The Banquet of Roots: A Shakespearean Repast

Bing Copilot:  Of course! Here’s a Shakespearean-style rendition of the verse for your meal:

Upon the morrow's light, the roots do take their stage,
In the chamber's warmth, they meet — a healthful rage.
Carrots, orange as the dawn, and celery, green as thyme,
Tossed with turmeric's golden dust, a culinary rhyme.

Olive's oil, in misty form, doth lightly coat each piece,
A bard's touch to flavors bold, a feast to never cease.
So let this humble meal, in microwave's gentle care,
Become a dish of kings, a fare beyond compare.

For in each bite, a sonnet lies, a tale of health restored,
A merry dance of nutrients, by hungry souls adored.
So eat, and let thy body thank thee for the grace,
Of nature's bounty, richly served, in this, thy quiet place.

Enjoy your Shakespearean-inspired meal! 😊🎭🍽️

All these things

They were about that this is 

carried on in quiet theory

like wet leaves reflecting awareness

 brush strokes here and there

 a conversation about ceiling clouds

taken down and turned around 

a knot swollen in  sadness

contemplation and  realization

a sign of recovery

..

Told you so

According to our most accurate model  using

Schema Networks Aip 7.2

the first  human made instrument sound

 was played on a

thick branch hollowed by termites

The first human note ever produced

was, according to the latest reconstruction 

( 4.340 xs) ,  at 434 Hz for a duration

of 7.2 seconds.

So, it seems i was right...again.

#

bran beings

 

I have i had I never have i said

and backwards twice

with an i right in front of me

Hemorrhaging

my hands 

dangle at the elbows

and i try 

to fly lying down

*

lizard king take 2

past the thousand misty hills 

i hear her

(hypnotized

in a devout circling stare)

 

"her legs were long as the devil's ----"

I asked them to please do it over

(with balance beam focus and dark energy)

"- A black marble goddess, sad and desolate..."

and all I got was this definition of rage 

*

a month in the stew

 

rolling swirls from the dream side of dawn

gently wash the moon's emotions

  into a nostalgic painting

a trespass. a journey

his or her weather

that may all melt before it ever gets delivered.

.

 

.

Adellica

  surrender 

To what's under a deeper dust 

unneeding of a rub or polish

indescribable like

the evening of spiritual energies

unpredictable     like the scanning of a text 

altering the order of words.

the natural order of unqualified dividends

 and life's secrets.

Truth be told, i'm just writing a memoir. 

about someone writing a memoir

 and sometimes were

on the same page

,-

this blew

 

  energetic eager proud change direction

what do words like these even mean?

Flint steel archer  Jupiter

they peninsulate whatever carries them.

Like signs in the water and bright spots.

 velvet ghosts as natural as teachers

laughter and trust gained goodbyes

and the bright spot happily restored justice beauty and harmony filled with new love

Hello, please number all words including sapphire

\

predictive analytics - what's next

 

I nap and dream haphazardly tapping 

the portals  of whispered fragments

inside the words I see letters

 animals  

screaming from their cages 

pacing

waiting to be unlocked

from shelter 

survivors of floods famines and fires

born again 

..

remedy for utopia

Love unlocks doors and opens windows  

 frightens and exhilarates 

A journey that contemplates  the heart shape  

because we can't know the shape of a soul

only dream glimpses identified  by silent truths

 love is a ghost everyone talks about but me

a trace of perfection unlimited by the mind

There was that one time  I didn't recognize your voice

with all the rooting and uprooting constantly going on

it was a cloudy night  there were no stars

anywhere

(#

pylon

silence between sounds

the steps into forever filled with undertones

like the glittery lava

shaken out into this cold dark

unfeeling place

or the tiny life inside a fragile voice.

it's going to be someone , and if it's not about

how love can't rest or learn how to listen

or making me as every

  if I

for a short piece go too long I just stop

%

hermetic transmogrification

 

born in silence the sky speaks  

to the places of your imagination   

symptoms drained out of words

capturing a half empty image 

prismatic age caves of flames 

turning behind shadows

My thoughts 

convicted 

traitors

my lips assassins

of virtue

my language is  

squeezing my soul to fit

_