Chad Parenteau and Jason Wright
by Cadwel E. Bruise
In this strange world I find myself, I’m thankful for two men:
Chad Parenteau and Jason Wright, my life-lines and my zen.
In this hard world of dog-eat-dog where hatred reigns supreme,
they offer respite from the storms and their severe extremes.
In this mad world of viciousness, they offer grains of grace.
In this harsh world of banning voices, they allow them space.
The former, poet-editor, keeps Oddball’s craft afloat;
in these wild seas, he is the backbone bo’s’n of the boat.
The latter, poet-healer, captain of this motley crew,
continues in his mission to keep contributions new.
I love them both for all they do in Massachusetts realm,
and pray they keep this Pequod sailing with them at its helm.
Cadwel E. Bruise is a poet of New England.
~~~
Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
For the warmest spot,
the cat is ever searching,
cuddling next to me.
“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of Japanese poetic forms. One of his favourite Japanese prose and haiku writers is Natsume Soseki (1867-1915), author who uses, as a common house cat, a high-register phrasing in his satirical novel I Am a Cat.
~~~
Haiku
by E “Birdcaws” Eule
Deplorable crow,
dead to this snowy morning;
he was beautiful.
Haiku
by E “Birdcaws” Eule
Winds rush, limb bough breaks,
in this harsh, freezing ice storm.
The crow is silent.
E “Birdcaws” Eule is a poet of Japanese peotic forms, like haiku. The first crow haiku draws from a haiku of the noted Japanese poet Basho (1644-1694).
~~~
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
The cold, north wind blows,
minus nineteen Celsius.
I’m glad I’m inside.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
After the snow-storm,
the bathroom faucet gurgles.
The roof vent is blocked.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Dark, iced-road commute:
lamp post crash, crazed coyote,
overpass tow trucks.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet of technology in English, using Japanese forms.
~~~
Mars Rover Perseverence
by I. E. Sbace Weruld
“Ah, you may leave earth for four days in space,
but when you return, it’s the same old place.”
—P. F. Sloan, “Eve of Destruction”
The rover Perseverance, truck-sized, that to Mars was bound,
on February 18, 2021, touched down.
As if a boat, it landed at Jezero Crater’s edge,
where it was planned there to scout that aerologic edge.
Aboard United Launch Alliance Atlas V uplift,
the Jet Propulsion Lab’ratory manufactured it.
Its instruments include both Supercam and Mastcam-z,
with MOXIE, MEDA, PIXL, RIMFAX, SHERLOC compactly/
To it, a tribute to Earth’s healthcare workers was attached.
10,000,000 names, and tracking-viewing item geocache.
I, E. Sbace Weruld is a poet of space exploration. Jezero is a Bosnian word meaning lake, areologic is a neologism concomitant with geologic, but relating to Mars.
~~~
Note:
There may be diff’rent focuses of mathematic thought,
like as from Greek to Indian, Chinese to Arabic,
but mathematics is, as Galileo, one time said,
the language with which God has written out the universe.
~~~
Group Theory’s Origins
by Euclidrew Base
Group theory had its start back in the 19th century,
in algebra, equations, avant garde adventuring
like that of French republican, young Evariste Galois
who seemed to be the first to stir up abstract algebra.
Beginning with some practical examples, it then grew
from minimal ideas to a greater point of view.
Swiss Euler in the 18th century, when thinking of
the relative prime numbers Frenchman Fermat came to front,
had, in the process, come to make the Euler function phi
creating some examples of what groups have come to be,
with sets and operations, that contained identities,
were closed, and had inverses, with associativity.
Euclidrew Base is a poet of mathematics. Galileo (1564-1642) was a famous Late-Renaissance, Italian physicist. Pierre de Fermat (1603-1665), Leonhard Euler (1707-1783) and Evariste Galois (1811-1832) possessed brilliant mathematical minds.
~~~
Newsflash:
From Wikipedia, up to 100,000,000 died,
when Mao and the Communists raged through the countryside;
but now it seems it’s more important that this is suppressed,
they do not want Earth’s tyrants to be overly depressed.
~~~
Wang Zang’s Poetry
by Li “Web Crease” Du
“I’d like to detain you a little longer.”
—Wang Zang
As poet Wang Zang languishes along with wife Wang Li,
in custody of the police, he makes no poetry.
He cannot write; he can’t recite; he cannot say a thing.
In separate facilities, the two are lingering.
In southwest China’s Yunnan province, they’ve been held since May.
They were charged in July—subverting power of the State.
He dared support Hong Kong protesters in a single tweet,
and now the songbird of unhappiness Wang Zang can’t sing.
He is Chinese, Wang Zang, “a homicidal maniac”,
who has “to kill his self” each day. He cannot get life back.
He “hates the air”. He “fears he’ll lose his one remaining right”.
“The best thing ever is avoiding legal punishment.”
It seems the case will go to court—not guilty is their plea.
but both face life imprisonment for Wang Zang’s poetry.
He cannot write; he can’t recite; he cannot say a thing.
So many months in custody, he makes no poetry.
Li “Web Crease” Du is a poet of Chinese poetry. Wabg Zang’s poetry is filled wiyh political torture and constant reminders of Chinese Communist Party hatred of the Chinese people.
~~~
The Emperor of Mandarins
by Walice Sdeebur
The emperor of mandarins and coffee in his cup,
vanilla macchiato flavouring up to its top,
enthroned upon a leather chair upon a carpet ruff,
he combs his cat, until that beast trots off without a shrug.
This connoisseur of concupiscent curds and cardamom
is munching on some crunchy crisps, far from Byzantium.
Applying Blissed-X to his lips, the empress gave to him,
a golden-sunlit robin sits upon a leafless limb.
