Google says it fixed a lot of the security holes the CIA exploited

This is your father talking!

Everybody’s got something to say about poetry because rhymes peak in meaning shedding light on our unspeakables. For an ample example, take the other day when I sat not knowing how to write a poem and assuming I was fruitlessly booming the thin air, I yelled and spat my frustration: “How do I start?” And my dog looks up from her water dish and says, “I hate to encroach on your ‘artistic space’ ‘cuz I know you're like ‘in-the-zone’ or whatever, but if you really want my advice, here it is,” and then my dog says, “Poet, breathe now – because it’s the last thing you’ll ever do for yourself. Poet, breathe now because there’s a fire inside you that needs oxygen to burn, and if you don’t run out of breath, you’re gonna run out of time. Poet, breathe now because once the spot gets packed you gotta save that air for screamin, your -- inhalation takes saviorisms to sky-highs you gotta go with the flowin’ of your own voice. Poet, breathe now because once you spit, you won’t even need air, you'll be rockin’ rhymes respiratory, you’ll breathe poetry, baby. You breathe now, and you’ll never forget that breath. You got -- pulsasive passages passing the mic and hot hallelujahs when verses you write and your sin is your savior your song is your life and your words are like wonders to wandering fifes pipin’ ceremony: poets, you’re man, words your wife and your honeymoon orbits around your love like metronomic metros keepin’ time to the heartbeat of your heavenly drums – Poet, breathe now because you might have something to say because peace might depend on your piece because you breathe and that air might help your brain tell your heart to keep pumping one more cycle and that blood might help your lips form one last word that hits the audience hard – because we are all made from the same elements and we all breathe the same air so celebrate our mutual recipes of existence by persisting to stay alive ducking sageless luckless ages like intellectual hippies! When you take a breath the universe rings out like circular beats – landing planets are seraphim storms are spit – stars are soulcandles! and you breathe like chest rebounds even when all hope seems lost our sounds pound mics like hope-stars like “we’re still here” hollas! we make angels of our nightclubs, bards of our bums, outlooks of our outcasts and infinity of our sums, we are the children of empathy, the pathos of slums, we heal like helios like cyclical drums we enlist life from listless and sometimes even get things done Poet, breathe now because once you start your piece you can die behind that microphone and death may be breathless but poetry’s deathless so breath be our savior eternal. Poets, breathe once with me now. That’s one poem we all wrote.