Positor's Poems

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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on December 13th, 2016, 9:35 pm 

Methods of Science

Empiricists trust experience, while rationalists rely
On axiomatic principles, which logic can amplify.
The former eschew foundations, which philosophers often dispute;
The latter say observation's flawed, so reason's the surest route.

Empiricists test their own theories, which they modify if they need to,
But deductions suffice for rationalists, whatever result they lead to.
The former cry "Metaphysics, ha! What good has it done mankind?"
The latter dismiss them as pragmatists, and damn them as unrefined.

This leads to much indignation, as conflicting hypotheses clash;
At times, discussions get out of hand, and the mods consign them to Trash.
To give up a personal theory, on which one has lavished much care,
And bow to more cogent argument, is more than some folk can bear.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby dandelion on December 15th, 2016, 7:29 am 

Great, Positor!
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on October 29th, 2017, 8:48 am 

Meanwhile, in the Science forums...

A lengthy discussion still rages
On Alice and Bob and their ages.
The way these are charted
(The twins remain parted)
Fills copious densely-packed pages.

We cannot appeal to a deity
To resolve time's intrinsic haecceity.
Unless you're together
Or joined by a tether,
There's relative simultaneity.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on November 25th, 2017, 10:08 am 

The Dichotomy

Existence has two modes in parallel:
Alternative accounts that we may tell.
Our mind dictates the story in one case,
While in the other, physics forms the base.
Phenomena, as purely felt or thought,
Require no test or theory for support;
Invulnerable in their own domain,
Immune to doubt, or failure to explain,
They may be pondered, listed, schematized
In terms that German thinkers have devised,
And (though the practicalists may appeal)
'Tis vain to call such entities unreal.
Now turn to the materialist tale,
Where claims about the world may pass or fail
Experiments to show them false or true,
And aggregate to an objective view.
Here, Mind gives way to Brain; and things perceived
Are deemed veridical or disbelieved.
The cosmic truth, obscured to some degree,
Needs joint pursuit, and yields no certainty.
These two perspectives, facing In and Out,
Involve a paradox much talked about:
In one, I'm puny, brief, and commonplace,
But in the other, I'm the Hub of space.
By what strange cause am I embodied here?
By what caprice, or law, did 'I' appear?
May I conclude, on rationalist grounds,
That part of me surpasses spacetime's bounds?
Till some insightful sage comes to the fore,
Combining Einstein, Kant, Husserl and Bohr,
Let us with dauntless optimism cling
To hope of synthesizing everything.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby DragonFly on November 26th, 2017, 2:55 pm 

I put out your latest poem and a pointer to this thread at https://theomarkhayyamclubofamerica.wordpress.com/2017/11/26/positors-poems/


To all,

See https://theomarkhayyamclubofamerica.wordpress.com
for Omar Khayyam Rubaiyat, art, philosophy, stories, humor, and much more than just Omar, as in Everything.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on January 3rd, 2018, 12:01 am 

Thanks. Here are my latest Omar-inspired verses:


Come, ye who languish in some frosty clime,
Or fret morosely in a peaceless time,
Let thought of cold or conflict now recede;
Imbibe with me a draught of the sublime.

I know a land where every stone is sweet,
Kind breezes vie to soften summer's heat,
The noon is gentle as the dusk or dawn,
And songs resound from each contented street.

When, after work in garden, road or square,
Discerning folk to tree-lined yards repair
With fragrant wine to elevate the soul,
They sit and argue World and Spirit there.

Some speak about a realm beyond the sky,
Where God determines how we live and die.
Such pious words with distant mantras blend;
'Tis vain to challenge Destiny, they sigh.

But men of action, with emphatic voice,
Assert the truth of human will and choice:
Experience reveals no deity,
So let us cast off doctrine and rejoice.

Astrologers unfold their ancient charts
That carve the cosmos into rigid parts,
But keen observers indicate the flaws
Of strict reliance on unchanging arts.

They talk of final and initial states,
Which Science probes, and Theory adumbrates,
While Logic prunes the fancy's fecund tree
And frees the mind from dogma's dismal straits.

One thinker ventures: "All must needs begin",
But others note the fallacy therein:
A universe arising from a Void
Needs non-existence for its origin!

Discussion turns to arithmetic themes,
And plans for novel calculation schemes:
The Zero, and the Negative and Root
Which occupy an innovator's dreams.

The puzzle of the genesis of Man,
The magnitude of Time's historic span,
The stuff of stars, the levity of light,
All pass within the conversation's scan.

The talk persists, the evening hours advance,
Attendants pour, and comely maidens dance,
Till wine, love, beauty, and enlightenment
Induce in all a deep ecstatic trance.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby DragonFly on January 3rd, 2018, 1:35 am 

Positor » January 2nd, 2018, 11:01 pm wrote:Thanks. Here are my latest Omar-inspired verses:


Hey, they're great, and just in time to add to my last ever book and statement for Omar—and for us descendant poets that somehow got overwhelmed with his Persia fumes, which book is called 'Rubaiyat II: An Omarian Universal Day'.

It's a monstrosity that is already to 2000+ quatrains and I've been putting it out little by little on my blog, with some quatrains in it that you already let me use before, which blog is mentioned about a post or two ago.

I went back to the beginning of this thread and reread it, about a week ago, and saw that I missed a lot: maybe I wasn't always around or perhaps some posts I couldn't read well because they didn't always have spaces between the stanzas or the lines were long, or, actually, because I was lazy or couldn't focus.

