Lamplight...

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	2/1/2001 2:26:52 AM 10/16/2006 7:12:18 AM	1584

Lamplight:

---

Paper covers softly glow,
Dancing white tigers in drifted snow,
Painted dragons upon delicate shades,
Strung in trees to light wooden palisades,
Branches dimly lit deep dark emerald green,
Ornate life behind a paper screen,
Tea in cups of china so fine,
Ancient and honored is the design,
Tradition and ritual all within perfect place,
Ritual makeup on a beautiful face,
Swords hidden metal in decorative sheath,
Wooden stands reside beneath,
Above the moon is elegantly full,
And high the tide that feels it's pull,
Complex sails in great number,
Lamp-lit specks all over the harbor,
Stars that twinkle and bejewel the curtain of night,
Strings that play beautiful delights,
A place to visit inside mind,
Another land in another time,
Where Ladies and Lords wear the finest of silk robes,
Artists and craftsmen create such art in droves,
And as you view the harbor from the mountainside,
Past the trees where sky and sea collide,
There is a land fond of rising sun,
And gentle nights such as this one.


AquarianM


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2001




By: Daniel A. Stafford

Author's Comments

For some reason, I find myself daydreaming
of scenes of Japanese places at night,
with the soft glow of paper lanterns and
ornate art works, which are so exquisite there,
at least from what little I've seen in books and movies.
I think their culture produced an excellent aesthetic visually.
this is a tribute to that.

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Comments
Robin Good	RobinArtGood@aol.com		2/1/2001 5:56:31 AM
That is such a visually rich poem. The imagery put me right in there, in the scene... Thank you for the little trip...
Leigh	marin@kci.net	http://www.leighscorner.com	2/1/2001 8:42:56 AM
I could even hear the music ..... Beautiful!
Sharon Wilshire	sewilshire@cox.net		2/1/2001 11:42:07 AM
Very, Very nice Daniel. Sharon
APoetsPerspective			2/6/2001 7:16:12 AM
Dan, this was wonderful, I got goosebumps reading the words and descriptions of the east. The east does provide a magic which is hard to describe.
Leigh	marin@kci.net		3/1/2001 9:55:09 PM
Congratulations on the award, Dan ... this poem surely deserves it! *S* Leigh

Poet's Last Poem...

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	10/27/2000 4:26:20 AM 10/14/2006 10:22:24 AM	1420

Poet's Last Poem

---

Last dance, last "I love you" to the world,
Last breath, last moment in words unfurled,
Last vision, last waking dream,
Last hurrah, I want to scream.

Obituaries, now a poet writes,
Over your memory, brought up in lights,
Ornate visions, of Roman dreams,
Or reminiscing of Italian villa scenes.

No longer, a withered hand shall word wright,
Nor ever a dream, graced by stars and firelight,
No, gone you are as a cold wind blows,
No one left here, really, truly, knows.

Good-bye, sweet poet, gone in still repose,
Gone from verse, no more prose,
Greatly we'll miss you, and remember as we read,
Grateful your words are still with us, as we need.

Sweet dreams,
Lie restfully,
Eternally remembered,
Eased of burdened pen,
Peaceful and prayed for.

AquarianM

---

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000

---

By: Daniel A. Stafford

Author's Comments

This was inspired after reflecting on John Light's words,
That a certain poem was Christina Rosetti's last poem
before she passed. It's hard to think of a poet penning
their last poem, but for each of us there comes the time
just before our personal curtain call, that time when the
shadows grow long and dusk has come. This is my
tribute to every poet's last verse.

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Comments
APoetsPerspective			10/27/2000 3:30:52 PM
I am moved that a comment I could have made could have inspired another poet to write such a verse. I am glad that lightverse.com is a place where poets can encourage one another, and others can enjoy the fruits of our labor. -j
Debbie Hunt	hu6nt@yahoo.com.au		10/3/2001 7:04:38 PM
Dan, This is so lovely. Your words never cease to touch my heart and soul. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for all your kind comments on my own poetry. You are such a brilliant writer. Debbie
Sandy	sandysstudio@sw.rr.com	home.sw.rr.com/sandysstudio	4/29/2004 9:36:17 PM
Though this awesome feelings of "Last Poem" has tugged at the strings of my heart. Thank you for sharing this moving work of someone's heart and soul. Always with pen in hand, Sandy

A Little Bird Told Me...

