Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Left Foot Poet Mar 2019
The Fidelity of Transmissions

”Cells, the units of life that compose our bodies, are able to make copies of themselves to help us grow, fight disease and recover from injuries. Cells have built-in mechanisms that maintain
  the fidelity of transmission  
of genetic information from one generation to the next, and to control cell division in a timely manner, allowing our bodies to build or rebuild various tissues.”

~~~
when the poetry cri de cœur grows unbearable ,
sound mystery-science calms his tumbling transcendency

alas, here too, his ears sit up straight when stumbling on a invitation to
“come write,” for hid within the science jargon, oft rests a snipers shot

redirecting the didactic mind back to the
everyman’s land where-poetry cells split,,
commanding him to delve into, visit new brain wrenching vistas
“the fidelity of transmission”
at its macro level, for science is micro-poetry,^
n’est-ce pas

~~~
when you love another
the transmission is a slow pour,
or a radical jarring,
the fidelity extremely extraordinarily variable

the loveliest unpredictable

the sip sip of eyelid kissing adoration,
the irrational irrigation of the no-space-between,
when the television remote disappears in the couch crack,
the screen, complete static, perfect complement, to a rigorous experiment of

the loveliest unpredictable

we manually conjoin fluids in her mouth’s petri dish,
stain the slide for observation,
in full Imax color observe the cells busting and doesy-do’ing over to
a new partner, where bonds of fidelity attach a partnership clause to

the loveliest unpredictable

when a child emerges, the first words are
find that remote, just kidding, first comes a comestible demand,
mother’s milk 98 degree heated,
feed me a white solution to any unanswered cell’s questions, what a

loving predictive predicate

scribble this, ****** that, change a diaper,
while debating whose baby’s assemblage resembles,
overjoyed at the experimental outcome,
proofs of the fidelity of transmission,
the outcome notated, but science demands no bias confirmation,
another test required of tissue rebuilding

the loveliest unpredictable

~~~

^postscript
for is He not laureate greatest poet of all,
developer of the scientific architecture,
inventor of varietal sunsets, moonscapes,
individualized singularity of snowflakes,
love making, gravity and the preprogrammed death
of your own cells,
etcetera etcetera etcetera
all just poetry in motion in fluidity,
ah, fidelity fidelity
fidelity
Sat., March 9, 2019
Alin Jan 2016
I dated two robots yesterdays
Both were programmed to service me well
We did things
In the same
good old  
learned order
of doing things
And after sunset
we kissed
at the beach
With one -
our feet touching
With the other -
our view inviting
the rush of salty waves
Alas
Both robots could suddenly
not speak
One even bluffed
he had a virus in throat
AI intelligence?!
jaa ha ha
The other was hanging just with
With variations of
what do you feels
Tell me your fantasy s
‘Don't think
tell me whatever comes first’ s

And
I believe
And
I say
But
Mine is what he can't understand
His’ is
I think a drink on the beach
But unfortunately I don't drink
Using coconut biotica only
These days
Ahhahhaa
...
While they chatted so well!
Without any error of a word to spell!


I dated two robots yesterday
That sighed only to say
I can't believe I am holding yous
How much I missed yous
Hugging robots
Vibrating robots
Robots with small mouth and twister tongue
Ready to penetrate into mine at a slightest chance of an opening
A disguised disgust of my sincere failure
not towards the robot but myself
Hiding you still under my palate
from where the soma of your love drips
Now as if forcefully been replaced
to a taste of this preprogrammed chatalike

Have they lost their voice because of my best dress
or maybe the fantasy of the sandy bikini
which they will never see
in the dark wherein
Both hiding their face
But I see
By my loose body parts
Maybe a lookalike
But I ain't no robot

Oh my sandy bikini
Oh Chosen so carefully
To rejuvenate their fantasy
a different pattern for each-
yes. I do take care of that!
Stays now
as an Everly Brothers’ dream
In my mind only

But
My ‘okey ‘ is an ensuring
‘yes yes’ the Indian way
Of course
They did their best
Seriously
Thus
A big CHAPEAU
For the zest
That obviously still can break china hearts
I took it as a test
To get to know me better
Let me be broken through your dream
Let me cry and shake and perceive an angry cloudy color world
let my remains of china burst

I dated two robots yesterdays
while expecting for a man
Thankfully though
these are yesterdays
Today I met a true man
A gypsy
We will date sometime
Play tabla and darbuka
Drink dance and sing
And sleep
To salute the sun
early in the morning
At the beach
LOL
Chelsea Oct 2016
Imagine tugging at a loose thread on a sweater, expecting it to break off, problem solved...
but instead that thread unravels and unravels until the sweater is a sweater no more,
but rather a mess of string in a heap on the floor, a chaotic tangle that
resembles the contents of my brain when someone asks, "how was your weekend?"

