I USB U *story of a noun turned into a verb

 

I lost my USB

I looked everywhere

Even up the birch tree

And if I had it on me swimming in the 

Dead Sea

The Salt would have erased its memory

I texted all my friends to be 

BOLO     (be on the lookout)

My USB had an illustration of a 

Golden Y 

Nothing to do with my name Ubaldo

It had

A terrabyte -or two

As its memory had a thousand pictures

Anonymous faces 

Unlike those seen in police manhunts

Faces and pixellated faces

Provocatively unveiled

That Chuck Close could often paint

And hang with one nail.

I USB U

Love

"CO2 you too!"

She repeated in his dreams

Breathless

Nothing demeaning

My

Sore eyeballs streaming

Over irrecognizable body parts

The FBI  alerted

For a few bitchy bitcoins 

Hidden in the key

Given their wobbly market disequilibrium 

Might as well ask a woodchuck to  estimate their value

You, U USBed me

Love

Your notes  

On giving antibiotics to Bees

 To build hives back better asap

And Bob, your boyfriend, had USBed me

In 2003

All those notes 

Still I failed the degree

Because some of the docs on Bees had no merit 

And some of the docs had less than no merit

I was USBed 

Peed 

Didn't know what to feel

With all the memory overflow.

Chaos Vaccine

It's been two months

Since the time that he replaced his windshield wipers

And every time they would swash 

He would scream hogwash

Bob was so upset 

'Cause they weren't wiping correctly

And out of wiper fluid

Bob added  mouth wash 

Which did the job but cost a fortune

Bob scrolled for hours, days, months, on the web

To try to understand why his wipers didn't wipe

Leaving terrible unforgiving streaks on 

His windshield meaning that while driving 

He

Either had to look over or under the streak

A trail of un-wiped water

Similar to the trail of a slug

Except it was dangerous.

His life was unravelling

Like the yarn of a knitted sweater

Often late to work

He was given several warnings

"You're not doing your job, Bob!"

"You're taking too long, Bob!"

So he went to the doctor 

He explained

How

Seemingly due to one windshield wiper

His life had taken a turn

The doctor, from behind her glasses

Pushed "Enter" on her keyboard 

And said: "You appear to have ChaosChrom22

It's a form of Chaos

That typically starts with a meaningless event 

That

Balloons, inflates into something magnanimously disturbing."

The doctor once again pushed "Enter"

and said,

"I have a dose I will give to you right away."

Licking her upper lip from left to right which made Bob think of his 

Windshield Wiper

After the shot

Bob trotted out of the office

Still feeling distraught 

He wondered why Science didn't put him in

The Comfort Zone

He wondered if the Science was eluding him or Science was Chaotic?

Was not ChaosChrom22 a manifestation 

Of a State of Exaggeration

That had no place in society?

Hence, Bob deduced

Chaos was an outcast

Not to be embraced 

Rather fettered with manicles

 Chains swinging and ringing like

Disgruntled bells

Raging

Bob drove home in the rain

Looking above and under the streak of water

That wasn't wiping  properly

He thought of the doctor pushing "Enter"

He wanted to

But didn't know how.

Come Catch Chaos *

Behold!

It's not in my sauce

A posse

Who thinks Chaos is a toss?

(The French would say, it's fausse)

For Camus to be absurd or chaotic was a toss

Fractals, the butterfly effect

(How a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil can

Cause a tornado in Texas)

Chaotic, absurd, surreal?

When a person of such leanings is considered a

Jerk

One has to adjust the parameters in a non-linear system 

To instill "hyper-jerk" conditions.

The posse of an entertainer trekking across

Icelandic Moss

Wearing from head to toe

Hugo Boss

This is before WWI

When bloody apple sauce filled the trenches

And the Red Cross was just a tick under the skin

They,

They, are always in my thoughts

So I take a crayon in a cow house and draw

1/2 Pie RCµ

According to Berkhoff, Kolmogorov, Cartwright and Littlewood,

A jerk can only be turbulent in fluid motion

Yet when in non-periodic oscillation with radio circuits

The subject withstands what is sub-understood

If you think and earthquake is chaotic then

Try to eat a Mars bar with organic Ginsing,

Then walk on a tightrope that on respective sides is held by

A Fascist and a Liberal

Stop in the middle of the walk and write a new Chaos Theory that

Involves shadow water equations, the "non-ripple" effect and the 

Brazilian butterfly effect that this time, creates a tornado in Alaska instead of

Texas.