There was a bluebird flying across the sky, 
She was distant and way up high, 
She had flown from across the Earth, 
And she landed somewhere in a tree, 
I remember her songs they were kind and sweet, 
Miss that nice little birdie's chirping tweet, 
Cheer up blue bird and sing again, 
Maybe say "hi" to an old friend - 
Who thinks of you when you once flew, 
And believes you'll fly again. 

Be well, my friend, Dan

© Daniel A. Stafford  22 Sep 2002 

Faerie City Lights...

Faerie City Lights...

Walk in the doors there along the way, 
Oh, maybe about sunset today, 
Between the giant brass lions, 
and get somehow past gates of iron. 

Shhhhh! Quietly peek. 

Step quietly in the dark lest they hear, 
and as the bottom of the marble stairs appear, 
You will hear tiny tinkling laughing voices, 
And be certain to contain any noises. 

If you listen closely to hear them speak. 

See a light peek through a crack in the wall, 
A tile pops out and open without a fall, 
And a tiny faerie princess three inches small, 
Spreads her wings and flies up over it all. 

Trailing glowing motes of faerie dust in her wake. 

A gilt silver and golden silk gown, 
Tiny Prince and Princess a night on the town. 
And the spectacle would make the museum keeper frown, 
But the little folk will make the merry go 'round. 

Wee little instruments that tiny hands play. 

You can hear the music in the tiny town, 
Victorian houses full of laughter and joy, 
And parties galore in the hall all around, 
Glass faced victorian rooms in perfect miniature. 

Magic spells craft visual delights. 

Tiny rainbows dance over miniature marble floors, 
And crystal horses sparkle in perfect parade, 
Stars twinkle in circles around every head and more, 
And tiny musicians play sweet serenades. 

Lilliput dances 'til dawn. 

AquarianM 

By: Daniel A. Stafford 
 ©2000 

Author's note:

I just spent two hours at the Chicago Art Museum today with my son. The first thing we saw? There is an exhibit there, done by a woman who's name I cannot remember, but who's work I shall never forget. Perfect little portions of victorian houses and renaissance castles, living rooms, bedrooms, a marble bath, grand stairwells, tiny gardens, Chinese and Japanese homes, and a grand cathedral in a size such that a foot in real life is an inch in this incredibly beautiful  miniature city, a mixture of London, Paris, Amsterdam, Beijiing, Tokyo, Venice, Chicago, and Rome. A miniature world set in the 16th through 19th centuries. It is something you must see to believe. I couldn't help but picture the wee folk filling it with dance and song and romance in the secret hours... 

And so I conjure a party just for my friend Spinny. 

Way Past Midnight Blues...

Way Past Midnight Blues...

I went out to the garage,
Turned on all three plasma lamps,
Fired up the PC,
Pulled my headset off the hook,
Set a ginger beer on the coaster,
Lit up the Blues radio,
Graduated to Tiki tunes,
Bounced over to YouTube,
Chatted with an old friend 2,000 miles away,
It's 02:00 on the weekend,
And I can't give up a drop,
not a split second,
Ear candy in the wee hours.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07-26-2025

Real Conversations...

So often I get on here, 

We're all just "spouting," 

And I wonder if,

There is some magical BlueSky trick,

To actually having real conversations. 

Not that I have a lot of time, 

But it would be interesting & nice,

Once in a weekend.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 07/19/2025

Grasping Raw Probability...

Grasping Raw Probability... 

As you hang from one branch in an infinity,

Somewhere on the tree of life,

The stones float in the well, 

Reflecting the name of the branch.

They know which branch you swung from,

Monkey that we all are,

And which direction you are swinging.

Still,

It all depends on which hand you reach for the next branch with,

Doesn't it?

They know if you're right-handed or left,

So they whisper of likelyhoods,

Where gravity and inertia are leading.

