Heartbleed

Standard

A bait-and-switch,

Give and take,

Fake Out.

I gave the server,

A blank note,

She did a double-take,

And blurted all her client’s

Names out.

That was taboo,

But she never got the memo–

Maybe it was wrong of me,

To do.

It felt a touch exploitative,

Though I assure you,

A hacker never uses

Their sleight-of-hand,

Technical prowess,

And strong communication skills,

for evil,

Unless they feel like it.

How I Spent my Summer Vacation

Standard

Greg wore thick-rimmed glasses,

had meticulously,

parted and slicked-back hair,

wore a white button-down

and freshly-pressed slacks

every single day.

CLIK-atik.

“Here’s a picture at Niagara falls with Molly,”

They stood in front of the famous formation,

Facing our neighboring northern nation,

Looking uncannily like a modern American Gothic.

CLIK-atik.

Molly smiled lovingly,

but had nothing much to say,

aside from “Greg, honey, get out of the way”

As his shadow was blocking the projection

of the spectacular cascade.

CLIK-atik.

“After we crossed the border

We drank a few beers, and ordered poutine.”

Someone from the sea of folding chairs called-out mid-yawn,

“Greg you’re the only person I know who would summer in Canada.”

Molly smiled again.

She knew more than most about Greg,

Who found excitement in the routine,

and archaic.

CLIK-atik.

The whirring machine,

Was so old that it seemed,

Ready to come apart,

In a tumult of loose-screws,

and dust-particles.

CLIK-atik.

“Hey look! A moose!”

Greg didn’t lie,

but the picture was from such a distance,

that it was hard to make-out,

the animal.

“They’re pretty dangerous,

so we stayed clear.”

CLIK-atik.

A black title card,

With the word “FIN,”

Written minimally,

Spelled the end of the slideshow.

CLIK-atik.

His favorite part of the trip,

and his life,

was sharing the experience,

with his friends,

family,

and wife,

Long after he left.

Vestigial Structures

Standard

Long ago my ancestors left the trees 

with their tailbones tucked between their legs,

and they turned out fine.

Snakes did the same

And grew out their spines,

More than I could ever hope to,

Lost some things along the way

And are still with us today.

Who needs tonsils anyway?

Consult the appendix,

All you like,

You won’t find a good reason.

“All these pieces of me,

From yesteryear,

Are still here,”

I said, getting goosebumps.

If my flaws make me human,

Then what about the leftovers,

From when I definitely wasn’t?

In doing what it takes to survive,

You cannot afford,

To go back to the drawing board,

And you can’t correct the record,

When your body is the archive.

Codebreakers

Standard

There is simply no way

to not communicate.

But at times

quotations

must seem

to just be noise.

Working backwards,

the cipher takes

a clear line

of thought,

ties it into

a Gordian knot,

and sends it out in to the ether.

It’s parsed out,

piece-by-piece

by one side

or the other.

Brilliant mathematicians,

decrypt,

ascribe,

and find the grains of truth,

in the cloud of deception.

Polarization

Standard

Touts may tempt you,

To don rose-colored glasses,

Shouting:

“We can help you draw,

The finest lines,

With no more glare.

Blot out all aberrations,

Lock them out,

So that the spectrum is laid bare.”

Beware of blinders,

There is no one-size-fits-all approach,

To perception.

Light ricochets,

Unpredictably,

But without the full range,

You cannot expect,

Clear sight.

Bad Vibes

Standard

It turns out,

Saying “don’t be nervous,”

Is a great way,

To be counterproductive.

Fear is self-sabotage,

And more often than not,

Fired in an unexpected,

Barrage.

Like a bull in a china shop,

It raises hell,

And won’t stop,

Prancing,

And dancing all over,

Your most precious,

Fabergé eggshells.

The floor,

Wasn’t a great place,

To put those,

If I’m being honest.

But that’s not important,

Anymore,

Because it’s time to acknowledge,

These animals in the room.

Quick,

Go get some tweezers,

And glue,

While I patch up,

The kicked-down door,

So no more,

Come through.

 

Kowloon Walled City

Standard

I’ve built you up quite a bit,

And I’m finding it harder and harder,

To leave than ever before.

If I could see in here,

I’d find unwound wires,

That cross-cross the cracks,

In the concrete,

And trickles of tap water,

That run down your façade.

But being off-the-grid,

Has it’s own advantages-

If walls could talk,

They’d tell you that,

We reach high here,

In spite of what we’re missing.

No sunrise goes unseen,

People stand on their balconies,

With nothing,

And also everything they need.