DAILY PHOTO: Rocky Shore, Yehliu
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PROMPT: Crazy Business
Well, as we all know that voice-activated “digital assistants” (e.g. Siri and Alexa,) have both become insanely popular that they and spy on you around the clock, gathering information to sell to “big data” marketing firms, I propose a service that would involve coming to your house and making noises and statements that would turn the collected “information” into disinformation. The best part is, the package could be tailored to your desires and preferences. If you’re a milquetoast person but don’t like that reputation, you could get the Orgy Pack which would make your house sound like a non-stop bacchanal. If you’re really a mobster, there could be the sounds of meetings to set up a church bingo night. The possibilities are endless.
Remember, until the Robot Uprising, don’t let yourself be punked by the machines. Subscribe to DISINFORMATION DAILY today.
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“The Flea” by John Donne [w/ Audio]
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.
Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that, self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st and say that thou
Find'st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;
"Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
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Riverbed Reveal [Haiku]
gray day river --
the exposed riverbed
shows only by tracks
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DAILY PHOTO: Taipei from the 101
Through the Gate, Gladly [Free Verse]
Gates remain
long after the walls
have fallen.
People pass through
when they could just
go around.
There's something to
treading the path
of ancestors,
Or maybe they just crave
the claustrophobic
squeeze.
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“The Darkling Thrush” by Thomas Hardy [w/ Audio]
I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written in terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.
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PROMPT: Youthful Attachments
Daily writing prompt
Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?
I had a guitar, a black and white Fender Stratocaster knock-off. [Actually, technically, I don’t think it was a knock-off, but rather the lowest of low-end mass-produced Strats made by a subsidiary of Fender, Squier.] What happened to it? I realized I was tone deaf and lacked the finger dexterity to be the sequel to Eddie Van Halen. So, ostensibly, it ended up donated or sold in a garage sale. There’s a small chance it’s taking up space in a closet somewhere, but not in my closet.
Not to reveal a pattern, but I also had a yellow and blue BMX bike that I was quite fond of. What happened to it? I learned that I lacked the flight characteristics to be a great BMX racer (or possibly I rode it until it fell apart into its component pieces.) Youth was a long time ago.
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Drunken Immortal [Senryū]
where drunken immortals
are role models, one must
expect the odd dragon.
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Choosy [Haiku]
a butterfly flits
over blooms: a connoisseur
not deigning to land.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 