Enter Poet, clutching a sonnet: ‘The checker says I’m guilty. See, it flagged my rhyme as machine!!’
Podcaster nods sagely: ‘It is not your imagination; it is proof the robots haunt our dreams.’
Audience gasps: 'That’s NOTHing. SHAKEspeare ALso ONCE acCUSED – / preDICTable Iambs, GROSS susPIcious RUSE!'
Poet protests: ‘I swear it’s quill and ink, not silicon and code …’
Checker blinks, statistical gears grinding: ‘Patterns resemble algorithmic load.’
While phubbing, critic whispers: ‘False positives thrive where meter marches tight.’
Podcaster grins: ’Ignorance sells—truth is dull, paranoia bites.’
Poet sighs: ‘Convenient shield, this oracle of error—‘
Exasperated, Curtain falls: ‘Disinformation thrives when denial meets terror.’
From the wings, Thomas Gray’s quietly haunting voice: ‘Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise.’*
______________________________________________________________________________________________
*From the final stanza of Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College, by Thomas Gray (1716–71).
the Heart wants what it wants
~
Individualistic unrivaled wants
Tempting desires into needs
Defying the mind its logistics
Reinventing discarded feelings
Unto someone / something new
Hand in hand - words & action
How far-off will "delusion" go
How slow will integrity show
Rigid essence of the person
In morality & their principals
The once frowned upon red
Has now been flagged green
Do away the self-abiding rules
Based on likeability & the who
See red and only logic will reign
See green & everything's serene
The sure way to its death is passion
And lack in continued preservation
Eventful ache or a new resurrection
The heart's desire its only sanction
living in snow-capped Boulder was Mrs. G. Golder
Her personality persnickety and colder
fourteen juicy pepper jack cheeseburgers would not hold her
Six candy bars too, Mrs. Molder whispered to my pal Soldier
Mrs. Molder was a snoopy neighbor of Golder
None of us ventured to guess which crone was older
Their birth certificates flagged inside a red folder
Kept by the F.B.I. in weather that was colder
What’s your guess? My sister asked, nudging my shoulder
I guessed Mrs. Molder, but my sister argued it was Mrs. G. Golder
To find the answer, we broke into the F.B.I. office in Boulder
Discovered they were twins; it was unclear which one was older.
The Crown,
Where roost the winged idyllic dream
Diadem of power and the eternal gleam
Worn aloft the heart and mind
Marking such wayward vessels refined
Raising awareness of a being ascended
Today and henceforth befitting of a throne
No longer the stuff of mere flesh and bone
But the whim of divine law descended
Transcending mortal throw
Beacon of the people's heart
Banner of the people's mind
Flagged Pinnacle of their highest hope
The almighty triadic circlet of kings
Where sleeps the rarer compassion of loving queens
Carrying the weighty burden of prosperity
Bearing it ever forward and into eternity
The gods are online today,
Updating their laws like software patches,
Fixing glitches in heaven while we glitch on earth,
Typing commandments no one reads,
Uploading sermons no one feels.
They scroll through prayers like spam emails,
Ignore the bleeding body in the dirt,
Reward the loudest liars,
And punish the quiet truth.
In their group chats,
They laugh at those like me —
Broken ribs, broken voice, broken trust —
Another ticket closed,
Another sinner "served."
The village bows to their screens,
Worships the edits, fears the updates,
And I,
I am just a bug in their system,
Flagged for deletion because I dared defend myself.
My innocence is offline,
My pain is offline,
Only the image matters here:
The curated guilt,
The viral shame.
The gods are online —
But none of them are listening.
Low Emission zone disinformation..Is a factor on sinage
Thats the situation.' First a magistrate in Bedford flagged
Not fine, these signs that have ruined life for many.' Also
Wasted so much time.' Yesterday Noel Wilcox, Royally won'
At the so named courts in London judgement on veracity I
See it had to come.' So now if you've been hit no matter
Where you are from.' You can obtain a refund, maybe to
Spend on having fun? Like driving to London.' Just to see
The sights.? Oh and I do hope we are soon rid of all that
That extra metal signage.' Thats really an unsightly blight !
Wandering the two in between the kingdoms
One side, quiet and bright, flagged the havens
The other, earthly world, noisy and light dim
Drifting up or down when the moody flow faint
To brightness fly and blurring dim fall
Somewhere belonging may lack for souls
Quiescent and chaos changed as tides floated
Uneasy and wobbly similar to traveling boats
Up or down, with straw sticks grasping
Steering wheel holding for the time clouds
Time goes likewise the seagulls chasing
From starting point to the place anchor
Heart awaits longly for people nauseating
While mind gonna sparks be star exciting
There was Santa making his rounds
ten nights early, dashing about town
Neighbors chased him, in hot pursuit
but Santa was finished dispersing his loot
They flagged him down at a neighborhood bar
protesting his behavior so bizarre
What was he doing December 14, out and about?
Holding up his hand, as he downed another shot
Smiling Santa said, “Enough of ‘chimney-irritation,’
This Christmas I’m in Florida on vacation.”
