[ARTS]: Big and Little Poetry--free verse, any verse.

[Tai Shi]

Jundo, is it possible for me to write a poem inquiring about Chinese or North Korean’s or even Iraq's us of AI and how it might be used against Some Western nations and democracies. I think the decision about Tic Toc allows for foul play? Could you clarify what questions a Human being must ask the AI and if it might be programed out of some Alian non Western country or far Western country where they might want to hurt Western civilization or Europe?

[Tai Shi]

Hosai, I like this poem very much. Could you provide more information about this poem please and please give us some insight into the story behind the poem?
Gassho
lah/sat

[Tai Shi]

When this AI poses as a human voice
Additional questions are might ask
so what would you ask this personality
To understand its purpose, its origin.
Ai could pose as anything of value
However, there are safty questions
Built into each AI. How could
You figure out if it’s AI?

[Tai Shi]

Interesting use of historical context for this poem. I like it very much, and I am a stupid American who doesn’t understand the history behind This Poem but I like it very much.

O Canada! Land of our indigenous hosts
Your brow is wreathed with glorious flower garlands.
For your arm knows how to wield a katana
It also knows how to bear the bo
Your history was a short epic
In response to an unprovoked attack
We're self-immolating in protest
We hope you and the stock market enjoy the ride
And remember YOU chose that crazy cracker

_/\_
sat/ah
hōsai

[Tai Shi]

At Least She bore Our Child

Some would say Christ for our child
Is supreme, gave His life
Some salvation came from anger

Gone. Buddha with His silent
Loving Kindness supremely won,
Reigns with Culpa after Culpa.

What comes ahead for me?
Defeated gnostic women.
When they taught this emptiness?

Mortal men had great ideas,
Love be kind, Love thy neighbor, love
Each other At least she bore our baby

Girl. That child went on
From our shoulders, with her wight
Above our bootstraps. Walked paths

Immortal we never completed our
MA, MFA. Her onto Ph.D. Words of peace
Published for all to see her. Doctorate

Across to Japanese. babies cannot stop
Coming into war, this war always
Babies come more and more,

Pillage sweet, rubble fragile
Rubble, bombed for this humanity
Is sympathy, my empathy

As I see Hezbollah sinking
Into sand, covered with bricks
Into Hospitals, Red Crescent life

Into milk and honey, with this child,
Satisfied fathers, but women cry.
Rockets pepper sky. Brothers,

Weep with stone sacrifices,
I would find our Brotherhood,
Our Sisterhood. Why we cannot

Cling to life, so find shelter? Babies
Come, come on. Why more births--come, wring
Our hands, ring bells of war, Beware. Come

Again. Nothing comes of nothing. Soprano
Of death. All disappear, whole degrees are
Gone. Villages exploded into sky, This.

Destiny. Nonextant paths of war.
Tunnels that do not exist, see
War. Are babies gunned? Our child

Hears of Allah, Buddha, Christ. of Gods
Of all reality into night, or children
In drifting sand. All cannot disappear!

Gassho
lah/sat
Tai Shi

[Hoseki]

buildings, bodies and bureaucracy
at rest on a fulcrum of flesh and blood
the weight of a single breath
moves the world

gassho,

Hoseki
sattoday/lah

蛇蝎為心 (Jakatsu Ishin)

In gilded halls where power meets greed,
The architects gather to plant their seed.
Tech titans dine with those who reign,
A pact is forged, a dark domain.

Algorithms serve the ruling few,
Data twists to shape the view.
What’s whispered low in marble rooms,
Echoes loud in freedom's tombs.

The tools of progress, now turned to bind,
To harvest thought and shape the mind.
A digital leash on every breath,
An empire built on quiet death.

With politicians bought and sold,
The future’s cast in iron mold.
Elections staged, debates contrived,
The oligarchs ensure they’ve thrived.

Surveillance grows, a tangled web,
To crush dissent, to fear embed.
Each movement tracked, each word aligned,
A world where truth becomes confined.

And as they tighten every screw,
Hope is culled, rebellion few.
For when the masters share one throne,
The rest are left to stand alone.

Yet in this dark, a spark remains,
A chance to sever iron chains.
Will people rise to break the scheme,
Or slumber on in this machine?

Beware the pact of wealth and state,
For tyranny wears progress’ face.
The choice is ours: to bend the knee
Or fight, resist and and live life free.

_/\_
sat/ah
Hōsai

[Tai Shi]

Frost at Minus Three

Another soft this morning
As frost sits on some blade
Of grass, on dirt beneath,

I wish for more slumber,
Resting from water masses
Beneath grass,

Arthritic pain wastes
Time on me, I am
Not free, enslaved time

By thoughts of my past,
Withstanding nothing, withholding,
All, I sit in Zazen, snow is if

I'm Melted, refrozen. I wish
For an end, for more
Generosity, anything.

Roaches upon morsel of rot
Scintillating, as bacterium
Worms now asleep,

She is free, sandworms blocked
In spring, follow me, blocking
We lie together as another

Pair. Gone from dust-deep
Underfoot, stumble again,
What becomes as dusty as

Multifidous? Money
My organs envelop more,
Not to take my lust.

