On the Origin of the Google Search Algorithm

Al'Khwarizmi - the word algorithm2

 

 

 

Many were the Arab gifts to modern man
Wisdom of the shrewd Semitic scholars past;
Poets Rumi, Ibn ‘Arabi and Khayyam
Geometric art in rhythmic patterns vast.
Studies of the night sky with rare comet flights;
Arabesque anatomy and medicine;
Belly-dancing; sorbet; The Arabian Nights;
Algorithms and decimal ciphering.
Spreading all this knowledge, all this intellect
Like the wild Sirocco scatters grains of sand,
Learning filled the cracks so cultures could connect
Such were gifts of Arabs to Renaissance man.
Google’s algorithm searches everything;
If we search for peace perhaps we’ll share again.

Refoulement

Refoulement CC

Australians all let us find voice
For we are being deceived
Our country’s politicians foist
Their scorn on refugees
Send Tamils to Sri Lankan camps
Like Jews of history
On UN stage, the world will rage
But blame not Aussies please
Our politicians act for selves
Ignoring of our pleas
I need the watching world to know
THEY DO NOT ACT FOR ME

The Syrian Rap

Hysteria in Syria
they’ve lost their equilibria
it’s causing wide dysphoria
no food and getting wearier
no water aid criteria
some praying to their god Allah
and others to the Curia
depends on their insignia
But everyone is angrier
Assad has monomania
he’s fixed on his dystopia
while all around is bloodier
His wife is getting bitchier
her greedy hands are itchier
for dresses from Pierre Cardin
or trendy shoes from Louboutin Continue reading

Boris Johnson opens Melbourne Writers Festival

adamprocter2006

I went along to see London Mayor Boris Johnson open the 2013 Melbourne Writers Festival last night. The man declared himself impressed with the venue, our city’s quaint mid-nineteenth century neoclassical Town Hall, deeming it more appropriate than his own sterile and modern energy-saver abutting the old Pool of London.

In case any of you are wondering why a politician travelled 16891 kilometers to open such an event, Boris Johnson is a writer with a dozen or so successful books under his belt. He came up through the newspaper ranks Continue reading

A Fortunate Man

fortunateman

My son is dying, dark eyes fever-flared,
He bravely smiles as we await his fate.
72 virginal houri abide
Visage veiled but vaginas revealed
Or 28 pre-pubescent puerile pearls
If such preferred, as promised by Hadith.
The vest bears down its weight and cumbrous heft
On fading heart of this my blessed scion
Compressing tread-marks of his final steps
On venerated path through ancient dust.
I watch now from this place to the bazaar
Where wretches beg and fallen angels profit.
Honour will be paid to me for loss;
Tribute will be brought and I will feast;
His act speeds my path when my time comes.
A muffled
Holy
rumbling roar of rage.
Still-twitching parts from those of lesser worth
Fragment and reek of vile impurity.
Clouded in blood-mist their blackened meat
Stains every desert star to crescent moon.
Lacerated limbs lance wall and roof
Mangling men reviled like scorpions loathed;
Unearthed rats bleed blinded by the flames
From Paradise, as porcine stench befouls
The gentle desert khamseen’s blessed breeze
Bearing joy to this most fortunate of men.

Thanks to Scriptor Obscura for recommending this reflective accompaniment, ‘Mazaar”. Sung here by Niyaz this old Afghani folksong is sung in Dari, a Persian dialect. The song includes a plea for all human beings to end suffering.

The Rise of the Member

westminster

 

 

 

 

 

Ever since first day at school I’ve heard about the Golden Rule
It says that if you cram and learn then heaps of money you would earn.
I saw that this approach made sense and studied though my brain seemed dense
The brainy kid took all my tests – not that I threatened to molest,
I gave him what he shyly stated (let him see my girlfriend naked) Continue reading

Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World

by Jack Weatherford

The Mongol Invasion was a mere apostrophe of history during my schooling and I dimly recall mention of a particularly savage slew of terrifying tribesmen from the esoteric east who touched a handful of easternmost European cities over a relatively short period before disappearing back into the vague lands that spawned them. Jack Weatherford’s book was recently recommended to me and immediately dispelled that notion. It exposed the panic propagated throughout Europe by ignorant, superstitious and hysterical Kings or (drama-) Queens.

Weatherford is an American anthropologist and ethnographer who got side-tracked into a fascination with Mongol affairs while on a research expedition studying the role of tribal people in the development of trade along the Silk Road between China and Europe. He diverted his attention to compiling a history of a Mongol boy named Temujin, born in 1162, who grew to annex the diverse central Asian tribes into one Mongol nation.  As Genghis Khan, Temujin went on to conquer the land from China to Hungary via the Middle East and Russia. As Weatherford points out, this is a greater land mass than any other conqueror in history – including Alexander the Great. Continue reading