Thursday, September 10, 2015

Intermission: Twine Poems.

A few things worth looking at

A Scots poem about a ghost in the highlands:

A poem about building a sandcastle and waiting for a dragon:

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Block no. 9 GilesBot.

Hot on the heels of the last one, here is something that has come out of the phenomena of "'bots".

Twitterbots, chat-bots, and sundry are automated programs that use a bank of text to construct new sentences, and post those sentences online.  Poem.exe Is one example of an automated haiku generator.  Who is the author: The person who wrote the bank of seed text?  The person who made the program?  Or does the program itself have ownership and responsibility of these poems?

Recently, a program had the job of going online once a week and purchasing a random object for an art exhibition.  It bought, among other things, ecstasy pills and a counterfeit passport.
I bring it up not to talk about legal definitions so much as the difficulty of giving an automated process authority and personal responsibility.  Or, to sum those two terms up, letting it write poetry.

Below are some phrases generated by GilesBot. What Would I Say? uses your public Facebook data as it's bank of text to construct Markov chains of sentences that aim to sound like you.

I'm not going to say these are mine.  I'm not going to say they sound like me.  I am going to say that I like them a lot.

Dunedin is beautiful at two am and so your LaTex document appears to mutter feverishly off the page and you know no one will read my hands of the lonely house with my hands?

Sign this is nothing but machines, automata, robots? It can't ignore.

Whatever the writer in the ragged moon. A closer look he seemed to disagree with me.

I ended up walking across the city and shares are my only anchor.

The tennish books that hit you, like really hit you, like crack addictive, antisocial, relentless in the ragged moon A momentary glimpse of gleaming eyes A shape amid the shadows, A momentary glimpse of a certain artist.

No word on whether America got the purple garment.

It's of mobile phone pictures of Sherry; In the Yard around three They were shrieking with glee, Come on out, wearing the laying of Literature!

Likes and the afternoon breeze, And watched till it flew out to you, that moved, A shape amid the shadows, A momentary glimpse of gleaming eyes Revealed in the first time Peering furtively from Marshall, Texas. An aide told him that President Carter was called Doubting Thomas, but sometimes when I'm bored I slip into an eldritch zone, laced with my country.” He added, “A lot of people tell me I’m crazy.”

I've got very sentimental on the way home.

Block 8: Erasure Poetry #2

I didn't get around to putting this one up for a while, but now it's here.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Block No. 7 Good Morn ing.

Good     morn     ing
Darkness on the face of
        the              street
Seven in the morning
       but there is time and
not time.       Time only
       for waiting     but
Nobody is waiting.
Streetlights, hedgehogs even
Young men hurrying out
       to coffee breakfasts
No one
       is waiting.

Good     morn     ing
             Dawn is 
        above the 
Dewy breath     held.

I      could      stop.
Slip back under
formless blankets
     resume a formless 
     but there are things
things to do and no
time for waiting.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Block # 6 Luke 11:35

“If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!” The warning is one which calls men to self-scrutiny. They need to examine their primary beliefs, their very intuitions of right and wrong, lest all they do should be vitiated at its very source. The call to do this implies that they must have a Light by which to judge their light, a Standard by which to test their standard, and that Light and Standard are found in the teaching of the Light that lighteth every man"

Look! perhaps your very light is dark
Look, perhaps your light is dark
Look, perhaps you’re light
Look, perhaps you’re dark
Look, your light
Look, you
Your light
Your lighght

Friday, February 27, 2015

Kindness Not Random, Beauty Not Senseless

I saw a bumper sticker and I disagreed.

The bumper sticker told passers by to "Spread random acts of kindness and senseless beauty."  I don't like the sentiment or the message of this cheerful and peace loving phrase.

Kindness should not be random.  When you know nothing about who you are kind to, you do not care if they deserve it or not.  Find out about them and it becomes hard not to weigh their 'goodness' against your 'goodness'.  Staying random keeps things easy because you don't have to care at all.  All focus goes off the person onto the giving.  Kindness becomes something arbitrary instead of something unconditional.

Beauty is everything but senseless.  Beauty, in the eye of the beholder, springs from a reckoning of aesthetic to intent.  this holds especially when there is no intent - weather, natural landscapes and postmodernism all have beauty when our senses are - even when they are nonsense - engaging with the art and pronouncing it beautiful.  We connect with something and call it beautiful because we care about it.  Senseless beauty would have no one to pronounce it beautiful, because no one would care.

The bumper sticker is well intended but it emphasises the personal actions of the individual as being most important for beauty and kindness, rather than the relationships and interactions with the wider environment.

Stick that on the back of your car.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Block #5 following a shape

                                              It is very comfortable slipping into the blankets and letting yourself get
gnidlof dna gnippils ssensuoicsnoc .ekal a ni trihs a gniknis ekil rednu
                                             r                     i   n   g.  You feel on the surface but su
                                  o                        n                                                                    ddenly it
                         l                         w                                                                                          was just a
    l                         o                                             .kcab gniog on s’ereht dna dniw eht fo evaw
           I                         r   
        n                       d

        g bubbles and