A Poem Thread

Cleansed by water-fall springs in the wild`er-ness
Anointed then with Arabian perfume oil droplets
Garnish myself with no chains or bracelets
Carrying the doctrines and tablets of lost ancient races

as salaam alaikum akhi, me may be in the mosque on Friday, but absent might be I
Saturday I’m observing the Sabbath but I'll break the rules to debate a Rabbi
On Sunday Maybe Orthodox Cathedrals, Or with the Pentecostals listening to Gospels.
Where is my church I say the Tundra's
Where is My temple I Reply the Thunders
Where is my mosque The desert without frost
Where is my chapel The magma's and mantle
Where is your steeple The clouds above the eagle

Where is your home, Where ever I roam


Peace
 
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I might add these poems to the freestyle back section of my poetry book though some of them are pretty good. peace.
There may be other opinions about their quality. They are so long and of so little interest to me that I don't read to the end, and no longer come to this thread if you have made the last post. I happened to see this post of yours as I came here after seeing that SciWriter had posted, but each to his own taste. Carry on- I think Sciforums can afford the storage space.
 
Then I'll have to compress it to to the new 5 second attention span.

Yeah but you know not many people read things like this even my audience is limited but it's good. don't change your art to sell. You will be like "Canibus" Most people dont understand his lyrics so they dont buy his albums and he got black-balled. He is one of my favorite lyracist's but I understand him and I know 8 people out of 10 that wouldnt listen to it or understand 50% of it.

You will just have a refined audience is all. Doing both is better i think. Do commercial stuff and write a few novels that will sell, and then release your real deep work after.

Peace
 
There may be other opinions about their quality. They are so long and of so little interest to me that I don't read to the end, and no longer come to this thread if you have made the last post. I happened to see this post of yours as I came here after seeing that SciWriter had posted, but each to his own taste. Carry on- I think Sciforums can afford the storage space.

Thats why they are abstract freestyles for maybe a back section of the book taking up a few pages, but they were not even intended for anything but for this thread.

peace
 
Cleansed by water-fall springs in the wild`er-ness
Anointed then with Arabian perfume oil droplets
Garnish myself with no chains or bracelets
Carrying the doctrines and tablets of lost ancient races

as salaam alaikum akhi, me may be in the mosque on Friday, but absent might be I
Saturday I’m observing the Sabbath but I'll break the rules to debate a Rabbi
On Sunday Maybe Orthodox Cathedrals, Or with the Pentecostals listening to Gospels.
Where is my church I say the Tundra's
Where is My temple I Reply the Thunders
Where is my mosque The desert without frost
Where is my chapel The magma's and mantle
Where is your steeple The clouds above the eagle

Where is your home, Where ever I roam


Peace

That is beautiful young one. I am crying about it, Look away look away
 
Poetry

(The form of a rubaiyat quatrain)
The verses beat the same, in measured chime;
Lines one/two set the stage, one/two/four rhyme.
Verse three is the pivot ’round which thought turns;
Line four delivers the sting—just in time.

Poems are renderings of the soul’s spirit,
The highest power of language and wit.
The reader then translates back to spirit—
If the soul responds, then a poem you’ve writ!

A poem provides universal advice;
It’s structured, intense, rhythmical, concise—
A unified body of sensation,
Thoughts, and passions. You’ll want to read it twice!

A poem is both the thought and the presence,
An object born from one’s profoundest sense,
An image of diction, feeling, and rhythm—
It’s both the existence and the essence.

A poem is a truth fleshed in living words
That, showing unapprehended proof,
Lifts the veil to reveal hidden beauty:
It’s life’s image drawn in eternal truth.

Poetry makes immortal what is best
In life: it frees images of dreams impressed,
Apprehends the vanishing phantasms,
And sends them forth in fine words, fully dressed. (I borrowed this line)

Poetry makes clear what is barely heard,
When it translates soul-language into words,
Whereas, melody plays straight on the heart.
Merged, they create song—heart and soul converge.
 
(Inspired by an article on energy dispersal/entropy)

(The words flow like energy)

(Science related)


ALL THAT LIES BETWEEN

It is a beauty and a brilliance
Flashing up in its destructance;
For, everything isn’t here to stay its “best”;
It’s merely there to die in its sublimeness.

