Hi Steemit!
In 2008 when the famous Satoshi Nakamoto paper was released, I began mining Bitcoin on an old Windows XP Compaq desktop with very little understanding, at the time, for it's future potential.
I was graduating from high school and wasn't planning on lugging an already out-dated desktop to college with all the convenient new netbooks for sale. The Compaq was eventually thrown away, along with my Bitcoin wallet and all memory of the technology first sparking my interest.
I was a college freshman now, after all. I had new interests and a whole new world in which to explore them. No longer was the bulk of my existence me alone in my room in front of a computer. And then I met a girl.
Fast forward a few years, I graduated, married that girl, and started hearing murmurs of Bitcoin again. I began researching more about blockchain technology and grew to further appreciate it for the true revolution it represents. I began diving back into it, unable to mine at this point, with leftover cash tips from my food delivery job. Oh, I guess I forgot to mention my college degree is in Philosophy... and I wouldn't change it if I could.
Fast forward one more time to this year, 2017. Somehow one of the best and worst years of my life so far. First the bad news: real fake news helped get Donald Trump elected POTUS. My wife filed for divorce. I lost my home. My job cut health benefits (yeah, I know, it was a sweet deal for food delivery while it lasted). My ex-wife's grandmother passed. My father (not to be mistaken for my mother's husband, my dad) fractured my nose in a fight over a water bottle. My grandmother was forced to retire. I quit my Masters program.
The good? Well, I had begun coming out of a two-year (at least) depression. I decided to revise an old self-published book of poetry--another of my interests lost in the throes of early adulthood. I began writing new poetry as well. I concluded I could teach myself what I really wanted to learn. I lost 40+ lbs. I met family I had never met before in a country I had never been to before (besides a layover). A member of that family turned out to be a published poet (the only in my family afaik). I spent time back in my home and native land. Bitcoin skyrocketed. I went to therapy for the first time in my life. I learned I likely have asd.
I've since begun revising my book The Colour Grey and am currently in contact with the Marcus Autism Center to donate 80% of the profits from the original, unrevised...raw version of my book available here as ePub and here in paperback now and at major retailers like Amazon in the coming months to help fund asd related research in African American communities. Nothing is confirmed yet but hopefully the path there is smooth enough.
As I rewrite old poems and create new ones, I'm learning more about myself and my place in our world like never before; not since penning the original ones almost a decade ago. However, one thing should be made clear: my poetry, in general and specifically my teen angst soaked poetry, is really not all that good in my opinion. In fact, many of my poems are just plain bad.
Hence the clever naming of my site dedicated to the revision project, My Bad Poetry. Despite this, I've committed myself to reading more and learning more about poetry so that I can more effectively exercise the healing force of communicating my truth. I've committed myself to yet another bountiful path, art, but not because of the meager fruits it may bear. It's because of the seeds it can plant.
And Steemit seems, to me, to be the sort of place where such seeds can be nutured for budding artists of all kinds. Not only with the potential for some monetary gain but also the chance for engagement with an involved community which is itself a part of a social media revolution in line with the decentralized future first explored back in '08 (Thanks, Obama).
If you go to my still under construction site, you'll see that I'm forwarding visitors to my blog here. I intend on sharing my process of revising my old poems, some new ones, and some other related things here on Steemit before even putting them up on my mainstream WordPress site.
My poems generally include subject matter and references to things such as religion (mostly but not only harshly, just fair warning), quantum physics, artificial intelligence, nature, love, the internet, death, technology (including blockchain tech on occasion), politics, mental health, philosophy, mostly myself, of course, and I think poop. Yeah, I think there's like one poop poem.
The Colour Grey is comprised of 50 poems, most of which I wrote feverishly in the months between graduating high school and starting college. I don't however feel it necessary to rewrite all 50 poems as there are some I think are "good enough". Good enough for what, you ask? For me, friend, for me. Hopefully you'll enjoy the first such poem I wrote inspired by the patron saint of brooding teens, Edgar Motherfucking Allen Poe. Eventually, all 50 poems from the book will be here on Steemit and you can check out a google books preview of the first 9 poems now at the link above (okay, here it is again). First things first, here's The Serpent after which be on the lookout for my recently revised version of To Sing the Cant Upon My Mind and the story behind it.
The Serpent
On a splendid joyous morning,
Eating breakfast heeding warning.
Warning of verboten fruit
Of which I was not to engorge.
When I finished, full and fattened,
On my bed my back I flattened.
Lacking something in my backing,
From which my mate was forged.
It was then I heard a clapping
That nearly caused my gross disgorge.
‘Must be nothing,’ was what I swore.
After eating, resting, dozing,
Out I went my self exposing.
Saw my mate—and shifty creature
When I heard a clapping roar.
By the tree of which we’re banned
Is where I saw the queer pair stand;
Stand, except that one was lying
With its belly to the floor.
Lying oddly, without legs
The creature on the floor.
Standing there and lying there up upon the tor.
Then the creature started speaking,
To my mate he started sneaking,
Whispered softly in her ear
And to her he implored:
‘Here grows fruit so sweet to swallow,
Eat and nothing bad will follow,
A taste in which you’ll surely wallow.
You’ll desire plenty more.
You will fancy it so fairly
That you’ll even eat its core!’
Again I heard a clapping roar.
Then to me she called so loudly
When the sky grew dark and cloudy.
The creature leaving oh-so rowdy,
Quickly through an obscured door.
‘Taste this fruit,’ she said so plainly
‘Though its shape seems so ungainly.
Eat it—eat it my dear love,
I’m sure you will adore.
Bite just once into its center;
You’ll certainly adore!’
Then I heard a clapping roar.
I bit the fruit, its juices flowing,
The wind then started blowing, blowing.
The sky was solemn, water fell,
And it began to pour.
And the earth was all in darkness
Except when lightning flashed with sharpness
And the sky was parted clearly
By a sound that came and tore.
And I now know why the tree exists—
To test that our faith was sure.
And I heard the voice of my Lord—
A booming, clapping roar!
Image: my ig @lessthan3aire