In Which Kenneth Cole Blackens His Own Name

A dark and scary thing erupted when
A clueless rich designer tweeted how
The chaos there in Cairo must have been
Just mobs a-crowding 'round his store right now.
The internet's alive now with the blurts
Of those who mock him, push the boundaries
Of taste as they do so. In truth it hurts
No one; they are just jokes and words, but Jeeze,
To think of all that must have lurked beneath
Polite facades ere this event. I can't
Say that I do not laugh, but grit my teeth
To see this on display. That just one scant
And dumb remark provokes a genre is,
The cost, I guess, these days of doing biz.

In Which I Test Out A New Online Rhyming Dictionary

For John Ladd there's not much I wouldn't do

(Online at least), so when he asked me, Kate,

What's your take, we were won'dring, on the new

Web dictionary? How does Rhymebrain rate

Against what you are using now, since as

A formal poet you must do so lots?

I've played with it a few days now; it has

Potential to be useful, though it clots

One's screen with nonsense when asked for a rhyme

(Non-dictionary words you may weed out

Though it will list them with the rest, first time),

So much so that I'm quite inclined to doubt

It shall replace Rhymezone, though I shall try

It for a few more days to clarify.

Sonneteer's note: I shall write on this topic at great length, and in prose, soon for Paradise Tossed, the online journal of poetry and technology. I'll Tweet an alert when it is live and put a link to the article in the "Articles and Appearances" section of this web page. And yeah, this sonnet will probably be the springboard for the article, so you just got a sneak peek.

In Which Distance Becomes Even More Meaningless

Most of my friends don't live here in Cheyenne,
But I still may pass entire days with them.
The internet is chiefly why I can,
That and a cell phone (what I have's a gem!).
In Saratoga Erin, graciously
Engaged in conversation, geeking out
And, of course, playing games with silly me
On Facebook. We are even on our bout
As these scant lines emerge, but we're mid-game
On number three, is all. How wonderful
That she has this free time, and she will spend
So much with me, in telepresence. Pull
Me from my dreary day? Well, I'll say yes!
And give all thanks that I've found Facebook chess!

In Which Al Bruno III Ripens Some

I knew him first just as one Ab3,
An author of a Binder, lo, of Shame.
Such lore of gaming horror could not be
Quite real, I told myself, as I became
A devotee of misadventures like
The Achy Breaky Mythos. "Funny" does
Not e'en come close; today these tales still strike
Right home; my eyes tear up! But all that was
Long years ago. These days he's pioneered
Five-second fiction, sick and wrong and great,
The Third Al Bruno has, and I have cheered
Each new bit of his novel. Lo, that fate
Should bring his lurker, me, to be his friend!
Oh, happy birthday, Al! Days without end!

In Which I Contribute Some Additional Apohenia To The Google Crop Circle Mystery Meme

The Google page has a new doodle now:
Crop circles spell out the site's name. Meanwhile
A Twitter note gave numbers to allow
Coordinated users to beguile
Themselves by checking out ground zero of
War of the Worlds, by one H.G. Wells, who,
Has a birthday upcoming. How we love
Such puzzles. Now we all have moved on to
Why Google would choose to commemorate
(A week ahead of time, I'd like to add)
That day one hundred forty-three years late?
Perhaps a clue from Shakespeare might be had?
In Sonnet 143 he tries to wring
Attention back from chicken-chasing... BING?

In Which I Fear For My Recovery

I fear I may at last have overdosed
On undead stuff. I just spent so much time
A-chortling at zombie haiku posts,
That I may ne'er recover. Oh, and I'm
A part of the INVASION as you'll see
If you go watch the video that's here
(The girl with hair in towel would be me).
I know deep down there's little I need fear,
That zombies are imagin'ry -- and yet --
I say, you maybe ought to have a nap.
You're looking pale and just a tad upset,
And you've a maggot moving 'neath that flap
Of skin on your left cheek; I'm sure that pains --
No! No! Not me, you bastard! Not my brains!

In Which I Muse On An Internet Character

Lord Likely, he will solve 'most any crime,

And ravish any lass who comes his way.

With Botter at his side, he'll take the time

He needs to penetrate whate'er may lay

Athwart him. Just don't ask him to work hard

At anything that involves not a dame.

Few can withstand the stress of his regard

Without succumbing to a blush, for shame!

His quite uncanny nose for finding clues

Inerrently leads him to the boudoir --

Which where else would one search, if one could choose?

His perspicacity n'er leads him far

From what's important: finding ere the fools

Start searching, for the prize, milady's jewels.

In Which I Watch A Legend Grow

The internet's a snowball of info
To which it's fun to add as we see fit.
Today's project, should you all want to know,
Is adding to this page - it's quite legit -
Which details the accomplishments of one
J.C. Hutchins, of whom I've writ before.
A Nobel prize is his in medicine!
A Happy Meal's been named for him and more!
A most nefarious conspiracy
Was launched to hide his knighthood from us. Howl!
(And if you check him on IMDB,
You'd see none of his cameos. Cry foul!)
I'm sure that ere this edifying day
Is through we'll find out that his skin is grey.

Ladeez and Gentilmans... The Wurld's Furst LOL Sahnet

Oh hai, no I no haz NE kitteh,
De allergeez, dey ar dooin dem rite.
Mai goggie, she haz 2 much digniteh,
To show up and be seed like dat. She mite
Sumtimes mak funneh noize but dat is all.
She never rides uh invizibul baik,
Or dribbles uh invisibul red ball.
She cud haf wrote this sahnnet if you laik.
So Iz just beein lurker over der.
Teh possibiliteh, tho, always looms
That sumday on teh fail blog, if U cair,
U kan C wut she doez to all mai rooms.
Her NME is mai vakume kleener,
And with each new 1 she just gets meener.