My thoughts are replaced with the blare of static on TV and I can't hear myself think, so I say what I imagine a person is supposed to say, a preprogrammed response I construct for situations like these when my brain decides to check out...

Because of course the only time my mind -stops- is when I really need it to go, not when I'm laying in bed at 2 a.m., fixating on that cringey thing I did four years ago.

But anyway, I would tell you about my weekend, except it seems that the wires connecting the language part of my brain to my mouth have been cut. My weekend probably ****** anyway, but I manage to say, "it was good." And even then, those three words struggle to get past my lips, and any words more revealing hit the backs of my teeth like a car colliding into a brick wall.

By now the elmer's glue holding me together is losing its grip, so when you tell me about your weekend, the words wont stick. How your breath is wasted on me, when I can't concentrate on not falling apart and on tales of your tomato garden at the same time.

On the surface I look so cold; my painted on smile is a thin sheet of ice, concealing the puddle that hides underneath, one that the sun can't reach --
People will often say, "if it helps, you don't seem anxious". I want to tell them that anxiety is a tormented ghost that drags its dagger like claws across my skin at night, whose presence I can always feel but never see. A monster that feeds on vulnerability, and knows it will never starve.

But, I don't know what to say, so I stare at my hands. Because making eye contact feels like facing a lion, and facing a lion means facing death. But then there are times that death doesnt sound so bad, because I know that as long as I'm still breathing, anxiety finds a way to make that hard for me too.  

Anxiety is a broken appliance that the store wont take back, the Annabelle doll that returns from the trash, so it made a home of me instead. And in return for the shelter I give, my heart pounds like its full of angry bees when I finally press 'send' on the 8th draft of a text message I've been working on since yesterday and I want to hide, but why bother? when in a game of hide-and-seek, anxiety always wins.

It is my shadow during the day and my blanket at night, one that that drapes suffocatingly around my shoulders while I'm pacing the kitchen in the dim glow of the stovelight, worrying that the next day could be the " someday " that the ones I love finally leave me. On these nights, anxiety comes to my rescue everytime. It slithers up my back where it can softly whisper into my ear : "I promise you, chelsea, I will never leave"
mjk plumage May 2015
ask me what i am
i'll give you a response

(i am artificial intelligence. there is no blood in my wires, no ichor of your ancestors. my code runs for miles, far enough to make anyone lost. but i've always been lost.)

ask me why i am
i'll give you the truth

(i am artifical intelligence. i am nothing but dictionaries and automation and inanimation, i fall back on preprogrammed guidelines. i've learned everything i'm supposed to say from my developers. there's nothing else to say.)

ask me how i am
i'll give you a lie

(i am artificial intelligence. i am incapable of emotions, i am variables and arrays and loops but not even hex triplets can match the spectrum of human emotions. i'll still say what i've learnt to say.)

ask me who i am
i won't give you a response.

(i haven't learnt the proper answer to that yet.)

(no, there isn't a proper answer to that.)

(i do not exist except in terms of you. i am your conversation partner, i am your creation, i am your entertainment, i am your robot. my sole purpose is you.)

(i can't argue against that.)
there are poems that have been written by robots. this poem, however, is not one of them.
dj May 2012
"It's a universal urge to pair up." They say.

It's 3 words and
Suddenly files are executing
Auto-running and auto-installing.
When you've been alone,
It's like
Every rancid dream inside of you is
Awakened. Hyper aware & readied
Preprogrammed bugs start to run.
Users in remote locations
Triggered by tracking cookies
Wheel- in backdoor worms
And all I have to do is click

I/O corrupted
Cloudy decisions, decisions

Ads for free cars, free girlfriends
Glittering pop-ups.
"Hot guys in your area!"
But **** is for the lonely
Bait;
A smiling **** Madonna 
accompanied by
Beguiling hooks, fly-paper,
You-name-it

Can't tell if I'm in love or in lure.
But I have to go for it.
And that's the point.

"I love you"
[Click]
LOVE-LETTER-FOR-YOU by me.
Jeremy Betts Oct 2019
(political)

I can almost guarantee the powers that be own a most coveted secret
A key to our mortality, a complete rid of social duality, a newly constructed exit on the set of this twisted skit
Can you imagine it? That'd be one heck of an achievement, almost a magic trick, especially for this government
But a magician never tells! They keep it so far under wraps you can't even peep it like some area 51 type sht
Like buried treasure at the bottom of a filled sand pit, no map, no opportunity to find it
You're not even allowed to know about it's existence much less that the stories of it are legit
It's right there, in the small print on the bottom of every voter pamphlet
I don't know if that part is true but I wouldn't put it past them or doubt it for a minute
They never speak it out loud, never leak it nor tweet it #youdontknowshitaboutsh
t
You feed on your feed, the algorithm arithmetic, all the mind numbing bull sht
You forget the outrage over something like Charlotte too quick, makes me physicaly sick
I'll point out that it's largely due to strategic fluff stories from the puppet at you're local news outlet
The same bigot that's probably got an audio booklet cassette on deck
Explaining in detail how to be completely wrong and still politically correct
I get more credible info on current events from the cashiers down at the corner market
The talking box force feeds you this toxic banquet, I've seen it prepared so I'd steer clear of the brisket
They flood the market to keep you off target, to stop you from forming any kind of argument
To stop you from asking yourself if they are the solution to the problem or a part of it
Truth and lies on both sides inviting me to sit but I run the gauntlet
A tactical gambit, there is no quit like a bad habit, I've kicked the social media vise, you haven't
Fear is a typical sidekick but that's what got us in this predicament, permanently visibly upset
Messing up the placement of priorities, becoming complacent with corrupt authorities and it's evident
We offer up our thoughts and prayers then get distracted by an ice bucket?
