Virtually Fashionable

This is a poem I wrote in 1996, but it has become more relevant recently, so I thought this might be a good time to place a copy on my rhyming blog.

It wasn't all that long ago,
When first began the cyber age,
That meetings held by video,
For business folk, were all the rage.

At first, from office, clad in suits,
These scheduled meetings took their place,
But, once this method set down roots,
New fashions came and changed its face.

The first, least daring, change of style
Was dressing only for the view:
Above the waist, a suit; meanwhile,
Below were jeans, and slippers, too.

Then, one fine day, some hacker dude,
Inspired to program, did his best
And wrote a system to conclude
The need to bother getting dressed.

By filtering his shape and size
Through programs to enhance and change,
He brought the world a great surprise:
Computer clothes, both cool and strange.

Of course, the ease this soft-wear brought
Made for an overnight success;
Soon compu-fashions had been bought
By all as standard business dress.

Now, fashions come and fashions go,
And electronic threads increased
The speed with which those "in the know"
Pursued this enigmatic beast.

The Internet's a funny place
Where things can change with frequent ease.
'Twas thus the place the fashion race
Occurred, the public's tastes, to please.

Each night, new fashions came on-line,
Too rapidly to check them out.
That what they wore was only fine,
Folks had no time to feel a doubt.

In retrospect, it seems quite odd
That we had felt a faith, so blind,
That programs which obscured the bod
Could never have been undermined.

It happened on a busy day
Amid our meetings, calls and shows:
A virus hit, to our dismay,
Exposing us, from heads to toes.

The world has never been the same,
Since that odd day when we all saw
That politicians, too, have shame,
As do all those who bring us awe.

Of course, the rest is history:
The great who fell, the small who rose,
For much of power's mystery
Was stripped, when shown without its clothes.

'Tis true, recovery was swift,
But since that day, no clever bug
Can strip us of that special gift
Which keeps the great from acting smug.

