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Stephen E Yocum Jul 2017
I rolled out of bed
to start my day,
but the power was off
my all electric home,
as still as a grave.
No coffee, or toast.
The refrigerator not cold,
the freezer started dripping
the contents soon to spoil.

No computer, no cell phone service!
I began sweating profusely,
no air conditioning to cool me.
Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert,
to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy .

I drove into town seeking a pay phone,
with not a single one to be found,
gone the way of the dinosaurs,
extinct now too I assumed.

My old truck had no computer chips,
most cars did and were dead in their tracks.
I needed gas but the gas station pumps
electric computer driven, all DOA to boot.

The Nations electric grid had crashed,
blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere.
All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired.
Everything computer related (and
that is about everything), had ceased
to function as had the electronic reliant
world we had created.  

The street throngs of dazed people walked
around like zombies, clutching blacked out
dead computer devices, knowing not what to do.
Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too.
As dependently defectively programmed as the useless
devices in their hands.

In a panic I did awake finding that
this scary dream world was indeed all fake,
a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking.
My electric clock was still churning,
It's music alarm blaring,
birds outside still singing,
my cell phone started ringing,
it was merely another Robot call,
Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
Imagine if you can some man made device or solar flare
knocking out all the satellites in space and computers on
earth, then this nightmare is not so far-fetched.
I actually did have this unsettling dream. The possibility
of this reality does indeed exist.
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015
The children of today befoul
Their grandparents with disrespect
And nurture their own children
With television shows and neglect.
They don’t teach children to be kind
And fail to teach them not to cheat.
So they grow up morally blind
Expecting to be paid to be sweet.

These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can get
Everything they desire.
And when they fail to get their way
They set the place on fire.

Now we have generations of them
Like hogs on the living room couch
Shoving their faces greedily
Like they’re a royal grouch.
They ***** if they think someone
Is getting more than they do.
But ask them to vote differently
And they whine they don’t want to.

They never notice that they dress
Like they did as in their teens.
Football jersies, shoes untied
Baseball caps and old jeans.
They say the same old crap
They used to say, not much new
About girls, and the car they drive
And what they’d like to do.

These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can have
A life of nothing but fun.
And when they fail to get their way
They go and get a gun.

Ask them names of those people
Got elected to represent.
Most of them barely know
The name of the President.
They don’t vote, they don’t go
Even so far as the local PTA.
This is the American voter
The kind we put up with today.

These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can get
What other people own.
It’s like these losers found a way
To live in the Twilight Zone
The cranes flew and the city grew and what did I do?
put my head in the sand,
so I could no longer see the change that was happening all around me.

A land fit for heroes,city tycoons and wannabe Nero's and now't left in the stew *** for me or for you lot,
and how do you feel about that?

More money than sense and scant recompense for the builders who toil,who make the monsters that rise and eat up the soil, despoiling the land,more heads in the sand but holding out hands for that scant recompense.

Reconciling the bile in their throats with those city gent suits in their trilby's and coats and soldiering on until the earth is all gone.

A legacy indeed for them who would scramble in scrub land and grow things to feed the dysfunction of family,
what seeds we have sown,how defectively grown we've become and all for the buildings that greedily search out the sun,
somewhere up in the heights.
Leah Ward Mar 2013
I love you subtly, quietly.
I love you as I subtly sleep,
and I love you as I quietly wake.
I love you carefully, delicately.
I love you as I carefully pour my coffee,
and I love you as I delicately turn the news paper page.
I love you meticulously, cautiously.
I love you as I meticulously apply my lip stick,
and I love you as I cautiously curl my hair.
I love you quickly, routinely.
I love you as I quickly get dressed,
and I love you as I routinely drive to work.
I love you briskly, mindlessly.
I love you as I briskly file books away,
and I love you as I mindlessly write another word.

I love you normally, unusually.
I love you as I normally drive home
And I love you as I unusually stop by your place.

I love you regrettably, reluctantly.
I love you as I regrettably watch you love another woman,
and I love you as I reluctantly leave.
I love you hapzardly, accidentally.
I love you as I hapzardly bump elbows,
and I love you as I accidentally drink a little too much.
I love you defectively, selfishly.
I love you as I defectively try not to feel so lonely,
and I love you as I selfishly suduce others.
I love you terribly, awfully.
I love you as I terribly attempt not to,
and I love you like I'm supposed to, like I don't want to. Awfully.
I love you endlessly, hopelessly.
I love you as I endlessly toss and turn,
and I love you as I hopelessly lie awake.

I love you subtly, quietly.
I love you as I subtly sleep,
and I love you as I quietly wake.
The swallows that return
Are limping when they fly
The swallows that were burned
Will limp 'til they die

And when they visit me
They pluck about my eyes,
Aiming for my lips
They miss them every time

Defectively, I lost my vision
So when I feel about the world
Looking for miraculous mission
I come up almost empty-handed

My hands are full of blood instead
Punctured from the sandbox trees
That I thought were oaks of red.
It was illusion and deception

By now,

The eyes should have healed
The lips should have pecked
The hands should have grasped
Onto whatever is coming next

That, too, is an illusion, a deception
But I am too blind to know
july hearne Jul 2023
the two tall cans
horizontally lined up to each other
again

how quickly years can go by,
3,5,6,7 and so on
the more years that go by
the faster they go by

maybe it started
with a surprise, an unexpected win
and ended with a disappointed dream
a truth that just couldn't be changed

such filth in this world
such beginning of sorrows
woes of Isaiah and so on

a truth that will never be changed

defectively loved children
and stupid nasty mothers
from india

he/him/demon/jeffrey marsh
richard levine in a skirt
you feel too safe with trannys in the military
no problem with trudeau throw away canadians
diapered biden, turbaned canadian, uk and so on

third world greed
and so on
bereft and garbage scrunched,
valerie jarret really does look like an apely primate
a dead ringer

threads and more threads
rats bought for food, mouths fulls of rats and mangy *****
and a truth that can never be changed

just look at you now
mouths full of rats and mangy *****
whites are indigenous to europe
***** in the streets
third world greed and so on
just look at you then
the more years go by
the faster they go by
have you heard about the beginning of sorrows?

a good dream would be one
where mark zuckerberg and zelinsky were
hanging motionless side by side
a dead ringer
small little disgusting men approved by disgusting people
and so on.
Strangerous Jul 2023
Defective products everywhere.
I stepped on one while walking
across the grass that grows like hair,
where lovers were sitting talking

about the money they’d make
by selling defective products.
Anyway, it wasn't a snake
or a squirrel or a pair of ducks

mating, it was an escalator
coming up out of the ground
from Hell, like the old dumb-waiter
in the haunted house around

the riverbend, that used to be
run up and down in the old days,
until the Yankees came and we
each dug a few graves

for the bodies that belonged to
the souls that returned to Hades
after the war. It caught my shoe
and jammed -- ****** and defectively made.
© 1991 by Jack Morris

Hear the song on Spotify:
https://open.spotify.com/track/6dXF2N7UHd1yBNC16QoXcK?si=64d1aa9085fb4fea

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