You know what the difference was?
It was whipped cream.
With one line of code,
I could solve everything.

You have an idea.
It pops into your mind
like an unannounced prince;
sudden and wild, but welcome.

The idea is used,
your head leaks code
onto the glowing screen.
Now the turning mind
grows weary.

Your mind's fatigue kills,
and you are so close to done...
but secretly,
you know it's a lie.

Debugging awaits your arrival.

Writing a program
is just like
following your dream

You know what you want
as your output
but it takes time to figure
which path to take
and you start with whatever you have.

You never realise the errors
you make along the road,
and sometimes ,
And you don't realise them,
till the end.

Some errors , you know
you solve them easily
And to debug some ,
you have to change the direction
And some errors , may make you rewrite    
and restart all over again .

But when it is all over
and you reach the place you want to
The satisfaction and excitement
makes up for all the problem faced
And we get ready to make
a new code, follow a new dream .

Eyes so wasted
Hearts so entwined in the arms of a demon
And the soulless divide
In the conquering needless
In the delicate realm
Where no ones left lonely
And we are all in the dark
And no one begins
And no one shall find
Just the Airbled injustice
And the criminal silence
Shroud of deep greivance
Sinister breath
How he warms me with deadly
And grave hunts the rest
How the palate is shredded
Wood and chemical lather
Deepest regrets
That reside in no person
Sin
And strangling depth
Drastic perception
Ridiculous tread
The world of our making
Is raliently dead
How vacuous the reach
And how grievous the hold
Your beyond unforgiven
And less than you know

disconnect me- rip out these wires needlessly transmitting data points of zero's and one's, linking up in a systematic corruption of who i am and who i want, mechanical neurons lighting fires in my heart and brain, pulsing until they burn out into ashes and dust just another singed electronic unfeeling part of me that will only result in catastrophic system failure.
and i can't switch off.
its the only warmth i know will stay.
its the only warmth i ever get around me.

how about something
                           radically different:

      Trump as ******
& all his followers
                                      as Nazis

yeah...     might just work
          as poetry
           ♡  ♡  ♡

When was the last time I felt like this
This curious euphoria, this eagerly learning bliss?

Thinking about it, I've felt it before
The first time being when I was four

When I had tried my own little tests
An encyclopedia convinced me that science was the best

And then again when I was six
I saw a table in a PTA mist

And I became a Brownie Girl Scout
Because I liked badges and camps and helping others out

And when I reached the age of seven
I picked up a violin and found heaven

And in middle school in a Floridian vale
I felt that same rush when I learned how to sail

And in grade eight in the city of Detroit
I found my passion with my activist's voice

As an underclassman, my heart reached new highs
Hiking up to touch the Shenandoah skies

There's been so many choices that I've made
That exhilarated me and made me who I became

And feeling this now as I first try to code
I know I've found a new passion for my mind to download

I almost made it to the finish line
but somewhere along I took a wrong turn
segregation’s aftermath still lingering

self inflicted prejudice over one’s skin abstained
self antagonism over one’s curl pattern deeply rooted
self oppugnancy over one’s own race persistent

I know I’m not on the right course
yet blindly I continue
shackling the dependent to me
as i spiral down this cascade

too intimidated to speak out
too worried about social acceptance
too cowardly to admit it

taught that color coding is inferior
but favoritism to a specific color is acceptable


I see police brutality to a specific race
whereas other countries see
Americans killing other Americans

Republicans and Democrats both preach unity
Yet stand divided in one house
but I’m in constant denial
because I was raised as a hypocrite

I want change
but only half of me is willing to fish for that change

it wasn't always the way
minorities didn’t have a voice
so they fought for one

generations later they hoard that voice
locked in a shed
collecting dust

My people have the tools
therefore
don't be fooled
because it’s only a matter of time
before they put them to use
and mold a beautiful sculpture