One Hundred Thousand Billion Poems by Raymond Queneau

Translated by Stanley Chapman

“Only a machine can appreciate a sonnet written by another machine.”
—Turing

A 3-Dimensional Sonnet written in 1961, presented by Reg Harbeck in HTML in 2019

Le roi de la pampa retourne sa chemise Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas Le cheval Parthénon s’énerve sur sa frise The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze Le vieux marin breton de tabac prit sa prise At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze C’était à cinq o’clock qu’il sortait la marquise At five precisely out went La Marquise Du jeune avantageux la nymphe était éprise From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees Il se penche il voudrait attraper sa valise He bent right down to pick up his valise Quand l’un avecque l’autre aussitôt sympathise When one with t’other straightaway agrees Lorsqu’un jour exalté l’aède prosaïse Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze Le marbre pour l’acide est une friandise The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise Lorsque tout est fini lorsque l’on agonise The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys pour la mettre à sécher aux cornes des taureaux The bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone depuis que lord Elgin négligea ses naseaux Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone pour du fin fond du nez exciter les arceaux His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne pour consommer un thé puis des petits gâteaux For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone snob un peu sur les bords des bords fondamentaux Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone que convoitait c’est sûr une horde d’escrocs That hordes of crooks felt they’d more right to own se faire il pourrait bien que ce soit des jumeaux The answer is they could be twins full-grown pour déplaire au profane aussi bien qu’aux idiots His exaltation shocked both youth and crone d’aucuns par-dessus tout prisent les escargots Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown lorsque le marbrier astique nos tombeaux When masons clutch the breath we hold on loan le cornédbîf en boîte empeste la remise Old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease le Turc de ce temps-là pataugeait dans sa crise The Turks said just take anything you please sur l’antique bahut il choisit sa cerise Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese le chauffeur indigène attendait dans la brise Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze une toge il portait qui n’était pas de mise His toga rumpled high above his knees il se penche et alors à sa grande surprise He bent right down and well what did he seize la découverte alors voilà qui traumatise Replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease la critique lucide aperçoit ce qu’il vise The understanding critic firstly sees sur la place un forain de feu se gargarise The showman gargles fire and sword with ease des êtres indécis vous parlent sans franchise Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze et fermentent de même et les cuirs et les peaux That suede ferments is not at all well known il chantait tout de même oui mais il chantait faux And loudly sang off-key without a tone il n’avait droit qu’à une et le jour des Rameaux With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown elle soufflait bien fort par-dessus les côteaux Which neither time nor tide can long postpone des narcisses on cueille ou bien on est des veaux One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone il ne trouve aussi sec qu’un sac de vieux fayots The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone on espère toujours être de vrais normaux Normal one aims to be and share the throne il donne à la tribu des cris aux sens nouveaux ’Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown qui sait si le requin boulotte les turbots? While sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone et tout vient signifier la fin des haricots And empty cages show lif’e bird has flown Je me souviens encor de cette heure exeuquise To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings Le cheval Parthénon frissonnait sous la bise O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings Souvenez-vous amis de ces îles de Frise The Frisian Isles my friends are cherished things On était bien surpris par cette plaine grise How it surprised us pale grey underlings Quand on prend des photos de cette tour de Pise Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings Il déplore il déplore une telle mainmise Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings Et pourtant c’était lui le frère de feintise And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings L’un et l’autre a raison non la foule insoumise They both are right not untamed mutterings Du voisin le Papou suçote l’apophyse The roundabout eats profits made on swings On vous fait devenir une orde marchandise It’s one of many horrid happenings les gauchos dans la plaine agitaient leurs drapeaux Signalling gauchos very rarely shave du climat londonien où s’ébattent les beaux The North Wind Bites into his architrave où venaient par milliers s’échouer les harenceaux Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave quand se carbonisait la fureur des châteaux When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave d’où Galilée jadis jeta ses petits pots Were pots graffiti’d over by a slave qui se plaît à flouer de pauvres provinciaux Filching the lolly country thrift helped save qui clochard devenant jetait ses oripeaux Rejecting ermine to become a knave le vulgaire s’entête à vouloir des vers beaux That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave que n’a pas dévoré la horde des mulots? Nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave on prépare la route aux pensers sépulcraux With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave nous avions aussi froid que nus sur la banquise An icicle of frozen marrow pings il grelottait, le pauvre aux bords de la Tamise Th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings nous regrettions un peu ce tas de marchandise Such merchandise a melancholy brings un audacieux baron empoche toute accise A darling baron pockets precious Mings d’une étrusque inscription la pierre était incise The leaning linguist cameramaniac sings aller à la grand’ville est bien une entreprise He’s gone to London how the echo rings un frère même bas est la part indécise The fertile mother changeling drops like kings l’un et l’autre ont raison non la foule imprécise They both are right not unformed smatterings le gourmet en salade avale le cytise In salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings de la mort on vous greffe une orde bâtardise Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings lorsque pour nous distraire y plantions nos tréteaux As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave quand les grêlons fin mars mitraillent les bateaux To break a rule Britannia’s might might waive lorsqu’on voyait au loin flamber les arbrisseaux For burning bushes never fish forgave lorsque vient le pompier avec ses grandes eaux Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave les Grecs et les Romains en vain cherchent leurs mots Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave elle effraie le Berry comme les Morvandiaux Through homestead hillside woodland rock and cave que les parents féconds offrent aux purs berceaux In purest cradles tha’s how they behave à tous, n’est pas donné d’aimer les chocs verbaux That every verbal shock aims to deprave l’enfant pur aux yeux bleus aime les berlingots The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave la mite a grignoté tissus os et rideaux Victorious worms grind all into the grave

