume,
un pulcro olor a lilas, ya dorados y rudos sueños.
Niña que obedeció al autillo apóstol
y a la mirada turbia de los ojos reales,
con pueriles dibujos de Selene y demás.
Niña de inexistente concierto,
niña de crueles sonatinas y malévolos libros de Tom Wolfe,
o de encajes de brujas para vendar las llagas de los corzos heridos,
de ciervos vulnerados asomados en los oteros místicos,
en los sitios así.
Niña pluscuamperfecta, niña que nunca fuimos,
dilo ahora,
dilo ahora tú, ahora que es tan tarde,
pronuncia el torvo adagio,
pronúnciame la lágrima,
la silueta morada de la yegua,
la del potro que se tendió a tus pies despertando la espuma.

Declama abandonada las palabras de antaño,
sombra de Juan Ramón: Soledad, te soy fiel.
Declama desdeñosa las palabras de antaño,
pero no aquella estrofa cortesana,
no hables de reinas blancas como un lirio,
nieves y Juana ardiendo,
y la melancolía entretejida
del querido Villon,
sino los verbos claros donde poder beber el líquido más triste,
jarros de mar y alivio, ahora que ya es tarde,
alza párvula voz y eco albacea y canta:
Dile a la vida que la recuerdo,
que la recuerdo.

Definitivamente se extravía en un bosque naciente esta muerte pequeña,
el brote del cometa detenido,
esto que nadie salva,
joven volcán de huesos y ráfaga novicia
hecha de pájaro y de párpado y de ola pensante
que ningún libro estela,
ningún libro estofado de oro solar de Italia,
ningún libro de lava
viene a sellar por mí.

Y así la muerte tantas veces escrita
se me vuelve radiante,
y puedo hablar
del deseo y del lacre rubio y ciego en los faros,
del cadáver quimera de la tripulación.

Y así la muerte
se convierte en historia
de aquella niña muda que se ahorcó
con las cuerdas boreales del arpa
porque tenía en la lengua un veneno nupcial.
Definitivamente me extravío acunando camadas de raros epitafios,
niña de grey dorada,
diré a la vida que la recuerdas,
diré a la muerte que la recuerdas,
que recuerdas sus líneas conjurando tu sombra,
que recuerdas sus hábitos y su carácter solo,
su laurel ácido, su profunda zarza, su descarado error y sus hordas dolidas,
mientras gatos efesios van llorando a mis pies,
mientras gatas perdidas plateadas
van cuajando su alcurnia en ciprés genealógico y en álamo,
diré a la vida que te recuerde,
que me recuerde,
ahora,
cuando me alzo con cuerdas capilares y bucles
hasta el desastre de mi cabeza,
hasta el desastre de mis veinte años,
hasta el desastre, luz quebrantahuesos.

“De una niña de provincias que se vino a vivir en un Chagall”1980

AUTHOR: BLANCA ANDREU (1959)
Bibliography:
– De una niña de provincias que se vino a vivir en un Chagall (awarded the 1980 Adonais International Poetry Prize) (Ediciones Rialp, Madrid, 1981).
– Báculo de Babel (awarded the Fernando Rielo International Poetry Prize) (Hiperión, Madrid, 1983).
– Elphistone (Visor Libros, Madrid, 1988)
– El sueño oscuro: (poesía reunida, 1980-1989) (Hiperión, Madrid, 1994).



Blanca Andreu (born 1959 A Coruña) is a Spanish poet. She grew up in Orihuela, where her family still resides, and attended El Colegio de Jesus-Maria de San Agustin, followed by studies in philology in Murcia. At age 20, she moved to Madrid without formally completing her education. Here, she met Francisco Umbral, who introduced her to the literati of the city.

In 1980, she was awarded the Premio Adonáis de Poesía for her work entitled, De una niña de provincias que se vino a vivir en un Chagall. Her use of surrealism is considered the beginning of the Post-Modern Generation. Her later work has tried to shy away from the surrealist tendencies of her early pieces.[2]

In 1985, she married novelist Juan Benet. After he died in 1993, she returned to La Coruña where she now lives a semi-reclusive life.

Awards

1980: Premio Adonáis de Poesía
1981: Premio de Cuentos Gabriel Miró
1982: Premio Mundial de Poesía Mística, Fernando Rielo
1982: Premio Ícaro de Literatura
2001: Premio Internacional de Poesía Laureà Mela

Translators:

Amparo Arrospide (Argentina) is a poet and translator. She has published seven poetry collections, Mosaicos bajo la hiedra, Alucinación en dos actos y algunos poemas, Pañuelos de usar y tirar, Presencia en el Misterio, En el Oido del Viento, Hormigas en Diáspora , Jaccuzzi, and Valle Tiétar, as well as poems, short stories and articles on literary and film criticism in anthologies and in both national and foreign magazines. She has received numerous awards.