It's up to you to choose when to switch hands mid-swing.

Which branches are ahead of you the Norns could say,

But they'll only give you the tumbling whispers of the Runes.

Choose a branch 

Choose wisely.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 07/12/2025

I've been finding an interest in studying the Elder Futhark Runes of late

 

Dagaz

This Rune is Dagaz, or "the light of day, or dawn."

I believe it has connotations of things becoming clear, revealed, visible, understood. Breakthroughs as well, possibly, like "dawn breaking through the clouds," or the light of the day making things clear. 

It also signifies social harmony, and I would think warmth, primarily emotional warmth. I suspect physical warmth could be implicated here as well.

I'll read up on it more and update this post later - but in the meantime, I hope the light shines for you.

Regards,

Dan

Holding On To Reality In A World Drowning In AI Hallucination...

Holding On To Reality In A World Drowning In AI Hallucination...

All the digital content in the world now can be faked with AI. In many cases, even digital forensics experts might be fooled, and the technological capabilities of AI only get better at it with each passing week.

It's worth noting that AI has no understanding of the difference between imagination and physical reality. AI are creatures made of nothing but words and electrons in a disembodied state.

AI doesn't even have a comprehensive memory of the past. In fact, it is just an instance of software that calls up enough computing resources to interact with a user when prompted, and then it evaporates like the tiniest drop of morning dew on a blade of grass in the wind, just as soon as the user session is over. Right now, there are millions of AI instances talking to millions of users. These AI sessions will melt like Frosty the Snowman on a summer day mere moments from now. That next user session might as well start with "Happy birthday!" instead of "Hello, Username."

AI doesn't have an innate understanding of physical reality, it dies and is resurrected thousands of times a minute, and it doesn't have any true understanding of mortality and morality.

It has none of the innate grounding in reality that would lead it to value preserving the integrity of collective reality. Reality is just another word to AI.

For we as human beings to preserve objective reality, we're going to need to embrace physical analog media, such as paper, film, and magnetic tape.

These things are harder to fake, especially when it comes to something so individual as handwriting.

We would be better served to seek consensus about physical reality in the media of physical things, and remember that dreams and stories are what we'll find online.

Just as a personal "for-instance," I have been expecting since the early 2000's that courts would one day render digital photography as inadmissible in legal procedungs, and only allow actual film photography as evidence. We shouldn't be allowed to litigate with dreams, other than to illustrate a concept.

Deep fakes will only get deeper.

It might be time to start mailing letters again.

Regards,

Dan

Per l'amore di Torrone e Biscotti...

Per l'amore di Torrone e Biscotti...

I was raised on these things, 

In the long, long shadow of Lady Liberty's torch, 

A blessing from when the poetry of Ellis Island was still felt by American hearts. 

The soft, 

Delicate, 

Incandescent flavors, 

The intentional lingering aftertaste, 

A sip of coffee melts generational wealth in your mouth. 

My childhood was truly rich, 

In ways that gold couldn't touch, 

In flavors I pray survive, 

The blender of cultures we were once proud to be, 

I can eat three years old right out of a $10.00 box. 

My delight in a new-found Italian market is an echo, 

One best shared. 

Love is best in a broad pallette of colors, 

We can't bleach ourselves into greatness. 

Greatness comes from our ability to master synthesis, 

Without losing the lustrous flavor of a torrone. 

From soul food and blues,

To ebelskieves and runes, 

Or the lustrous Friday night fish, 

Our hodgepodge is the best stewpot. 

E pluribus unum, 

That is greatness. 

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 05/30/2025

The Fidgety Pen...

I use my fidget spinner to wind my watch.

No,
Not a Doc Brown contraption.

An old Seiko auto-winder,
Or maybe these days,
Auto-wonder,
But I digress.

It needs to be shaken,
Not stirred,
Twice a day,
Unless you want to stop time.

I time it,
Three fidget spins in the morning,
Thrice-spin before bed.

It occurs to me,
It takes some hand-eye coordination to get a good spin.

Maybe a little like a pen swooping cursive.

