autonomous battlefield robots
deploy moral
ethics
like
humans do
before the kill

chill of death (the humpback song)

Maria de Mangop, her shroud 1477

Cage

Thank you to the glamourous MissBoux for allowing me to use her photograph in this image :-)

Simon

Risk and Intimate Relationships

I found this interesting article on ESRC (Economic and Social Research Council) by Prof. Jane Lewis.

Risk and intimate relationships: can hope triumph over experience in an age of 'messy' lives?

I thought I'd share this on Saying Something, because this article mirrors many of my thoughts on the subject of sexual relationships. I like Professor Lewis' use of the words "flux" and "uncertainty", regarding relationships, behaviour within sexual relationships, work and expectations. Flux, anxiety and constant change - stretching meaning to the point of arbitrariness are common themes in modern art and poetry, particularly on the Internet. It is interesting to see ideas relating to the economy and the arts finding common ground.

Simon

{{{}}}

i bleed through darkness

I'm the dominion of my tea

my ample wingspan ends up in silken weeds....so smooth

i know they furnish habit and haste and a mid-waste count
slightly white habit ..to my green mind haste

time feed refracts the moons ago
so much silver. in young mouths

Vespers (45)

tapioca many moons
ago. my sleep forth
commingling
will arrive. doors still

close this vellum

night.

assiduous refracts my day
dreams you
and ritornelli brand
my habit syst-

(away with logjam).

brainy bunch of feedlot ivy
looking lackeys. league in
sorghum. plickers.

slight bean count.
slight sheep hop
across the net.
I'm lying to my quintet
(other four).

forage in amid the weeds.
this silken circumstance. this
bleed-through on the take.

my sipping of kombucha tea.
my green. my white.

the swish of hydroperox-
for the mouth.

down south we furnish nothingly.

are you just haste?

mid-waste the time has nibbled
a young ear to take
liberty wingspan and endow it
with the body in the mind
and taste what wheat
shines silver.

this and thistles how we
slumbering will crave
dominion over ample simple
straying dark
proviso
improvised.

tezcatlipoca

that day the
passage to
duality
is
taxfree for
those that see

Dance Dream

Thank you very much to the glamourous Miss Boux for letting me use her photographs in this image

Simon

Vespers (44)

the thistling of riven town (conforming
toward off-shore penury in mountains (blazes
shaken forecast (few
to through-put of our rage (injurious
performing quiet in the snow (the flow port
a pure signal still amounting to (philanthropy
a plural page left home (amid blue green
to wool its way toward alignment (while
terrestrial tame suds (dampened by here
names semaphore to cast a clear eye (cue
infusing a contrarian blue winter (hue

(to simon)

she stirs fear, nail upon the eye
incessantly

there
Anxiphone eyes her flawed
ubiquitous eye

here
and there

sunrise imminent

mmm,labyrinthine sunrise

Anxius and Persephone

The virtual God of fear, Anxius
ubiquitous in media
predicts catastrophic weather

A hurricane here, a plague incessant
there
Persephone stirs - her escape is imminent

The underworld is dark, labyrinthine
but her capture
is flawed by light

For an eye for an eye, tooth to nail
we shall choke upon his science
before a sunrise in the East

Ocean

Thank you to Miss Boux for allowing me to use her photograph in this image :-)
Simon

on the loss of a dear draft...

awakened
the ocean sleeps in a perspective coloured glass house
tide /wandering /overflowing inside birds eyes

the sleeping concierge of of light neaps around melodic lives /healed /
fragmenting masks/
giving free traffic to our posted eyes /of lives

we - like brine figures gaping at /dans la fenetre of the camera
dance dance dance like tide
dance /honey

on the other side of the world he lives among pressed /shapeless wolves
i can see him through window corners /through flesh fragmenting masks/

my trances / sparkle wasteful frenetic flesh

i butter your camera with new glass figurines in culture brine
implanted sweetness /liquid wolves turn your stars into wounded illuminance

guitars groan contrapunctally
the letter trances of my fiscal eye


waiting for lights

beautifully

to sheila, rhapsody in gray