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; his publications include

All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules and Next Arrivals, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

 

Editor’s Note: see also Poetry, National Literature Prize 2018, Francisca Aguirre, Translated from Spanish by Amparo Arróspide & Robin Ouzman Hislop

Crocuta crocuta. Excerpt from Cartoon Molecules Collected Poems An Audio Textual Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop

The spotted hyena      aka the laughing hyena         both male and female genitals are strikingly similar

Natural History Pliny the Elder (A.D. 23-79)       ab uno animali sepulchra erui inquisitione corporum

–     it was more jackals that were prone to digging bodies out of shallow graves and eating them    Robert Graves     White Goddess  –   The Jackals, sacred to Anubis, Guardian of the Dead, because they fed on corpse like flesh and had mysterious nocturnal habits.

the hyena is of feline descent

hyenas were hermaphrodites bearing both male and female organs         Aristotle declared in the Historia animalium    “this is untrue.”

medieval bestiaries drew a moral lesson from the depravity of beasts excluded from Noah’s ark     in 1614 God had only saved the purely bred          hyenas were reconstituted after the flood through the unnatural union of a dog and cat

female hyenas virtually indistinguishable from males      their clitoris enlarged and extended to form an organ of the same size shape and position as the male penis can also be erected

high foetal androgen levels responsible for male sexual facies in adult female spotted hyenas

an unfair stereotype of hyenas in reality fascinating intelligent even beautiful creatures

Disney animators sketches for The Lion King the trio of hyenas in the movie reinforce the common stereotype of hyenas as cowardly skulking lowlifes

Ernest Hemingway, – Fisi, the Hyena, hermaphroditic self-eating devourer of the dead, trailer of calving cows, ham-stringer, potential biter-off of your face at night while you slept, sad yowler, camp-follower, stinking, foul, with jaws that crack the bones the lion leaves, belly dragging, loping away on the brown plain –

“Hyenas” movie      an urban legend account of human encounters and attacks by a sub-culture of predatory cryptohuman hyenas      shape-shifting human-like creatures prowl the rural back roads and forests of North America           thought to exist by cryptozoologists

folklore and sightings persist even as mainstream science denies their existence

Rudyard Kipling:   The wise Hyenas come out at eve to take account of our dead,… they know the dead are safer meat than the weakest thing alive… and tug the corpse to light, the pitiful face is shown again, an instant ere they close in.

UK Teaching Resources TES     Edwin Morgan enters the mind of the hyena      English National 5 Poetry he describes its patient menacing personality      Morgan adopts the persona of a hyena    I sing and am the slave of darkness, my place is to pick you clean and leave your bones to the wind.

a hunters  poem from Lesotho description shifts to the first person singular to give the hyena’s own words          I growl being a poor body, I am small, I am hunched up like the elephant…

hyena of the Mmankala of Kone-land     a group whose symbol is the hyena     when it says ngou!   it devours even man

a Yoruba hunting poem      the hyena is regarded as the ultimate scavenger there being nothing it won’t eat      oral poetry from Africa    Hyena   who is there when the mourner buries the corpse eats fat and bone, scabbard and hide

spotted hyena strongest jaws in proportion to body size across the entire mammal kingdom cunning hunting tactics    nocturnal nature     nefarious reputations      frontal cortex of their brains thought to regulate social intelligence

the largest of the other three species brown striped and aardwolf     spotted hyenas are among Africa’s most vocal animals

 

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Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; at Artvilla.com his publications include

All the Babble of the Souk Cartoon MoleculesNext Arrivals, Collected Poems, and the recently published Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

 

Next Arrivals. An Audio Textual Poem, Excerpt from Next Arrivals Collected Poems by Robin Ouzman Hislop

Author’s comment: this is a technically constructed work from texts  both edited & derived from Yuval Noah Harari’s   Sapiens & Homo Deus  with interpolations and additions made by the author   (2017)

*

we invent them to serve us        controlling our existence

to create virtual worlds with hells and heavens

myths domesticate science

fiction and reality blur        shaping our reality

an assembly of biochemical algorithms      flash fade     flash fade

*

spinning

*

epidemic is business economy grows

human experience as any other item

in the supermarket a designable product

intelligence mandatory consciousness optional

individuals = dividuals

in carbon or silicon

*

owned by imaginary gods

who     what you are     how to turn you     on and off

*

beyond control

beyond

the opaque wall

algorithms can command empire

or an upper class ruling the planet

if words could make dreams come true

a simultaneous instant in the brain of seven billion

emerges the beautiful androgynous face of the serial killer

wheat eater          bread winner

*

& the deluge of data

millions of nano-robots coursing humankind’s veins

an Orwellian police state

splits into

the chosen hi-tech Noah’s Ark

a new religion information flow

Datism

A Brave New World

*

to merge or not to merge

the human genome as a digital processor

where overwhelming data

garbles the message in dystopian double talk

will the defeaters prevail

or cometh utopia from outer space

our post human descendants

*

do as you would be done by Datism

as we condemned the mammoth to oblivion

your every action

but where no human can follow or need to understand

in the matrix     the inter net of all things

*

where has the power gone

the cosmic data God draweth nigh

the great flow

to maximise    to plug you in    voters of the world unite

a colossus astride this narrow world

free market       big brother

watches over every breath you take

invisible hand that flies in the night

*

between laboratory & museum

voice of a million ancestors

a ripple in the cosmic data flow

shifts homo centric view to data centric view

knowing us better than we know ourselves

*

forager

scavenger of carrion follower in fear & flight

big brained

Neanderthal Denisovan Sapiens

what drove you for 2 million years

a big bum?

*

what bound

small divergent groups of differing tongue & taboo

into the framework of humankind

but fiction

collective myths woven into our reality

from money to the nation state

imprisoned

by the archetypes

we’ve identified them with          a virtual reality of cartoon molecules 

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Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; at Artvilla.com his publications include

All the Babble of the Souk Cartoon MoleculesNext Arrivals, Collected Poems, and the recently published Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)