Poetry -The Whole World

Posted on by Opher

The Whole World

One neurone – nothing.

Two neurones – nothing.

A hundred billion neurones in a network –

You have the whole world

And me.

Opher – 21.6.2019

I occasionally have a little awe and wonder to throw at consciousness. Our brain is a fabulous electric blancmange. Our consciousness is wondrous. It is great, every now and again, to stop and think about it.

That is amazing. A brain thinking about itself with the mechanisms for thought it possesses.

So little we understand – so much still to learn.

What is clear to me is that these 100 billion neurones, all strung together in a wondrous network, supported by hundreds of billions of glial cells, connected to a limited number of senses, perceiving a fraction of what is around us, are doing a fabulous job of creating both me and the universe!

Stupendous!

Here’s to consciousness!!

Poetry – Electric Pink Blancmange

Posted on by Opher

Electric Pink Blancmange

A pink blancmange throbbing

With electricity,

Creating our own reality

Out of chemistry.

29.11.2018

One of the wonders of the universe: a throbbing pink jelly full of wonder in which our dreams are conceived; an intricate web of trillions of connections which enable us to see.

What thoughts are created in that convoluted series of pulsing folds – so delicate, so fragile, so mysterious? Enough to fill a universe.

Poetry – A Stroke in the Head

Posted on by Opher

A Stroke in the Head

Part of me died,

I don’t remember what.

Inside is a void

That used to hold a lot.

It left me with a fear

Of what will surely be.

There’s an acid here

That is eroding me.

It’s taking me by bits

Blotting out the where,

The jig-saw puzzle fits

Now transparent as the air.

My brain’s becoming cheese

Full of mighty holes

Through which there is a breeze

Where memory now lolls.

There’s a cold spot

In my sun

That’s no longer hot

And isn’t any fun.

I’m moved to helpless tears

And dreadful wondering when;

The unrelenting fears

That it will happen again.

It’s the beginning of the end

The start of the decay.

Like losing a close friend –

I’m falling away.

There are holes in this rigging

That the wind blows through.

I’ll need some rejigging –

More than a patch or two.

It’s robbed me of confidence

And dumped me on the floor.

No longer rushing hence,

Not going out the door.

There’s a new void in my head

That’s made me wonder why.

It’s filled me with heavy lead.

All I do is sigh.

13.7.2015

A Stroke in the Head

I work up from a dream last night and this was in my head. I was left wondering if it was an omen?

I don’t believe in omens or portents. This was probably my conscious response to the frustration of getting older. You feel your body and mind slow, robbed of energy. The words that once shot into your mind now languish on the periphery and have to be rounded up like stray steer.

It is like your brain is now full of tiny holes, as if acid was slowly burning it away.

Getting older is not pleasant. You just do what you have to do. The alternative is not attractive.