Du pôle à Rosario fait une belle trotte Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress La Grèce de Platon à coup sûr n’est point sotte Platonic Greece was not so talentless On sèche le poisson dorade ou molve lotte When dried the terrapin can naught express Du Gange au Malabar le lord anglais zozotte The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less L’esprit souffle et resouffle au-dessus de la botte Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess Devant la boue urbaine on retrousse sa cotte The peasant’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress Le généalogiste observe leur bouillotte The genealogist with field and fess Le poète inspiré n’est point un polyglotte Poetic licence needs no strain or stress Le loup est amateur de coq et de cocotte The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess Le brave a beau crier ah cré nom saperlotte It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless aventures on eut qui s’y pique s’y frotte What things we did we went the whole darned hog on comptait les esprits acérés à la hotte A piercing wit would sprightliest horses flog on sale le requin on fume à l’échalote Shallots and sharks’ fins face the smould’ring log comme à Chandernagor le manant sent la crotte In Indian summers Englishmen drink grog le touriste à Florence ignoble charibotte With gravity at gravity’s great cog on gifle le marmot qui plonge sa menotte And starve the snivelling baby like a dog gratter le parchemin deviendra sa marotte With quill white-collared through his life will jog une langue suffit pour emplir sa cagnotte One tongue will do to keep the verse agog le chat fait un festin de têtes de linotte A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog le lâche peut arguer de sa mine pâlotte Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog lorsqu’on boit du maté l’on devient argentin And played their mountain croquet jungle chess lorsque Socrate mort passait pour un lutin Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce lorsqu’on revient au port en essuyant un grain While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes le colonel s’éponge un blason dans la main The colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress l’autocar écrabouille un peu d’esprit latin On wheels the tourist follows his hostess lorsqu’il voit la gadoue il cherche le purin Watching manure and compost coalesce il voudra retrouver le germe adultérin To prove mamma an adult with a tress même s’il prend son sel au celte c’est son bien From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness chemin vicinal se nourrit de crottin The country land just thrives on farmyard mess Les croque-morts sont là pour se mettre au turbin Poor Yorick comes to bury not address L’Amérique du Sud séduit les équivoques Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue Sa sculpture est illustre et dans le fond des coques Their sculptors did our best our hulks they clog Enfin on vend le tout homards et salicoques Lobsters for sale must be our apologue Ne fallait pas si loin agiter ses breloques No need to cart such treasures from the fog Les rapports transalpins sont-ils biunivoques? With breaking voice across the Alps they slog On regrette à la fin les agrestes bicoques One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog Frère je te comprends si parfois tu débloques But I can understand you Brother Gog Barde que tu me plais toujours tu soliloques Bard I adore your endless monologue On a bu du pinard à toutes les époques Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog Cela considérant ô lecteur tu suffoques We’ll suffocate before the epilogue exaltent l'espagnol les oreilles baroques Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some on transporte et le marbre et débris et défroques With marble souvenirs then fill a slum on s’excuse il n’y a ni baleines ni phoques On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum les Indes ont assez sans ça de pendeloques The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum les banquiers d’Avignon changent-ils les baïoques? Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb? on mettait sans façon ses plus infectes loques Where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum frère je t’absoudrai si tu m’emberlucoques And let you off from your opinions glum tu me stupéfies plus que tous les ventriloques Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb grignoter des bretzels distrait bien des colloques Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum comptant tes abattis lecteur tu te disloques Poor reader smile before your lips go numb si la cloche se tait et son terlintintin The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum Si l’Europe le veut l’Europe ou son destin For Europe’s glory whjiole Fate’s harpies strum le mammifère est roi nous sommes son cousin They’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum l’écu, de vair ou d’or ne dure qu’un matin And lessors’ dates have all too short a sum le Beaune et le Chianti sont-ils le même vin? In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum? mais on n’aurait pas vu le métropolitain Yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum la gémellité vraie accuse son destin A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb le métromane à force incarne le devin Soliloquies predict great things old chum mais rien ne vaut grillé le morceau de boudin Fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum toute chose pourtant doit avoir une fin The best of all things to an end must come

Convivium: A Sign of Coming Together

See https://www.convivium.ca/articles/special-collection-reader-poetry for a new poem, along with content from other writers as well.

Hacking Common Sense

With certain look and confidence,
Authoritatively commence
To override all innocence,
Dictating phony common sense.

Stand tall, talk slow, act like you know,
You learned it all so long ago,
Degrees or status ought to show
Where lesser mortals dare not go.

And just for measure add some lies
To cut the simple down to size:
Sophistication, it implies,
To baffle truth with your replies.

Now, condescending, to conclude,
Be clear that it would be quite rude,
Endangering your even mood,
Should listeners, with words, intrude.

Copyright (c) 2016, Reg Harbeck

Cat and Laser

I saw the light - a glimmer of something wonderful,
Beckoning me like a flame for a moth, 
Invoking my attention and sense of wonder,
Moving in a way that seemed to intentionally entice me.

I leapt to its location, craving its brilliance,
Wanting to catch and hold it,
But it was gone, bouncing just beyond my reach.