It may be possible to conclude that taking into account robotic passive walking dynamics 

Implying robots can walk and then walk some more

A topsy-turvy tumultuous knitting of a multicoloured Missoni yarn beyond 

34.42 km in length,

With no apparent structure

No sleeves or neck

Is a best seller 

For Consumer Digest.

*Elements of this poem are taken directly from the Theory of Chaos

Deep sea fish exploration

Ray was always afraid of going for the dive.

"I  believe in Panspermia*, mom, not this deep hydrothermal vent gibberish you keep talking about."

Dory, a patient mom, took a deep breath, "Dear, dear Ray. Remember what your father said: you are a fish. And the origin of life comes from down there." she said, pointing down with her pectoral fin as she opened her mouth wide. 

"You are old enough to know the elements in chemistry class," she went on, "deep-sea vents spew out bitter alkaline fluid, which is rich in negatively charged hydroxide ions, and that can be the basis for creating life as we know it." 

Mom, you have the memory of a Goldfish. If you look atsugars, and the molecules required to form RNA, we know they can be produced in space. 

"I can't let you off the hook with that Panspermia, or spermia gibberish. Any life riding on the back of a meteorite would be zapped to death with UVs, asta la vista go your RNA Ray. I suggest we go on a deep sea dive so I can show you first hand what life is out there on the bottom of the ocean."

"You hit a snag, mom. You know I'm claustrophobic, and getting into a Bathysphere is the last place you'll see me."

"Didn't you say last month you wanted "The Angler" for your Christmas present?"

"Yes, but you said I would have to pass marine biology at school"

"Well, I'll get it for you but let's go on the Bathysphere!"

Dory was a forward-thinking mom, she had already reserved a Bathysphere for the next day.

*Panspermia is the concept that life may have originated elsewhere in the universe and reached Earth through space travel, potentially by microorganisms or even advanced extraterrestrial beings.

EPRS (Emergency Phone Rescue Service)

 

FEMA has decided to create a new agency, the EPRS or Emergency Phone Rescue Service, pronounced "Ehpurrs".  If your phone is lost in a hurricane, earthquake, nuclear meltdown or other, EPRS will send out a specially trained team to recover it. 

EPURS is the first emergency rescue service to train duckbill platypus to recover phones.

"It was suggested at a meeting a few years ago and most of us didn't take it seriously" said Conrad Jeffries, the head of EPRS. However, we quickly learned to appreciate its slim body and duckbill beak which made it ideal in recovering phones in tight spots. To top it it's a great swimmer... the results have been amazing."

Back

I never broke my back

But Back back back

I once tried taking a wheelbarrow to

Move memories 

Forward only to see the 

Tire looking flat.

Howz your back?

Back when

In a Frida Kahlo  painting 

Her broken back intact

Unhealing

Not an act for anyone toI enact 

Today my crunched back flies with

The bats

And Rats

Cozy up to gnaw

On nerve endings 

How sweet

In a forest an Alpha leader of a wolf pack

Howls and 

Howls

Nearby fluttering bats squeak

Ultrasound waiting for

Echos to resound back

-No questions asked, if it's your snack.

Today I hear 39 taps

On the dark cold window pane

Dancing taps from white moths

Bouncing off my window

I stretch my neck like a flamingo

Remembering childhood fears of 

Turning off all the lights.

 

Tupperware in Cyprus

 

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• There is no Tupperware in Cyprus

It's not because of a retrovirus

Evidence states

Tupperware parties didn't take

On the island of Cyprus

Where they love to bake

Sheftali - a wrap  of its own 

And legend goes a song too

"Sheftali, sheftali

I love you cause you have no brocoli"

Makarios once said,

"Without Sheftali, I'd be dead and 

we would still be eating fish and chips".

Tupperware parties didn't take on Cyprus

Women's rights perhaps were at stake

And selling a plastic container with a double sealed lid

Could have upset El Sid

You say, the amphora was fine for Afelia,

It's not just memorabilia 

Both men and women used amphoras

Dressed in photogenic agora

Never giving a middle finger to Ankara

"We don't want no fucking Tupperware"

Echoed the Cypriots from 

Famagusta to Paphos

Our Sheftalies, Souvia and Fasolada

Is fresh as any Muslim or Christian may confess

Could all that Polypropylene 

add any dopamine to the Cyprus Scene?

Confess Cyprus, confess!

There is no Tupperware on this island

And you will miss it

Forever SMS.