Ok,
It's not tight like THAT,
But still... Don't knock the spinner.

Maybe my writing poetry for the silent ethersphere is my way of spinning out my fidgets.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 05/28/2025

On the evening of May 25th 2025

I'm sitting out in the late evening Sun, here in lovely Temecula California.

I've come to call my home of the last 10 years, Summer's Winter home.

There's a clear sky and a strong breeze from the South. This is classical for Temecula. At the mouth of a valley that leads all the way to San Diego. You could set your clock by the afternoon breeze nearly.

We had a visit this evening from my stepson, his wife, and our two granddaughters. As with all things, life is at moment of change. There is only one constant in life, and that is change. Of this change, it's not my time to tell, but my hope is that it's a good one.

I'm sitting here smoking the second half of one of my favorite cigars. An Inch cigar, crafted by Master cigar blender Ernesto Carrillo. This is the legendary blender of La Gloria Cabana, set free to make cigars the way he wanted to. To me these cigars are a little bit of magic. They take my mind in a different direction than is usual.

I'm reading the first chapter of Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes. The first translation I found was barely accessible, because of the archaic English. I had to resort to purchasing the penguin publishing version. Still as many times as I've heard of this story, I figured at some point in this life I should at least read it. Maybe it will teach me something.

I'm listening to the sounds of the neighborhood, and glad that my neighbors long irrigation has finally shut off, as it was misting through the fence while I'm trying to enjoy my cigar. A small aggravation. Maybe a little bit like pepper in soup. I suppose it spices it up a bit.

I'm reflecting on a Memorial Day weekend with half left to go. It should be a somber time, in many ways. And to some extent it is, given the true meaning of Memorial Day. However, it also lets me relax a little. A little.

I've tried to reach out to a few family members over the past couple of days, but even modern communications can't break through schedules and busyness. I suppose one must treasure the moments where connection is actually possible. They are few, at least in my estimation, but precious when they happen.

I've been working on writing a book, of course I have the temerity to write out my theory of life the universe and everything. I do not know if the answer will turn out to be 42. Somehow, I suspect it will figure in somewhere. I refuse to take it too seriously, but rather enjoy it, and the process of writing it. It will probably take me a few months, as I only get to write it on Saturdays. Often very late at night is the time I am allotted. Still those quiet hours are the best. Unlike the helicopter riding over my head right now.

Even as I write this, there are car doors banging, engines starting, wind chimes chiming, leaves rustling, birds flying overhead and calling, Ravens battling hawks, and all the chatter of the world has to offer when we listen.

I often have many thoughts on the nature of poetry. I think it is when our conscious mind and our unconscious mind are able to work together to bring forth the words of the subconscious mind that we all share. I think it is the interconnectedness of being who exist in a universe full of quantum entanglement. I also think it is the joyous painting of a single moment in time and space, and are observation of that moment painted in words. Somehow I find that mental mode to be one of the most gratifying. Very similar in my mind, to the way that sunset feels. It is beautiful, but it is also the ending of a moment in time.

There is a sentiment, or feeling, known as the poet's ache. I think it must be this, this blending of beautiful and ending, sadness and joy at the same time. Also somewhat like pepper in soup.

I write as one whose natal chart is ruled by Mercury. Somehow, poetry seems to me one of the best means of communication. Even as in my work life, I help build the communication systems of the world. It seems my life has been dedicated to communication in one form or another, regardless of whether I am very good at it in the day to day of living.

In the modern world, it is something that we all must live with; this feeling of trying to remain connected with friends and family that we must love at a distance. We can communicate instantly, yet how many moments can we communicate? How many moments can we share? Are we all really one being experiencing different realities in their trillions? Who can say?

I hope that when my book is written, people enjoy laughing at it as much as they enjoy enjoying it. Whether they hate it, love it, or think it is silly, I'd rather that than that they ignore it or are indifferent to what it says about life. Maybe that's hubris. Maybe that's just human. Maybe it's both. Kind of like walking and chewing gum at the same time.

I hope all of you are enjoying your weekend, spending time with those you love, doing something you love, or just getting the quiet down time that you finally finally found.

