Long Cut across Poems
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McCaffrey, a champion golfer in his own mind
All bluster and bull, you know the kind
Like the fisherman who’s big one’s always got away
He will never change, even at the end of the day
One-day last autumn, maybe at the end of the summer
Anyway, for McCaffrey it turned out to be a bummer
Playing eighteen holes in the championship match
Tried to look good playing off scratch
Everything went smoothly out on the first nine
Holed out the thirty six in thirty nine
Out on the tenth all went to pot
He hit a large Kangaroo with his driving shot
Retrieving the ball was a bit of a disaster
The Roo decided to show him who was the master
Up with his legs, catches McCaffrey off balance, and unsteady
When he should have been aware of the danger, been at the ready
A painful kick in the groin had the golfer down for the count
As the Kangaroo hoped off over a nearby grass, mount
McCaffrey now seething got into deep stress
How he finished eighteen holes is anybody’s guess
In the nineteenth hole, consuming drink like it was going out of fashion
Well oiled at closing time a home he went dashing
A cut across the course, striding out nicely, though a dark night
Tripped and fell into a bunker and went out like a light
The Ladies foursome the next morning, teed off at nine
A bright sunny day, everything fine
Arrived at the tenth, driver in hand had she
Mrs Montgomery walked up to the tee
With a good whack from her right hand, the ball was sent aloft
Came down with her ego, it fell in the bunker sand
A loud scream erupted and all heard around the course
A mouthful of expletives greeted the women as McCaffrey crawled out in full force
Mrs Montgomery as bad tempered as he
Took a swipe with a number nine iron right onto his knee
Swearing and cursing McCaffrey sloped away
Fortunately for him to fight another day
Nursing his ego, his groin and his knee
Arrived home hoping to get sympathy, and a nice cup of tee
But Mrs McCaffrey was waiting, and whack, McCaffrey had another bruise
With her frying pan in hand had no time for any excuse
Not impressed at all at her husbands night out
Her heading still aching, then there was the gout
From all the wine consumed the night before
For the rest of the day McCaffrey was ill, and felt rather sore
The sea shore, where thoughts become untied,
and the spirit yearns with its ebb and flow,
watching the sun cut across the horizon like a dull knife,
as the day moves through time to the color red.
There between amber light and rendered dark,
waves allow silence to dwell.
Asking the mind to describe the indescribable,
where senses are lost,
and welcomed scenes of birds silhouette across,
a rainbow sky bending to the horizon.
The coolness of wet sand wraps around the skin
as you glide through soft foam.
and the undulating of each wave wells up,
to end at the feet before pulling back,
leaving a sense of eternity.
To stay, to cross into twilight where stars beckon,
leaving trails upon the sky, as though a match was struck,
bring secrets woven by the moon's light,
dripping on the black water surface,
like a crown of crusted jewels to welcome a lonely traveler.
As the imprints left by the day wash out to sea.
Contest The Sea Shore
1/30/16
Screamin’ Bill Wilcox was quite a man,
Carved from a block of stone
With a face of leather, deeply tanned
And a voice you could hear in Rome.
A cow hand he was, best with a rop
Could ride both bull or stead,
Quick with a joke, quick with a laugh
Quicker still dealing with thieves.
One cold night on old Montana’s plain
The heard milled, restless, unsettled
Then ray when they heard a lone wolf’s howl,
A test to a puncher’s mettle.
Screaming Bill road out ahead hollering
His voice booming and proud
The cattle swerved in a moment’s spell
And Screamin’ Bill went down.
We found nothing much left of Bill
Just his trampled, yellow hat
We buried him with it, twas only right
Then rode, a herd to catch.
Month went by and the job rolled on,
Long hours for little pay,
And we rode out to green Idaho
A new herd to drive away.
One gray evening the clouds moved in
Lightning crashed across the land,
The cattle spooked, into a grand stampede
With thundering hooves they ran.