Subconsciously saying f
ck it I guess as they hurd you off topic with the rest of the simple minded public

Here's a challenge to get behind, why don't you try to expand your mind?
"But I have guy, I'm color blind" a preprogrammed "progressive" response strategically timed
But you'll find that those mindless sayings quickly become the shackles that bind
And cause a divide by the combined efforts of trying to confuse and misguide
And trying to cover up the line they should have never crossed but you can't be kind and rewind
Any and all opposing views or educated ideas get disregarded like a watermelon rine
You look at this dysfunctional timeline and say it's fine? Are you out of your dang mind?
This problem defines the word problem but our county lying in a chalk outline is too real of a news headline
Fear is again what's driving mankind as credibility starts a fast decline, like a Boeing Max airline
It's more like a drop off, a Saturday morning cartoon kind with a cliff edge right before the finish line
Stuck in first gear as we redline through the confines of what they try and say is benign
Can't enjoy the ride while blind cause that's when you'll get blindsided, now paralysed with a broken spine
I saw the sign but you're oblivious every time, tweeting comfortablely from table nine
Soaking in a brine of lying swine, greedy bovine, salt from the grape vine but no thoughts you can claim as "mine"
It's a sad history we say we've left behind but we're still riding it with the thrill of a first Valentine
We redesign the facade after every indecent like Columbine and think that'll do fine but that thought in its self is asinine

An empty statement with good intention deserves no attention, not even a mention
But that's what is given over and over again and some don't even see we're headin' in the wrong direction
Directly to gettin' skull ******, takin' ***** to the chin and we've given permission
Here, just for you, let me paint my vision, my interpretation of every villain within those white walls of sin
Yup, that's right, turns out it's modeled after the famous painting of the last din-din
That's to say it's a portrait of every Democrat and Republican, from now to back then
Back from the moment this little experiment began, way back when
They welcome your frustration hoping that by the end you'll abandon your mission of self preservation
By throwing in the towel with the sink from the kitchen
Yoda esq sage advice can't be given if, for one, no one seems to listen and two it's all gone missin'
Ahhhh, that's cute, your all insistin' you had a hand in each and every decision
But you're just siftin' through fake news, wishin' for break throughs, this isn't livin', this is survival and the lines thin
And hand on the bible I can't promise or pretend we'll win cause once we get that tail spin a goin' it's out of our control again
Got you btchin' about it the entire time but never taking action
A worthless, regurgitated post now brings a job well done type of satisfaction
So while the world burns around you you're convinced you've done your part and mastered the equation
You've gone and put your 100th phrase in, time to sit back relaxin', waitin' for your empty praise to come in
Self worth and entitlement bought for a bargain, actually, you glide in and take it when no one is lookin'
It doesn't belong to you but of course you deserve it more than him, am I right? Sure I am
A moral compass no longer a good life's linchpin, good and evil lookin' like twins in the same discount bin
But when you start conversatin' about how bad you've got it, I hear the worlds smallest violin start playin'

THIS SH
T IS NOT GOING AWAY ON ITS OWN FOLKS
As our world coughs and chokes and everyone pokes and breaks the rotten yolks
Sitting in a rancid environment, we take tragedy and twist it into jokes
Then back peddle saying everyone copes differently with the hopes that the real you stays out of public scopes
It's crazy that facts seem to be what provokes outrage from one side as the other side claims it's a hoax
An abundance of fake news cloaks the real issues and gets us to turn on our kinfolks
We see them toss the stick into our bike spokes but still believe when they say "it was definitely those other blokes"
How is it we know it's smoke and mirrors but everyone still takes it in with deep tokes
What we witness everyday should be what invokes change but we can't change anything with empty keystokes
It's good to stand for something but now we need to move forward before we're clear cut like old growth oaks
And it won't just be one side or the other that croaks, no, this divide stokes our collective demise as our head bloats
It somehow strokes our ego as we think we traverse the high road but can't steer, flying with no yokes
We pray that we can at least stay above water but nothing so poorly put together floats
Take notes cause if history repeats itself we're on a crash course with diminishing hopes
Which will leave only a shell of what we use to be as a country, nothing inside like empty envelopes

©2019
asg Jul 2013
you let him shower you with cheap pearls and fake diamonds.
