learning

Feedback Loops

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It happened again.

When you can’t undo

you can retrace your steps.

“Walk me through it,”

you hear from right behind you,

it was your own tail insisting.

But your directions

fall on deaf ears –

your great fear

is that you’ve now

lost your place.

But it’s right

under your nose,

tantalizingly close —

I know that feeling well.

“What are you not getting?”

It’s always a game of catch-up

or keep away.

Maybe you can tell,

I don’t have all the answers,

I thought I’d been

making waves,

but all I’ve done is dig ruts

and kick-up dust.

Let’s try again.

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Reflections From the Wind Tunnel

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The abyss looked through me,

and I had no answers for it.

But I couldn’t just walk away,

avert my gaze,

throw my hands up

and call it quits.

“Assert yourself,”

I commanded,

The wind caught my words

as they left my lips,

and sent them somewhere

No one could hear.

There was only so much I could stand,

So I marched again,

and I marched again,

I marched until I was beaten back

to where I started.

The Ravens croaked above

coasting on rising thermals,

and they looked down on me

holding still.

Someday I’ll be airworthy.

Today the abyss looked back at me,

And I’ll look back on the abyss fondly,

For all it taught me.

Ransomware

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With one careless,

errant click,

the line I cast

with which to phish

has gotten a bite.

I seemed to be his boss “Theresa” —

but with an “e”

at the end.

He completed his normal routine

without another thought,

like a good worker would,

sent me his credentials —

when I felt the time was right,

I reeled him in.

His company put all their eggs in one basket,

so I decided,

to scramble them.

For a small fee,

I will unencrypt,

What they so graciously

gave me,

at my own discretion.

Phishing is not a contact sport,

it is not fraught with danger,

you can lounge in your robe,

and not leave your seat.

Still,

it’s not for the faint of heart.

What webs we weave,

when we practice to deceive,

but at least there’s some money in it.

ATP

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In trying times,

deep down inside —

you will find that

you are, indeed,

strengthened by division.

To rouse the energy,

to walk to the kitchen,

you must first

burn some molecular bridges.

Not to worry,

it won’t be painful,

the connections themselves,

were tenuous at best.

Throw the planks,

into that churning,

eternally burning,

internal furnace

of yours.

Congratulations,

you have metabolized.

Now you can take action,

or perform mundane tasks,

whichever comes first.

Ballistics!

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Picking up the pieces,

Of past events,

And reassembling them,

To make sense,

Of the occurrences.

Predictions,

On the trajectory,

Of a rocket,

Aimed at open sky,

Which is harder to hit,

Than you’d expect.

The finely-sharpened, 

Somewhat dark art,

Of getting from the business-end,

To the destination,

And vice versa-

And how best to deliver it.

Chaos does not necessarily travel in straight lines,

But there is some order,

In the ways,

Of disarray.