Feste's Lute

Scribbles & Sketches of the Unspeakable

programming is terrible: Natural born programmers

programmingisterrible:

This petulant belief that programming ability is a gift, rather than a skill, often surfaces as a flimsy rationale for the gender imbalance in technology, but actually serves to reinforce the problem.

Truly interesting and inspiring set of observations on how belief systems affect learning ability…

programming is terrible: Natural born programmers

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Bilge

We regard the
sinking scow —
clouds obscure
her lucky stars.
Now and ever,
taking turns
they pray,
diving they divine,
the dice urge casting
deep.
Hopeless eyes
scry the skies.
Depths to the east and
debts to the West.
The greater lights fall…
as blackened orbs,
and rest…
pockmarked shields,
adorned with stripes,
on battlefields
of blight.

Inhale and Exhale

Systole then diastole.

From the inward breath, Aleph, inspiration… to the first utterance, Bereshith, creation.

We take in so we may give.

We receive not for ourselves alone.

The greatest giver is always the most gifted.

Heights

Around and up,
in branches twining,
vine and leaf and
winding tendrils creep
to bowers where
her resting lashes lie.
Fingers fumble,
slumbr’ing lovers sigh.
Delightful languors,
pink-tinged morning skies.
Ever slaking,
never wake these eyes.

Avenues
abandoned, and
side-streets retained.
A sidewalk
of flesh and
rooftop flashing.
Overcast, or
perhaps cast down
the down-pour.
Poverty reigns.

Helix

The twisted grip of
shale unfixed.
Quartz-flash, agile
shadows flit.
Cliffs of flint
form finger grips.
Shadows lower
into mist,
the Spirals slip,
ignite.

Depths

Imagination
in the grip
of twisting wisdom,
writhing life.
Their forms ignite
a lifting mist.
Beckoned lower,
shadows shift.
Pennies plumet
off the cliffs,
redeeming passage
as they slip.
Spiraled shale and
flint unfixed,
quartz-cracked,
agile fingertips.
Imagination
in the grip,
the twisting grip
of life.