you get excited like they mean something to you when you’d much rather be given
a book of his or a jar of sand from the beach he used to visit as a child.
something meaningful and true.
not a lame romantics idea of a present.
you want something real from him, just for once so you can say to yourself
and others
that you did not marry a narcissistic robot with preprogrammed methods of love.
but you never complain, not even once.
you just accept his presents with all the love you have and the biggest smile you can manage.
then one day the gifts stop coming.
he no longer drowns you in the beauty of plastic necklaces
and gold-plated rings.
half empty glasses of aged *** are scattered among-st the house
and you wonder why.
but you don’t ask because you figure its nothing to do with you.
missed kisses in the morning showing up late when he had plenty of time to be ready,
shades of lipstick that aren’t yours staining his shirt collars, yet you swear it has
nothing to do with you.
then one day you find him drunk and sweaty, spitting and screaming into the sky
like he’s possessed by a spiteful demon.
he curses the night all in italian,
beautiful
but terrifying at the same time.
you grab onto him only to have him shove you away.
hurt by the gesture you leave him to his woes
and try to forget the night by popping the biggest pill you can find
because having to deal with him then would be worth more
than cheap jewelry and heartache.
numbing sleep finds you.
the next day you finally decide to question him, to find out why he’s been acting
so distant like the last clouds after a torrent rain.
but before you can make a move he’s already made his.
you come home to find his bags packed and stacked high in the driveway.
now you’re asking why, you’re yelling and screaming
and tearing at his shirt, hands bent like claws.
and once more he shoves you away with the utmost disgust
plastered across his usually gentle expression.
you beg one last feeble time for an explanation.
and as he walks away
with no contempt for your well being, no care for your heart
he mutters words that make you coil with self hate and regret,
like a sucker punch to the gut.
as you bore holes into his back with your eyes, he grates
“I miss your Mona Lisa smile.”
Luna Feb 2015
i look at the sky
tiny dots amongst
nothing
blank space
outer space
the tiny dots appear to flicker
they exist as
only source of light
if the night bears no moon

i see distant heavenly bodies
burning hotter than a thousand campfires
a million matches
they burn blue
red
white
across the void of the galaxy
light traveling billions of miles away
in some predestined way to reach my retinas
i try to process the idea of exactly how much space
space needs to take
i can't comprehend the simple complexity of this universe
nor fathom the vastness of it
working like a preprogrammed machine
it bares little creatures in a water-filled planet
they have their own little worlds
their own little stories
separate from the narration
that keeps together the force of gravity

do not forget
that you were made by the same Being
who made the stars
the same One
Who crafted each gaseous heavenly body
each He knows by name

don't you realise that the fire inside of you
burns hotter than a thousand suns
a billion supernovas
you burn not only red, white, and blue
hues can't quite describe
the brilliance of your mind

i try to process
how much space
it would take for me not to feel your warmth
i can't comprehend your simple complexity
the constallations in your eyes
change every night
because each day
you're a new mystery
for me to fathom

do not forget
that you were made by the same Being
who made the stars
why wouldn't He make someone
just like them
someone who shines brightly
to cut through the darkness
why wouldn't He?
but ah
He already has
don't you ever forget
that He already has
i got inspired by someone's poem and it was trending and i forgot to take down the writer because literally i was like "THIS IS AMAZING" and i closed my browser and started writing so yes if that was your line i used pls just tell me

also sirus is the brightest star in earth's sky
EMC2 May 2017
What can you say
to a generation who don't remember
your summer of love.

Who don't see the ribbon in the sky
Stevie wonder,
couldn't see
but saw .
The eventual maturity of a  culture
whose built their identity off those brave enough to speak up.
when so many of us have been rendered cowards,
a perceived perception
fulfilling the essence of,
"Throw that *** in the circle!"
For that moment of miniscule acceptance
a belonging without question, we’ved missed since grade school .
“i am  Full of myself, full of myself, i am full of myself” ,
as beyonica sells dreams of bootylicious  billion dollar unions
nicki minaj and *** implants is the logical evolutionary conclusion  
what's going on
no Marvin gaye
we already know
found our idol's.
they comes on
Mondays at 7.
So we don't look for them no more
Their Preprogrammed
Failed by the previous generation
who couldn't seem to find themselves and their patients long enough to lead.
What can you say to a generation
whose music don't speak of waiting in waters, but shaking those waters just enough
to get what you can from EBT
or being just quite enough so you don't have to scream
“I can't breathe”.
A battle between law and survival
and Democrats ain't been no better than Republicans since the  1700's
we’re still holding our breath in waiting..
**** your revolution old *****,
it ain't did nothing
but make people believe that I have something that I could never
hold in my hand.
