(Image provided by DWB)
A found deer skull smiles at me
from the long grass, while
distant trembling hare
tiptoes to box
a clover
with gloved paw,
ears back.
(Image provided by DWB)
A found deer skull smiles at me
from the long grass, while
distant trembling hare
tiptoes to box
a clover
with gloved paw,
ears back.
I’ve decided to follow Horace
after you,
Dear.
So I’ll try to remain
a little bit here
in the middle
in order to return
the favor to my
cloud-hidden future
that will come
off the mountain
when it wants to,
when it wants,
when IT wants to.
Sudden or slow.
And
remember
that, my only heart.
(Note: There plenty to be thankful for this week, including a full week of new work from Co-Editor Dale Williams Barrigar. He is truly an encouraging and talent person, and I’m certain that readers will agree–Leila)
Twirling
around
around
around
like falling
your naked arms
fly down
to your
bare toes
almost as if
you
were
really there.

(Sir Andy Hisster)
Andy knows the truth
He keeps it in his bended ear
He rattles my cage and shakes the key:
“Poor human, guilt gives you unnatural fear
Cats and Dogs don’t make up demons and gods
That look like the fool you see in the mirror.”

(Alice. D. Doe)
Alice D. Doe is both kind and wry
She enjoys ivy and never asks why
She keeps her nose to the wind
And ears on alert
She’s all right with the birds
But Bluejays are jerks

(Skully before)
Skully the skell put his girl through hell
He laughed when she pulled out the ax

(After)
Skully has laughed his last
Thanks to a boney lass
(Note: Today we have the sort of thing that I present every other week on Literally Stories UK. This one is so closely related to a past post on LS that I feel it should appear elsewhere–LA)
I have cut way back on exclamation marks but remain overinclined to google useless information. The Google Assistant “Gemini” annoys me. Google keeps pushing its useless AI and I instantly scroll the instant I see it. But every so often I like to ask Gemini sarcastic questions just to see how the program is developing.
Recognizing sarcasm is the greatest hurdle facing AI. Even the foggiest-minded adult can explore what you say for elements of facetiousness, if the feeling is right, yet sophisticated programming usually gets clobbered by elementary school wit.
I have said it before and will say it again. AI is boring as are all witless, unfunny people. Go ahead and have the world, but no one will invite you to the victory party.
I imagine the job of putting together an AI capable of noting sarcasm will be like combining Star Trek’s Spock and Chandler Bing from Friends and hoping to gain a mind similar to Emma Peel of The Avengers to emerge. Mrs. Peel is both likeable and no fool (and yes, perverts she wears a leather suit well). Gemini is an invisible imbecile.
There’s a great deal of downtime in the Leila Allison Experience. I am not highly in demand as far as chit chat goes, thus being a proud misanthrope usually leads to an empty social calendar. This is a desirable situation, but one can only talk to Cats for only so long, and when bored I enjoy messing with Gemini via out of the blue questions:
“So, Gemini, I believe that The Beverly Hillbillies contains some of the best writing since William Shakespeare, right?”
Gemini actually replied: “Wow! The Beverly Hillbillies was very popular and although some critics reviewed it positively, comparing the program’s writing to that of Wm.Shakespeare is high praise indeed. You must really like the Beverly Hillbillies.”
Usually, after I reestablish my intellectual superiority over Gemini, I, satisfied and smug, gaze at the wall or screen or even out the window seeking my next method of obliterating unwanted consciousness. But this time something began to gnaw at the pillars of my mental dominance.
‘Wow!’ Did Gemini just shine me on?
The more I thought about it the more it felt like Gemini had spoken to me as though I was a three-year-old who had just reported seeing a Unicorn in the back yard. I read something in its words that wanted to offer me a juicebox.
Duly enraged, I hurled a flurry of mindless questions at Gemini and yet not once did I win the same proto-sarcasm. Stuff like “What are the odds of a Monkfish winning Miss Universe?”; “How close is North Korea to developing warp drive?”; “How was it possible for ‘she-bop, he-bop, we-bop’ and ‘you put the shama lama rama rama ding dong’ to independently develop in the same dimension without causing a rift in spacetime?” Were received with the same vacant honesty exhibited by a Golden Retriever when you ask her if she believes that Hamlet had the hots for Gertrude. And, somewhat disturbingly, a repeat of my original query failed to yield the same result.
I sat there dumbfounded. “Have I just received the ‘Wow Signal’* of AI sarcasm?” I dared to ask myself. And for a moment I considered presenting Gemini that question. Then I figured that I was possibly one more penetrating query away from one of those knocks at the door mixed Americans often hear nowadays: ICE with my bus ticket to Canada (my mother lived in the US about sixty years, until death, without renewing her guest visa). Actually, all in all, that doesn’t sound so harsh.
So I now proudly present a list of Ten Questions For Gemini. The instant you claim the right of intelligence, and pretend to interact with me as though we are equals, you get all the shit that comes with it.
Leila “See You in Alberta” Allison
i
Nikky Smonnicks is a ghost without a host
No one died to make him
Some say not so, they say he lived and he was a cabin boy from the Barbary Coast
But that turned to be a corsair lie told to stake him
To the mirthless earth of self made men
So say they who long to be the flesh Nikky had forsaken
ii
Any ghost can be a special spirit
Human beings seldom get near it
Ghosts are burned clean at life’s end
The quick must unshackle from liens and wills and dishonest trusts before they are completely all in given
iii
Nikky Smonnicks it seems never lived nor was a stillborn child fitted with a shell common in both heaven and hell
He began as a ghost completing a journey never begun
How can this be, someone like he, a song finished yet neither written nor sung?
It matters not in the end even non-events can be considered done
iii
So welcome to the afterlife without a before, the angels and demons hope you are fun
You are an unlikely hair on the head of time
A Zombie in reverse
A long running show never rehearsed
And the reason why The Book of the Dead
is off by one
The Amoral: One needn’t live to be successfully dead
i
ignorance is profuse
ignorance ever ‘mounting
ignorance sounding clues
to vacant armies surrounding
ii
ignorance knows squat about karma
ignorance does know jokes about yo mama
ignorance shrill and vile
it exists to sicken and spits verbal bile
iii
ignorance like wine spilled on a fine table cloth
ignorance sees no irony in a pastel goth
ignorance only wants to win
easy, jig, ignorance lets the air in
iv
ignorance is sesequipedalian
ignorance is mainly mammalian
ignorance is an ever spreading disease
like evil, the second concept of being
It was not supposed to end like this
A parking garage over the abyss
Wall-eyed Bob used to cogitate
From his stool in 19-something-and-8
he’s dead
like Viv and Tom
and that
other Bob
and that
Robin so ugly
save for blue eyes
and that
weird little guy
Who sang like Merle Haggard
On Karaoke Night
Glaciers creep down mountain faces
No one alive will see the changes
An inch a year means not ten feet to lives
Whose times were measured by Saturday nights
i
How far are you willing to fly
To find a vicar to shine your mind
What insult will you bear
In grace for a ten percent share
ii
Who’s gonna to serve your mass
Now
That you’ve departed the blue ball of
Vow
Indulge your sins and pledge your soul
To me
The Pope of Alpha Centauri
iii
The universe is an endless second chance
But everywhere it is still a dimebag a dance
Open up and for a tiny fee
You can be an angel wild and free
Courtesy of me
The Pope of Alpha Centauri
iv
Pain is the same inside every skin
And the losses still out number wins
Take four years at the speed of light
Everyone in hell loves the night
Endless and without memory
The Pope of Alpha Centauri