Like slow fires making their brands, it breeds;
Yet, ever consumes and moves on, as more it feeds,
Then spreads forth anew, this unpurposed dispersion,
An inexorable emergence with little reversion,
Ever becoming of its glorious excursions
Through the change that patient time restrains,
And feasting upon the glorious decayed remains,
In its progressive march through losses for gains.


We have oft described the causeless—
That which was always never the less,
As well as the beginnings of our quest,
And, too, have detailed, in the rarest of glimpses,
The slowing end of all of “forever’s” chances;

So, then, we must now turn our attention keen
To all of the action that’s here in-between—
All that’s going on, and has gone before,
Out to the furthest reaches “ever-more”;
For, everything that ever happens,
Including life and all our questions—
Meaning every single event ever gone on
Of both the animate and the non—
Is but from a single theme played upon.

This, then, is of the simplest analysis of all,
For it heeds mainly just one call—
That of the second law: dispersion,
The means for each and every occasion,
From the closest to the farthest range—
That which makes anything change.

These changes range from the simple,
Such as a bouncing ball resting still
Or ice melting that gives up its chill,
To the more complex, such as digestion,
Growth, death, and even reproduction.

There is excessively subtle change, as well,
Such as the formations of opinions tell
And the creation or rejections of the will.

And, yet, all these kinds of changes, of course,
Still become of one simple, common source,
Which is the underlying collapse into chaos—
The destiny of energy’s unmotivated non purpose.

All that appears to us to be motive and purpose
Is in fact ultimately motiveless, without purpose;
Even aspirations and their achievement’s ways
Have fed on, and come about through, the decay.

The deepest structure of change is but decay;
Although, it’s not the quantity of energy’s say
That causes decay, but the quality, for it strays.

Energy that is localized is potent to effect change,
And, in the course of causing change, it ranges,
Spreading, and becoming chaotically distributed,
Losing its quality but never of its quantity rid.

The key to all this, as we will see,
Is that it goes though stages wee,
And so it doesn’t disperse all at once
As might one’s paycheck before a month.

This harnessed decay results not only for
Civilizations, but for all the events going fore
In the world and the universe beyond,
It accounting for all discernible change,
Of all that ever gets so rearranged;
For, the quality of all this energy kinged
Declines, the universe unwinding, as a spring.

Chaos may temporarily recede,
Quality building up for a need,
As when cathedrals are built, or forms,
And when symphonies are performed;
But, these are but local deceits,
Born of our own conceits;
For, deeper in the world of kinds
The spring inescapably unwinds,
Driving its energy away—
As ALL is being driven by decay.

The quality of energy meant
Is of its dispersal’s extent;
When it is totally precipitate,
It destroys; but when it’s gait
Is geared through chains of events
It can produce civilization’s tenants.

Ultimately, energy naturally,
Spontaneously, and chaotically
Disperses, causing change, irreversibly;
Think of a crowd of atoms jostling,
At first as a vigorous motion happening
In some corner of the atomic crowd;
They hand on their energy, loud,
Inducing close neighbors to jostle, too,
And soon the jostling disperses, too—
The irreversible change but the potion
Of the random, motiveless motions.

And such does hot metal cool, as atoms swirl,
There being so many atoms in the world
Outside it than in the block metal itself;
Entropy’s statisticals average themself.

The illusions of purpose lead us to think
That there are reasons, of some motive link,
Why one change occurs and not another,
And even that there are reasons that cover
Specific changes in locations of energy,
The energy choosing to go there, intentionally,
Such as a purpose for a change in structure,
This being as such as the opening of a flower;

Yet, this should not be confused with energy
Achieving to be there, in that specific bower,
Since, at root, of all the “power”,
Even that of the root of the flower,
That there is, is the degradation by dispersal,
This being mostly non reversible, and universal.

The energy is always still spreading, thencely,
Even to some temporarily located density—
An illusion of specific change
In some region rearranged,
But, actually, it’s just lingering there, “discovering”,
Until new opportunities arise for “exploring”,
The consequences but of random opportunity,
Beneath which, purpose still vanishes entirely.

Events are the manifestations
Of overriding probability’s instantiations—
Of all of the events of nature, of every sod,
From the bouncing ball to conceptions of gods,
Of even free will, evolution, and all ambition;
For, they’re of our simple idea’s elaborations;
Although, for the latter stated there
And such for that as warfare,
Their intrinsic simplicity
Is buried more deeply.

