Know When to Hold Them Young women tend to be more trouble than they're worth, In my experience, Because they have too many weird ideas, Crap floating around in their head, That they have yet to sort out for themselves. But, if sex is all you want in a relationship, Then you don't even need names. If conversation is all you want, Then I suppose you really like to talk. And if personal growth and happiness are, Its much more important to know thyself. You got to know when to hold em, Know, when to fold them, Know when to walk away, And, know when to run... All anybody else can do, is encourage you, To seize a good opportunity, when it arises: To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wildflower. To hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. To seek out depths that others disdain, Where ever cloudy muddy waters cannot hide, All the love, which abides within the naive child. Know thyself, and the whole world welcomes you in. There can be no greater personal satisfaction than growth, To at long last, once again, become as beautiful outside as in. Childhood's End is Never-ending, in Never-never Land. (William Blake, Kenny Rodgers, Socrates)
This is another surprising poem I just made up on the spot, that illustrates the power of shuffling so damned many metaphors around simultaneously, constantly searching for any humble and elegant simplicity. Note, its all still within the Socratic and Taoist traditions of potty humor, and illustrates the elegant side of being a toddler and a lover, within the humor. The funky nonlinear temporal dynamics might need work, but its a really nice poem that says a lot for how long it is, and says something that is all too often never said. The Kenny Rodgers lines are a bit strange and do weird things to the tempo, but that's just something I'll have to explore further, because its obviously a basic salt-of-the-earth expression. I've just never made the connection of the lyrics to love, but note they can also be interpreted to apply to life in general.
John Prine says its endless editing, and I have to agree. I know a poet who writes really beautiful stuff, and he was shocked to learn that I could write up to six poems a day without pause. To me, they're all mathematics and metaphors, but I do the basic "algebra", while what my friend does is calculus that requires more soul to begin with. His art requires quiet contemplation or whatever, while I speak nature's basic language, and should master it in another three years or so. I have no idea how many poems I can write in a day now, because there are no limits for me and I can write anything I want. Anything whatsoever. Its the editing that slows me down, and once I have the four root metaphors of the systems logic, my job will finally be done. All the poems are merely the means to the ends for me, I want the systems logic, or the poems are useless to me. The metaphoric logic I use has to be integrated into your subconscious mind, because its not something the conscious mind can actually grasp. I'm sort of a biological computer, learning how to program my subconscious mind. Masters of the game "Go" don't consider you a challenge to play unless you've already played for twenty years, and that's because the process is a metamorphic one, like puberty, that can't be rushed. The systems logic is analog, and has to be embodied in something physical to conflated the identity of space and time. Like an abacus, a wheel, or any number of things that conflate their input and output, front and back, etc. It closely resembles singularity physics because information is indivisible from physics in quantum mechanics, and the two can exchange identities. I can account for both integrals and differentials using the same equations or metaphors. Its Intuitionistic mathematics and physics combined using linguistic analysis, which gets complicated, but its mostly mind-numbing editing. The humor of the toddler is the hardest to master because, of course, You are the Toddler Baby!
