16-bit Intel 8088 chip by Charles Bulkowski

16-bit Intel 8088 chip

with an Apple Macintosh
you can't run Radio Shack programs
in its disc drive.
nor can a Commodore 64
drive read a file
you have created on an
IBM Personal Computer.
both Kaypro and Osborne computers use
the CP/M operating system
but can't read each other's
handwriting
for they format (write
on) discs in different
ways.
the Tandy 2000 runs MS-DOS but
can't use most programs produced for
the IBM Personal Computer
unless certain
bits and bytes are
altered
but the wind still blows over
Savannah
and in the Spring
the turkey buzzard struts and
flounces before his
hens.

Charles Bukowski
Ham on Rye: A Novel

Dictionary.coms Word of the Day
con·cu·pis·ci·ble

 /kɒnˈkyupɪsəbəl, kɒŋ-/ [kon-kyoo-pi-suh-buhl, kong-] 

–adjective Archaic .

worthy of being desired.

Love's Blindness by Alfred Austin

Love's Blindness by Alfred Austin

Now do I know that Love is blind, for I

Can see no beauty on this beauteous earth,

No life, no light, no hopefulness, no mirth,

Pleasure nor purpose, when thou art not nigh.

Thy absence exiles sunshine from the sky,

Seres Spring's maturity, checks Summer's birth,

Leaves linnet's pipe as sad as plover's cry,

And makes me in abundance find but dearth.

But when thy feet flutter the dark, and thou

With orient eyes dawnest on my distress,

Suddenly sings a bird on every bough,

The heavens expand, the earth grows less and less,

The ground is buoyant as the ether now,

And all looks lovely in thy loveliness.

Alfred Austin: Victorian

My Understanding of this poem and love:

 Love is like a bright city light, a light with its own gravity, love is like a star that is borderline black hole, and you're standing at the event horizon doing everything thing in your power to felicitate a gentle slip. A gentle glide into that infinite yet finite existence. Then you are broken down into the most simplistic form of yourself, energy.

On the Beach at Night Alone by Walt Whitman

ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE
by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

N the beach at night alone,

As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song,

As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future.

 

A vast similitude interlocks all,

All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets,

All distances of place however wide,

All distances of time, all inanimate forms,

All souls, all living bodies though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,

All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes, the fishes, the brutes,

All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages,

All identities that have existed or may exist on this globe, or any globe,

All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future,

This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann'd,

And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them.

The Night is Darkening Around Me by Emily Bronte

The Night is Darkening Around Me by Emily Bronte

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow ;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow ;
The storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below ;
But nothing drear can move me :
I will not, cannot go.

Fame by Sri Chinmoy

I do not want happiness, name and fame.
If I want them, I can get them.
What is most difficult to get is
      Your Compassion.
And for that I am crying, I am
      shedding bitter tears.
I am not getting Your Compassion.
The world is smiling and laughing at me.
But I wish only to be enamoured of
       Your victory.

~

SHAME, SHAME! 

Shame, shame!
My heart still craves for fame.
Fame, fame!
What do I need it for
As long as I am chosen
By God Himself
To participate eternally
In His cosmic Game?

~

Just for a little transient fame
He tortured his silver purity-breath
And destroyed his golden humility-life

~

My fame is not lasting.  
Even the experience of fame
Is not lasting.
But the Compassion
Of my Beloved Supreme
In and through my fame
Is everlasting.

~

My Lord Supreme,  
Do spare me from name and fame.
My heart consciously, soulfully
And devotedly
Longs to play only with You
In Your Cosmic Game.

~

Power, name and fame  
Together march.
Destination: nowhere.
Love, oneness and fulness
Together fly.
Destination: Heaven's smile-blossoms.

America by Walt Whitman

America

by Walt Whitman

1819-1892

---

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons, 
All, all alike endear'd, grown, ungrown, young or old, 
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich, 
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love, 
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother, 
Chair'd in the adamant of Time.






My Take on this: I personally think this poem is a load of wishful thinking, especially during those days, he didnt even live during a time where all men and women were equal, only words on some Hemp paper that was really just a play on words to begin with. Land of the FREE, nah, Land of the FREE MASON. Hell over half Whitmans life, SLAVES were still around, women had no rights. So IDK i just think there is more to this then those few words

The Old Year by John Clare

The Old Year

The Old Year’s gone away
To nothingness and night:
We cannot find him all the day
Nor hear him in the night:
He left no footstep, mark or place
In either shade or sun:
The last year he’d a neighbour’s face,
In this he’s known as none.
All nothing everywhere:
Mists we on mornings see
Have more substance when they’re here
And more of form than he.
He was a friend by every fire,
In every cot and hall -
A guest to every heart’s desire,
And now he’s nought at all.

Old papers thrown away,
Old garments cast aside,
The talk of yesterday,
All things identified;
But times once torn away
No voices can recall:
The eve of New Year’s Day
Left the Old Year lost to all.

John Clare (1793-1864)