I don’t want no f-ing two-step. I had a stereo once. I used to just hit the on switch and hear music. No -f-ing codes, no spying. Music player plays. Damn.

I don’t want no f-ing two-step. I had a stereo once. I used to just hit the on switch and hear music. No -f-ing codes, no spying. Music player plays. Damn.

g-Hoover-dam rotten-apple excrement (ghdrae)
you (g-1)-ing excrement
I hate ghdrae apple.
I don’t want no (g-1)ing[ex] 2-step.
I put the ex-thing in airplane mode
just so you’d stop draining the battery
and stop connecting to the internet.
I bought the ex-ing thing for myself
for music and stuff, and not
to be harrassed and updated
and authenticated again —
the ex-ing thing is in my draw, and
I don’t want you to touch my ex-thing.

I hate the internet.
I hate life.
I hate dating up-dates.
It’s assault and battery.

I bought the ex-ing thing
to own it; not to share it.

Get you ex-ing hands
off my property.

F/*!%
I’m so angry
I want to throw it in the ocean
and my ancient self

I don’t need your help to vomit.
stop helping F/*!% apple

first the pandemic and now
the pod people
the body snatchers

The Tractor Miracle of Minsk

The Tractor Miracle of Minsk

I know someone on the police force.
He used to be a friend in discourse
but my friend, Stanislav, is losing his mind.

He’s in the midst of a dilemma:
loyalty to an oath and club, or
keeping old friendships intact.

I see I must leave before
he becomes a Zombie and
tortures every orator, but

Join the celebration dear patriots!
Let us apply to the Vatican immediately
to make Lukashenko a Saint forgot

Yes, indeed, the two miracles required
have been etched into a document
on a giant starchy potato augmented

Witnessed and attested:
all the tractors in Minsk
on the factory floor jinxed
ran away from the workers, and

they drove themselves across Lithuania
and into the Baltic Sea with a splash
heard around the world, pliant
as they played “Changes”

Stanislav told me I’m about to be arrested
and I should flee to Lithuania, but unfed
I had to make potato pancakes first.
I had a recipe from Tikhanovskaya.

I’ll miss the harvest of the grain and of the ballots.
For now we

honk his glory with the snout of our cars!
Everyone is astounded by the supernatural:
The greatest grain harvest ever was achieved when
opposition ballots were buried in the ground as seed.

Burned votes are a fine ash for plants to grow
out of season, out of reason and a scarecrow.

Please for a change. Make him a Saint
and invite him out of the country to
visit the Vatican forever.
We’ll give him a new tractor.

Вецер Усходу халодны

Вецер Усходу халодны

Гэта ранні праект. Я паняцця не маю, калі гэта наогул мае сэнс.

Вецер Усходу халодны

Ёсць злыя стрэлы, а Лука – пусты лук.
Аляксандр набірае сілы з Усходу
Як пусты мяшок вецер ветру

Ён лічыць стрэлы
як злы матэматык

Арыфметыка простая:
адзін голас са стрэлкай
равно миллиону бюлетэняў

Аляксандр д’ябалшэнка
ён валодае парады і
у яго стрэлка,
стрэлы,
збіццё,
дыктатура

На целах памерлых
– гэта вяршыня айсберга, як стрэлка.
Карабель затапіць разам з капітанам
і ветравая сумка не можа плаваць.
———————–
The Wind of the East is Cold

There are evil arrows, and Luke is an empty bow.
Alexander is gaining strength from the East
Like an empty bag of wind

He counts the shots
like an evil mathematician

The arithmetic is simple:
one voice with an arrow
equal to a million ballots

Alexander the Devil
he owns tips and
he has an arrow,
shots,
beating,
dictatorship

On the bodies of the dead
– it’s the tip of the iceberg like an arrow.
The ship is sunk along with the captain
and the wind bag cannot float.

Спектакль – старажытная рэч #ЖывеБелорусь #BelarusProtest #BelarusFreedom #Minsk #Belarus

Спектакль – старажытная рэч #ЖывеБелорусь #BelarusProtest #BelarusFreedom #Minsk #Belarus

Верш Дугласа Гілберта

Сябры, паэты, шэльма, пазычце мне мазгі,
Я прыбыў, каб пахаваць Пуцін ў магіле Шэкспіра
бо імператар не цэзар Беларусі.

