Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry, Writing


At the beginning, it fizzed in the corner
Of the room for an hour a day at most,
Seldom used, never listened to, a slave
To necessity, a pain, a peripheral addition
To daily life, on which to transmit the
Occasional message which couldn’t wait
For letters, or when the phone wasn’t an

Then it mutated into necessity itself, for
Work at least, technology moved past the
Fizzing to the always on, white splitters in
Every phone socket. We don’t need to
Worry about the hardware now. It’s the
Software that will enslave us.

R 02/05/2023 20:14

There is a shorter Mastodon version. And I have a backlog of almost 4 weeks of poetry that I’ve written on a machine that I really need to transcribe into my journal. Must stop writing on a machine listening to Taylor Swift’s All Too Well, really.

So I decided to enter that amazon competition with Aggie. Lord knows what games I need to play with that. We shall see.

Had a brief text exchange with my old friend N in New Zealand, just checking he’s still there now he’s changed jobs (though he’ll forever be in his previous job in Dead Men and its 2 sequels, the second of which has not yet been written).

The first day back at work after the long weekend dumped as much work on me as it could. No bad thing, except when I look up at 4 when I thought it was 3 and realise I have yet to go for a fast walk. But I forced myself to go, and stomped around this part of the world looking suitably grim and unshaven. Got very sweaty and shaky, for some odd reason. Then, after shower and coffee realised it was because too many things were racing round my head all at the same time. And breathe….

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