A Warm Mirror Neuron On A Memory
ISBN: 978-0-615-56694-8
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2012. Programmabilities.com
First Edition
To the real primate,
who lives within us all
Contents
Page:
Title
Dedication
Contents
Quotation 1
Quotation 2
Quotation 3
...continued...
...blank...
Quotation 4
Quotation 5
...continued...
...blank...
Quotation 6
Quotation 7
Quotation 8
...continued...
...blank...
Quotation 9
Quotation 10
Poem 10: Propositional Chosenness
Quotation 11
Quotation 12
Quotation 13
Quotation 14
Quotation 15
Poem 15: Christening Game
...continued...
...blank...
Quotation 16
End
Appendix
Bibliography
Published by Programmabilities.com
Quotation 1
“A lyric, it is true, is the expression of personal emotion, but then so is all poetry, and to suppose that there are several kinds of poetry, differing from each other in essence, is to be deceived by wholly artificial divisions which have no real being.”
— John Drinkwater
Poem 1
Audio video: Youtube.com/watch?v=0Y-eCqsmnLQ
A Warm Mirror Neuron On A Memory
In the moment there was an emotion.
Little or deep—there was a moment.
When there was a feeling.
Brief or lengthy—there was a feeling.
And I saw it.
On your face.
On your face; I saw it.
And I received it.
And I will have it—that moment.
That flash.
Of your emotion. On your face.
I have that emotion. Your deep feeling.
For the rest of my days alive.
How little it was—how brief it was.
Still I have it; treasure it.
A warm mirror neuron1 on a memory.
For my forever over.
...And regret. To give it back away.
Over for my forever.
That I succeeded to fail to keep it—your succumb.
That I prevailed to lose it.
As was must.
Quotation 2
"No one can be happy who has been thrust outside the pale of truth. And there are two ways that one can be removed from this realm: by lying, or by being lied to."
— Seneca
Poem 2
Skull Watch
I see the talking skulls are the people in our lives soon to be dead.
I see the orbital bone2 of the eye where the white bone will shine when the spirit dies.
Skulls feeling the shame of being so stupid from falling for lies and scams of the other skulls.
Skulls aching the regret of wasting time and money for being so stupid and ignorant and fooled.
Skulls hungering for justice and righteousness.
Not finding it, so some skull doing it, and being the only fool.
Skulls kissing and mating.
Skulls counting in superior satisfaction from getting over on other skulls.
And skulls counting in growls from being defected on by other skulls.
Yes, counting skulls; and groups of counting skulls.
Younger skulls are harder to see;
the youthful flesh conceals it best.
I watch the talking skulls and I look at the skull bones.
Where the rotten white bone will reveal when the flesh and spirit dies.
Quotation 3
"Yes, we have a soul. But it’s made of lots of tiny robots."
— Giulio Gioreli
Poem 3
That Figment
What if you woke up one day,
looked into the mirror,
opened a panel on your head and, lo, saw that you were a robot—full of wires and metal and plastic circuit-chips?
Would you be heartbroken; would you cry?
I tell you,
it would be the ultimate horror and tragedy—shock and surprise.
...That you,
that person that you wake up to every day.
That you,
that guy that you wake up into being every day.
That story and memory, built up into a house,
at-home-with.
That figment3.
That you, that you think that you are, that person-hood.