Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Neo-Post-Colonial Artificial Intelligence Deconstructed - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
All intelligence is artificial
We do not huddle in burrows, issuing forth
Only to chase down other living things
Beat them to death, drink their blood, and eat them
We moderns huddle in cubes above the ground
With indoor plumbing through pipes that sometimes freeze
While we are gazing, searching for lost truths
In glowing screens made in slave-labor camps
And we have stopped slaughtering other creatures -
We have machines to do that for us now
mhall46184@aol.com
Neo-Post-Colonial Artificial Intelligence Deconstructed
All intelligence is artificial
We do not huddle in burrows, issuing forth
Only to chase down other living things
Beat them to death, drink their blood, and eat them
We moderns huddle in cubes above the ground
With indoor plumbing through pipes that sometimes freeze
While we are gazing, searching for lost truths
In glowing screens made in slave-labor camps
And we have stopped slaughtering other creatures -
We have machines to do that for us now
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Little Plastic Army Men in Action on a Snow Day - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
If I were a boy
I’d range my toy soldiers before the fire
Vast armies of plastic in green and grey
With the cannon blasting the enemy -
A glorious victory again today!
If I were a boy
I’d eat my morning cereal with Robin Hood
Propped up in his Whitman book before me
Its pages open to an England where
Every day is summer, green upon the lea
If I were a boy
My mother would remind me, to my sorrow
That I have a ‘rithmetic test tomorrow
mhall46184@aol.com
Little Plastic Army Men in Action on a Snow Day
If I were a boy
I’d range my toy soldiers before the fire
Vast armies of plastic in green and grey
With the cannon blasting the enemy -
A glorious victory again today!
If I were a boy
I’d eat my morning cereal with Robin Hood
Propped up in his Whitman book before me
Its pages open to an England where
Every day is summer, green upon the lea
If I were a boy
My mother would remind me, to my sorrow
That I have a ‘rithmetic test tomorrow
Monday, January 15, 2018
About that False Alarm in Hawaii... - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Flare light
Flare bright
First flare I see tonight
I wish I may
I wish I might
Not be blown to death tonight
Subtle beep
Subtle beep
‘wakening me from my sleep -
Oh, no! I’m going to die!
Not meeeeeee! Don’t wanna fry!
It’s all about ME – boo-hoo!
Poor ME! Poor ME! I’m gonna SUE!
mhall46184@aol.com
I. From a Vietnamese / Cambodian / Egyptian / Israeli / Lebanese /
Sudanese / Syrian / Afghan Child’s Garden of Verses
Flare light
Flare bright
First flare I see tonight
I wish I may
I wish I might
Not be blown to death tonight
II. From an American Man’s Twooter of Self-Pity
Subtle beep
Subtle beep
‘wakening me from my sleep -
Oh, no! I’m going to die!
Not meeeeeee! Don’t wanna fry!
It’s all about ME – boo-hoo!
Poor ME! Poor ME! I’m gonna SUE!
Sunday, January 14, 2018
A Take Away from the Take Away Steak Fingers - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
King Henry II: Forks?
Thomas Becket: Yes, from Florence. New little invention. It's for pronging meat and carrying it to the mouth. It saves
you dirtying your fingers.
King Henry II: But then you dirty the fork.
Thomas Becket: Yes, but it's washable.
King Henry II: So are your fingers. I don't see the point.
Encapsulated in bivalves of foam
As bottom feeders in the fast-food chain
Small fragments of a poor dead cow, chopped, shaped
And formed into cow fingers that are not
For it behooves the diner thus to know
That cows haven’t any fingers at all
But the dear diner does, and digitally
Renders the cow fingers as nutrition
And that is all there is about cow fingers -
Not a topic on which the gourmet lingers
mhall46184@aol.com
A Take Away from the Take Away Steak Fingers
King Henry II: Forks?
Thomas Becket: Yes, from Florence. New little invention. It's for pronging meat and carrying it to the mouth. It saves
you dirtying your fingers.
King Henry II: But then you dirty the fork.
