For a woman in the eighties,
The most important thing the peace is.
But how to reach it with a dozen of nieces,
Daily breaking my peacemaker into pieces…
This is why I was frankly relieved,
When I got a house-offer suddenly received.
I called the agent and in 10 days I achieved
To live in a peaceful village – leastwise I believed.
Nathless, my peace was brief;
My groove turned quickly into grief:
Even if the village was devoid of mischief,
My neighborhood had a noisy Muslim chief.
The noisy chief had a noisy mate,
Tho, not only one, but a brigade of eight.
For peace, I decided to wait wait and wait,
But then, I rushed out angry and veiled:
“Hey, you weird!
Ya’ll there, geared with beard!”
Hearing me, they packly neared,
But not for a moment I was feared.
“Y’all! The sheikh and the eight!
Don’t you sense what time is eit?!
It’s eight! And I am out here veiled,
Cuz my neighbors like horses neighled.”
My quick siege cooled down their vein.
“I implore pardon, we will hold the rein.
For God’s sake, forgive us if you would deign.”
And then, they never broke again my peaceful reign.
Yey, yey, yey!
Here, five rhymes and five verses scored;
I cry why life is versus me by discomfort.
My self-existence is doubted in my eyes;
I tell lies as truths and truths as lies.
No principle has escaped my ever paradox;
I never change my ideas just as an ox.
Weird laugh and talk follow my strangeness;
I talk freely to paper, to people less.
Imaginary is just real and reality is surreal;
I experience life far and wish death near.
Loneliness has become my ever watermark;
I present a lone race on Noah’s ark.
There, five rhymes and five verses scored;
I cry while life has verses, this is comfort.
Words by words and codes by codes,
By all those new neutrons and electrons made chatodes,
By all the data that have no limit concluding the material and the spirit,
I was started and I started after the first program of Let Be Light, having sight.
But having sight never could be ever fitting
Since the data perceived is just hitting-hitting
So much memory files, no miles of computers could synchronise,
And I was just born with eyes having no distance on the size we analyse.
So, “let be light”, having no right I cite
Meanwhile mentioning that flawless programming might
That holds the copyright on every carbon, molecule and single atom,
Writing the reality of physics and the psyche that seems biologically so illogical.
Minding the minds of humans not crawling
As it was reprogrammed by the drawing of Darwin,
The brains and the cells are starving for knowing the truth:
What, why and how is that what we went, and what we go through ruled by Mr Who.
Then, I stay here saying ‘Hello World’
In my little program, made word by word,
Relating it to the world in my single reality of Program R,
Starting to act, I myself – a little bit – a programmer just like the Programmer.