Select All Images with Traffic Lights

A collection of techy poems by By Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall (Rated G)


Select All Images with Traffic Lights

When the ink on his Gospel had barely dried
Saint Matthew was interrupted by angelic sights
And then to him a Voice from Heaven cried:
“Select all images with traffic lights!”

Old William Shakespeare was a poetic bloke
Who wrote his metered verse within the lines
But his editor demanded, with a voice that broke:
“Select all images with highway signs!”

So if, dear reader, you wish to have your say –
Forget it; you won’t pass the test anyway


A Doom of Impending Sense

When you are driving away for the daily run
Of errands, appointments, disappointments
You know you’ll enjoy the company of your MePhone –

Which you have left upon your desk at home

You buy a magazine in the checkout line
Or find a book in some cold waiting room
Or read an editorial in the local wipe
Or remember a poem from seventh grade

You glory in words, words and images dense
And feel a doom of near, impending sense


Colonel Klink and his Gonculator
By Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall

Colonel Klink’s machine was the very first
But not the last; the twentieth century
Bequeathed unto us The Gonculator
An electronic curse to blight our lives

With beepings and rumblings and flashing lights
It wants our thoughts, our words, our dreams, our souls
Twisting and misshaping our imaginings
With vaporous fantasies of packaged gods

It calls us from our work and recreations
And bids us stare into it, and believe…

Believe, believe…
We believe, O Gonculator, and we obey!

The story of Colonel Klink, that wonderful Miles Gloriosus, and his primitive prototype can be found on the gonculator that possesses you here.


Algorithm, Algorithm, Algorithm, Bah, Bah, Bah

Parroting a trendy word is not art
So let’s stop babbling about “algorithm”
Lest we drop our readers into the lowest part
Of their 24-hour circadian rhythm


All Power to the People’s Soviet of Gadgetry
By Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall

The servile arts teach us to plan
Wars for sending our children to die
Barbed wire for penning our fellow man
Computers to sneak and snoop and spy

The liberal arts teach us to ask

Why?


An Electric Light Bulb

An electric light bulb is a marvelous thing
A globe of glass and gas and wires within
You can almost hear the filaments sing
When light upon a page lets your reading begin

By what magic does this wonderful device
Receive invisible aethers from long wires
This strange glowing pearl beyond any price
As it relights from Sol its little fires

An electric light bulb is a poet’s delight
Framing pentameter all through the night


The InterGossip has Winked Out, and Now Life Has No Meaning

The InterGossip is out, and so I quest
Among little plastic boxes that light up
As a coded series of spiky blue lamps
That might be signaling to other worlds

Cutting the power in turn to all the parts
Poking the innards with a paper clip
Like an archaeologist digging for truth
For the Ark of the Contract, or for the Grail

The InterGossip is found, and so I rest
In electric repose in this fallen screen


Enter a Password That You Cannot Possibly Remember

Your password must consist of at least nine
letters and three numbers three of the letters
must be capitalized and two must be
underlined however while one of the
capital letters may be underlined
the other underlining or underlinings
must be small letters but none of the numbers
is to be underlined you must include
at least one specialty key but no more
than four and the password must not be entered
under a full moon or within three days
of Michaelmas either way we’re sorry
your time has expired please exit this window
and then re-submit but not the same password
you entered before


The Vocabulary of the Comments Section
“…he held the proper opinions for the time of year”
-Auden, “The Unknown Citizen”

No words
Just no words
I have no words
Beyond I have no words
Absolutely beyond I have no words
Absolutely beyond I have no words fact
Absolutely beyond I have no words fact end of
Absolutely beyond I have no words fact end of literally
Absolutely beyond I have no words fact end of literally actually
No words


Our Satellites Will Fall

Our satellites will all fall to the earth
Orbits and ideologies decay
What are all these toys and noisy launchings worth
When all to gravity can only give way

Even sparrows must fall, to God’s dismay
And we and all our vanities must die
How will we answer on our final day
For our machines and machinations that lie

And when the last has fallen from the sky
Will anyone be alive to wonder why?


Scheduled Maintenance

Electrical mails and postcards announce

That my

Dog
Roof
Car
Air-conditioner
Heart
Colon
Eyes

Are due for routine checkup and maintenance

The dog is fitted with a muzzle for her exam

My colon isn’t so lucky


Lingering Death by Medical Office Telephone Tree

“The marshal’s been shot! Somebody get Doc!”

“Hello. You have reached Polysyllabic Medical Associates
Our hours are (mumble, mumble, mumble)
Our fax number is (mumble, mumble, mumble)
We are located up the stairs on Front Street
Next to the Long Branch Therapeutic Outreach Centre
And boutique, Florals by Miss Kitty
All patients and visitors are required to wear masks
If this is a medical emergency
Hang up and telegraph 911 from the depot
If you need a refill, contact your pharmacist
If you are a doctor, dial 1
If you know your party’s extension, dial it now

(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)

If this is for an appointment, dial 4

(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)

If you would like to speak with a nurse, dial 5

(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)
That number is not recognized; please try again
(Beep)”

“Somebody, go get the undertaker.”

“Hello. You have reached The Garden of Memories
Formerly known as Boot Hill
Our hours are (mumble, mumble, mumble)…”

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