A Priori Me

Staring at machinescapes
Fractal music in my head
The inflammation of my spine
Confirms for me I am not dead
A priori me
In the wind, dust, and shadows
A posteriori me
Weighing and measuring my battles
Knowing what I know
Without knowing the reason
The eerie absent answers
Feel like my mind committing treason
I accept the betrayal
My cognizance shoulders on
Knowing some framework exists
Both before and after I am gone

Gene G. McLaughlin 2020

Ghosts of the Spine

There are ghosts in your spine
Created from that which came before
Thoughts I once called mine
I take full ownership of no more
We are agreements between elements
Negotiations between factions
Maybe influenced by environments
Leading to actions and reactions
Embrace the us in all of us
Make plural the royal we
Are my envy, hate, or lust
Just a war of ghosts within me?
An engine of looping thoughts
A walking talking analogy
Ghosts maneuvering for position
Wishing it to be their eyes that perceive and see
Gene G. McLaughlin 2019

I Google My Thoughts

I Google my thoughts

To known they’re originals

Some are bought

Most are aboriginal

My mind’s fraught

In search of the seminal

Gene G. McLaughlin 2015

I Think Our Eyes Are Aliens

I think our eyes are aliens

Our ears the souls of snails

The nose a mermaid’s mouth

Our tongues the whiskers of whales

Us which came and combined together

Willed ourselves to become one

To think, to feel, to perceive

For promised aware enlightenment

Of which it turned out there was none

The promise was a temptation

A ruse, which came to deceive

Now our minds burdened heavy with consciousness

And a past choice for which

Our combined evolved hearts do grieve

Gene G. McLaughlin 2015

Those Corporeal Blooded Beasts

This is for those corporeal blooded beasts

Carrying their consciousness

Like a badge

A scar

A curse

A revelation



Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

If The System Is Unaware

If the system is unaware

Then suddenly refers to itself

Is the system viewing from here

Or observing from somewhere else

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014


In the bright crisp sun of morning

The rabbit eats the green leaf

He is anxious and alert

But has no name for the state

He is in

The raptor watches the rabbit

Dreaming of pursuit of his prey

He hungers and launches

In the shining shimmer of the open air

But has no name of the state

He is in

I watch both

And rejoice and mourn I have so many

Names for the state of things

Gene McLaughlin 2012