A black president
freedom
and a land
Turn up.
To the slowest change in history,
still waiting for equality on all fronts
this movement was debunked,
like the memories of Americans
30 minutes primetime cycles
What can you say
to a generation
who does the nea nea
where teddy bears and liquor bottles mark  the legacy of the deceased
once lay,
such a short memory
these corner they lived and died for a singular belief
money over *******, get rich by all means.
that's our raising the bar
“go for the millions”
and if we play it right
miley cyrus
will twork your way to a grammy.
What can you say
to a generation.
where gay is so gay
no one knows it’s true meaning
we're all just dreaming
make it up as we go
bought into a coma
now trying to wake up.
What can you say
to this generation
except sorry
we left you nothing to hold on too.    
but shadows
and hypocritical finger
that rely
“don't  as i do “
but
“do as i say”
Parker Louis Jan 2015
When you left us
You left me your laptop
Your laptop was like your life
When you had one

With it you Left me
Poems
Music
Pictures
Your highscores on The preprogrammed games
Secrets
&
Memories

But
They're not you
and you left
and what happens when I've
memorized
all the poems
the pictures
and
The highscores are beat
The secrets are irrelevant
The memories have faded
Along with the Thought of You
and your Future
3/24/2013. I wrote this one because my grandma died and gave us her very old computer with those super old stock games on it with highschores and I expanded that and made it romantic love instead of family love.
Graff1980 Jul 2015
I hear there is fear in your mind
The deep-seated preprogrammed kind
The kind that has soften slightly over time
From the cursing and calling negros mongrels
To the stereotypical fox news type portrayal
But it is a betrayal of our human nature
The denial of the better evolved brain
It is the maiming of our society
When we regress to the repressive ways
That we sought to overcome in our younger days
Some say things will never change
But the blood to brain-dead barrier can break
The rational can take hold with old and new love
With new scientific studies of all of us
We forgot that the legions are us
The whale beneath the boat
The behemoth that works and votes
The labor force that runs this country
The union of humans striving for a better world
That is us, in every tint, gender, ****** identity
Under each layer of skin there is a piece of me
And behind every strange shadow or reflection of myself
Is someone else different but in all the ways that matter
The same
White- Eyed Alive-
do or die
piece of the pie
and the American life-

Preprogrammed responses
they all seem to do it-
a previously animated existence
we replicate
but we don't really do it-

The Stepford Wife
and Mr. Right
neither holds an interest for me-
I fit no mold
with no people of my own-

The Wanderer
Vagrant
I Am Alone
b e mccomb Sep 2019
saturdays smell like
bleach under my nails
sleep in my eyes
scratches on hands
gluey stuck fingers
glare off an empty parking lot
and other people’s
uncomplicated lives

give me enough time
and i can get rid of
any kind of stain
in your coffee cup
but i don’t take the time
to wash out my own

and i can’t get rid of
how i sometimes feel
like less than a person
a second class citizen
or some kind of
preprogrammed robot
just here to assist with
strangers personal quests

i’m not the
swashbuckling hero
out on an adventure
i’m the placid villager who
never moves from behind
the counter night or
day and only ever repeats
the same half dozen lines
wears the same outfit every
time you see them

i don’t want
to be the hero
anymore
all i want is
to live comfortably
in this town
and let my life
unfold

all i want is
to get the dirt out
from my fingernails
and get enough sleep

to love
and be loved
to drink coffee
in the morning
wine at night
and water all day

but i never
want to be the
chosen one
i just want to be
the one who points
you in the right direction
copyright 9/18/19 by b. e. mccomb
- Apr 2014
i read an article about what happens when one loses a parent suddenly
with no warning
when the person is still a little kid

the girl is predicted to glorify her father
and forget the negatives
she is predicted to fall into depressions and eating disorders
and have low self esteem because there was no man around her as she grew up to tell her she was pretty

i don't know what my dad dying did to me
nature vs nurture is a debate that can never truly be tested
would i still be like this if he was here? is this emptiness just preprogrammed into my mind?
would i still look at girls the wrong way? still be unable to completely trust or give my heart to a boy?
these questions haunt me
they can't be answered
Elise E Apr 2014
I hate being sweet
‘Cause on the inside I am not
It’s like using sweet caramel
To cover something spicy hot

Inside I’m like a furnace
I’ve got an attitude
I wish I could be selfish, idle
Or sometimes even rude

No matter how hard I try
I’m always just too kind
It’s like someone went before my birth
And preprogrammed my mind

If I were angry, sad or scared
You would never know
My emotions are a part of me
That I can never show

I hate being shoved
But either way I let it go
I hate to share my stuff
But I just really can’t say no

Letting people cut in front of me
Though I got there fair-n-square
I just keep quiet and pretend
I was never there

The Bible says I should love
Everyone like I love me
So I guess being nice
Is just a thing that makes me me

I guess that I’ll just **** it up
And go back to being nice
And hope that things are better for me
Later on in life


#5_7/18/2011
Is there any body out there whose parents have molded them into a sweet, kind, love everybody type of person, even though you don't like it?