And I alone out in the great range
Was answering nature’s call,
Turned and saw a crush of steers
A writhing and churning wall…
Just then a men he cut across
Hollering out ‘This a-way!’
The cattle turned and charged at him,
But he whooped as if at play!
The next day found the heard amidst
A stretch of fertile grass,
Feeding quietly, quite content
No thought of the near past.
I road along to find the man
Who’d saved my life last night,
I found only a yellow hat,
Glinting in the sunlight.
The others they did cross themselves,
But on my face a smile played,
Because I knew right then, for all of time
Screamin’ Bill would ride the plains
Was just another BAU day
at Duesseldorf Uni
Lads in the IT room
playing minesweeper and internet spades
A few emails here and there
RE: IT Support Needed
I can't access my files
Something's wrong with Citrix
George stroke his beard
Screw it, must be stupid SMB
We should've stuck with UNIX
"Something's going on", said Emery
Anxiously searching Elastic
Things are starting to look encrypted
Gasps shouted across the room
As they stared at the long ransom note
Off went the not-so-classic ring tones
on the IT admins' work phones
Nicht das.. Nein!
Swear words dropped on the white bricks
As Emery ran across emergency
Notepad.exe open with bitcoin addresses
mocking her steps pass every screen
PA's buzzing, an ambulance redirected
The white van blazes towards Wuppertal
It's whole thirty kilometers
As the CRT screen rang
A white line cut across the missed murder
From a siren that never went
----------
In remembrance to the woman that died on September 9 2020, the first person that died directly due to a ransomware attack. She had to be redirected to a hospital in Wuppertal 19 miles (30 km) away and died in the ambulance on the way.
The Siren that never went was the network intrusion detected too late.
The IT department described is mostly fictional.
Glossary
BAU - Business As Usual
minesweeper and internet spades - games built-in to Windows XP
Citrix - popular and dirty commercial remote access software. It's remote code execution vulnerability allowed hackers to get in thousands of systems
SMB - Server Message Block, the protocol used by Microsoft Windows networks to share files
UNIX - A simple and secure operating system standard, implemented by BSD, MacOS, Solaris and some Linux distributions
Elastic - ElasticSearch, a search engine often used in the ELK stack (Elastic,Logstash,Kibana) to search events and data across different network endpoints
"Nicht das.. Nein!" - German for "not this.. no!"
Notepad.exe - the program often used to display ransomware notes by cyber criminals
bitcoin - a cryptocurrency that's hard to trace, often used by criminals to demand ransomware payments
Simple acts of kindness
Can turn the world around;
From dull and gray with little to say
To something far more profound.
The touch of a hand says, “I understand
The pain you must be feeling.
I’m here by your side
Even when you can’t hide
From all life’s difficult dealings.”
A telephone ring can make a soul sing
And dance by the light of the moon;
Unexpected measures are priceless treasures,
Anyone will do.
A card in the mail like billowed sails
Of a ship on open seas;
Can make new friends all over again
Despite endless miles between.
A simple act of kindness
A smile, a look or a song;
Can make life more bearable
And right some hurtful wrongs.
Uplifting gestures of humanity
Cut across party lines;
No one has a monopoly it seems,
On the goodness in hearts and minds.
One simple act of kindness
No matter when or where,
Can change a soul from cold steel to gold
By saying that we care.
Mind often makes a circuitous pilgrimage
Sliding down and going up the banisters of time
As I hear the grating sound of worn stairs behind
Memories come darting in and out of shadows
From childhood’s flamboyant days
Mind scuttles between the past and the present
Skipping over the bliss of buoyant youth
To life’s present weary days and to the future
Life’s train has sadly changed its track
Years, like torn pages have flown away
But the frivolous inner child pines
Obstinately for all that once held dear
I remember having run over plains n’ paddy fields
Trying to cut across their widening margins
Brushing past brambles and thickets
To chase butterflies that came to molest the lovely blooms
How I went on a search to meet the winged seraphs
That I heard, sang in chorus in Heaven’s gilded halls
Looked for God, amid scurrying clouds,
To slay the ghosts, I believed, hidden in my closet
I remember my youth of squandered passions
When I scrawled love’s graffiti on my mind’s wall
And carried my beloved’s picture in my mind
So flawless that no artist could ever conspire to alter.