And yet, though sometimes concealed away,
The spring of all creation is just decay,
The consequence and “instruction”
Of the natural tendency to corruption.

Love or war become as factions
Through the agency of chemical reactions,
All actions being the chains of reactions,
Whether thinking, doing, or rapt in attention,
For all is of chemical reaction.

At its most rudimentary bottom,
Chemical reactions are rearrangement of atoms,
These being species of molecules,
That, with perhaps additions and deletions
Then go on to constitute another one, by fate,
Although, they sometimes only change shape,
But, too, can be consumed and torn apart,
Either as a whole or in part; so cruel,
A source of atoms for another molecule.
Molecules have neither motive nor purpose to act—
Neither an inclination to go on to react
Nor any urge to remain unreacted;
So, then, why do reactions occur, if unacted?

Molecules are but loosely structured
And so they can be easily ruptured,
For reactions may occur if the process energy norm
Is degraded into a more dispersed and chaotic form,
And, so, as they usually are always constantly subject
To the tendency to lose energy as the “abject”
Jostling carries it away to the surroundations,
Reactions being misadventure’s transformations,
It then being that some transient arrangements
May suddenly be “frozen” into “permanences”
As the energy leaps away to other “experiences”.

So, molecules are a stage in which the play goes on—
But not so fast that the forms cannot seize upon;
But, really, why do molecules have such fragility,
For, if their atoms were as tightly bound as nuclei,
Then the universe would have died, being frozen,
Long before the awakening the forms “chosen”,
Or, if molecules were as totally free to react
Every single time they touched a neighbor’s pact
Then all events would have taken place so rapidly
And so very crazily and haphazardly
That the rich attributes of the world we know
Would not have had the time to grow.

Ah, but is it all of the necessitated restraint,
For it ever takes time the scene to paint,
As such as in the unfolding of a leaf—
The endurations for any stepping feat,
As of the emergence of consciousness
And the paused ends of energy’s restlessness:
Is of the controlled consequence of collapse
Rather than one that’s wholly precipitous.

So, now all is known, of our here’s and nows
Within this parentheses of the eternal bough,
As well as the why and how of it all has come,
And of our universe’s end—but, that others become.

(The verse lines, being like molecules, warmed,
Continually broke apart and reformed
About the rhymes which tried to be nonintrusions,
Eventually all flexibly stabilizing to conclusion.)

Out of energy’s dispersion and decay of quality
Comes the emergence of growth and complexity.
 
BACTERIA:
THE BACK DOOR TO OUR STOMACH’S CAFETERIA
AND THE INVINCIBLE RULERS OF THE EARTH


For two billion years in the Archaean world, bacteria
Were the only forms of life. Algae, or Cyanobacteria,
Learned to absorb water molecules, dining on hydrogen,
But releasing oxygen as waste; photosynthesis began.

The world began to slowly fill with “poisonous” oxygen,
But not right away, as it first combined with iron then,
Producing iron oxide that sank, that on the bottom lay,
In primitive seas, the world literally rusting away.

After 2 billion years, the atmosphere had some oxygen;
A new kind of cell arose. Some oxygen-using organisms
With organelles produced an energy much more efficient.

This was the endosymbiotic event of a mitochondrion
Which made complex life possible, by a liberation
Of energy from food, feeding on nutrients we take in.

We need them but they don’t need us, for without them
We couldn’t even live for two minutes.
They don’t even speak the same genetic language
As the cells in which they live.

These eukaryotes are old and unknown visitors
Within our homes who’ve stayed on for a billion years.

In another billion years they learned to form together
Into complex multicellular beings, yet, still this world
Of the small was to ever live on and rule the world.

At dinner, Louis Pasteur used a magnifying glass for
Searching for microbes in his food, until invited no more.

There are 100 quadrillion bacteria within us and upon us,
Ever grazing on our flesh and digesting our food bus.
The Earth is not our planet, but theirs; they let us live.
They even purify our water and keep the soil productive.

A single bacterial cell can generate 280,000 more a day.
They can also share information, taking a piece away
Of genetic code from any other any time. They swim
In a single gene pool—an invincible superorganism.

They live in caustic lakes, in Antarctica, in boiling mud,
And even thrive seven miles down in the Pacific Ocean;
In sulfuric acid, too, and in a 166-year-old bottle of beer,
And can even gorge themselves on plutonium nuclear.