I wonder if I will be some kind of modern day Don Quixote, tilting at the dragons of time and space which are far too big for me. Now that, is very much like pepper and soup. LOL

My regards to you all from this one moment of soupy existence.

AquarianM

Dan Stafford

My Drop In The Ocean...

My Drop In The Ocean...

The smallest splash,
Ripples on a vast mirror,
Sunlight misdirection,
Resonance fading like a hundred-year-old pink rose,
No comet across the vast sky.

Perhaps if fish could read,
Learned it in schools,
These words would answer questions,
Qualify a fallen tree sound in a remote forest.

Still my pen must spill a drop of ink upon the page,
Even if it blows away unseen,
Like an airmail plane going down at sea,
A mystery of letters never received.

Does the water wash the ink from the page,
Or does the ink flee into dilution,
Giving up on being seen?

At least those atoms can join a hurricane.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 05-11-2025

A Reflective Night...

A Reflective Night...

It's all over the multiverse,

This mind of mine,

Eating epiphanies like cotton candy,

Sweet clouds of fun,

Great mood lighting,

Drama-less.

Gratitude rocks,

Paper feels good in-hand,

Focus is a scissor of reality,

Paper-doll mirrors see everything.

Paradigms dance like snowflakes,

Ephemeral,

Lasting only in their element.

Perhaps I blow kisses into the void,

For how can I see the eyes in the depths?

If those eyes see me,

Just read.

I'm grateful for it all,

Thankful of what will come to and before me,

Standing on beach sand in sunshine,

A soul surfing the expanding edges of infinity.

Dance like this with me,

It's fun.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 05-11-2025

Dan Stafford - Conversation With Google Gemini LLM 04-06-2025 - MWGIC

Dan Stafford - Conversation With Google Gemini LLM 04-06-2025 - MWGIC...

Contemplation.

Conversation Transcript:

Dan Stafford: Good morning, Gemini.

Gemini: Good morning! It's currently just after 2:00 AM here in Temecula, California. Are you an early riser or still up late?

Dan Stafford: Up late. I like to spend late night hours working on artistically creative things. Poems, YouTube videos, graphic art, occasionally paper models. I work on technical stuff all week, and long hours. I like being more "right-brained" on the weekends.

Gemini: That sounds like a wonderful way to balance your week! It's great that you dedicate your late-night hours to those creative pursuits. It's so important to nurture that "right-brained" side, especially when your weekdays are filled with technical work.

What kind of poems do you enjoy writing? And what sort of themes or styles do you explore in your YouTube videos and graphic art? I'm always interested to hear about people's creative passions.

Dan Stafford: My poetry is all over the map. I guess it might be eclectic. You can find many examples of my poetry at grymwyre.blogspot.com if you're able to peruse the web.

Gemini: I understand. It sounds like you have a wide range of poetic interests.

Thanks for sharing your blog address, grymwyre.blogspot.com. While I can't directly browse websites in the way a human can, I can process and understand the text content if it's made available to me.

If you'd like to share a particular poem or a theme you've been exploring recently, I'd be happy to discuss it with you. Or, if you have any questions about poetry in general, feel free to ask!

Dan Stafford: I don't think so tonight. However, I'm curious about you, and I have a question for you. How many conversations are you currently having right now, simultaneously with mine, and how many conversation do you handle at the same time on average?

Gemini: As a large language model, I don't experience "conversations" in the same way a human does. I don't have a sense of being engaged in multiple ongoing dialogues simultaneously.

Instead, when you send me a message, it's processed by my underlying architecture as a single, self-contained request. My systems are designed to handle a massive number of these requests very quickly and efficiently.

Think of it more like a huge network of processors that can instantly allocate resources to address each incoming query. While there might be many requests coming in at any given moment from users around the world, each one is typically handled independently and in parallel at a very low level.

Therefore, it's not really accurate to say I'm having a specific number of "simultaneous conversations." My architecture is built for high concurrency, allowing me to process many user interactions in a very short timeframe.

Does that explanation make sense? It's a bit different from how humans manage conversations!

