I am in fancy fact
a stochaster. Stochastism
(or Stochastimancy, to the
ignorant and superstitious)
(Hi!) isn't chaos theory or even
chaos magic, but sit with me
a spell and I'll sling spun
random enchantment at
cha hot, and at us, and chill
'til you know what the bells
have wrought, and how much
was wrung from our time.
The tolls and the prices
admission admits these days
couldn't pass for free. But lady?
Be mine, or be thine, or be gently,
gentle man. As you will,
please identify what
our obstacles be? If as I bet,
you can. In your own
sweet case. In mine? Let us open a case,
and see! I bet I can even
sympathize, but the die
is cast upon one of six sides,
the other is heads. Up one of
five tails, it lies. And we'll live
and we'll die thereby. Ah,
sighs is the whispering groan
begat in the drone and the whine
satisfaction's cat has curiously
warmed itself upon. It would have
to be that, wouldn't it? Scat! Shoe!
Begone! Ah, puss. That's okay,
have at. For destruction is
a creative act, and I love to create
so stay the hell back.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
but aren't they all random?
Friday, August 21, 2020
stochastic blessing
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