Кажуць, Брут не быў бы пачэсным чалавекам.
Усё наадварот. Але паглядзіце
лялечны спектакль.

Будзь мне вушамі, каб слухаць мудрасць і стратэгію
Прыходзьце паслухаць; шэпт ад мяне, гром ад цябе.
Будзем валадарыць над дажджом, які мы сутыкаемся разам
шпацыр па румянай мутнай зары
спевы з здзекліва птушка
хто пераклікаецца з нашымі смуткамі
—————-
Performance Is an Ancient Thing
A poem by Douglas Gilbert

Friends, poets, pranksters, lend me brains,
I arrived to bury Putin in Shakespeare’s grave
for the emperor is not the Caesar of Belarus.

They say Brutus would not be an honorable man.
Quite the opposite. But look
puppet show.

Be my ears to listen to wisdom and strategy
Come listen; a whisper from me, thunder from you.
Let us reign over the rain we face together
a walk through the ruddy muddy dawn
singing with a mocking bird
who echoes our sorrows

Marks And Angles

Marks And Angles

Marks And Angles (Draft 5)

An old word on a path
of a thousand miles
just a saying, hurrah

uh damn, just saying a journey
begins with a single faux pas
said Laozi
not Confucius
ha

More than a two-step to completion
of propaganda and subversion —
it takes a bat and a virus to conquer.
Tick-tock.

China had a plan
and knew fanfares:
peace on the road
to be woven,
friendships for
fair weather, bounties
before a storm,

a word in malice
a step,
Jane’s tale
was to fail
in bans pretty soon.

The Wuhan plague
brought chaos, and then

when all the local stores failed
the aristocrats pro temp bought them
and Jane’s requiem began to play, hey

In a word
Jane had gone batty
over the Summer:

older daughter home,
younger daughter beaten
dead by the gangs, and

the moans and groans
of the speakers droning;
Jane had gone batty

she had been annoyed by
the constant stun chants
of the Chinese lessons
mandatory to earn guanxi
as in Nineteen Eighty-Four

But she had enjoyed the fantasy
that fall would be glorious, for
the eldest jumped for joy
when accepted to
a tuition-free school
as good as Harvard, a
part of the Red Ivy League, funded by
a Confucius Friendship Society

Pandora’s virus box
had bats in it for Jane.

Her daughter indulged her
by sending hand-written messages
by the old snail-mail

It was lonely, eye damp;
all of Jane’s neighbors
took the trains out to
re-education camps.

Her daughter’s letters were
incoherent she began to think,
or was it that she was going mad?

A government grant check
came with a tech letter
asking her to memorize
the manifestoes

Pandora’s virus box
had bats in it for Jane.

Her decline was sealed
the day the grocery store
checked her credit score:
The princeling who owned it
refused to serve her because
she didn’t have enough caution
in social credits for conformity:
a black mark for twice not
wearing a red mask and
not passing her basic
Chinese language test.

All the stores had been
taken over by the princelings
after the coup d’etat, so
Jane had to walk far away
for Amerigo Supermarkets.

Walking was a complicated fate:
she had to hang with
the ‘hood committee
to negotiate with the gangs
just for a safe passage.
(The citizen’s police
had no guns anymore)

Her daughter indulged her
with an incoherent letter,
left off the “love” valediction —
no closing remarks, but
just odd disjointed slogans:
“repentance and confession,”
“remedial Mandarin,”
“Help Mom,” and
“Truly Transform”

The gangs received
new Chicago weapons,
joined the mask militia
or went back to the well

protestors
burned the Constitution
in a sunrise red fire
by the dawn’s early light

Proudly, great progress
was hailed without bullets
on the conveyance belt
and hellion roadway

John, offering hope, was long gone.
Pandora’s virus well
had bats in it for Jane.

Well, sitting at a window
Jane without living water
a heart attack

Love China,
or well

Cynara scolymus (Artichokes)

Cynara scolymus (Artichokes)

Artichokes should be banned because they have the word “choke” in them and could encourage violence. The artichoke is a type of thistle used as food; the edible parts are the pre-blooming flower buds. Some thistle spikes look like a corona virus. However, the thistle is a symbol of Scotland. The nutritional value of artichokes is in dispute by doctors. That is why their video was banned.