Thomas Becket: Yes, but it's washable.
King Henry II: So are your fingers. I don't see the point.
-Becket, 1964
Encapsulated in bivalves of foam
As bottom feeders in the fast-food chain
Small fragments of a poor dead cow, chopped, shaped
And formed into cow fingers that are not
For it behooves the diner thus to know
That cows haven’t any fingers at all
But the dear diner does, and digitally
Renders the cow fingers as nutrition
And that is all there is about cow fingers -
Not a topic on which the gourmet lingers
Saturday, January 13, 2018
...Who Gives Joy to my Youth - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
A child thinks joy is all about the child
And so it is. And maybe an old man feels
That joy just isn’t for him anymore
To kneel his creaking joints before the truth
But it is
A wise man knows that he is still a child
An infant playing before the cave of winds
A Moses borne upon the ancient Nile
A shivering youth stepping into the Jordan
Though the lad be strong and the man be frail
Both are joyful children at the altar rail
mhall46184@aol.com
…Who Gives Joy to my Youth
Introibo ad altare Dei. Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam.
I will go in to the altar of God: to God who giveth joy to my youth.
-Daily Missal, 1962
For Brother Simon
A child thinks joy is all about the child
And so it is. And maybe an old man feels
That joy just isn’t for him anymore
To kneel his creaking joints before the truth
But it is
A wise man knows that he is still a child
An infant playing before the cave of winds
A Moses borne upon the ancient Nile
A shivering youth stepping into the Jordan
Though the lad be strong and the man be frail
Both are joyful children at the altar rail
Friday, January 12, 2018
"Did Y'all Read About Those Chips in the Bible?" - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
“Did y’all read about those chips in the Bible?
Yessir, they got these chips now, and we ain’t
Gonna be able to buy or sell nothing
Without these here chips in our bodies
The C.I.A., some of those people got’em,
Yessir, and you ain’t going to the grocery store
And buyin’ nothin’ without ‘em. I read
Where it’s in th’ Bible, and, yessir, it is
Me, I’m standin’ on th’ World of th’ Lord
And I ain’t havin’ no chip put in, nossir”
mhall46184@aol.com
“Did Y’all Read About Those Chips in the Bible?”
In the Supermarket Checkout Line
“Did y’all read about those chips in the Bible?
Yessir, they got these chips now, and we ain’t
Gonna be able to buy or sell nothing
Without these here chips in our bodies
The C.I.A., some of those people got’em,
Yessir, and you ain’t going to the grocery store
And buyin’ nothin’ without ‘em. I read
Where it’s in th’ Bible, and, yessir, it is
Me, I’m standin’ on th’ World of th’ Lord
And I ain’t havin’ no chip put in, nossir”
Thursday, January 11, 2018
"Go Inside Your Houses, Please" - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
“Sorry, that page doesn’t exist!”1 You are
Well advised not to ask questions about
What happened here. Just move along;
There was never anything to see here.
“Go inside your houses, please. All these people
will be taken care of.”2 “You can search Twitter
using the search box below or return
to the home page.”1 Go inside your screens, please
All this awkwardness will be taken care of
Go inside your screens, please. Go inside. Please.
1 NBC
2 Doctor Zhivago, 1965
mhall46184@aol.com
“Go Inside Your Houses, Please.”
“Sorry, that page doesn’t exist!”1 You are
Well advised not to ask questions about
What happened here. Just move along;
There was never anything to see here.
“Go inside your houses, please. All these people
will be taken care of.”2 “You can search Twitter
using the search box below or return
to the home page.”1 Go inside your screens, please
All this awkwardness will be taken care of
Go inside your screens, please. Go inside. Please.
1 NBC
2 Doctor Zhivago, 1965
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
What Do You Take in Your Coffee Enema? - column
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
A famous actress – let us call her Ms. Coffee – suggests a somewhat different way of taking one’s morning cuppa.
Is there something wrong with the way we take our coffee now?
Coffee is a celebration of humanity. The morning cup of reveille pleasantly eases us from the happiness of sleep and into a quiet determination to make the work day a brilliant success.
