Testeria Hysteria
Tea if by sea, cha if by land. My son, the would-be Falconer
drank leaves cast by the red hand of qubits that cry for mother
to stand on winged blades, to take flight with the spade
of every word of every language.
Pink room and sand labyrinth, reading tea leaves at vantage
point of geometry in the archetype beauty so savage,
to wear the mark riding the back of doom,
to take action cast out from despair’s room.
Only two words for the leaves of every place at hand,
the lament of men with their tragic need for extensions
have left the world a bereft land. A well-timed swoop,
a huge strike preying on lost potentials...
Ownspeak of human drift out past the dark rift;
swipe right, swipe left, strike out at the universe
without binary bias. Breathe. Mindfully dismiss
one is true rational right and male,
zero is false emotional left and female.
Finite and infinite buried deep in the dust
on this recursive and floating crust.
Fall back in anguish, spin in the fiber of revelation,
Go deep in feathered wings that weep and sing
beneath shady tree fractals. The would-be Falconer
cedes messages across space and time. Conjure the blasphemer
from peace. Here on the peregrine grass still green with envy
and throbbing in cognitive dissonance waft in recency,
foreign pilgrims move right, left, odd, and even.
Unperfect hunters sandy of confirmation bias ping
Algorithms of Aristotelian sinophiles trying to cast the ching
again but the gaps are not nothingness,
more or less, they are museums of poetry.
Man must wake from his puzzled philosophies of pain.
Between statues and nature again came the brazen Falconer
whistling an embrace of fragility. Left behind fallen earth–
hand gestures speak of gridlocked thoughts and algorithms.
They gawk at their disruptions, defile the land making inheritance detestable.
The curse that consumes the earth burns beyond Cain.
The time will come to destroy those who destroyed the earth.
Now man and machine are locked in this dance of unnatural logic–
Positive –one, negative –zero. incapable of righting the wrongs,
engineering code fit and stuck in the limitations of legacy logic.
Grab the 0 and the 1 at the same time that the rush flies
over nature supreme, reject the binary system.
High-velocity breakthrough, entwined co-existence at play.
Entwined like the female X allows male Y in our DNA.
Nature codified intelligence and the land folds
over unto itself leaving this to the interpretation of the reader...
Come in, come in unperson, personhood;
come in unity, come in a wellspring of love.
Formulaic charter lands on both shoulders. The saker Falconer
compass of pure chivalry, martyr of destiny half-opaque, lifts the canopy
on emotional literacy and honest-self appraisal.
One maxim to proclaim muscling across history,
Octonions beckoning like the Sirens called Ulysses.
Gently and sweetly dance on vibrating rhythms
opposite of seven where the veil lifts from the eyes
and seemingly the Maltese returns on all saints.
Where toxic masculinity is on full display
above the catamite gunsel carefully placed shadows
of strength and dominance where it reveals itself the weaker.
Fearful masculinity harms both men and women.
Embedded in the terms we use, in words, in language.
One is true and valid. Zero is false and invalid.
This spreads, especially among the emotionally challenged.
Fears we cannot bring ourselves to name grow into terrible secrets.
This toxicity gridlocks us and machines
deep in our created unnatural logic,
a patriarchal struggle on rainbow waves of perception flows over
shaving legs and faces, shaving arses and underarms.
Walk this protected simplicity of a razor without alarm.
Black 0 and White 1 with shades of gray percentages
uploaded in the process of collecting clues
till the talons land on Mars.
And he is not here. All that potential gone with the Falconer!
Real complex quaternions cyclic as wars and a mother’s agony.
Positive or negative suffering to the other side of pain.
Octonions chase arrows on the Fano plane.
Consumed by testeria hysteria, wars go on...wars
and if this trajectory continues who will explain reality?
End this where it began, under the tree at Carmel By The Sea.
Think! My Falconer delivers the drink. Tea if by sea and cha if by land.
