Sunday, April 28, 2013

A Second Verse For EFF's Delightfully Archaic 404

Did I say archaic?  Perhaps I meant 'welcome,' 'familiar,' or, in my own way, 'proper,' since it reminds me of my own Time, from which I am transplanted.  Movable type was indeed a modern invention -- but it was physical, bits of metal, ink stains, thick paper.  Not rules for a machine that thought in  light. But I am happy here, and, before I dream aloud of befriending such a machine, or worry that they are being taught evil or (which is the same) untruth, I will on to the matter at hand, to wit:

This is the 404 File Not Found page over at the Electronic Frontier Foundation.  If you are not familiar with them, you ought to be, because they are even as you read this defending the Internet, the miracle of this our age.  Like those Oakland Occupiers who, after seeing people hospitalized because they dared to protest, fearlessly covered our asses with peace sign shields from the very real threats of the Oakland Police, EFF works tirelessly to protect your ass and mine from the mission creeps seriously undermining, defaming, mocking, and threatening to do away with the Freedom of our Electronic Speech.

While you are there, if you file is for some reason not found, this is what you'll see:

So, silliness of silliness, I decided to write a second verse.  I hope they see it, and it pleases them.  I know there are more important things to do, but -- not ultimately as important as the creative Will, which must play. So, without further (too late to be "without too much") ado:

Ignor'd! Abhorr'd! / Now by oaths new'll be freer / Than my hours o'er you've been!

Be seeing you.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

To the gentleman to whom I gave half a poem

If, at objective observation, you are possessed of skills most rare
than that of which I'd hoped this presently to present,
this verse will be redundant.  Were you to be, improbably,  so Fair,
as, of such,  you seem, both capable and fond,
I for one would scarce believe it.  Having  overheard you well desir'd,
and with little else to do -- still, honestly, believe? 
That is, until --  that is, unless -- that is -- --- unsure. I look away,
reassess and put in context perspectives, yours and mine,
and the whispered opinions, giggling, solidify,
mature, then fade, in mere eyeglances of time
condemned at last, considered void, already moot,
"Not Because," -- it must be said -- "Not Because ..." of the unsaid
(but simply because everyone would have assumed you knew that you were cute).