The Serial Writer
You may think it all automatic, but when I was beginning my career, ahem, in way back when, these things were done by craftsman. Alas, I also lost my esteemed profession to computerization.
I had a very important and dare I say, creative task, of identification. By number.
We have in my family, great respect for the writer and the librarian, as much as for the reader. Hence, my eagerness to enter this profession. Like many pertinent inventions, the impetus came from governmental necessity. That bountiful Mother of Invention. The philosophy was one, if I may oversimplify, of Unification. By which I mean there was need to make uniform, as well as unique, our system of identification. It would not do, for example, to have ten or more John Smith's running around the cells.
Of course, like others, I got my start, as it were, on the bottom rung of the ladder, writing Prisoner numbers in white paint on the black of jailhouse jumpsuits. By hand, mind you. Each number unique, while encoding certain identifiers. Not unlike, the Dewey Decimal system. I excelled at my task and was promoted naturally. I advanced from serializing people, to creating barcodes for objects of all sorts, national and international.
This is where things began to wane. I regret, on my end, I saw a decline in business as global economy flourished. Fortunately, I had enough years behind me to look forward to a comfortable retirement, a respectable government stipend.
I can only add as final remark, my awe, at the advancements in my field. Not only are we serializing people and objects, by computer, but we are now also serial numbering intangible goods.
Truly a pinnacle of achievement!
03.12.2025
The Serial Writer challenge @Last
Forgetting to Death
We are constant
in forgetting
the way
cats shed
and we brush
lint that once
was
integral fabric
from our pantleg
we move on
walking,
and remember
Death before bed:
"The old guard's dying out,"
says the patriarch
under his breath
wondering who
will take up
the carving knife
next,
he can't name
the grandchildren yet
and the cloud
across his face
reminds us
his son has flown away
for untold seasons
and he wants
to forget
03.11.2025
Isabel Allende challenge @dctezcan
Ceviche
Says the Lime to the Lemon,
Wedge, I like your style...
You're big and light
and just a little tart...
Said the Lemon to the Lime:
I think you're spicy, spritely,
and green, but plenty bright.
We each add a touch of acid lace,
jerk some tears and squeeze a laugh
And the world without us, both,
would be missing a zest of life.
02.06.2025
Liming challenge @AJAY9979
Condensation of Thoughts
"Clouds are the dream weavers of the sky, spinning fantasies in sunlight," said my love before wayward journey into night, arm in arm, over fiery autumn cobblestone.
"Oh," murmur the passersby, sweeping... peering up.
"Look! there, there are angels, combing their spiderweb hair with a broom, and now the strands are caught, oh! into a spindle, and it shall become... the wool of a whole herd of sheep! across the indigo. See how they run towards the sun! to avoid a laundering...?"
The man at the doorway licks his finger, and checks the wind, "To the south, my fair friends!! To the south," he nods approvingly.
"Aha! the clouds are busy, tonight, darling, making hay before the winter, then."
"No, my love, it's you who weaves, and spins, who turns poofs of breath into infinite flaxen stores upon the wind," says I, enamored with the light, and the chill, that shows to us the splendor of your weave.
02.04.205
Rabindranath Tagore challenge @dctezcan