So, by some great coincidence I just remodeled those poems to make them book size/style, with blank line spaces and shortened some wide lines to fit across a page, for readability, and practice, and just for fun, too, and then via this very focused endeavor it sank into me how great the poems were that I'd missed and how they would do really well for Omar giving lectures at the Shah's Palace in the Rubaiyat II book (according them to you as the author, as always). I'll put them in my poems thread, I guess, for now, for review, so I don't clog this thread, plus I don't want to cause confusion with your originals or bury your latest post.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on January 3rd, 2018, 11:39 am 

Thanks. I tend to vary the format of my poems (stanzas or continuous, and long or short lines) according to their subject matter and mood. I will look at your latest post in your poems thread, and let you know if I have any particular comments.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on March 23rd, 2018, 11:33 pm 

Pointing the Finger

A raucous rant came rasping through the din
Of traffic, though with words disjoint as yet:
"Our loving Lord...by grace...forgive your sin..."
The gist was kind, but had a tone of threat.
I ventured closer to this fount of fire
Whose brandished cross enthused no passers-by;
I witnessed his evangelistic ire,
His finger stabbing at the sainted sky.
"You all deserve eternal Hell", he raved,
"For envy, anger, blasphemy and lust;
But, by God's wondrous mercy, you are saved."
(He spoke as if this outcome were unjust.)
How rife they are, whose charity is slight,
Who scold their fellows on a public site!
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on April 4th, 2018, 9:37 am 

Beyond Experience

Some say the past, except in memory,
Is fully gone;
Some argue that, in realms we cannot see,
It lingers on.
Does all of time exist as an array,
A fourth dimension?
Or is this line a calculator's play,
Drawn by convention?
Static space-time is an accepted fact
As experts teach it;
But if the past abides somehow, intact,
How can we reach it?
Abstract ideas required to codify
Raw observations
May not, like real phenomena, apply
To our sensations.
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on September 20th, 2018, 10:25 pm 

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

We know that scientists are often wrong;
Objective evidence may not be strong.
A theory may evolve; a paradigm
May suffer metamorphosis through time.
Contrasting models may compete, or mix,
Impelled by fashion, hype, or politics.
The older generation may cling fast
To notions that fresh minds consider past.
But always, through a blend of age and youth,
We run the asymptotic course to Truth.
And should some smug contrarians demur,
Let them decide which era they'd prefer.

Coherent metaphysics has its place
(If founded on a firm empiric base)
In pondering Existence and the Mind,
While logic serves to keep terms well defined.
An honest skeptic may, with reason, doubt
Exotic entities one reads about,
Or warn of hubris shown by Nobel winners
Who treat distinguished rivals like beginners.
'Tis laudable that thinkers execrate
Injunctions to 'shut up and calculate'.
So far, so good: philosophy and science
Abrade each other in a rough alliance.

But wait! Behold the long-frustrated hordes
Who regularly hog discussion boards -
Some fools, some jokers, some with Freudian twists,
And all of them prodigious narcissists.
Persistently they chant their siren song:
What is not perfect is completely wrong,
And since each theory has unending tweaks,
We've no more knowledge than the ancient Greeks.
Because new thought trumps incremental grind,
We should defer to a creative mind,
And either feast upon their novel fruit
Or grimly take the nihilistic route.

The anti-evolutionists who post
On shaky grounds (some Dawkins pop, at most)
Display their ignorance of modern trends
By faulting Darwin to achieve their ends.
Creationism - open or concealed -
Informs their interventions in this field;
The faithful would defend God's ancient writ,
While sophists sidestep facts and ask: "What's 'fit'?"
Biologists invoke the Earth's great age
And point to fossils formed at every stage,
But their opponents cast what doubt they can,
And trust no claims about so great a span.

In physics, common formulae provide
Another set of facts to be denied.
The would-be Maxwells write their own equations
(Debunked by forum experts on occasions),
But most revisionists are irked by numbers
And opt for instinct, which dull math encumbers.
The so-called paradoxes of SR
Involving travel to some distant star,
The curious properties of time and space,
Frame-independent light rays' constant pace
And length contraction strain their common sense.
How keen they are to jump to its defence!

The usual problem in these situations
Is unawareness of one's limitations.
The spirit of the modern age exhorts
Both smart and dumb alike to air their thoughts.
A wish for fame, a craving for respect,
An urge to call one's betters incorrect,
Combine with failure to attach due weight
To any prior relevant debate.
The upshot is that honest but naive
Contributors who say what they believe
Are interspersed with charlatans and trolls
Who swagger in with their subversive goals.

Science is hard, and needs well-managed fora;
'Plain truth' and 'common sense' are oxymora.
The truth is never plain, and common notions
Make little sense in terms of cosmic motions.
If everyone would listen, read and learn,
These threads might take a more enlightened turn!
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Re: Positor's Poems

Postby Positor on October 18th, 2018, 11:41 pm 

Distant Memories

Now let us ride away,
through the vertiginous vortex of remembrance,
to the distinct, distanced realm of early perception,
the prior world-prospect of infant eyes and ears.
See the stark separation of near and far,
the deceiving distances of the child's short-focus lens;
Observe the vivid closeness of low domestic details,
the scattered toys, the patterned carpet,
and the solid reassuring door;
The middle range of tabletops
and busy power-plugged appliances;
And the far garden fence, obliquely glimpsed through greenery,
marking the pale of permitted play
and the threshold of imagined freedom.
Hear the booming adult voices,
the curt authority of time-tarnished teachers,
and the basic, bass-rich piano of the school assembly hall,
serving up square hymns of stock spirituality.
Rich are the other senses too:
the awareness of faint, vestigial paint-scent on wood
and all the loud aromas of home and church and street,
leaving a lifelong trace within the many-layered mind;
the absurdly important qualia of young gustation;
and the raw feel of pleasing or repugnant textiles
on sensitive skin.
Such impressions, extant but age-eroded
and dimmed by adult cares,
were once the very core of life's experience.
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