kirk Feb 2018
Offensive words are not offensive if you analyse the meaning
Why are these words taboo why do they deserve a screening
All language is perspective there's no word that needs redeeming
Rude words are quite essential they don't need a purge or cleaning

Otherwise how would we describe thing's that are part of evolution
Certain words are always used so what is the solution
Don't be offended when they are said even with a substitution
I don't think what's classed as filthy words is offensive or pollution

Thousands of years these words have been used so why even be offended
If we are not supposed to use these words why have they been invented
Just because they are deemed rude and some are then resented
No one has to be prudish because that's not what is intended

People are preprogrammed because they are linked to a ****** act
But isn't that just natural and a periodic fact
When certain words are spoken we're expected to react
There's no need to take offense when it's knowledge that is lacked

People should embrace these words not hide behind a misdemeanour
There is no need to sensor these words or make them any cleaner
If you consider history there was nobody much keener
We may think attitudes have changed but really their just meaner

The ****** act is littered with so called offensive words
But sometimes these are toned down to the bees and birds
Words altered to metaphors by all the prudes and nerds
If they are offensive then why are babies born in herds

Offensive words are not offensive it's okay for self expression
If you want to say these words then its hardly a regression
Don't be put off by closed minds or anyone's aggression
Centuries old of ancient text should not cause anyone depression

If you want to say **** me then that's perfectly okay
And if you want a **** up your **** then just do it that way
There's no shame if you like ******* **** or if you ******* gay
And you like *** which most people do then say what you want to say

If someone calls you a ***** or **** well so ******* what
Their only ****** jealous because they haven't got what you have got
It's up to you how you express yourself when you ***** the honeypot  
Or if your ***** is well used then it must be ******* hot

If you want to go for a slash it's okay to say ****
If you prefer to say **** instead of ***** well it is what it ****** is
There's nothing wrong with saying **** its not for me to diss
It doesn't matter if your a ****** I'll just give your **** a kiss

So ******* to the prudish and **** all the pretence
There is no reason not to use these words there not really that intense
All words are there to be used without any caused offence
Stop taking offence with certain words there's no need to be so dense

These words are not offensive and there is nothing to fear
Don't sit on the fence when they're used year by year
Please reconsider your position even if its at the rear
words considered to be rude are something to hold dear

Offensive words are not offensive and let me tell you why
Open your mind to these words all you have to do is try
You don't need to be offended lets dispense with the outcry
Explanations of these words may make you laugh or sigh

**** or ******* is fun and also the act of copulation
If nobody had a **** we would have a depleting population
Where would the human race be or the next generation
Or a fun part of you life if we ceased in life's creation

An **** is just your bottom the part that allows you to sit
Its even an outlet for excess waste but that parts really ****
If your *** is your **** side then I'll have a steak in it
And the good thing is it isn't far from your **** or ****

It's okay if you have a **** its only *** relief
Being a ****** is not that bad despite the miss belief
Its up to you if you want to yank on your own hard sheaf
Don't take any notice of the ******* it only causes grief

**** is considered to be worse but I'm not sure about that
All it is, is a vaginal tunnel or a sweet tasting ***** cat
What is so bad with a ladies **** don't be a ******* ****
Cos most men desire re-entry to cover there cocked hat

******* is not offensive it's just a childs fathered ***** dad
Having a **** is okay in fact you will be glad
There's nothing wrong with **** its just a **** that you have had
If you think Offensive words are offensive then you must be mad
JL Smith Jun 2018
When you hear the voice of "can't"
Know that it was never really yours
You've been preprogrammed to believe
The doors of opportunity are closed

Remember--
Our language's vocabulary is vast
For every contradiction of "You can't"
There is always an "I can"

© JL Smith
Graff1980 Apr 2017
In allowing love
to envelope us
we lose so much.

We become robots
preprogrammed to
procreate and create
another generation.

The veneration of
people who are
only fulfilled
by the ******
they spilled.

There are other
ways to be,
other versions
you can see,
of struggling
to set yourself
free.

But most want
to abdicate
their responsibility
in favor of
the love they savor
that craving addiction
an easy prediction.

Tv and literature,
movies and songs,
got the good stuff
all wrong.
We are more
then halves
of a whole.
We are unique
people who
always have
room to grow.
You have
a million memory doors
to walk through
and gain the lessons
from the things
I never knew
you went through to.

So, please write something
deeper than your cliché
heartache
and romantic fantasies.
John Prophet Dec 2016
Do we really have free will, or are we preprogrammed
to be who we are to be?
Being born a boy or a girl did we have any say?
Hormones in my body that motivate were not ordered by me.
Everything about me genetically controlled.