This time, I pounced before it could escape.
But when I lifted my paws, it had disappeared.

Over and over, the light appeared, and then escaped.
But I kept chasing it, because I knew it was for me.

Copyright (c) 2015 Reg Harbeck

Like/Unlike

I like to like the likes of you
And all the fun you post and do,
But some don't like the likes of me
Or that I like too liberally.

'Cause when I find that we're alike
In what you think or where you hike
Or something else that makes me smile,
I rarely pause to think a while...

Before I click, 'cause we do too...
At least, I'm rather likely to.
But now I've found, to my surprise,
Some likes, unlike my smiles, aren't wise.

I know, I learned, some time ago,
That harvesting of clicks can show
My details to folks I don't know,
So now I'm careful doing so.

And now, a new thing that I've learned:
"Too many likes" have sometimes turned
A friendship into being spurned
By those afraid of being burned.

Unlikely, though I would have thought,
I should like lightly, sometimes not
A single click - which ain't a lot -
Should dare be risked when things are fraught.

(Copyright (c) 2014 Reg Harbeck - all posts on this blog are Copyright (c) Reg Harbeck)

Step

Over twenty-five years, the life we built,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
Is cause for gratefulness, not guilt,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

The kids we raised, the home we grew,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
I shared so many joys with you,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

The years are now two and a third,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
Since you passed on and were interred,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

The hearbreak, pushback, loss and pain,
Step down, step back, step over, step up:
Sometimes I doubted I was sane,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

Step down, step back, step over, step up.

Step down, step back, step over, step up.

The time's now come to leave behind,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
Our car and house for peace of mind,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

You'll always be my first best love,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
But I'm below and you're above,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

I have not found my next love yet,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
And every effort's brought regret,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

But I will live while I can't die,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
Now please excuse me while I cry,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

Step down, step back, step over, step up.

Step down, step back, step over, step up.

I...

Step down, step back, step over, step up.

Step down, step back, step over, step up.

I'm not the man I thought I was,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
But I'll be more soon, just because,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

You're always on my mind and heart,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
So please pray for my brand new start,
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

Hello world, I now revive,
Step down, step back, step over, step up,
Just watch me live while I'm alive!
Step down, step back, step over, step up.

Step up, step up, step up, step up.

Flirting with Heaven

I stand above a precipice, legs shaking with the rush,
But know I cannot fall or jump: I'm waiting for a push,
Or, rather, for a pull and lift into a lofty flight
On angels' wings where I could never go with only might.

I've climbed here from the valley, though so much of me remains
Amid the darkest shadows and the forest of my pains.
I'm waiting for a sunrise that will bathe my heart and soul
In healing rays, evoking praise that I might be made whole.

O Heaven, won't you take me? I'm not asking to depart
From Earthly occupations if at least you'd take my heart.
The joy I know awaits me, with such joy I now await,
But nothing less placates me, til I'm taken by this fate.

The Widower's Manifesto

I will survive, and I will thrive; I won't forget I'm still alive:

I will endure the scorn and shame of those who think that I'm to blame,
And I'll forgive their hurtful role in adding to my heavy toll.

I will bounce back from every time I reach for help to find that I'm
Rejected and looked down upon as old and ugly, should be gone.

And when I seem invisible to those who never saw my role in helping keep my family whole,
And try to build my friendship too, to just be told I've passed my due,
Perhaps I'll cry and feel the pain, but always I'll reach out again to others who know me as me
And not just friend of family.

And in good time, when kids are gone, and I'm alone, I will move on,
Releasing all that holds me back, to find myself a brand new track.

I will survive, and I will thrive; I won't forget I'm still alive.

Occam the Ripper

(Listen at http://youtu.be/wQUqstzq9ys)

Top-down, pixellated, simplified, cut-and-dried

Lacerated, macerated, ground-and-milled, truly killed,

Occam made the complex fun by simplifying, but he's done

More harm than Monsieur Guillotine could manage with his sharp machine.

Gotta mention: good intentions paved the road that bears the load

Of symbols stored that represent reality without a dent

Which, having been idealized, left potent matter bowdlerized

And, being therefore sterilized, leaves nature's hopes unrealized.