Outside, hard winter splits the day; the cataracts descend;
the emperor is quite content to be snug in his den.
Caught in a Modernist vortex, Walice Sdeebur is a poet of the disease that overwhelmed D-503.
~~~
Dorm Room Meditation
by Sri Wele Cebuda
He leaned back on his dorm- room bed against the cubby hole.
He was so flat it seemed that he was in the lotus pose.
He was there reaching in his own way for enlightenment.
O, mentally he longed to be a conscious-heightened gent.
But he was as an idle fiddler fid-dl-ing away.
a spritely spirit flickering about him in a spray.
Tranquility was in his grasp, but what activity?
Awareness of new knowledge needed unpacked pivoting.
He’d have to stretch his body as he stretched his consciousness,
and press forth like as Don Quixote on undaunted quest.
Sri Wele Cebuda is a poet of meditation.
~~~
After the Eclipse
by Lars U. Ice Bedew
A home-cooked meal was so nice, the ice-storm well defrocked:
rye bread with Irish butter with some kalamojakka.
The salmon and potato broth, though quaint in World cuisine,
along with kale salad was a treat to eat to me.
The hard fare of the hardy Finns and northern potages
a perfect way to celebrate post snow and outages.
I am reminded of the tale of Selma Lagerlöf,
where Beda of Finn-darkness dwells upon a rocky shelf;
she gives a coffee party for the ladies on that cliff,
and celebrates the Sun’s appearance after “The Eclipse”.
Lars U. Ice Bedew is a poet of Scandanavia. Finland (Suomi) is a Nordic nation of 5, 5,500,000, bordering on Sweden, Norway and Russia. Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940) was a Swedish Realist novelist and short story writer, who was the first woman to receive the Nobel prize for literature over a century ago.
~~~
The Gray Goat of Capri
by Uberde Ascweli
Like as a crazy caperer, the gray goat of Capri,
was antsy, prancing dastardly, like peops from Picardy
Beneath the sign of Capricorn, the horny ram ran wild;
he looked like as a puppet skeleton with crafty smile.
But, o, he was a sight to see, when Simone played a gigue;
and then you should have seen such cattle prattle, boar and pig.
Them bones were activated, motivated, and aroused.
They horsed around like bucking broncos bantering about.
He caught the eyes of cunning foxes, but they had to be
so careful, lest he kick them in their heads upon a spree.
His actions were unspeakable; though many longed to see
that caperer and corporal, the gray goat of Capri.
Uberde Ascweli is a poet of Italy. Capri is an island off southern Italy in the Tyrrhenian Sea, population about 12,000. Picardy is an administrative region of northern France if about 1,900,000 peop-le.
~~~
In the Leather Chair
by Seaweed Lubric
He leaned back in the leather chair, a brown and poofy one,
and dreamed of lounging in the sun and Barcelona fun.
Outside the ice and snow lay on the houses, lawns and street;
inside he stretched his legs upon the beach, and crossed his feet.
He loved the heat, the gentle beat of rays upon his skin
He loved to be out on that beach, when he was really in.
O, he was reeling—sky the ceiling—feeling warm and love.
sea waves were lapping, birds were flapping, sighs and cries above/
A surfer in the waves rode past; he grasped at open air;
but it was very cold out there, and he was in his chair.
Seaweed Lubric is a poet of the beach. Barcelona, a port on the Mediterranean Sea, is a city in Spain of about 1,600,000.
~~~
Newsreel:
Tech giant Facebook faces blowback for its ban on news;
it does not want to pay its dues for what it deems abuse,
while Google very quietly in backdoor meetings has
arranged to an agreement with Australia’s coming law.
~~~
Frankly, There Are Many Ways To Spell Uggly
by Esca Webuilder
“the Baleks von Bilgen…new coat of arms—a giant crouching under a fir tree”
—Heinrich Böll, “The Balek Scales”
In the dark ages, lived a tyrant. Gugyl was his name,
whose thoughts, though somewhat polished, were untrammeled and
untame,
and sharpened by elite, progressive ideology;
he was a tyrant of exuberance and fantasy;
and, withal, of an irresistible controlling might,
that, at his will, he turned his fancies into righteous spite.
And he was given greatly to communing with himself,
and when he and himself agreed, the thing he thought was felt.
When every member of his court moved smoothly in its course,
his nature was genteel, genial and bland perforce;
but when there was a little hitch, his orbs got out of whack,
and he would crush down anyone who got out of his track.
Among the notions of this tyrant was his public space
in which he demonstrated justice, honesty and grace.
Here subjects were refined and cultivated in their minds
to give the people what they needed—justice lacking blinds.
He did not want to give the people opportunities
to argue their opinions or engage in mental sprees.
He wanted justice to be just according to his whim,
and he could banish anyone; it was all up to him.
If subjects virtue signaled, they were granted the reward
of staying in his presence, for he truly loved accord;
but when someone committed thoughtcrime, they were crucified;
in public notice, their thoughtcrime was neatly rectified.
This way his public space was thus allotted only to
his subjects who knew everything he ever said was true.
And this great scheme all came from his extraordinary brain,
this awesome tyrant who knew more than any John or Jane.
Who dared to question his ideal form of governance?
Each subject could do what he said. Each subject got his chance.
This was his way administering justice in the land,
for one and all in equity could follow his command.
The thinking part of the community could bring no charge
of prejudice against this plan, barbaric, florid, large;
for did not every citizen, accepted or accused,
choose to enjoy his justice or else justly be abused?
Esca Webuilder is a poet of the Internet. Frank Stockton (1834-1902) was an American Realist writer of tales utilized here. Heinrich Böll (1917-1985) was a German Postmodernist novelist and short story writer who received the Nobel Prize for literature. It is amazing how cogent were those early writers on the theme of justice.
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