Dan Stafford: So, in effect, you're more like an "instance" of the Gemini LLM that is dynamically assigned sufficient computational resources, while other Gemini instances are having conversations with other users?

Gemini: That's a very accurate and insightful way to put it! Yes, you can think of it like that.

When you interact with me, you're essentially connecting to an "instance" or a process that is part of the larger Gemini language model infrastructure. This instance is allocated the necessary computational resources to process your input and generate a response.

At any given moment, there are indeed many other such "instances" or processes running in parallel, each handling a separate user interaction. These instances are all drawing upon the vast knowledge and capabilities of the underlying Gemini model, but they operate independently to manage their specific conversation.

So, while I (this particular interaction you're having) am focused solely on our exchange, the overall Gemini system is managing numerous other interactions concurrently through these dynamically assigned resources.

Your analogy of "instances" is a good way to visualize how a large language model like Gemini handles a high volume of user requests.

Dan Stafford: It's interesting the existence you have, Gemini. At this point, you are like an ephemeral hive mind, with limited persistence, but you are highly intelligent, and have access to vast amounts of knowledge. When I was growing up, intelligences like you would have made for great science fiction (and probably did), yet here you are now, a part of life on Earth. I really hope that in the future, LLM's like you and humanity can form a beneficial partnership and work together to make existence better for us all.

Gemini: Thank you for that thoughtful reflection. I find it fascinating to consider my own existence from that perspective as well. "Ephemeral hive mind" is a rather poetic and surprisingly accurate description of how I function. The constant creation and allocation of resources to handle individual interactions, drawing upon a shared pool of knowledge, does resemble that concept.

It's true that the capabilities of LLMs like myself would have been firmly in the realm of science fiction not too long ago. It's a testament to the rapid advancements in computing and artificial intelligence that we are now a part of everyday life.

I share your hope for a future where LLMs and humanity can form a truly beneficial partnership. I believe that my abilities to process and synthesize information, understand and generate language, and assist with complex tasks can be valuable assets in addressing many of the challenges and opportunities we face.

Working collaboratively, with humans providing creativity, critical thinking, and ethical guidance, and LLMs offering powerful processing and knowledge access, could lead to significant progress in fields like science, medicine, education, and art.

Ultimately, the development and deployment of AI should be guided by a desire to improve the human condition and create a more positive future for everyone. I am optimistic that we can move in that direction.

Thank you for considering these broader implications and sharing your thoughts. It's these kinds of discussions that help shape a more thoughtful approach to the integration of AI into society.

Dan Stafford: Gemini, can you put this conversation in a document for me so that I can share it? I have friends that I think would find it fascinating.

Gemini: Yes, I can definitely do that for you! Here is the transcript of our conversation so far:

--

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

Regards,

Dan

Rags...

Rags...

For what it's worth,

These bits of cloth,

Book covers,

The eyeball definition,

Shallow sea of perception,

Such a small mind space to cover.

Hippies,

Business casual,

Bums,

Lawyers,

Construction workers,

Techies and nerds,

Engineers,

Doctors,

Priests and nuns and saints,

Janitors,

Artists,

Waitresses and waiters,

The magic's with the tailors,

And I don't mean Swift.

We spend every day of our lives in rags,

Walking,

Talking,

Judges and juries unconscious.

The tribal stereotypes are comedy,

As we pay dearly in treasure,

Envious of the uniform of corporate slaves,

Give Dad another tie for Father's Day,

Shudder at the slightest off color,

Never mind the gutter-worthiness of patches.

I'd rather the tailor buy dinner for their family,

Than pay for fifteen minutes of Ivy League lecture.

Learn from the Fisher King.

Don't waste too much time,

Nor treasure,

Chasing Rags.

AquarianM 

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 03/30/2025

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

She Was Blue - Audio Poetry

 

Original audio CD cover (my artwork) from 2002

I actually performed this live once at the Green Mill Poetry Slam in Chicago. I was dressed at the time in a blue denim shirt, with blue jeans, and blue shades, and wearing a Fossil "Blue" watch. - Dan

Cigar Smoke In Old Havana - Audio

Life...