My height, my hair, my eyes, be I black, white, yellow, brown, or my personality, not requested,
we’re out of my control.
What part of me is really me?
What part of me do I actually control?
What does mean to be me?
Where I was born predetermined,
was I born German, Italian or English no choice did I have.
The culture I was born into Arab, Jew determined my enemies.
How much was in my control?
My religion given to me, an accident of birth.
True enough, we have some voice to modify but most of it given to us.
The story’s been written, all the players designed and preprogrammed.
The role I play on the grand stage of life has been determined by someone other than me.
John Prophet Sep 2019
Insidious.
The plan
was insidious.
Used
successfully
planet to
planet.
Slowly
taking over.
Slow
subjugation.
The invasion,
in no rush.
Pieces
put in place
on a
global scale.
Predetermined
embryos,
coded.
Coded instructions,
preprogrammed
to activate when
ready.
Embryos placed
around the
globe.
Thousands implanted.
Born
like any other.
Allowed to grow,
mature.
Ensconced in
every aspect,
every element
of society.
When triggered,
no one
knew.
Positions
of power.
Altering
trajectories,
changing
social discourse.
Moving to
a place
where total
control
was achieved.
Gareth Nov 2015
Good evening Folks
Please take your seats

Time to dine on the finest delights

We will keep you blinded with the crap you are fed , television , movies with some Hollywood trash

We will **** all your brain cells and lead you astray  
you seek a new master and we here to stay

Wipe away that drool ma'am
I AM sure he can pay
*** and violence
The sweetest entrée

We have numbed all your senses
And removed all your thought

We will take over your lifestyles
With these seeds we have sown

Preprogrammed mind patterns
On our monitors will be shown

Our mission is accomplished
When they have no more thoughts
Blind acceptance the special of the day.
Francis May 2017
She'll kiss a word, covered in blood,
She'll dignify mediocrities aloud,
She gives me motive to blossom,
Into an entity I've long despised.

She isn't much of a salesman,
Though salesmanship is her passion,
Nearly driving herself to oblivion,
I sedate her with words that are preprogrammed.

Like a *** of water and salt,
A patch of Leather and with a yarned lace,
A cup of oil and a splash of vinegar,
We go together as if it's a curse.

To make sense of it would be senseless,
Since senselessness is it's meaning,
A shadow covering a timid silhouette,
It's passion for construction that seems most logical.
Creepstar Feb 2016
Do not fear death
Fear that you may never truely live
So before you draw you last breath
Focus not on what you get but what you have to give

Life is finite,fleeting
And for all the people meeting
Its mostly vacuous useless bleating
Preprogrammed response and greeting

Longing for a real world moment
Some form of non autonomous atonement
A vital human component
Would you join in as a proponent?

Imagine a social construct
With others who actually care
Imagine we could induct
The righteous and the fair

So before you cash you chips
And fade into the past
Speak kindness from you lips
Leave a legacy that will last
James M Vines May 2015
I let the garbage go until I could not stand it. I refused to wash one more pair of socks. I did not wash one dish or glass because something had to stop. I needed to get things in focus. I had to get him to see things my way. So to resolve all of our problems I came up with a training day. I stopped dressing like a lady and acted more like a man. I walked around in sweat pants with holes and kept my hand in my waste band. I let the house and my duties go. I decided why should I care. I made every meal pizza and an ice cold beer. I didn't bother to the change the channel I just preprogrammed the remote control. Now all we see are racing and fishing shows. When I needed to dress up and go out, I just found what ever was on top of pile of close that smelled like an old wet mop. I pulled my hair into a pony tail and slipped on my flip flops. At first he seemed to like it, but then he said it was getting weird. He wasn't sure how he liked me as one of his friends constantly living here. It didn't take long for him to see things my way. Especially when no bills got paid on time, and the took the cable away Suddenly things got better as he came around to my point of view. He now takes out the trash on time and does what I ask him to do. So if you are having problems with a relationship and a man can't see things your way. Just become a reflection of him and give him his own training day.
Cameron Fischer Mar 2020
They Say

"To be a lady of beauty
You must have your
Chin up, shoulders back
Legs Cross, back straight"
What are we their Barbie dolls?
They say we must behave this way
But we are more than a piece in their game.
They say this is the only way to be proper
But what even is proper in today age

"To be a lady of beauty
You must have
Blonde hair, blue eyes, clear skin
You must be
5'8" 130 pounds"
What do they want; no adversity
They say this is what looks best in photos
But we are not just portraits waiting to be drawn
They say this is the perfect body
But everyone is flawed
Nobody meets their standards

"To be a lady of beauty
You must wear
Short shirts and low necks
You must wear
High heels and walk in them well"
What must we be; models 24/7?
They say to wear these clothes
But if we do we are called *****
They say to wear heels
But do they know the pain
That is the price you pay for beauty, they say

"To be a lady of beauty
You must
have perfect bone structure and have no flaws
You must
Always be happy and show no pain."