The driver packs his Thermos along with his bills of lading, the office or factory worker takes ten for a recharge with others around the table in the break room, the copper takes a break from patrol down at the Stop ‘N’ Rob, retirees cluster at the supermarket coffee table every morning around nine, the Navy chief petty officer is out of uniform without his paws grasping a coffee cup, and the Air Canada cabin attendant dutifully snarls to the passengers that there is no coffee.
From chalices of glass, ceramics, paper, foam, or plastic, drinking coffee or tea with co-workers and friends almost seems to constitute a rite of secular communion. Except on Air Canada, where there is no coffee, and how dare you ask.
Ms. Coffee, though, suggests that we should take our coffee through the other end of the alimentary canal.
This would probably displace the mirth (Macbeth III.iv.109) at the corner table. Or any table. “Well, hey, I’d better get back to the shop floor; that number three machine’s been acting wonky…”
Ms. Coffee alludes to the, um, assumption of coffee via the nether regions as a deep detoxification, a supercharge, and a whole lotta other stuff using buzzy words. Further, Ms. Coffee refers the reader to a site that for over a hundred dollars sells an appliance for this, um, experience.
The drugstore sells such medical appliances a whole lot cheaper. If you’re interested, that is.
Ms. Coffee’s own website is amusing – she’s even got a real, live shaman who shaves his head and looks all spiritual and stuff – and she’s got lots of pills and merchandise to sell you, and she is herself that famous metaphorical picture of health.
But – with one t – we are all well-advised to visit a nurse-practitioner or physician for our health care needs, not a website.
And, hey, how do you take your coffee?
mhall46184@aol.com
How Do You Take Your Coffee?
A famous actress – let us call her Ms. Coffee – suggests a somewhat different way of taking one’s morning cuppa.
Is there something wrong with the way we take our coffee now?
Coffee is a celebration of humanity. The morning cup of reveille pleasantly eases us from the happiness of sleep and into a quiet determination to make the work day a brilliant success.
The driver packs his Thermos along with his bills of lading, the office or factory worker takes ten for a recharge with others around the table in the break room, the copper takes a break from patrol down at the Stop ‘N’ Rob, retirees cluster at the supermarket coffee table every morning around nine, the Navy chief petty officer is out of uniform without his paws grasping a coffee cup, and the Air Canada cabin attendant dutifully snarls to the passengers that there is no coffee.
From chalices of glass, ceramics, paper, foam, or plastic, drinking coffee or tea with co-workers and friends almost seems to constitute a rite of secular communion. Except on Air Canada, where there is no coffee, and how dare you ask.
Ms. Coffee, though, suggests that we should take our coffee through the other end of the alimentary canal.
This would probably displace the mirth (Macbeth III.iv.109) at the corner table. Or any table. “Well, hey, I’d better get back to the shop floor; that number three machine’s been acting wonky…”
Ms. Coffee alludes to the, um, assumption of coffee via the nether regions as a deep detoxification, a supercharge, and a whole lotta other stuff using buzzy words. Further, Ms. Coffee refers the reader to a site that for over a hundred dollars sells an appliance for this, um, experience.
The drugstore sells such medical appliances a whole lot cheaper. If you’re interested, that is.
Ms. Coffee’s own website is amusing – she’s even got a real, live shaman who shaves his head and looks all spiritual and stuff – and she’s got lots of pills and merchandise to sell you, and she is herself that famous metaphorical picture of health.
But – with one t – we are all well-advised to visit a nurse-practitioner or physician for our health care needs, not a website.
And, hey, how do you take your coffee?
