Part 3
Austin reported that a part of Hawaii had sprung up in Wildwood, NJ, named ‘Sunset Bay’ and that it had had big fat singers, torches, palm trees, waterfalls, tropical flowers, a half-ship at the end of a pier that served as a bar, good food (ordering raw oysters well done), although it consisted of only waves and fields (lucky that his brain turned the noumena into phenomena), and sand all around as a floor.
And Goo...ooogle stretched its vowels wide,
As extra “o’s” took quantum’s wild ride;
While Fredrick calmly rationalized it all:
“Just marketing,” he logically replied.
Also, he said that many more ‘o’s had appeared in the word ‘Goo…ooogle’.
“These sleeping visions help us through the night,
While homonyms give poets new delight;
And synonyms enrich our speaking ways,
As language grows more playful in its flight.”
Fredrick suggested that the sleeping visions were harmless and probably helped us in some way, that homonyms gave poets even more rhymes, that synonyms and words with multiple meanings would enrich the language,
“Slash zeros from their ‘ohs’ to keep them clear,
While typewriters fade into yesteryear;
that zeroes could have a slash added through them for differentiation, that typewriters were obsolete, that we could get used to the odd words, perhaps some day getting even with them,
Let ‘love’ find ‘of’ among its rhyming friends,
As poetry finds new patterns to endear.”
“This Hawaii sprung from Jersey’s fertile sand?
Just call it tourism’s strategic plan!
For who can say where reality ends
And marketing begins to understand?“
The waves lap fields where fields should never be,
While palm trees shade the Atlantic’s chilly sea;
Yet human minds adapt to stranger things,
And make them seem as normal as can be.
For in these shifts of what is real and true,
We find new ways to bend our world’s bright hue;
Till Hawaii in Jersey seems quite right,
And extra “o’s” make searching somehow new.
and that Google’s extra ‘o’s would probably get used in a marketing ploy as denoting the internet page ranges of interest.
RevealPerhaps the secret’s not in what we change,
But how we dance with things that seem so strange;
For human minds can rationalize it all,
Till even quantum ripples find their range.
The bridge began to crumble into night,
As cell phones chimed their warning of his plight;
Just about then, the moth-eaten walkway began its collapse, and all the cell-phoners quickly warned Nobody, for they could see the whole scene unfolding before their eyes knew about it.
A chorus crying “Run!” through digital space,
“Run!” they all said in unison, and with text messages, as well. “Run for your life. Get out of there. The bridge…“
Before roaming charges killed their satellite.
All contact was lost, for Nobody’s cell phone roaming charges had become astronomical and overdue, causing his account to be canceled.
Then Nothing stretched beneath Nobody’s feet—
That paradox where void and being meet;
Yet cartoon physics granted precious time,
Till consciousness could make the fall complete.
For like the coyote suspended high,
Who falls not till he knows the reason why,
Nobody hung between the now and then,
While reality pondered how to fly.
There was now nothing but nothing under Nobody’s feet, an impossibility, of course, for nothing can’t exist, but it was there, never the less; however, Nobody didn’t begin to fall right away, as in cartoons when no one falls until they realize through consciousness that there is nothing holding them up,
That second’s grace proved all he’d need to act:
A strip of foil (humanity’s last pact
Against the reign of sitcom, Paris, fame)
He fixed upon the antenna, skill intact.
and so he gained a precious second and leapt, just in time, back onto the falling bridge, having had the presence of mind during that split second of warning to attach a piece of tin foil to the antenna, a last ditch attempt to help humanity progress beyond TV sitcoms, Lindsey Lohan, and Paris Hilton.
Then leapt back to the bridge’s falling span,
As fast as light (which faster then!) he ran;
While planks dissolved like quantum foam behind,
He raced ahead of time’s unraveling plan.
He moved quickly and soon accelerated to the speed of light, which was a lot faster back then, on the bridge that was literally (or virtually) crumbling as he ran across it.
The cell phones dead, their warnings lost to space,
As cosmic bills came due with mounting grace;
Yet Nobody outran reality’s collapse,
While saving us from entertainment’s face.
One final gift before the bridge gave way:
A tune-up of our cosmic DNA,
That might just lift our spirits higher than
The Hilton heiress’ latest cabaret.