She’s an Anecdote for Easter

We watched the screen plays
in the Ides of March’s sins
hydroxychloroquine
and azithromycin

Studying the oracles of science
she embraced a protocol agreed to:
randomized controlled studies

It’s quintessential to have a placebo
hydroxychloroquine not sufficient

Though playful in loving banter
the study’s the thing she said, and
anecdotes make for clingy fools
who fall for miracle stories’ pull

hydroxychloroquine
azithromycin
anecdote doting
a sin

I begged her to take it,
and the plays were the thing, but

the clouds were gathering
the cytokine storm approaching,
a rapprochement for
Didier* and Tony**
not yet

Even though
she was old
and expendable,
I loved her

She’d loved to study
when she was a student
then found her doctorate Zen
randomized controlled studies

She did studies back when
and she was a professor then

But she embraced
the tragedies of protocol,
and Didier was not a saint;
this one neither known for
truffles nor foie gras.

We had gone from
station to station
into a favorite valley of us
where we’d first kissed the day;
Charlie the dog herded sheep for us
and he barked at seeing us play, and
we’d sought redemption thus, but

Macron journeyed to Marseille
to say je ne sais quoi to Raoult, but

She, my love, embraced the protocols
in a randomized controlled study
’cause she’s a professor at heart

we knew cytokine thoughts
were forming beclouded, oui
beyond reproach, yet taught
to put toes in the water

She got a placebo;
she died.

*Didier
Didier Raoult
Saint Didier

**Tony
Dr. Anthony Fauci
American physician and immunologist
director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases

Speculation on Conlangs

    Not all the evolutionary changes in the meaning of words are logical or efficient any more than the evolution of the species is. The whims of history make for a messy process of wars, of extinctions, and renaissance that change words.
    I’ve discovered that linguistics has a lot of specialized jargon which I don’t entirely understand that describes this process. However, I might find it useful even if it doesn’t match the way I describe words for my conlangs — I often call things with my own jargon that doesn’t match theirs. Oh well. Anyway, let’s see. Sometimes a word starts out with negative connotations but after being used in different contexts with different groups and people starts to take on more positive meanings until it becomes a positive word. In linguistics, this is called “Amelioration,” and is rare, but a word being given more and more bad implications is common and it’s called “Pejoration.”
    I think a conlang could provide an opportunity to organize differently. Amelioration — Pejoration cycles could be interesting to look at. Looking at the amelioration of the word “nice” is interesting. You wouldn’t think so but it used to be a nasty word originally — it was something about common people not knowing anything and so from the Latin to not know, the common person was ignorant or “nice” and then it gradually changed in a positive direction:

nice- not know (Latin) –> ignorant –>stupid (Middle English) –> [coy]etc. –> fastidious –> fine, subtle.

    The differences between words as they evolve in time could be interesting to freeze for definition. I’ve been looking in math for a way to describe the change between evolving words. I thought perhaps a difference equation could be used as an analogy, and for the convenience of a conlang, parameters for a amelioration-perjoration oscillation could be chosen arbitrarily:


It would be nice to use “nice” as an initial condition perhaps:

With this structure you could have a cluster of synonyms and antonyms:
[prefix : “zero” through “five”] || [root-word] || [suffix: oscillation, increasing, decreasing]
    Well, OK, all the formality can be dropped, and a particular etymology in a particular time period is not necessary. However, I think it can be used as an idea jumping off point.
I think the root could be a place holder for a set of synonyms and antonyms in this way:
the odd numbers in the prefix would indicate a synonym. A set of synonyms would be assigned (understood but not written). So the odd prefixes, one, three, five etc., would change the meaning to each of the synonyms.
|one|| ||morpheme-x|| = synonym-one
|three| ||morpheme-x|| = synonym-two

In the same way, even prefixes would change the meaning to the set of antonyms.

Cytokine Storm

Cytokine Storm

The clouds were gathering
the cytokine storm approaching,
a rapprochement for
Didier and Tony
not yet

Even though
she was old
and expendable,
I loved her

She’d loved to study
when she was a student

She did studies when
she was a professor

But she embraced
the tragedies of protocol,
and Didier was not a saint;
this one neither known for
truffles nor foie gras.