Bacteria were yet alive in a sealed camera lens stowed
On the moon for two years, but they seemed a bit slowed.
Some were even found two thousand feet below the Earth
Dining on what’s in rocks, like iron, sulfur, and dirt.

Some frozen ones were even revived from the 3 million
Year-old permafrost of Siberia, and even one older than
The continents, was resuscitated, a 250 million-year-old
Bacterium that had been trapped in a salt deposit hold,
Two thousand feet underground in New Mexico, maybe.
 
Poetry

(The form of a rubaiyat quatrain)
The verses beat the same, in measured chime;
Lines one/two set the stage, one/two/four rhyme.
Verse three is the pivot ’round which thought turns;
Line four delivers the sting—just in time.

Poems are renderings of the soul’s spirit,
The highest power of language and wit.
The reader then translates back to spirit—
If the soul responds, then a poem you’ve writ!

A poem provides universal advice;
It’s structured, intense, rhythmical, concise—
A unified body of sensation,
Thoughts, and passions. You’ll want to read it twice!

A poem is both the thought and the presence,
An object born from one’s profoundest sense,
An image of diction, feeling, and rhythm—
It’s both the existence and the essence.

A poem is a truth fleshed in living words
That, showing unapprehended proof,
Lifts the veil to reveal hidden beauty:
It’s life’s image drawn in eternal truth.

Poetry makes immortal what is best
In life: it frees images of dreams impressed,
Apprehends the vanishing phantasms,
And sends them forth in fine words, fully dressed. (I borrowed this line)

Poetry makes clear what is barely heard,
When it translates soul-language into words,
Whereas, melody plays straight on the heart.
Merged, they create song—heart and soul converge.


Very nice ^_^


Appreciation
 
Alchemy Happens via Radioactivity
And
How Old can the Earth Be?


Through E=MCC we see that vast energy reserves
Are bound up in small amounts of matter, preserved.
Henri Becquerel carelessly left a packet of uranium salts
On a wrapped photographic plate in his drawer vault.

Some time later, he was surprised to discover that
The salts had burned an “light” impression into it.
The salts were emitting some rays of some sort, curiously
So he turned the matter over to Marie Curie, literally.

Madam Curie and her new husband Pierre, with glee,
Noted that the rocks poured out great amounts of energy,
But they never diminished in size or changed in any way.
(They were converting mass into energy very efficiently.)

They also found polonium and radium and a Nobel prize,
Along with Becquerel, in 1903, Einstein yet on the rise.

Radioactive elements decayed into other elements,
Noted Ernest Rutherford and colleague Fredrick Soddy;
One day you had an atom of uranium that “bled”,
And the very next day you had an atom of lead.

It always took the same amount of days
For half of the sample to decay,
And so this steady reliable rate of decay
Could be used in kind of a clocking way.

Tick-tock, how old was it? More than 700 millions years worth!
This age was way more than anyone had given the Earth.
He lectured, taking out a piece of radioactive pitchblende,
Showing it to aging Kelvin, but Kelvin rejected it to the end.

Dimitri Mendedeyev rejected it too, as with everything new,
Ever storming out of labs and lecture halls all over, too;
However, element 101 was called mendelevium in his name meant,
And quite appropriately, for it was a very unstable element.

Pierre Curie began to experience radiation sickness, getting weak,
But in 1906 he was fatally run over by a carriage on a Paris street.

Marie worked on with much distinction, but had an affair
So indiscreet that even the French were scandalized there,
And so she was never elected to the Academy of Sciences,
Despite not just one, but two (Physics, Chemistry) Nobel prizes.

Scientists yet thought that radioactivity was beneficial,
Putting thorium into toothpaste and laxatives as useful;
Eventually these products were banned, by 1938;
But for Madam, who’d died of leukemia, it was much too late.

The radiation is so pernicious and long lasting
That even now her papers from the 1890’s,
And even her cookbooks, are dangerous and toxic,
So all her lab books must be kept in lead lined boxes.
(One must wear protective clothing to look at them.)

Marie Curie was a very attractive lady very much aglow,
For my great ancestor in his old writings such told me so.
She radiated warmth unto him as a rainbow of sparks—
“Great balls of fire!” he remarked, “They now glow in the dark!”


