Wrapped in the muck of existence Gives form to humanities persistence To consume, eliminate, reproduce Stacking things up in order to deduce What’s needed on top of the heap Showing stuff we’ll want to keep Knowing these too will be swallowed up In the infinite stream of entropy muck
The prompt for today is MUCK. Create a post using this prompt. Photos, Artwork, Poetry, Short Story…the options are limitless and then link to this page. Please tag your post “RDP” and “Ragtag Daily Prompt”. Finally, don’t forget to read all the other wonderful posts. Need help with the pingback? You can find the instructions […]
After a decade and a half of performing out in the wilderness, I finally dragged myself off the rocky mesa stage. I had distanced myself from the urban delights of big city life to perform at suburbia’s theatre in the round. All in service of another’s dreams; only to find those dreams were not their dreams either. That was quite the emotional cul-de-sac indeed. Acting within the proscenium provided by the urban streets brought focus to the dysfunctional script being followed, so together we took our final bow. Flipping the script. Freeing us up to chase down another booking.
Hello everyone! The prompt for today, 17th August 2024, is “cul-de-sac”. Write a post including the prompt and share with us via pingback or leave the link in comments section. Happy Saturday! Punam
Much of the past I think I remember has been told and retold and written and filmed and televised and reworked to put forth an agenda. Mistranslations, both malicious and innocent errors, misrepresentations due to the transience of human perception, and the ability to represent it using common though imperfect languages , leading to more mistranslations and misunderstandings;usually put forth by people that are certain they know better than anyone else. The past I do remember while I was paying attention was also delivered by institutions with an agenda, but I have personally witnessed a thing or two leaving me to make up my mind with the understanding that I know what I know until I know something different.
Do I remember the future?
Well that hasn’t happened yet. Or has it? What I do remember is futuristic prognostications of things to come. What might be, what could be, and what should be. Some have actually come to pass, or at least reasonable facsimiles of them. I am fortunate to have lived long enough to witness things that seemed quite futuristic and wondrous in their time quickly passed into obscure obsolescence only to become humorous internet memes. But still most of those futuristic things were indeed stepping stones to the marvels of our present day. Yet many of those futuristic ambitions have been left on the ever growing trash heap of history.
As for now, I think Charles Dickens wrote it best
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
I wonder how that translates into other languages. Perhaps, everything is okay until it isn’t.
In the meantime, remember
Green-stone, Go. Red-stone Stop. Yellow-stone. Slow. Every body must get stoned
The word for today is Futuristic! Flying cars? Androids that look and (good god no) act like humans? Travel to distant worlds? Or here on Earth, maybe, peace and ecosystems in balance? Photos, Artwork, Poetry, Short Story… Then link to this page. Please tag your post “RDP” and “Ragtag Daily Prompt”. Finally, don’t forget to […]
Pile up a cairn. Knock over a cairn. Build a cairn... Human history.
Our prompt for today is “blank”. What does the word mean to you? Compose a post, and share your interpretation of the day’s prompt in words or pictures. You know the rules. Use “ragtag daily prompt” , “RDP” , and “blank” as tags. Add “photo” if you’re sharing a picture, as specific tags make your […]
Kindling of A.I. origin Falsehoods flame the main Fan with boughs of balderdash Smoke blinds a cache of cash Murky waters mottle and schmooze Senseless seekers still abuse No amount of abluent cleanse Will wash the historical lens Cause where there is confusion Money will be made in profusion
trickle to drizzle downpour to monsoon gushed down twixt lush fertile swale
Happy Monday!! The prompt for today is FAN. Create a post using this prompt. Photos, Artwork, Poetry, Short Story…the options are limitless and then link to this page. Please tag your post “RDP” and “Ragtag Daily Prompt”. Finally, don’t forget to read all the other wonderful posts. Need help with the pingback? You can find […]
talk to text keeps us talking not typing staving off wind deficit .
When everything brings joy Nothing does When nothing brings joy Everything does
I’m beginning to realize I enjoy contradictions. How realize and realise are the same word, just different spellings. Oh, what a slap in the face to the spell correctors of the world. Oh, what joy I found in how many times I had to correct the spell correct to get it to realise that I typed what I typed because I meant what I typed.
Very happy Sunday and the Ragtag Daily Prompt is realize. Sol Duc came to a realization this morning. She realized that the buildings around us are houses and that different people and pets live in each one. Why do I think that? She went up the walkway to our neighbor’s house and sniffed all around. […]
got off financial treadmill first in order to evict wasteful chaff
Butterflies Aren't free Oleo sinks Margarine stinks Sorrow floats Hope bloats Bees sting Birds sing Money talks B.S. walks into a bank, lies about assets, gets a loan, then uses other people's money to live life in a golden cocoon only to emerge A pro To con again Still butterflies Aren't free
Hello everyone! The prompt for today is, “Butterflies”.
Shoes for Industry! Shoes for the Dead! – Firesign Theatre
Monday morning meaning has gone through many permutations through my days. From hope to dread. Trepidation to turpitude. Triumph to terror. Always a turning point highlighted by a calendar infused post industrial revolution angst about gain and loss, productivity and projections. The get some ethos of our time.
No longer just another day of existence, it was a morning where I stepped back into the world of commerce and played the role I had chosen, or was chosen for me, out of necessity to earn my daily bread by hook or by crook; as was glorified on the entertainment platforms and corporate shill magical moments; to make me want what I had been shown to really really need to be happy.
Yes, and I helped. Daily blur, became weekly blur, folding into yearly blur, cascading down through decades of blur. Just make it through another day so I could make it stop.
The good blur. The productivity blur. The compensated blur. The blurry blur.
Then I got a new role and worked evenings and weekends. Friday afternoon became my Monday morning, with all the same alchemical needs. Only later in the day, and frankly with much less stress. It was just a job and no longer a career. I could cruise on through the five day cattywampus week, with only daily task mapping to keep my steps to a minimum, and as a result, the pain to a minimum.
Now, with those calendar deadline days behind me, and aging into the time of life that medical care could not bankrupt me; I have distilled Mondays down to their essence into this haiku.
Sort
Monday morning sort. What to do? What to read? What to post on my feed?
So I’m sitting at my desk which is nowhere near as nice a desk as the RDP prompt desk picture, and with nowhere as nice a view as the said desk has. Instead I will regale my RDP friends with the stale crusts of my week of #haikufeels prompts instead.
A Scroll Threw Life 