Through nothing and through something swift he fled,
While watchers held their breath in quantum dread;
For in this race ‘tween Nobody and void,
All future culture hung by tinfoil thread.
Perhaps in ages hence we’ll mark this day,
When Nothing nearly won its cosmic sway;
Yet Nobody outran the speed of light,
To save us all from reality TV’s decay.
Concern crept in on cat-soft padding feet,
While Worry, Woe, and Grimness took their seat;
A bill collector joined their somber crowd,
As silence made their gathering complete.
No one knew where Nobody was or if he did nothing or didn’t do nothing. Concern set in. Worry followed. Despair appeared. Woe rang the doorbell. Grimness sat on the front steps. A bill collector drove up.
Poor Rascal Googled through his anxious hours,
While Graybeard’s eyes left Virgo’s virgin bowers;
“Chaste makes waste,” he muttered, one eye closed,
His unopened beer still holding hidden powers.
Rascal saddened, but kept Googling to keep his mind busy, while Graybeard stopped ogling the virgin super clusters of Virgo with both of his naked eyes, although noting, ‘chaste makes waste’, keeping one eye open, and even put off the opening of a beer.
And Fredrick, misty-eyed, recalled the days
With Nobody—all good in memory’s haze;
Fredrick, getting all teary eyed, tried to remember the good times with Nobody. Well, that was easy; they were all good times.
While RascalPuff checked copyrights with care,
His language tied in Nobody-thought maze.
RascalPuff checked all of his copyrights. “Darn, they’re still there.”
“Why is Nobody home?” the question runs,
“And what means what when meaning itself stuns?“
“Why is there no sign of Nobody and why is Nobody not home, and what is the meaning of what I am saying? Or not.”
Perhaps we should just ask the teenagers,
Who know it all, as every parent shuns.
Well, although we are all supposed to know ‘everything’, or at least the theory of, we might as well just ask our teen-age offspring, for they know it all.
Michael rose from his digital retreat,
Michael left his lounge chair and put down his laptop.
While Austin fed sea birds their french-fried treat;
A thousand gulls pursued his fleeing form,
As children filmed their father’s swift defeat.
Austin, although silently alarmed, fed french fries to a thousand seagulls, his step-kids laughing and taking a video of it… until he ran towards the kids, throwing more fries to lead the flapping flock onward toward them.
What paradox when Nobody is lost!
What semantic games our minds are tossed!
For how can Nobody be missing here,
When Nobody was never here across?
The seagulls whirl like quantum possibilities,
While french fries plot their aerial trajectories;
And somewhere in the void of space and time,
Nobody’s presence haunts these mysteries.
Let teenagers explain it all away,
While bill collectors darken wisdom’s day;
For in this pause between the now and then,
We wait for Nobody to find his way.
Perhaps he did nothing, or nothing did,
Or something else behind these words lies hid;
While we prepare remembrance just in case,
And wonder what of Nothing might be rid.
Austin thought that Nobody might never make it, and began preparing a remembrance.
The Possibility of Being
This is the creature there has never been.
They never knew it, and yet, none the less,
They loved the way it moved, its suppleness,
Its neck, its very gaze, mild and serene.
Not there, because they loved it,
It behaved as though it were.
They always left some space.
And in that clear unpeopled space they saved
It lightly reared its head,
With scarce a trace of not being there.
They fed it, not with corn,
But only with the possibility of being.
And that was able to confer such strength,
Its brow put forth a horn. One horn.
Whitely it stole up to a maid —
To be within the silver mirror and in her.
(from Sonnets To Orpheus Second Part, R. M. Rilke)
In Honor Of Nobody,
Who can under-stand the universe,
Not even needing a place to stand,
That is nowhere and everywhere,
A wizard creating something of nothing,
Whose imagination reaches the edge
Of forever, beyond, and before.
In honor of our Nobody we sing,
Who needed not a place for anything;
Everywhere and nowhere was his realm,
As wizard of the nothing everything.
Beyond the edge where atoms lose their way,
Where electromagnetic forces fray,
He walked through nothing’s thin and empty air,
To tune the cosmic broadcast of our day.