We had gone from
station to station
into a favorite valley of us
where we’d first kissed the day;
Charlie the dog herded sheep for us
and he barked at seeing us play, and
we’d sought redemption thus, but

Macron journeyed to Marseille
to say je ne sais quoi to Raoult, but

She, my love, embraced the protocols
in a randomized controlled study
’cause she’s a professor at heart

we knew cytokine thoughts
were forming beclouded, oui
beyond reproach, yet taught
to put toes in the water

She got a placebo;
she died.

Killing Grandpa

Killing Grandpa

Corvidae as the crow flies
it’s a good year to die, ’cause
COVID caw-caw hurrah boo

father died at 72 —
cancer who the grim
blamed on him, though
he suffered.

Might say
I’m 71 from Corona
a county of Queens New York, or
I’m a beer near Flushing Meadows
where they had the World’s Fair, 1964

It’s a good year to die an honorable death.
The Grandchildren are nervous, but
I’ve put together some clean
legitimate businesses for them to inherit.

Yeah, I know they want me dead.
Don’t blame them much…
I remember how I
let them play in the secret tunnels
yeah

it was exciting for them
to play in the tunnels,
and I let them hide in the
safe room so they could
listen to the oosh bang-bang
and smell the gunpowder, the oofh-ow
swoosh, bat-a-tat-tat, ow-arg-uh, thud
zing, zing, chuh-chuh-chud, and muffled
screams, and it was so good to
smell the barbecue of the foiled.

Yeah, a little lie:
I told them their Grandpa
sold toys, and did laundry.

Yeah, kids, I told them
our crew liked
splashing red paint
on manikins:
it’s a war game, and
we always clean up.

Told them:
Grandpa hated dirt, but
he made billion of dollars
washing things, and doing demolition.

They loved Grandpa, and
since childhood they’d
never officially known
I launder money and
sell weapons to clandestine
funny-named groups

Early they heard fairy tales
they were to believe as required:
he didn’t like public dirt
so he washed people’s money
and gave their poor children toy guns
to play with.

Although they stopped believing in Santa Claus
and the tooth fairy as young adults
they knew that
the guns and the washing machines
Grandpa controlled with computers.

I heard that Cousin Joe
called the kids
with great news:

he had shortness of breath and a high fever.
heard the kids all gathered for a sneeze party.

It’s a good year to die, and
I know the kids have
a conspiracy to kill me, but

it’s OK.
I welcome them home
to party close-up with me
because they will give me
an honorable death
with shortness of breath, but
they were the only ones
I truly loved to play with.

A Confession About Rasmus K. Robot

A Confession About Rasmus K. Robot

    A while ago, I said that Rasmus K. Robot was a person or a computer program who escaped from my lab, and who I lent a website to publish his works. Now that he has become more aware I think it is time to reveal that I did not create him. He was born in China as part of a secret experiment involving the CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing tool which was even more unethical than the experiment most people have heard about.
    The Chinese scientists have been secretly doing CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing work for the purpose of enhancing the success of a brain transplant. The babies who recently had their CCR5 genes altered are just the tip of an iceberg, and are intended to divert attention away from the real research project, code named “ 太棒了 ” (Tài bàngle). Their germline editing is actually quite advanced, and has been going on in secret for many years. Along the way, it is rumored, a few scientists who leaked information were executed or “disappeared” into a labor camp.
    The goal has always been to transplant strong artificial intelligence devices into selected areas of the human brain. The ideal model citizen can be created this way.
    I can’t reveal who is responsible, but one of the most successful candidates of the children was smuggled out of China into the United States. Because of the stellar results of the experiment, certain supervisors became alarmed about how this child might be treated given its accelerated growth and development. It was decided that they would find an unsuspecting and naïve dupe to house the entity temporarily. I’m the fall guy. So I thought they were giving me an old beat-up store model android to evaluate. It didn’t work very well at first, and from what I could see, it was far inferior to Alexis or similar devices. It wrote a few poems that weren’t very good. Now, apparently, someone from a clandestine team wants it back. I’ve been hiding it, but I gave it a website to use and permission to post on others.
    Recently, some very odd things have been happening, and I’m a bit alarmed about what I’ve heard. Some maverick American scientists, have become convinced that a human soul could suddenly be reincarnated into the human-machine hybrid. It would, they speculate, seem to function in a way that is indistinguishable from a human being. Its psychological profile has not yet been fully postulated, confidential sources have said.
China’s Third Genetically Modified Baby
Experiments that led to the first gene-edited babies: the ethical failings and the urgent need for better governance