Of course, old Bill of Ockham's goal was shaving off the heavy toll

Of hanging threads and fireless smoke to clarify of what we spoke,

And wise he was - for sure no fool - in bringing forth this handy tool,

But mightier than any sword, it left deep details unexplored.

And so we come to modern-day when cyber-simple is the way

We choose to see and think and play while telling nature, "go away."

We keep it simple, make it clear, detail's all we have to fear,

Until we try to rip apart our thinking from our beating heart.

This doesn't change the simple fact that Occam brought a strength we lacked,

But when it's used exclusively to measure all reality,

A hard-edged snapshot of a thought is all that's left - that's not a lot

Compared to beauty, joy and truth, the depth of age, the hope of youth.

So, shave with care, and don't forget: the universe has never yet,

By such heuristics, been exposed to total knowledge - it stays closed

With ever-deeper, fractal sides and mystery that still abides

And, should we shave the last detail, then we, and not the truth, would fail.

Wedding Poem

I wrote the following poem on November 10, 1985, in anticipation of meeting and marrying my wife. Two and a half months later, I started going out with Monica, whom I married on May 9, 1987. This poem was on the last page of the program for our wedding.

Twenty-five years later, in February of 2012, it was also on the last page of the program for Monica's funeral, and is now also on our shared headstone (see picture).

O Beautiful one who puts God first,
Whose love both causes and quenches my thirst,
It is with God, what I do with you,
As in your life, His light shines through,

For, as we hold each other and kiss,
Feeling what seems like eternal bliss,
I look at you and I realize:
I see my Lord when I look in your eyes.

Victim of Charity

He thought that they were caring,

Of their smiles and time so sharing,

But they always had an end,

So, when he started to depend

On the "you" he thought he knew,

He found a closed door, not a friend.

Quantum Praise

I resolved to pay attention to a glimmer from your eye

That made me think I saw a wink and wave as you passed by;

I measured my perception and a particle of fact

Became the information that my consciousness had lacked.

I offered my awareness of the message that you sent,

And took the risk of disambiguating what you'd meant.

I wanted to determine if your "yes" I'd ever know,

But doubted that your beauty, once distilled, could tell me so.

Pursuing ever deeper, I tried hard to tease apart

The substance of the figure that was calling to my heart.

I sought to differentiate your meaning for my brain,

But though I'd grasped your digits, I pursued your soul in vain.

Releasing, then, my need to know exactly where you stood,

I finally admitted, I just know that you are good,

And swoon from all the artistry I watch where you create,

While choosing praise and wonder for my role in our shared fate.

Free Will, God and the Last Horse

The tale is told of three young ranching heirs,
Who, from their father, each were to receive
A portion of his horses as their shares
In fractions they weren't sure how to retrieve.

A half, a third, a ninth they were assigned,
From seventeen, but how could they divide?
The implications left them in a bind,
Until a friend prevented equicide:

By adding in his horse to the corral,
The sons could now take nine and six and two,
And leave behind the horse brought by their pal
Which, absent from the answer, made it true.

Both God and free will resonate with this:
They make things work, despite all measures' miss.

The Singularity Murders

The shame, the lie that Heisenberg revealed,
That demographics made some advocate,
Which, to some well-known futurists, appealed,
But left the victims' status set to "late:"

They knew that, though they'd scanned a mind "in full,"
The measures of the deepest parts still hid,
And so the thoughts and acts diverged to null
For subjects of whose bodies they'd be rid.

But how to claim the transfer was complete,
If not to terminate the copied source?
So, though they fought, these humans met defeat,
Surrendering their lives to vision's force.

When cyberminds then failed, which none could save,
Their bodies cried for justice from the grave.

Room to Improve

Now I know what's wrong with you:

I've found a model that's exact,

That shows how you should be and do,

And highlights all the strengths you've lacked.

Now I judge the ways you're wrong:

Your gaps retreat from logic's lid.

I've set the standard, clear and strong,

That shows up faults you thought you'd hid.

I see your form, I watch you move,

My viewpoint gathers what you've meant;

I say there's room you can improve

To reach one hundred fixed per cent.

But, if you're smart or, better, wise,

You'll see my template's just a blade

That helps me cut you down to size,

And not a rule to be obeyed.