Ecstatic eye of night
thoughts tangled tangent
tint of orange moon
slivers were just hazy
incipient learned launch
as the querulous quirk
indented ingress idly
still desperate to capture
though less likely
lavishness connoting mood
human forest focal point
I dream in dribbles soppy
though never flagged yet
as futile aspiration amid
hues strictly night bound
might benefit wistfully
when strident slumber
indigenous to townscape
has its muted rippled
riddle not tactfully
resolved due to blind
daylight tinctured template
aroused by the clangour
of mint medley lure of
Arcadia circus dangle
of inchoate promise known
as crystal carrot jewellery
box whose flecks fly a riot
before the milling cluster
who wantonly wonder
at collapsing fortress inside
whilst rugged resilience
that tower block of prime
revitalised endeavour bent
on a fantasy forage with
disposition a pointless block
though underbody wobbles
if left without the widest
custodial watch of the self
one might be elated finally
I couldn’t print my boarding pass-
See Agent’s what it said.
When I got it at the airport,
In the corner was, instead
Of the TSA Pre-check in print
Upon my husband’s form,
A mysterious S-S-S-S,
Not certainly the norm.
Our first flight late, we barely did
Connect to JFK.
At boarding, though, we both got flagged -
Bad things pile up that way.
My spouse got cleared but as for me,
I needed one more search
And wondered what would happen
If they left me in the lurch.
It’s awful feeling challenged
Like you’ve somehow done some wrong
And you aren’t welcome in the place
You know that you belong.
I’m writing this while in the air
But wonder, when I land,
If I’ll go through this twice
For reasons I don’t understand.
Being so awfully insecure
among confident people
seems ridiculous and brittle;
I'm very humble by nature,
it will not take me anywhere:
I'll end up gathering crumbs!
I'm too stubborn, still refusing to pay
for these silly and shameful faults;
I would cry out loud to feel anger,
not sit at a corner counting doubts!
I should blame you instead, dear:
because I'm getting hit hard by reality!
I won't cry on your shoulder, just be forgiving
when I seek some empathy, it's too humiliating;
if a man cries is because is a liar when he swears:
he'd rather carry inside silly and shameful faults!
Admit that you've been constantly cheating,
sneaking out at night while I was sleeping;
you dropped a sleeping pill in my Martini,
snuck out and flagged down a yellow taxi!
These silly and shameful faults
have given me sleepless nights;
don't kiss me to cover up the ugly truth:
it's a parody not as sweet as Baby Ruth!
Bleeding from the head
I pushed the chair
In front of the door
Until I didn’t hear you no more
Banging and yelling
I wished you’d leave
Rubbing my tummy
Sick like morning
Standing on the balcony
Bruise on my thigh
Standing in my towel
When the door smashes
I panic
Falling down
I hit the snow
Something cracked
But I crawl
I limp
I run
Barefoot
Freezing at the toes
Flagged a car
It was blue
Then here you come
But I get in
We drive away
Seeing you from the rearview
I had to take a breath
I wanted to wave
To flip you off
Didn’t expect to see
My arm was broken
We drove and drove
I knew this was the end
12:32 a.m.
and you never saw me again.
Rolling clouds over rolling hills.
Kentucky is winding it roads out in endless curves.
No hurry,
this journey drives me
through its curling landscape
as a self-reading picture book of racial memories.
Born in a far way place, I feel rooted now
to these unfolding boonies and hollers,
backwoods and backroad, places
that speak to my very bones.
A small town ahead, a clapperboard store
a gas station and a 7-11. Despite being modern
they have that tumbledown structure
that is native to these rural backwaters.
The shanty tilt of well-worn porches,
dusty front yards flagged with
the fading banners of old glory.
The sun will be going down soon,
I'm driving slow, meandering into a history
I recognize as my own.
The fields are threaded with deer
as evening paints the gleaming creeks gold.
I'm told
that perfection is a pocketsize piece of scenery
no one has discovered yet,
a place just right, one just now
appearing as my memorable soul.
The urge to travel,
to spread your wings and fly away,
never rooted to one spot.
never spotted on a route.
signpost now defunct,
map a feeble pointer,
direction only by one’s nose.
Intuition in ascendence,
as day and night blur anaemic edges.
Fleet of foot dream chaser,
never-ending sequence,
is chaotically just that.
Event foreman cast,
in a starry-eyed plot,
script writer of their own unique journey,
stagecoach vagrant from,
a who-knows-where platform,
speed bump skipper on a blind course,
taking the "lie" of the land.
In every sense a false scents,
trailblazer has a life of their own,
but tragically a life that both owns,
and disowns them in "equal" measure.
Time-lapse photographer flagged,
by ephemera but doesn't notice,
loop by loop square off,
under amber moonlight passage.
faraway green seeker,
bereft of halting site,
with no stop off in between,
momentum the only resting place
Warsaw 1940 certain inhabitants designated
A health risk were ordered to strip naked
Had to shower to become clean this ploy
Caused public humiliation, and showed
Dominence there was also mass quarrantine
Also to your own house that was
Useless in its 'so called mission'
And in fact caused a rise in infection
As the immune systems of people
Lowered due to length of confinement
this was a take on the tried and
Tested method (the public heakth emergancy)
Pioneered earlier that decade in Germany
In declaring a public health emergency i think
In 1933?, this enabled opening the way for martial law
Which was the springboard hitler craved to get
Complete control of the German populace
Any person of Germanic nationality over the age
Of forty years in age, should be able to validate
These events as also george psoriasus and
klaus the louse would be emminently qualified
To so do.' At this moment in the UK a rise in
Typhoid cases is being flagged up by the health
Department..
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