-30-
If Sneezes were Horses, then Beggars Would...Sneeze, Probably - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
O man – what art thou? Thou’rt not mighty
Clingingly pathetically to a Kleenex box
Instead of wielding a conqueror’s sword
Lifting patent medicines, not wine, to thy lips
Thy sneezing and wheezing will not win thee worlds
The book unread though open in thy lap
Thy darked-orbed eyes unseeing and unseen
Thy wretched, reddened nose – all is despair
And snot that runs in foul, polluted streams
O man – thou art little more than Nyquil-dreams!
mhall46184@aol.com
If Sneezes were Horses, then Beggars Would…Sneeze, Probably
O man – what art thou? Thou’rt not mighty
Clingingly pathetically to a Kleenex box
Instead of wielding a conqueror’s sword
Lifting patent medicines, not wine, to thy lips
Thy sneezing and wheezing will not win thee worlds
The book unread though open in thy lap
Thy darked-orbed eyes unseeing and unseen
Thy wretched, reddened nose – all is despair
And snot that runs in foul, polluted streams
O man – thou art little more than Nyquil-dreams!
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
A Meditation Upon Matters of Faith and Math - some of the shabbiest doggerel ever...
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Our Saviour never said “Now solve for X”
Such is not written in any sacred tex(t)
Saints Paul and Barnabas on journeys Psidian
Did not refer to topics Euclidian
The Corinthians were divided only by factions
Never were they divided by fractions
Good St. Paul wanted all to comprehend
The truth, and not some subtle subtrahend
But still…
But still (to me it is a great frustration)
Numbers are how we measure Creation
With them we plant the Garden that is earth
Building it up with word and work and worth
So that we feed and clothe and mend and tend
With crop rows plowed, panels welded, cattle penned
Airplanes launched, fires put out, and light bulbs lit
Messages sent – there is no end of it!
So brew yourself a cup of coffee
Find your Euclid and dust it off(y)
Work those angles on your protractor
Add, subtract, calculate, and factor
Apply yourself most assiduously
Soon you’ll be an engineer, you’ll see!
Admired by all, a man of great knowledge –
And it began in community college
mhall46184@aol.com
A Meditation Upon Matters of Faith
And the Worthy and Diligent Study
of the Arcana of Mathematics
as Recommended to Industrious and Thoughtful
Young Men and Women
For Kyle,
Who is Enduring His First College Maths
Our Saviour never said “Now solve for X”
Such is not written in any sacred tex(t)
Saints Paul and Barnabas on journeys Psidian
Did not refer to topics Euclidian
The Corinthians were divided only by factions
Never were they divided by fractions
Good St. Paul wanted all to comprehend
The truth, and not some subtle subtrahend
But still…
But still (to me it is a great frustration)
Numbers are how we measure Creation
With them we plant the Garden that is earth
Building it up with word and work and worth
So that we feed and clothe and mend and tend
With crop rows plowed, panels welded, cattle penned
Airplanes launched, fires put out, and light bulbs lit
Messages sent – there is no end of it!
So brew yourself a cup of coffee
Find your Euclid and dust it off(y)
Work those angles on your protractor
Add, subtract, calculate, and factor
Apply yourself most assiduously
Soon you’ll be an engineer, you’ll see!
Admired by all, a man of great knowledge –
And it began in community college
Monday, January 8, 2018
An Old Man Running While Carrying a Volume of The World Book Encyclopedia - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Cups of coffee are reverently borne
Along the bright hospital corridors
By nurses, doctors, technicians, and all
Scrub-suited healers on their dutiful rounds
But wait! A lean, energetic old man
His wild white hair brimming his gimme cap
Dodges among the sacred cups, and runs
Up the stairs to the ICU waiting room
Clutching an old encyclopedia
Like a dispatch from the front –
I wish I’d asked
mhall46184@aol.com
An Old Man Running While Carrying a Volume of The World Book Encyclopedia
A Scene from a Hospital Waiting Room
Cups of coffee are reverently borne
Along the bright hospital corridors
By nurses, doctors, technicians, and all
Scrub-suited healers on their dutiful rounds
But wait! A lean, energetic old man
His wild white hair brimming his gimme cap
Dodges among the sacred cups, and runs
Up the stairs to the ICU waiting room
Clutching an old encyclopedia
Like a dispatch from the front –
I wish I’d asked
Kirbyville Elementary School, 2nd Grade, 1955-1956 - photograph
Photograph by D.T. Kent, Jr., of happy memory
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