Now I constantly wage a losing battle
Against forces that threaten to take away my calm
All I see is pain, death and human suffering
And life sadly getting lost in meaningless strife
Age has burdened me with a deadly weight
Fastening chains on my once supple feet
All I pray is – Don’t let me be a burden to anyone
And give me a mindset to accept all that comes my way
--------------------------------
April.13. 2023
Open Poetry. 6. Poetry Contest
Sponsor. Charlotte Puddifoot
I have a question for you
Would you like
To skate with me
To roll down the avenue?
We could be like the famous blue hedgehog
Running miles
Dashing onwards at the speed of light
From the top of the Green Hill
Down to the glimmering seafront
We’ll cut across the cityscape
Eagerly searching for thousands of shimmering gems
That touch every hue of the rainbow
And fill the sky with a radiant glow
And we can stay like this
From the first spark of sunrise
To the last trace of sunset
Until the day gives way
To an endless starry night
A breathtaking sight
Of glistering blue lights
Just another day of obstructions, heartless
souls, lack of communication on a daily. Obstructions
of gridlock. at a crossroad, at a crossroad, at a crossroad.
Around the corner cut across to abandonment, made a
left turn to mistrust swerved right to divorce while
approaching slander at a intersection. gotta find my way
back, gotta find my way back.
Should it be suggested the world seems to be so distorted?
trying to find one's way back, from these sign posts and
roadblocks and gridlocks.
A day of sudden changes.Clouds
cross the sky
like whales swimming North in rows.
The sun was bright,dazzled my eyes
with gold and silver.
Wind cut across my face
like a slap from an angry father..
Those who love can also seem to hate us too..
The lure of that small childish body
tempts them to divert their anger towards it.
When the ones who hurt you
are also the ones you love,
it’s hard to know which direction to run in;
but it usually turns into a circle.
Retreating turns into a new arrival.
Straight lines might be better. though
On a spherical earth
difficult to find.
Even parallel lines meet
In their Riemannian geometry.
So we can never get away
Sometimes the best we manage
Is to increase the circle’s radius.
Though how is hard to know.
Do you love me or hate me?
Do you want me to stay or go?
What do I want?Do I have a me?
The memory of warmth draws me back
Like a cold lonely beast leaving the jungle
To lie down with a what appears to be a lamb,
Surprising the farmer up early to milk his animals
Finding a strange new one
Looking with tender,puzzled eyes
into His Human Face.
I ate thru the pages of my own book,
Whose title is experience and held three chapters.
By phaze one I saw life was fun & everyone loved me.
Called every woman mother, every uncle father
& the toothy ancestors. Better days.
I saw everyone giggling, cheering, no face masks.
They all loved to call me fairy pseudonyms & I didn't mind.
So I skip through a little further.
Here now I notice only very
few people care about me, like just mum , dad & playmates.
It's more fun though & with plenty of scolding.
Momma hit Me on my butty said I was such a nutty & I cry little.
Dada stared at Me from the balcony, but didn't show any beep,
just a poker fellow he wore on his face.
Here everybody wanted me read but i didn't really like books.
Later found out that books needed be eaten to regurgitate wisdom.
So I climbed to phaze two with rocky baggage to carry to the
wisdom bank, plenty exams to write.
To the stream, sometimes with a medium size clay pot on my skinny
head, to fetch the home life with peers, while often playing
along the bush path, that cut across scented leaves. While the nightingales, hover around our heads, hanging on tree branches singing sweetly