(Marie's picture is in the art thread)
 
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FOR THE SUPER
HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
OF THE UNIVERSE:
GOD VS. SCIENCE


R o u n d 1

In the Beginning…
God played an active role in the Universe,
After creating it, each and every verse,
And especially one upon the Earth…

Which is supposedly
Only a few thousand years old,
Or so it has been told.

God won this round, hands down,
For even those many science clowns
There were there at the time
Thought that man was prime,
Being the special center of creation
And that the sun and the stars, in elation,
Revolved around his nation…

And, furthermore,
That evil spirits caused physical ills
Along with all of our mental ills,
As aggravated by life’s frills—
Which were all called ‘sins’
That somehow still came from within.

Even fun was one of sin’s evil cousins,
For the Bible was made of old Jewish legends.

Thankfully, those hundreds of odd Gods
WHO had come to reign before GOD
Were crushed and by Jehovah trod .

However, about three centuries ago,
The realm of natural law was extended, so,
The Supernatural Kingdom
Began to shrink away, some,
Eventually vanishing from all of existence,
But, we get ahead of our own persistence…

God made Adam fully formed, without a navel;
But, now, an asterisk on page one of the
Philippine Catholic bible says “No”,
To not take it literally; it’s just not so.


R o u n d 2

God came out quick, still claiming the writ
That he guided the Earth safe through its orbit
Around the the centered sun in space, His Son,
For by now the Earth’s motion around the sun
Was known to be true to nearly everyone.

Newton demolished this notion
With his laws of motion.

God thus no longer ruled Nature’s course,
For the world was free to run its course.



From Isaac: Laws and Revelations:
There is a mote in space known as Earth,
A pale blue dot of fluff orbiting a hearth…

Due but to Newton’s laws of motion, there’s none—
No Godly hand guiding it safe around the sun.

The vanishing had now really begun.
The heavens and the Earth were one.

Stars and galaxies went on and on, puffing,
And we became the center of nothing.

God was losing his definition in stone,
As his sworn traits disappeared, one by one.

So, He’s retreated to higher ground, that is,
Outside of space, time, and all that exists.


R o u n d 3

God so then claimed to appear to us
Only in spiritual thoughts and ideas, thus,
Making Him responsible, as our Savior,
For the goodness of human behavior.

This metaphor was then found to be unnecessary
As the source of human character non-contrarily;

Yet, some still clung to the life-line ropes
Of His intervention, with their hopes,
Although some claimed that He
Did not involve Himself, or be,
In our daily operations and pleas.

So, God no longer intercedes in causes,
Except in some nebulous cures and “becauses”,
As being safe from harm, or curing what hears,
But, He never heals amputees, or appears.

For the latest is that He must stay hidden,
Even if the “miracles” of His Son, bidden,
Were very much out in the open to see;
Better that no one know of Him clearly.

So there is “faith”—a blind trust in the unknown.
Believe it or be tortured—or has this, too,
The Word of God, become inoperable?
Only the supernatural realm remains.


R o u n d 4

God was still yet “seen” to intervene here,
Saving lives, here and there,
In the natural world’s reality,
But, too, striking planes from the sky,
Ever adjusting and smoothing the operations
Of natural law, expressing His inscrutable purpose.

However, scientific knowledge, cosmology,
Fundamental physics, chemistry, biology,
Anthropology, and psychology were wont
To undermine religious views on every front.
God was losing His strength to be,
For science loomed large, quite ponderously.

Religious knowledge, without proof,
That which professes absolute truth,
Now fails and fades, an impossibility,
While science, which professes fallibility,
Succeeds and grows stronger daily.

There were still those strange myths…

Why is the Old Testament out of the pew,
In many churches, in favor of the new?

Was it divine revelation or not?
Do God’s fits not become a good role model?


R o u n d 5

With God in full retreat, it was yet thought
That at least He had instilled or wrought
A spiritual essence in us willed, whole,
That which was called the “soul”.

What vanity to claim such full self-importance!
To demand so much from the universe…

That one would claim an angelic vapor that
Drives a living being, provides character,
Morality, and consciousness, on top of
A burdensome, fragile, and expensive
Organ such as a brain not needing to be used?
Science collapsed the idea of the elan vital
When the synthesis of substance began.

Life’s chemistry was of chemicals!