The Edge of the Universe
Existence extends its electromagnetic preach
As far as its atomic influences can reach;
Beyond all of that there is nothing there
But the naught of very thin ‘air’. (nothing)
Poor Profpat, missed two payments on his car,
Then turned to dig up treasures near and far;
Profpat, sidelined by so many recent TOE readings and contributions, had gotten back on his feet by missing two car payments. His career now in ruins, he switched to archeology.
While MJA proclaimed with wisdom true:
“Most equal man that ever crossed our star.”
MJA said, “Nobody was the most equal man I ever knew.”
Lloyd puzzled time and fruit flies’ dance through space,
Lloyd pondered the linguistics of “Time flies like a bird and fruit flies like a banana”.
While Steven’s map showed every here and place;
For when you seek the spot where you might stand,
You find it marks existence’s every trace.
Steven Wright said, “I have an existential map. It has ‘You are here’ written all over it.”
His imagination reached beyond the rim
Where space and time grow gossamer and dim;
Through forever’s edge he dared to walk,
To fix the signal growing faint and grim.
Some days the universe resists our will,
While others burn with fire stranger still;
Yet Nobody dared dance through nothing’s realm,
Where only he could cure existence’s ill.
Meat Loaf sang, “Some days it don’t come easy… and these are the days that never end… and some nights are breathing fire… and some night are nothing I felt or seen before… or will again… no one else can save you now but you…”
So let us praise the one who dared to stride
Where something meets with nothing, side by side;
Who proved that nowhere is a place to be,
When reality needs someone to guide.
For in this tale of cosmic repair’s art,
Nobody played the most essential part:
The one who could step past existence’s edge,
To tune the signal where all wonders start.
Robert finally asked for a minute of silence on ToeQuest.
In solemn silence ToeQuest bowed its head,
While Time’s components walked with mournful tread:
Sad Yesteryear and Forever came,
With Why and How and Where, by sorrow led.
The Procession of the Constituents of Reality
Sad Yesteryear, Forever, and Everywhere,
They all came, to weep for Nobody Nowhere,
With Why and How, Then, Now,
When, and What and Where,
Led but by their tears and sorrow. Your posts zing
With things that ‘none’ can bring: Everything.
The minutes crawled like Florida’s slow lane,
Where elderly folks make young folks complain;
More time passed, as the minutes went by like slugs and snails slowed down by older slugs and snails in their way, like when we get stuck walking behind old people in Florida.
Till Yogi spoke his twisted wisdom true:
“The future’s not what once it used to strain!”
Yogi Berra suddenly came out with “The future isn’t what it used to be.”
But Fredrick smiled at negatives turned bright,
For in his numbered days he’d seen the light:
Though plus and minus sum to nothing’s null,
The difference holds the wisdom of their flight.
Fredrick smiled. Although Yogi’s typical observation sounded like it had a negative connotation, Fredrick knew better, for many negatives had been developed into positives during his days of study that were numbered as the dates of his calendar. Also, although all the pluses and minuses added up to zero, Fredrick had the wisdom to know the difference, as well.
“He lives!” cried Fredrick, joy beyond compare,
“Where no man’s gone before—and please don’t dare
Suggest I mean the ladies’ room!” His heart
Knew Nobody still wandered somewhere there.
“He’s alive!” said Fredrick. “He’s out there somewhere! …where no man has gone before. And I don’t mean the ladies room!”
Then Profpat listed ways he hadn’t gone:
Not departed, passed, expired, or drawn
To better realms—till Graybeard cut him short:
“You mean die?” “Yes.” “That’s last upon his lawn!”
Profpat posted, “I knew he wouldn’t depart, pass on, leave us, expire, perish, pass away, decease, or go to a better place.”
Graybeard hinted, “You mean die?“
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s the last thing he’s going to do.”
For how can Nobody depart our sphere,
When nowhere is the place he holds most dear?
And how can nothing claim the one who walked
Through spaces where no something could appear?
The constituents of reality
Process through time’s grand ceremony;
Yet Nobody eludes their solemn march,
By being everywhere we cannot see.
Let sluggish time crawl past at snail’s slow pace,
While Yogi twists the future’s changing face;
For Nobody has found that special realm
Where something, nothing, meet in quantum’s grace.