Part II

Homer’s (the blind man’s) poetry as seen by helmut s.

“Iliad I”



Vacationing along the stretch

of sandy beach

in view of the walls

of a town world-famous as Troy,

the godlike Achilles questions King Agamemnon:

“Why would any Argonaut soldier

want to obey your orders,

why would one want freely and gladly

do your sailing,

why would one want to fight your enemies?”

Achilles has no gripe

with the Trojan soldiers.

Achilles knows they never stole

his cattle or his horses

as he is looking at

the endless miles that he traveled,

economy class,

through stormy seas, controlled by Poseidon.

He and the men who follow him,

try to please Agamemnon,

they fight for him the King

to win his honor back from them Trojans.

Yet now Achilles is angry

as Agamemnon threatened to strip

him of his prize — the girl he had fought for

long and hard, the one the sons

of Achaea had handed to him.

And Achilles knows his time is limited

therefore he just like all mortals

craves pleasures now

and not in future time.

He knows unlimited futures on earth

are available only to the gods who

prescribe to such an On-Line-Service,

which he does not.

So anger is festering within

wanting instant gratification.  

True, somebody kicked

his foot the wrong way, it’s not the heel

which hurts the most…

…but further up it does.    



(Goddess of wisdom, which the Greek did not have)

…countless hours passed of diligent input
I only said “save as” in Computerese
“please save all my precious workbook’s data!”

Facing a prime example of processing
amidst a happy joyous attitude,
I needed just this one hardcopy output.
My basic level in Computerese
nothing but a tiny caesarean of data
with little or no value of processing.

Such was at her amplitude of attitude
while resorting to shutting down output
without asking me for further input.
The Clone, vessel to my precious data,
of my wisdom, stopped now processing.
Even the back up files showed attitude

So I clicked on File, on Close, no output.
I clicked again on File, on Close, to input
some commands to her in Computerese.
She, my PC, Sophia answered — processing
my triple-clicking with a certain attitude —
displaying on screen a softcopy output,

…after all these my hours of input,
communicated in Computerese
“Divorce!” I screamed in pain with attitude
responds to more not less hostile input.

Adding FATAL ERROR in Computerese
and following was CORRUPTED DATA.
I was reaching my high in processing.
And coping an amplitude of attitude
I was! She had the proof and data.
Thanks to weeks of meticulous input!




 0-: 7:07 a.m.

  starting the day…

…grumpy he rolled, swinging one leg first

out of bed, into this pretty day.

He had worked late. A dry mouth’s thirst

much longing for brewed coffee. Just like play

he flicked, sleeping Sophia’s On-switch.

Annoyed he viewed, coffee sipping

his challenge, a spreadsheet, what a bitch.

Sophia, was up waiting, silently ticking,

He got nothing beyond the black screen,

despite flipping the workstation On & Off, until

a C: (see-colon) sent by deus-de-machina, was seen

as a guiding prompt to Windows and past the sill.

So he thought. Such he expected from her, his

higher-powered goddess. “Now what?” did he ask,

feverishly searching WIN’s directory’s tree. This

displaying of DOS’s dir turned into a giant task

what Sophia took some years ago, the basic

gw-programming language, he once had

thought gone, reappeared from nowhere, crazy

as subdir winwg, much like a cat

having nine lives deltree-winwg still existed.

How wrong, that he thought he had razed it.





As we man the ships, the vessels in the oceans
of life, here and there gathering to attack
a solid task, going ashore to befriend or
fight whomever we meet and communicate
by tongue or force.





…and have a most beautiful day, every day!