Yet, it was still said that God made all the kinds,
Albeit strangely full of the problematic signs
Of such an unintelligent design,
For how else could it all have been consigned?

Darwin told us how natural selection
Explained the mysteries of evolution
And of the variety of life covering creation…

Extending from animals to us, a continuum,
Now even seen to go back to a bacterium.

We were no longer special at all, as such,
Differing from chimps by not very much.

The discovery of genetics later on
Collaborated it all in our genome.

So, because of evolution’s record written
God’s Bible was no longer seen as written
In plain text for the common man,
But is open to symbolics and interpretation.

Thus, now, He just is, the same as the universe,
And, yet, this would be a kind of curse,
For this state would be quite restrictive…

Not to mention the mere tautology
Of a universe, a cosmos, and an Entity
Being one and the same pose,
Such as a rose is a rose is a rose.

Since the above Cannot be,
He’s now become but a Deity,
Leaving us all on our own,
Our own life to own,
The same as the nonreliance
That is seen by science;
Now we’re fully sentient,
But a planned, random accident!

Aye, the truth of what now we are is:
We’re not made direct, by a Wiz, to take a quiz,
But as mammal, organic, of speciation—
One passing narcissism and self-adulation,
Onto the bio-electro-chemical organism
Evolved upon a planet near a star, risen
Of and in the long and winding mindless way
Of slow time, dust, and selection by death
That sifts the best from the rest: evolution’s breath.


R o u n d 6

More devastating blows landed, raw,
Einstein’s theories extending Newton’s laws
To the very large universal scales, with trust,
While quantum mechanics brought us, next,
To the reach of the very tiniest of objects,
There being no place left for us as subjects.

God was nowhere to be seen,
Having vacated the arena.

Yes, science has found that the universe
Operates just as it would without Him—
That evil spirits don’t lead to bad health,
That brain imbalances can lead to sins.

Devil, Hell, the Bible, intercession, etc.,
Are all gone now—he is undefinable—
Protected from the knowing—safe, away:
Yet claimable as the unseeable unknowable!


R o u n d 7

Confirmations were everywhere hatched,
Since scientific laws must ever match
And predict the facts of what it mimics,
For example, of the quantum mechanic.

Although QM’s basis seems counterintuitive,
It always works out just perfectly,
For we employ and depend on it, in every way,
On tech products based on it, every day.

Science ever goes on to astronomical heights.

The first supernova since 1572
Appeared in some small galaxies nearby, a few,
Called the Magellanic Clouds, too…

Though its radiation began a while back,
We saw it alight upon us in the ‘now’—
Those immerse quantities of energy
Of a mighty star-stuff maelstrom.
A Chilean astronomical technician, some bloke,
Stepped outside, perhaps to have a smoke,
And, being observant, spotted it’s yoke!
Ah, he, a mere human standing around
Out under the dark starry sky, aground,
Detected it, upon this lucky time,
For the large telescopes only take in the shine
Of the sky in small sections at a time.

He went in and told of such unexpected,
That a large burst of never-detected
Neutrinos was now to be expected.

The astrophysicists called their colleagues,
C’mon, you all, answer, please,
Those deep beneath the Earth’s surface,
In the United States, Japan, and Europe,

And then said, “Look in your tanks, in revelry;
You have already made a great discovery.”

They were right on the dime, this time;
Each of the observatories had detected the signs
Of a few tens of neutrinos at about the same time.

Consider the magnitude of this achievement,
For they had tested all of what physics meant!

They had predicted the events that go
On in a star’s death throes—
By using theories from nearly every part of physics:
Special and general relativity, quantum mechanics,
Fluid mechanics, thermodynamics, nuclear physics,
Atomic physics, and elementary particles.
If any of these theories had in error flailed,
The prediction of the neutrinos would have failed.
Thus, the laws of nature that are known to us
On Earth everyday must have the same thrust
Hundreds of thousands of light years away;

And, also, the same back in the day
When that star had exploded so,
Hundreds of thousands of years ago.

God had been pushed completely out of the ring,
And so there were no more praises of Him to sing.

There were no immutable forms made,
As is, that never change, as “bade”,
For, there was no one miracle of life
Leaping into any living form, but rife
With all of natural selection’s strife.

Slightly dead chemicals
Became definitely alive chemicals,
Metabolizing into many particulars,
This being nothing spectacular.