Negative Option Living

Positives cost money,

But negatives are free,

Leading to a funny

Way to have society:

When you earn a living,

All your income triggers tax;

Cut the fees you're giving,

And your savings can relax.

When you're feeling healthy

Or in any manner gifted,

You'd better keep it stealthy;

Suffer and such rules are lifted.

So, it seems, successes,

Like a ball and chain, are dragging;

Failures' great excesses,

Though, allow for too much bragging.

'Tis thus that each example

That our culture lets us give

Is how to not be ample

But with negatives to live.

Virtual Eyes

When I'm looking at you, I see

Through façades, past all of your lies;

You've become transparent to me,

For I look through virtual eyes.

Google, Facebook, LinkedIn and blogs

Show a person you cannot hide;

Emails, archives, mobile phone logs:

Telling truths about which you've lied.

Data mining multiplies these:

Programs mix and match and conclude

Things the human eye never sees,

Thus to sunder your solitude.

Where amidst this data are you?

Does this knowledge make me more wise?

Many views emerge, old and new:

Facets seen by virtual eyes.

An Acrostic Alliterative Valentine's Day Limerick I wrote in 1992

Like laughter, love lightens life's loads,
Occasioning overjoyed odes;
Voiced Valentine's views,
Exchanged, each enthuse:
Romance repairs rough, ruined roads.

Euparanoia

Whenever I put "eu" first,

It brings out the best in a word.

Thus, "paranoid" is reversed

Where this prefixing sound is heard.

So, welcome, o euparanoid,

You'll be happy if you would,

The goodness in "eu" now deployed,

Suspect folks are up to good!

Serious

"Serious" loses utility

When it hinders adaptability.

Mischief

Ah, MIS, I C U R

A TLA for management

Of information systems far

More than a prefix, as you're meant.

And yet, computers can be fun

And managing them could be too,

So "MIS Chief" is my pun

For what good CIO's should do.

Net Minder

I'm a brain-in-vat

That's connected to the Net,

And I think that that

Is as vast as I can get.

Now, you need not doubt

That my body once was flesh,

Till I wore it out;

Now my brain lives in a mesh.

There are many things

Keeping me awake at nights,

Such as ponderings

On my claims to human rights.

For, instead of arms,

I can use the Net to reach.

But, if someone harms

My connection, what's the breach?

And, I don't need legs

If I want to move around

Cyberspace, which begs

Questions about where I'm found.

My essential quest

Is for my identity

So I'll never rest

Till I know what's part of me.

The Impossible Machine

How do you do what can't be done

When no one knows the way?

Here's an approach that's lots of fun

And turns hard work to play.

First, you imagine a machine

That simply can't exist:

Does the impossible, I mean;

Results that then persist!

Next, you believe that it can make

The thing you want to own;

Think of the outcome, now, and take

New insights you've been shown.

Build on those thoughts, and you will see

New ways to optimize

And make what you want more easily;

Then do, and claim your prize!

Condescention

Condescention's not a price

That should be paid for acting nice.

Polymorphic Doubularity

If they made a copy of my thinking mindIf, upon my death, they took my brain, now brinedIf they took my conscious - left my skull a rind -If they wrung from me what counts as humankindIf they scanned my body, being so inclined,If they built an image of all I've opinedIf they read my thoughts and made a shadow mind

Then dropped it on a robot built to be like meThen put it in a virtual facilityThen poured it in a simulator, totallyThen used it for a Frankenstein's vitalityThen built an avatar with great fidelity

But left my body whole, I wonder if they'd findAnd then destroyed my birth self, could I ever findWhich, then, controlled my body, might it even find

A quick divergence in my personality?A virtual cartoon of my identity?The electronic transfer was a travesty?That Heisenberg left far too much uncertainty?That incompleteness was this journey's destiny?I lost some rights but gained in my humanity?I gained some days but lost in my humanity?Beside myself, I'd reached a doubularity?
My consciousness evaporated utterly?
The need to have a backup made preemptively?
My duplicates and clones exploded virally?

Points

A line that's straight connects two points;

We learn this in geometry.

And yet, much shorter than this route

Is God's unbound infinity.

Now, infinitely intimate,

If God is love as well, one finds

The shortest path between two selves

Is love, which touches all it binds.

