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Another data in the silo
For Regina Holliday.The Mad Tear Party
1. (ironic)
The last time I kissed a surgeon,
He was helping a cause:
Organ trafficking
In China.
And I saw a lot of dead bodies.
« Till Death Us Do Part. »
I stand corrected.
At the Mad Tear Party
We both attended,
Corrosive corruption did the job;
Not death.
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
2. (romantic)
The last time I kissed a doctor,
He was trying hard to hide
Something or someone from me,
And I saw a drop-dead
Gorgeous ghost.
He died a long time ago
At the hospital.
His soul was thrown out
But they were successful
In recycling his organs.
You never know what a hospital really is,
Until a discarded soul tells you.
So now I know
Souls they dispose of
At the hospital
Can be like true love
That never ends.
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
3. (hectic, desperate)
The last time I saw him,
He had cancer,
Then organ transplant,
Then cancer again.
He was dying and he knew
All those silos were killing him.
I could tell he was listening
To those discarded souls
Whispering the truth:
« All in all you are just
Another data in the silo. »
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
3. bis (slow)
As we were holding hands,
The silo became a seed,
Then a fruit, a forest.
And the last time I looked,
The silo had become a planet.
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
4. (peculiar, mad tea party)
The last time I had cookies and tea
At the mad tear party,
They told me things were just hunky dory:
You must share your organs
But you cannot share your data.
« Would you rather share your vital organs,
Or your data? », I asked them.
My question opened a rabbit-time-portal-hole.
The data turned into some kind of vital
Organs.
Then I saw digital locks turning into beating hearts,
The Queen of hearts was yelling at me.
I thought she wanted to perform
A totally endoscopic coronary artery bypass
On my chest,
Or write a snippet of code in Python
To find in my genome a mutation.
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
5. (oppressing)
But instead, she kept yelling:
« I will chop your head off
With my DRM spears and there will be no backdoor left for you
To run away.
You cannot escape.
I own all the patent rights on red roses anyway! »
I was so confused…
But the caterpillar
Explained that digital rights management
Would give me limited use of my digital devices
Even if I would be happy to pay full price for them,
And backdoors could be used only by big corporate or the queen;
Not by some anonymous Alice.
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
6. (delirious)
Puffing on his electronic-pipe contentedly,
He said, his words so heavy with pipe smoke
I couldn’t breathe:
« Better stay in the lobby. You’ll be safe from the Queen. »
So some kind of fungi
Sorry, fun guy,
Smoking some kind of e-cig
Was telling me
I would become the subtenant of my own health
Using an electronic device:
My smartphone.
This tale was epic dumb.
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
7. (Falling. Falling. Falling)
« Better stay in the lobby. You’ll be safe from the Queen. »
« But I already am, I said.
« I just talked to the Queen in this bloody lobby.
Didn’t you see me? »
Another lungful of words,
Blown by the caterpillar:
« My dear,
You are not in the lobby.
You are falling in a deep, deep, deep
Rabbit hole. »
The words and the smoke were fading already
And as I kept falling,
Falling and falling on and on and on,
I could hear the discarded souls
And their song.
« All in all you are just
Another data in the silo. »
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
« All in all you are just
Another data in the silo. »
8. (cheerful)
The last time I fell in love,
It was with you.
But I was falling so hard
I mistook you for something else:
That deep, deep, deep
Rabbit hole,
From Alice in Wonderland.
« All in all you are just
Another data in the silo. »
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
« All in all you are just
Another data in the silo. »
9. (cruel truth, same as the end of "La Ballade de Johnny Jane" : "le temps ronge l'amour comme l'acide")
The last time I fell in love,
It was with you.
But I was falling so hard
I mistook you for something else:
That deep, deep, deep
Rabbit hole,
From Alice in Wonderland.
The last time I kissed a surgeon,
He was helping a cause:
Organ trafficking
In China.
And I saw a lot of dead bodies.
« Till Death Us Do Part. »
I stand corrected.
At the Mad Tear Party
We both attended,
Corrosive corruption did the job;
Not death.
As I found out
That his heart
Was just a spare part
I decided to dispose of it.
Feeling gutsy,
I gutted his heart.
When I was finished
I flushed the toilet.
« All in all you are just
Another data in the silo. »
So now I know.
They recycle organs,
They put data in silos.
An endless collection
Of data silos
With discarded souls in it
Whispering the truth.
« All in all you are just
Another data in the silo. »
As I found out
That his heart
Was just a spare part
I decided to dispose of it.
Feeling gutsy,
I gutted his heart.
When I was finished
I flushed the toilet.
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