We even have evidence of ancient algae
From 3.5 billion years ago, in a sea,
When liquid water was available and free.

It still took more than two billion years
For more complicated life to appear.
There was no Garden of Eden.

God’s become aloof; he’s begun to dissolve…
He let the design gradually evolve
Over thirteen billion years into man’s plot,
The endless universe a mere backdrop.
He is the Intelligent Designer that
Is deducible from not understanding design,
But, wait, he is of infinite design—
So now I know that something had to make Him!


R o u n d 8

The Knockout.

The three-degree blackbody radiation was found,
The CMBR. It comes to us from all around;
Nonuniformities in the radiation were found at last,
Those that formed the galaxies of the past.

The QM realm has been proved, of late,
To be a fundamentally fuzzy state,
Virtual plus and minus states
Popping out at any old rate;

That is, there are no real causes,
For there are no hidden “becauses”.

This realm is not quite a Nothing,
But a near ‘nothing’,
Nor some infinite regress of something.

Virtual particles may take the helm
Or cancel back into the QM realm.

If “Nothingness” were exactly zero, not fizzy,
Then this ‘vacuum’ would not be vague and fuzzy.
Thus, an absolute Nothing cannot exist to be,
For its very definition means that it cannot be,
As then it could not even be there at all in reality.

So, there is but the quantum jitter;
There was only this ‘possibility’ forever.

Oftentimes, the QM “virtual” particles magically
Spring into existence, and vanish quickly,
Although they can interact and remain, really.

If not, they have to vanish so quickly
That we cannot account for their reality.

If we could see them, then the QM possibility
Would not be the vacuum fuzzy energy;
But, if they were not there, as something,
The vacuum would be exactly Nothing…

And so this certain school
Would violate the vague and fuzzy rule.

None of these happenings are invisibly lame,
Such as those of the supernatural claims,
For the fuzzy ‘nothing’ has many effects
That we can compute and detect.
So, is there is no cause, no purpose, unthunked!
Does this make us go into a deep dark funk?

No, for it is our glory that we are free to be,
The making of life being our own responsibility.

Now God was dead, gone, having counted out,
Having never been, whether within or without.

The eternal, causeless ground-state
Could have never had any “create”,
For there could be nothing prior
Such as that which is known as a Creator.

Terrorists still go to war in his name;
It’s all going astray—this notion fails;
If I knew where the Great Designer stays,
I’d question his mysterious(insane) ways.

What, then, is left of this vanishing Phantom?
More features than I’ve listed have fallen—
The Extraordinary Superstition’s kiss
Remains as but a shadow of a wish.
 
The Master of the World.

The Master of the World.
(Dedicated to Jules Verne)

The turbines whirl the circuits click,
he pulls an ominous relay stick, and
thumbs his fob and turns the knob,
to send the “Terror” hurtling forth.

Mad driven steam, and empire dreams,
he defies us all to thwart his schemes.

At speeds un-dreamed, the dark machine
will to all eyes speed unseen.

And in one fell stroke, in an opera cloak;
he’ll remake the world in fire and smoke.

He’ll shame all the scoffers and purge all the
flock, repopulate the Earth with a far nobler
stock.

He’ll cleanse all the lands in a darkened rebirth,
and when it’s done he’ll lift off his fell curse,
he’ll remove all the bones and reset the tone.

It was Nemo’s dream, it’s now Robur’s throne!

With one piston stroke and a sharp flywheel spoke,
Robur will stride through all the billowing smoke.

And in fear he’ll be held, man is he’s to meld, for
he is the Master of all the World.
 
This one is dedicated to SciWriter but it is not of my own writing it is a native american poem/proverb.


"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.

One is evil -
He is Anger
Envy
Sorrow
Regret
Greed
Arrogance
Self-pity
Guilt
Resentment
Inferiority
Lies
False pride
Superiority
Ego

He continued, "The other is good -
He is Joy
Peace
Love
Hope
Serenity
Humility
Kindness
Benevolence
Empathy
Generosity
Truth
Compassion
Faith

The same fight is going on inside you and inside every other person, too.

The grandson thought about it for a minute, then asked his grandfather,

"Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied,

"The one you feed.""

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

peace.
 
Thanks for the dedication, Chi.

The prideful with no humility who thought they were so specially made with a divine destiny for eternal reward fed the voracious wolf of greatness created by vainglorious human mammals.
 
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