Fractal Frontiers

A person, a language, a culture, a cell:

They each, with integrity, act like a whole,

While being a subset with others as well:

A system, or holon - a thing with a role.

When system meets system, a third will emerge:

A complex relationship dance of details,

From their interaction, to help them converge,

Or be what's not working when anything fails.

This third system's fractal, and by that I mean

Simplicity's missing from how it behaves:

It's endless, a journey that can't be foreseen,

Down pathways and side roads that nobody paves.

Now systems like language and numbers and law,

Synthetic, with purpose, when optimized may

Diverge from this value, revealing a flaw;

So constant correction's required lest they stray.

Other Accidents

A major cause of accidents

And unexpected happenstance,

Is often unforeseen events

Occurring, also, just by chance.

So often, in our daily lives,

We look to causes and effects

That simplify how life arrives,

Avoiding what no one expects.

This isn't how the universe

Behaves, however: though the rules

That science finds, we may rehearse,

Still anti-patterns make us fools.

A nail, a shoe, a horse, a car,

Each follow physics as they work,

But none will take you very far

When sidelined by some unknown quirk.

If At First

If at first you don't succeed,

Then try a different way;

Not to call the first defeat,

But, rather, that you may

Keep your focus on your goal,

And not be led astray.

Worst Before

"Best Before" is stamped on food

And other things that aren't alive,

But such descriptions don't include

The living, who can grow and thrive.

Indeed, my life has been a trip

Of seeking wisdom, friends and laughter,

As I slowly build my grip,

To reach the date when I'm "best after!"

Cereal Innovation

They say the mother of invention is necessity.

Well, I support this old contention uncontestably:

I had some pasta sauce, you see, which nukes in no time flat,

But instant pasta, made for me, takes much too long for that.

So, round and round my mind did go to help me innovate,

Until the humble Cheerio became the grain I ate.

It seems the composition of this breafast-focused food

Gives it the instant properties, with sauce, to suit the mood!

Am I Your Type?

If I were an A plus or even A minus

I'd feel like a scholar among all the finest.

If I were a B, either minus or plus

I'd feel like the testing was worth all the fuss.

And, if plus or minus, at least I were AB

I'd know I was special to somebody's baby.

But all that I am is a simple type O,

Still, if I were minus, I'd, anywhere, go!

Positive RH is my factor, though,

Yet, someone out there can still use me, I know.

By now, I am sure that, the context, you've guessed:

If you donate your blood, every type is the best!

Permanently Temporary

For permanent perfection

We often seem to strive;

This smooth and simple fiction

Eludes us while alive.

But while we seek the stable

Our lives continue on,

Achieving what we're able

With means to soon be gone.

A funny thing occurs, though:

The perfect flees away,

While temporary things go

On growing every day.

It seems the world we live in

Is simply too complex

To ever really give in

To "shoulds" that end in wrecks.

But things that aren't important

Enough to rigidly

Stay fixed, or even dormant,

Adapt successfully.

Humpty Chickly

Humpty Chickly had a great shell;

Humpty Chickly loved, there, to dwell,

Till, all of a sudden,

She had to rebel,

And pecked it to pieces; then, lived her life, well.

no gods

Our finitude affinity

Leads us to give, too easily,

Our undivided loyalty

To things rife with infirmity.

For, relative and small are we,

With hearts that crave infinity

And souls persisting, context-free,

That seek a true authority.

And so, we seek and surrogate

Our own inventions; we can't wait

To transfer blame while mocking fate

By serving something we create.

Yet, one in zero are the odds

That we'd discover finite gods

Deserving of our serving lauds;

All such pretenders are just frauds.

Frontiers of Credibility

I don't know and I don't care,

And I don't want to waste my time

Failing to accept your dare

To give an answer that's sublime.

Have you ever felt that way?

It seems, some times, that everyone

Has felt temptation to betray

Integrity for speed or fun.

And yet, there is another side

That competence, extreme, may show:

Respect and input are denied

To any but those "in the know."

Consequentially, it seems,

While experts may defend the truth,

BS'ers spread their fertile memes

So public discourse stays uncouth.

The Internet and Wiki age

Appears to bring a brand new dawn

As information turns the page

But human nature carries on...

When all that's known is on the net

And vetted by the widest crowd,

How likely is it, we'll forget

BS by sharing truth aloud?