Gassho
Tai Shi

受戒 (Jukai)

Im not good with numbers
My wife told me that we had been together
For a quarter of my life

I told her that was impossible because
I had been studying zen for that long
More than twice as long as I have known her

So you plan to live to 100 then?
25 years! Have I been a fraud?
25 years of the most consistent element in my life...

3 refuges, 3 pure precepts, 10 grave precepts
Are nearly meaningless in the face of that time
Eventually, you will out wait your need to realize anything

No book, no belief, no doctrine, no education, no ideology, no story, no habit, no teacher, no friend, no lover,
no relationship can ever be compared.

_/\_
sat/ah
matt

The Still Small Voice
....within a one sentence story

A twelve hour hospital shift is so long though I have gotten used to it, pace myself, and try to make an eight hour day out of it such that I spend the morning— well before the sun rises, and when most people are not awake and certainly not up for a visit—meditating and doing yoga so that when they are awake, oriented, and want to talk, I am ready to listen to what they often do not say to anyone else— and on that day when I appeared on the locked unit and asked if you’d like at visit at 3 p.m., I thought it was a safe time— especially for someone on suicide watch as the early morning haze had passed and night’s chill had not yet seeped inside the pain soaked walls— so I was ready for you when you shared that you are married to the opposite sex, have two children seven and nine (one of whom who is on the Autism spectrum), that your wife has a live-in lover with whom she is always quarreling and urging him to move out in her attempt to break up with him, and that you are gay, depressed, and suicidal, saying that you have not been able to get out of bed all winter since you were denied a promotion after eleven years on the job-even after quitting and being rehired as a potential fit for the new role- and that your supervisor is awful and criticizes everything you do, pleasantly adding that you drink a case of beer a day and some vodka and have not been sober in a year and have come here to dry out and hopefully gain some clarity on how to move forward because you feel so trapped with no where to move and that is a lot to unpack in an hour and so I put your concerns in mental quadrants so as to look together first at each issue separately, and a huge color-coded puzzle emerges in front of me, and you say you see it too, asking about this and that and then back into its colored box it went throughout our intimate rapport with no filters or judgement and then our time together is up, and you smile broadly suggesting to me that you’ve felt seen which is confirmed when I see my colleague the following week and she tells me that you stopped her in those same halls which seemed a different color to you and said our visit was “phenomenal” and “I felt like she was reading my mind” which prompts me to wonder whether perhaps all my years of meditating on nothing has meant something.

Simply awesome!

_/\_
sat/ah
matt

[ctaube]

The Still Small Voice
....within a one sentence story

A twelve hour hospital shift is so long though I have gotten used to it, pace myself, and try to make an eight hour day out of it such that I spend the morning— well before the sun rises, and when most people are not awake and certainly not up for a visit—meditating and doing yoga so that when they are awake, oriented, and want to talk, I am ready to listen to what they often do not say to anyone else— and on that day when I appeared on the locked unit and asked if you’d like at visit at 3 p.m., I thought it was a safe time— especially for someone on suicide watch as the early morning haze had passed and night’s chill had not yet seeped inside the pain soaked walls— so I was ready for you when you shared that you are married to the opposite sex, have two children seven and nine (one of whom who is on the Autism spectrum), that your wife has a live-in lover with whom she is always quarreling and urging him to move out in her attempt to break up with him, and that you are gay, depressed, and suicidal, saying that you have not been able to get out of bed all winter since you were denied a promotion after eleven years on the job-even after quitting and being rehired as a potential fit for the new role- and that your supervisor is awful and criticizes everything you do, pleasantly adding that you drink a case of beer a day and some vodka and have not been sober in a year and have come here to dry out and hopefully gain some clarity on how to move forward because you feel so trapped with no where to move and that is a lot to unpack in an hour and so I put your concerns in mental quadrants so as to look together first at each issue separately, and a huge color-coded puzzle emerges in front of me, and you say you see it too, asking about this and that and then back into its colored box it went throughout our intimate rapport with no filters or judgement and then our time together is up, and you smile broadly suggesting to me that you’ve felt seen which is confirmed when I see my colleague the following week and she tells me that you stopped her in those same halls which seemed a different color to you and said our visit was “phenomenal” and “I felt like she was reading my mind” which prompts me to wonder whether perhaps all my years of meditating on nothing has meant something.

[Kaitan]

Craving more books
can't even finish reading one
this month or was it last one
new year feels like 100 years ago
wood snake
The Great Gatsby
I need to practice some German



stlah, Kaitan

Willingly driving 3600 km
with step daughter and aging parents
Toward the US's flaccid penis
Just because some can't sit still

is proof:

1. there is no God

2. zen is a pussycat

3. level up

_/\_
matt

[Gean]

Walking the path seeking Buddha
We find nothing, we learn nothing.

Walking the path seeking nothing, learning nothing
We find Buddha.

Gassho,
Gean