Is Random Poetry Click Fraud

Meta-search-vi
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Is poetry when randomized

Tweaked, meta tagged , search engine optimized

Violative of unseen terms and conditional clauses

Is random poetry or aggregated prose farmed for click fraud uses

 

 

 

I dont know, you tell me, says the blog boy,

Tapping away at the keyboard like a shiny new toy,

Geeks unfortunately too often are men too many,

Forgive the generalization, but the tech world is yet to be equalized.

 

If a New York Hot Dog  is a slice of heaven at four bucks a piece

Then why is prose and poetry at five bucks an hour considered waste

Ah I see, you have grown old and cynical,

Of the numerous stupid internet capers and cyber ways

 

The clicking finger clicks on

swiftly but mostly delightfully virally moves on

While people collect its trails and

ponder its aggregated merry ways

 

All people are equal but all links are not,

Thus overturning two centuries of psychology had you been better taught,

But you chose to drop out of school, and create that search engine so big

It is now a fraud catchers head ache that millions try to search engine optimize and rig

 

Once again, people are different, in so many ways so prettier

Links are the same hyper linked code number five or earlier

People think like artificial artificial (thus natural) neural nets

Biochemically enhanced Harmonically possessed.

 

rather than  analyze forensically and quite creepily

where people have been

Gentic Algorithms need some chaos

To see what till now hasnt been seen.

 

Again this was a random poem,

inspired by a random link that someone clicked

To get here, on a carbon burning cyber machine,

Having digested poem, moves on, unheard , unseen.

(Inspired by the Hyper Link at http://goo.gl/a8ijW )

Also-

Julian Assange Dear Chap

Julian Assange a very Dear Chap
couldnt control his pecker
got caught in a honey trap
Should have kept that rubber on, Jules
Nordic Scandinavians may be easy but even they have rules

meanwhile Dear Chap’s Website the eponymous Wikileaks
is leaking revolution and democracy like  Vegas casino magic tricks
The Arabs read his website before Sentor Joe crashed it down
And now  Anglo Saxon allies in Egypy, Tunisia, Libya, Yemen, Bahrain are wearing a frown

Viva La Website Revolution Wikileaks
Merde to the Dear Chap\s pecker squeaks
Time up, time for all dictators to go and hide,
rulers Arabian, or Aussi hackers on a funny ride.

From my bed- POEM

United States Army Center for Health Promotion...
Image via Wikipedia

Tucked in a hospital neatly sanitized

Stowed away from society in a medical compromise

Between the forces of destiny, decay and medical molecular action

Awaiting the prognosis as I am soundly exorcized

Grand delusions realistic illusions and promise of hope

Lift my mood when every other chemical has tried and failed

Prayer helps, so do online afar friendly people,

Hang on buddy, get back on track after being derailed

We need you more than your needers did

We love you more than any of your lovers will

Your dreadful prose, mundane wit, hilarious code

Have made you a daily part of our life though online still

Blog on, dog gone, be inspired, be still

Calmly heal, than slowly mend

We will wait with patience

Till your hospice stint will painless end.

A Poem for all those restless Arabian Knights

The cast of Watchmen, created in 1986 by Gibbo...
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OZYMANDIAS by PB Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.


And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.[1]

OZYMANDIAS BY Horace Smith.[12

In Egypt’s sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:
“I am great OZYMANDIAS,” saith the stone,
“The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
“The wonders of my hand.” The City’s gone,
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.
We wonder, and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro’ the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragments huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.


 

Machine Addictions

in the middle of essential and inevitable tasks
restless inner conscience wakens and asks
stuck again today to the computer are we now
please remind me this state we reached how

oh we had bills to pay student loans to repay
once we got hooked t’was easy to be carried away
just a matter of time before inevitable voices query
this is my machine that I want to marry

I spend more time with him/her as it is
the Machinery is devoted with focused loyalties
meanwhile the non machine world goes round
strives forth on things less profound

as we stroke the keys and click the mouse
machine addictions will only add to human grouse

Getting Worse -Poem

Valmiki
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The lowering of hope with the passing of time

Led to the ineffectual habit of writing rhyme

And once hooked I quickly became stuck

Even poetically I ran out of luck

I wriggled I squiggled I thought really hard

But I hate to admit I am no bard

I guess I have what they call the writer’s block

Where you sit and stare at the passing of the clock

Hoping you catch the muse again by its tail

Ride the surf some more and do not fail

This poem is getting bad I must be getting on your nerve

I am going off on a tangent on the poetic curve

 

Well I guess I must then stop I am out of words

And throw this limerick out for the birds

Again I apologize for wasting your time

Poets after all are a dozen per dime

 

But if in spite of that if I gave you some relief

From the daily mundanity and its accompanying grief

Don’t thank me then just thank the muse

I just play with words having nothing to lose.

A Poem on Demand

On Demand entertainment I need to hear
On Demand information of webcasts, white papers dear
On demand downloads of information I am told I really need
Sometimes it is tough to keep which is shallow what is deep

Is it really on demand or were you overwhelmed and manipulated by the supply
On Demand Supply and estimates of forecasts of influencer of the demand
Friendship is also on demand

But Loneliness is Free and Open Source
And so is Freedom

How many Fans, Followers, Likes can you get
Before your critical mass makes you Viral
Like a Video Bieber whose clothes are torn by crowds

Searching for your 900 seconds of On Demand fame
You want to be paid on demand but work only on a creative fancy
Your on demand laziness is too demanding now
Ceteras Paribus, On demand is too much to demand
and much too on always on 24 7

Give me a book a friend and some peace and quiet
Bet you things arent there on supply but always on demand
Or are they?