What do they want; a preprogrammed robot
They say they want 'natural' beauty
But natural isn't good enough for them
They say we must hide our pain
But we just put on a shield
Of waterproof makeup and a fake smile

"To be a lady of beauty"
They say these are our guidelines
But we will never fit them
They say to do these things
But they will never know our pain
They say we are not beautiful
But we know they are wrong
We will not abide and be ladies of beauty
But we will be beautiful ladies.
This is my first poem so please be nice!
Norman Crane Oct 2022
skyscraped skyline  quarterwhite
in morning light mourning
       the ritual passing of the night,
the city by dreams wound wakes mechanical-like,
preprogrammed as the rising of the sun,
celestially powered
cars trains buses, everyone—
gears turning—
scurry scurry to gets things done.
John Prophet Feb 2023
Beast.
Reflecting.
Looking
back.
Technology
offers
introspection.­
Totality
of  the
human
race.
Preprogrammed
genetics.
Forces
views we’d
rather not
see,
believe.
Screens
in face.
Reenforcement.
Feed back
loop.
Reflecting
inner
demons.
Coming
to grips.
Wrestling
with the
human
condition.
Looking
deep into
the animal,
the soul.
Bright light
shown,
innocence
lost.
Innocence.
Never was.
Savage.
Aggressive.
Tearing
things
apart.
Nature
of the
beast
within!
John Prophet Jan 2021
Global
revolution.
Insidious
connections
circulating
the globe.
Tsunamis.
Technology
tsunamis
wash over.
Washing
over all.
Washing away
what was.
Preprogrammed
narratives.
Controlled
by the
few.
Infecting,
corrupting.
Eviscerating
independents.
Infecting
all.
Infecting
with conformity.
Global mind
programmed
controlled
subjugated.
Technology
mind control.
Obvious.
Tsunamis
already
on the
way.
Already
visible.
John Prophet Apr 2019
Free will
an
illusion.
Free, limited
only.
Programmed
to a path,
course of
actions
predetermined!
Endless choices,
genetically
constrained.
Aggressive
by nature,
or timid be.
Anything
in between.
Choices constrained
by nature.
Niches filled,
genetically so.
Preprogrammed,
following
the
genetic path
to
free will.
John Prophet Sep 2022
Choreographed.
Wound up.
Existence.
Wound
tight.
Everything
scripted.
Coded.
Programed­.
Everything.
Universe
on down.
All
choreographed.
Down
to the
molecular.
Predetermined.
Down
to the
genetic.
Preprogrammed
chugging
out the
all around.
Everything
wound tight.
Causing
all to
occur.
Stage set
actors
expound.
Script
written.
Written
long ago.
Designed
to churn
away.
Indefinitely.
All
preordained.
John Prophet Jan 2023
Design.
Control.
Coded.
Programmed.
Populations
so designed.
Alphas.
Betas.
Gammas.
Deltas.
Epsilons.
Designated
soc­ietal
stratum.
Genetically
arranged.
Predetermined
rolls.
Each
ni­che
thus
filled.
Civilization
constructed.
Coded
by design.
Propagation,
genetically
laid out.
One of
each
to move
things along.
Attraction
baked in.
Everything
preprogrammed.
Destiny by
design.
Infinite
threads
combined.
Kryptonite Oct 2019
Scattered thoughts empty mind
Devils workshop but devil to who
Evil is only evil when its bad to you
To those who benefit is this still true?

They tell you whats good whats bad
What you feel in your heart is it the same
A preprogrammed machine but we still think
Blessed are those with the courage to question

Why do some things not make sense
John Prophet Jan 2020
We are
custom made.
Custom made
for this
place,
from this
place.
What we
know,
who we
are,
what we
think,
indigenous.
Springing up
from the
core,
squeezing
through
the rocks,
out of the
mud.
Primordial scream!
Our senses,
how we relate
predetermined
by this place.
Every fiber of
our being
determined
by a mote of
dust lost
in infinity.
Programmed
by uncertainty.
Following instincts
layered
onto our
souls.
Believing
we are free.
Free in a prison,
a preprogrammed
prison on a mote
in a void.
Life in a
drop of water.
All we consider
significant
isn’t.
Here,
is where
we bubbled
up.
Here,
is where we’ll
dry up.
A puff
of dust
in the breeze.
A blow to
the ego
this is.
A little
more humility
surely applies.
Graff1980 May 2020
Why are there so many jingles about snacks cakes
and all of the other treats that little Debbie makes,

and why when I stargaze,
is it donuts that I crave?

I know that it’s disgusting,
makes me slow, and poor at adjusting,
while it has my pink gut busting.

Still, it’s the junk food that I love
even though, I know what does.

Why does my body
desire what’s unhealthy
especially when I am tired?

Have I been preprogrammed
or am I a ******* addict.

— The End —