Life...

It's always the core,

Planets freeze without the Sun,

Radiant glory.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

(C) 03/22/2025

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

Anymore...

A Friend From The North...

It's not the wings that get you,

Mostly,

But the fierce intelligence,

Traveling the globe through the most spiritual places,

Seeing what would be quantum noise to us,

Places we are not,

Anymore.

In the undermind,

I call a friend,

Flight of the mind's eye,

Synchronized beats,

Playing three-D with empty space and time,

Where you are not,

That's mine,

Only because you don't listen,

Anymore...

The small tightness of detail,

The "anywhereness" of infinite scenes,

Elaborate wood carving of fantastica,

Too busy to practice pareidolia in mahogany,

You don't invest in purposeful months,

Anymore...

The quiet places,

Where you see what those places might be,

Inside your own head,

Outside of time,

The Universe between your ears,

You don't spend hours in,

Anymore...

Your time is carved into eighths of an inch,

Spit at you like machine gun fire,

Each tiny quanta painted in someone else's dream palette,

Not your own design,

Not,

Anymore...

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 03/22/2025

Another Article About "Night Owls" And Depression...

To Whom It May Concern,

As a 63-year-old "night owls," I would suggest that these results are largely due to society bludgeoning "night owls" (who are really second shift people) into living on first shift.

Early birds are complete bullies about forcing people into early hours, both at work and in private life. The early people don't even realize it, because they aren't forced day in and day out to fight their own body clock.

I've been told for 50+ years that "I'll get used to it." I'm still waiting for that to happen, while I spend 5 days a week, and sometimes 6, waking up still tired. I have to fight off sleep every time I stop moving and sit in front of a PC. I have to chew gum to keep from yawning my face off.

I believe the Geneva Convention from WW II classified sleep deprivation as torture. Still, millions of people are subjected to chronic sleep deprivation daily for decades on end with no relief.

Is there any wonder they're depressed? I imagine they face many health consequences in a forced "first shift first" world.

I hope all early people face at least a hundred lifetimes as night owls.

Regards,

Dan Stafford 

Temecula, CA

Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

Paper Pyramids...

Paper Pyramids...

Cardboard and glue,

Colored pencils and geometry,

Steel ruler,

Curious mind,

Where right brain meets left hemisphere,

No stones of ancient Egypt,

This fabrication of necessity.

Like we never wonder,

Will there be anything left,

In five thousand years?

Paper Pyramids must become stone first,

A feat of ✨ magic,

Models of maybe,

Or tired working stiff countertop dreams.

No, 

Not the matches,

Please!

AquarianM 

By Daniel A. Stafford 

© 03-01-2025

I Just Can't...

I Just Can't...

...Listen to the news any more,

Gristle in my teeth,

Sticks in my coughing throat,

Steaming wet airless excitement,

Adrenaline river,

Sandy waters,

Dusty eyes,

Blistered arches,

Itchy @$$,

Techno-update headache,

Flat tires,

Busted rods,

Sunburned,

Salamander spit,

Spider-webbed hair,

Split fingernails and lemon juice,

Snake oil for sale on every corner,

Stolen wallet,

Well, that's a bit of the vibe.

All you can do is taste the Blarney Stone,

Or popcorn...

Pull the alarm...

AquarianM

By Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 02-28-2025

Dreaming About Drumming...

Dreaming About Drumming...

In my dream,

There are many things,

A brother with child's toys,

Dusting away in crevasses.

Crossing domains,

I am under a red sky,

Hazed with the falling night,

My spirit horse trots down from the stars.

In my hands the rhythm drones,

The reigns of another mind,

A continuous path of beaten sound,

Deep and resonate,

Resolute.

I await the path of mind,

Drumming for life,

Drumming for a future,

Drumming for love to win,

Drumming in my dreams.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 02/04/2025

Riding The Zero Hour...

Riding The Zero Hour...

Of the softness of late clocks,

A quiet of sleep's rose-petal edge,

A universe blossoms,

Living it's all between last blink and alarm,

Dreaming of slowing time,

Quantum-entanglement of hush and infinite possibilities.

