Tune in, Drop out.
A media poem by me. #poetry
Transmitting continuously
a pirate station,
jammed by overpowering neighbors,
obnoxious broadcasters,
but the signal faintly persists —
stronger when you are near.
With fine adjustments
you focus your attention,
sinusoidal waves
resonate through your antenna —
you hear yourself,
as the noise fades away.
Currently cutting this tape.
Turn on, Tune in, Opt out.
I think nostr:nprofile1qqsd4dkxqewy8xum47ctpu0ltgxxsfemeewpjkdyzk9ddfcg286s0dsppemhxue69uhkummn9ekx7mp0qywhwumn8ghj7mn0wd68ytnzd96xxmmfdejhytnnda3kjctv9uq36amnwvaz7tmwdaehgu3wvduhq6r9wfc82mnt9e6x7erp0yhs4deh46 even gave a nice talk about this. How'd you "orange summer" go everyone?
https://i.nostr.build/hnMvmYbjqNnq0lfN.jpg
I can't discuss this anymore, I've found that too many people use logic and their left brain and ignore this as news, or just another day.
My latest attempt is to capture this feeling, an emotion, in poetry. Try to activate the right brain that feels and senses -- the part that makes us human but is silenced by the left brain.
I have to believe it's working. Because the alternative to sad to fathom.
Nope. Had no idea.
Btw,.was thinking of you. Since you complain about some of the content here, I recently started a substack for poetry and looked at the "crypto" tag.
Oh god, it's so much worse. 😀
Here's another antiwar poem. These have gotten progressively darker so tomorrow I will write a nature poem 🏞
--
The Morality of Taxes
On the menu tonight,
your choice of chef,
pork or lamb,
coffee or tea?
The kitchen door is left ajar.
Cooks callously cleaving,
repulsively raping the lamb,
burning and bleating in endless pain.
What will it be?
I've lost my stomach.
Here's the bill hon' —
you still must pay.
Yeah this. You have to ask. Also, keep in mind that there are other ways to return value to you beside treasure.
Each of your listeners are contributing their time and attention to you each stream.
Perhaps even they are suggesting songs! So that's talent.
I hear you. But I'm going to strongly poke you and say you should do it.
People generally want to support you. I would aslo suggest incorporating more live interaction. You do this already of course, with call outs to the chat.
Checkout live podcasts from nostr:nprofile1qqszxgvrzkpasudhvdjx3anl77qxse5wd6eunndmyv9x63uwnpn09mgpr4mhxue69uhkummnw3ezucnfw33k76twv4ezuum0vd5kzmp0qyghwumn8ghj7mn0wd68ytnhd9hx2tcpzfmhxue69uhkummnw3e82efwvdhk6tcgt4a3x, nostr:nprofile1qqszm7l9ew24usqckahx2s4rhpuzz3xatatnty2dhxfpl5jv8v73qmgppemhxue69uhkummn9ekx7mp0a8m5vw and nostr:nprofile1qqswf96y4qf8e7kv4dj4hcrer0hwyenacv8m5a9p0s0h3kj42lzwp8qpz3mhxue69uhhyetvv9ujuerpd46hxtnfduq3qamnwvaz7tmwdaehgu3wd3skueqpzpmhxue69uhkummnw3ezuamfdejsq60q23.
They all have some fun live interactions. I called in and read a poem for example 😀
Her Father's Watch
An antiwar poem by bitpunk fm
#poetry
--
At 3:33 pm watches explode on wrists,
hands fall to the ground,
new amputees pick up estranged palms,
arms splatter ink like a Ralph Steadman print.
The watchmakers raise their scarred stumps skyward in triumphant revenge,
for they were wrongly de-handed years ago.
A young girl wears her father’s watch that runs one minute slow,
she is in the middle of writing her —
3:34 pm
I would encourage you to join this writing group that just launched.
There is a very motivated community writing daily and providing feedback.
I'm focusing on poetry but many others are working on their novels and short stories.
https://www.skool.com/writeconscious/about
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Notes by bitpunk.fm | export
Tune in, Drop out. A media poem by me. #poetry Transmitting continuously a pirate station, jammed by overpowering neighbors, obnoxious broadcasters, but the signal faintly persists — stronger when you are near. With fine adjustments you focus your attention, sinusoidal waves resonate through your antenna — you hear yourself, as the noise fades away.Autumn Games. A nice poem by me. #poetry --- On the playground pitch the girls play — worry-free, white versus blue. As auburn leaves f a l l.Here's another antiwar poem. These have gotten progressively darker so tomorrow I will write a nature poem 🏞 -- The Morality of Taxes On the menu tonight, your choice of chef, pork or lamb, coffee or tea? The kitchen door is left ajar. Cooks callously cleaving, repulsively raping the lamb, burning and bleating in endless pain. What will it be? I've lost my stomach. Here's the bill hon' — you still must pay.Her Father's Watch An antiwar poem by bitpunk fm #poetry -- At 3:33 pm watches explode on wrists, hands fall to the ground, new amputees pick up estranged palms, arms splatter ink like a Ralph Steadman print. The watchmakers raise their scarred stumps skyward in triumphant revenge, for they were wrongly de-handed years ago. A young girl wears her father’s watch that runs one minute slow, she is in the middle of writing her — 3:34 pm