There once was a poet called Prout
Who wrote a poem about a sprout.
His verse was so bad
That it drove people mad
And his wife, she threw him out!
There Once Was A Poet Called Prout
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Tag Archives: k morris poet
When Old Acquaintances Come Back
When old acquaintances come back
Often we lack
The will to refuse.
Many a man has, in booze
Rekindled a former desire.
The fire
Burns, and he is lost
In the pleasure of pain.
He will splash
His cash
In a manner most rash
And go down the primrose path
With a bittersweet laugh.
He deletes her number
But she
Retains his.
Tis
Always the same
Though man may curse
He will continue to traverse
The well worn road of pleasure and pain.
Macbeth’s Owl
In this place, half-urban and half-green
The owl is oft times seen.
Does he lament
The lives misspent
By men
Who
When
They hear
His too-wit too-woo
Are filled with the ancient fear
That so gripped Macbeth
Of death?
Who
On hearing the bird’s too-wit too-woo
Can deny
That they will die?
Not I.
Some, tis true
On harkening to
The owl’s too-wit too-woo
Think no such thought.
Perhaps I ought
Therefore to ponder
no more
Upon yonder
Cry.
Yet I
Know that I
Shall die.
You can dress it up as you will
But in the still
Of night,
Oft times out of sight
My friend’s erie cry
Reminds me that I
Shall die.
Lost In The Familiar Wood
Lost in the familiar wood.
I have not been good.
Flowers catch at me.
Breaking free
I laugh
As I have travelled this path
Before, and spent hours
Delighting in flowers,
But no more?
Flirts
Flirts in skirts.
All is quiet
At night.
Save for the riot
Of dreams and nightmares.
He who dares
May Gain the prize
Of a girl’s come-on eyes.
But if she say “no”
Will he go
Down the path
Of nice guy or psychopath?
Flirtation
Is not an invitation
To remove a girl’s short dress
Unless
She explicitly says “yes”.
The People VS Tech: How The Internet Is Destroying Democracy
Recently the Centre for Policy Studies, a centre-right think tank based in London, hosted a discussion on the subject “Is The Internet Destroying Democracy”? Jamie Bartlett, the author of “The People VS Tech: How The Internet Is Killing Democracy” debated the impact of technological advancement with Robert Colvile of CapX, an offshoot of the CPS. The discussion is an interesting one and can be found here, https://capx.co/free-exchange-is-the-internet-destroying-democracy/
How The Enlightenment Ends
Yesterday (18 May) I read a thought provoking article by Henry Kissinger on the subject of artificial intelligence or AI. The gist of Kissinger’s article is that the enlightenment liberated humanity while we are in danger (by relying on AI) of becoming slaves to the emerging technology and loosing our ability to think critically. The below quote from Kissinger’s article strikes me as containing much wisdom, particularly his point about many technophiles taking refuge from solitude in technology:
“Users of the internet emphasize retrieving and manipulating information over contextualizing or conceptualizing its meaning. They rarely interrogate history or philosophy; as a rule, they demand information relevant to their immediate practical needs. In the process, search-engine algorithms acquire the capacity to predict the preferences of individual clients, enabling the algorithms to personalize results and make them available to other parties for political or commercial purposes. Truth becomes relative. Information threatens to overwhelm wisdom.
Inundated via social media with the opinions of multitudes, users are diverted from introspection; in truth many technophiles use the internet to avoid the solitude they dread. All of these pressures weaken the fortitude required to develop and sustain convictions that can be implemented only by traveling a lonely road, which is the essence of creativity”.
To read the article please visit https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2018/06/henry-kissinger-ai-could-mean-the-end-of-human-history/559124/.
Having Her Headphones On
Having her headphones on
And being far gone
In music’s sound
She perceives nothing profound.
But there is nothing profound
To see
In the pound, pound, pound
Of he.
It being over
She retrieves her pullover
And other things.
She sings
Her feet
Tap to a discordant beat
And with headphones still in place
She departs leaving a slight trace
Of perfume
And a discarded hairband
In the bedroom.
The latter he does not understand.
There Was A Young Lady Called Sky
There was a young lady called Sky
Who’s heels where extremely high.
Her sister Louise
Being a terrible tease
Lent them to my good friend Guy.
There Was A Young Lady Called Moriah
There was a young lady called Moriah
Who married a country squire.
While her husband shot grouse
She would remain in the house
And stoke the parson’s fire