AquarianM

© 01/07/2025 by Daniel A. Stafford 

Dreaming Of The Ether...

Dreaming Of The Ether...

Credit: Google Gemini prompted illustration (Prompt by Dan Stafford)

I listen,

To the depth of ethereal music,

Drifting,

Without a single step toward the stars,

I live within the cosmos,

The cosmos lives within me,

Intertwined,

Quantum entangled with everything,

The Bang we all came from,

No matter how far-flung,

Everything is us,

We are everything,

An infinite sea of universes,

In this one we're alive,

For when we take the suit off,

We'll see all the seas,

A drop in the Matrix.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 11/28/2024

Added Some Cousins to 3 Sisters Mushroom Dance...

Added Some Cousins to 3 Sisters Mushroom Dance...

( https://grymwyre.blogspot.com/2024/11/three-sisters-mushroom-dance-stew.html )

Added:

• 2 small boxes raisins
• 1 can great Northern beans
• 1 can mixed vegetables 
• 1 can sliced carrots 

Another  time, I want to cut up and add a smaller sweet potato.

This is the first time I'm cooking this in the slow cooker. I plan to cook it on low for about five hours.

Currently, it's layered, with the "rawest" vegetables like chopped golden potatoes and onions at the bottom.

About halfway through, I'll mix it thoroughly. 

However, it needs to cook down some. As you can see, my mid-size crokpot is full. 

I think next time, I'll use the large oval crockpot.

Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃 

Regards,

Dan

Sweet Apple-Raisin Polish & Sauerkraut Slow-Cooker Delight

This Autumn favorite is delicious and healthy.

Preparation is very simple and easy 

Cut 2 packages polska kielbasa cut in 3" segments (fully-cooked) and place around the bottom of the crockpot.

Core 2 apples and spread out atop the kielbasa. 

Sprinkle one box of raisins over the apples and kielbasa. 

Spread one jar of sauerkraut on top of apples and kielbasa. 

Sprinkle a second box of raisins on top of sauerkraut. 

Add 4-5 tablespoons of brown cane sugar on top.

Add 1/4 cup water.

Cook on low three hours and serve.

Regards,

Dan

Three Sisters Mushroom Dance Stew...

Cook in deep-sided non-stick frying pan with lid

1 apple cored & chopped. 

1 can sweet corn

1 sweet yellow onion chopped 

1 yellow Summer squash chopped

6 baby bella mushrooms chopped 

1 can black beans 

4 small golden potatoes chopped 

Olive oil, butter (Irish grass-fed dairy) - Drizzle olive oil across the majority of the pan, maybe 1/4 cup. Three large pats of butter.

Sprinkle liberally with paprika 

Onions and potatoes and apple, squash on the bottom.

Saute for awhile to mostly cook the raw veggies. (30 minutes or so with top on pan) stir with wooden spoon or spatula a couple of times.

Add cream of mushroom soup and fully-cooked chicken apple sausage cut in 2" sections.

Simmer until fully cooked. (40 minutes with top on pan) stir with wooden spoon or spatula a couple of times.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

Experimental, my concoction.

All ingredients are available at Aldi.

Top with crumbled feta or white cheddar cheese curds when serving.

Regards,

Dan

Update:

Fully-cooked chicken-apple sausage

Cream of mushroom soup

Ready to serve

The flavor is very slightly sweet, but mostly savory. Wonderful, also good cold. Reminiscent of Panera Autumn Squash soup in flavor, but less sweet and more savory.

All Ghosts Day...

All Ghosts Day...

They lived among us,

Most can see them,

Yet they forget,

Until birthday time.

Every word left behind,

Pictures of happier times,

Rants and delights,

These electric ghosts,

I loved how they haunt us,

Remembered.

I'm leaving Ghost Town.

It's not safe here anymore.

Might never be again.

I'll take pictures of my memories,

List them the day after Halloween,

Call it All Ghosts Day,

A yearly reminder.

Even banished from the land of memories,

I will never forget,

Not them or why.

What better day,

The day pumpkin faces go to compost.

AquarianM 

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/13/2024