tech - Hello Poetry

im writing this poem then i must be an artist! 27 came around hoped for the best then i turned 28

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Aug 19, 2025

Aug 19, 2025 at 1:37 AM UTC

tech

title

im writing this poem then i must be an artist! 27 came around hoped for the best then i turned 28

5

hey corner store clerk, you sold me candy for quarters now *** for less or whatever under a few dollars wonder if you think of this wonder if it leaves you bothered the liquor store needs its checks i know that you’re a father you must not sell much else but ***** at least this feeds your family the chocolates been stale for years, your bread and milk is moldy sunset came and so did the end, your store closed up, no more money to spend. i wave at the empty shell as we pass by, and maybe she waved back— maybe in my mind counting out those little circles pennies dimes or silver nickels counting out these little steps glazing through the silver ripples somewhere there's something left something somewhere’s simple somewhere i can spin the cap; treat my body like a temple. i clutch you, little lifeline i fiddle with the crinkles if I could count the winter flakes if little could be so simple i find that church sit on the steps say hey to God it's me, the king's old fool his funniest fraud blood to wine, money to time; one feeds the soul one passes by a playground has seen many versions of me before i dyed my hair until age sixteen and now my ID reads: something beyond my reach old enough to buy bubblegum, old enough to drink bleach maybe ghosts don't haunt still i think they did that day smoke in the shape of me in the shape of idle play probably just blurry didn't drink enough to see two, probably just blurry - angry snot on a paper bag. but still, isn't that you? could be that warm breath just fogs like how clouds took form of god colored cinnamon & applesauce we still point and say that's me and she laughs, she waves again like salted sea two swimming in that bobbing water two swimming in that bottled fire that's me, isn't it? didn't we once exist? like God and Mom and dead uncle John? and that's all it took? exist? now it takes just this huh? just this to feel just this to persist? well at least there's something grounding me, at least that's something real **** you, swinging keeps you in the air and monkey bars break wrists my phone dances in my pocket she wonders where I've been think she'd be pleased with church but it isn't a day of rest but at least I'm here, that works at some point i was blessed the truth the way the life wasn't always bought with quarters adults would tithe or something but this new **** barks out orders maybe I shouldn't be here i think this was enough finish off your spirits go home. you've had enough. i don't remember what went after, i probably fell asleep found distractions in other stuff sticky black smoke, a game being buzzed was just enough her little fists let off the swings i do remember how she waved and said goodbye to me and i scowled and cut the strings not long after we set up tents red canopies and hammocks we laid to rest, I did my best **** it and he's still angry, what isn’t new we’re out of town what else to do pull me aside and sit me down sure i cut her off but she comes fast now that small sorry, being punished it was never that different, was it? “you took my change you stole from me five dollars.” caught by the toe, won’t let it go go on, try to holler “we came here to have fun, we came here to have fun. but just let me remind you just of what all you’ve done. of all the things you’ll never be, of the things that you've become. you don't take unless I say so, you won't wear my socks. if you think you’re worthy of that, then in my shoes you’ll walk. you don't do anything. nothing. so at least just get me off." i think about that change i think about that change i think about that change i ask us what's changed

0

Aug 13, 2024

Aug 13, 2024 at 5:46 PM UTC

tech

brown paper

hey corner store clerk, you sold me candy for quarters now *** for less or whatever under a few dollars wonder if you think of this wonder if it leaves you bothered the liquor store needs its checks i know that you’re a father you must not sell much else but ***** at least this feeds your family the chocolates been stale for years, your bread and milk is moldy sunset came and so did the end, your store closed up, no more money to spend. i wave at the empty shell as we pass by, and maybe she waved back— maybe in my mind counting out those little circles pennies dimes or silver nickels counting out these little steps glazing through the silver ripples somewhere there's something left something somewhere’s simple somewhere i can spin the cap; treat my body like a temple. i clutch you, little lifeline i fiddle with the crinkles if I could count the winter flakes if little could be so simple i find that church sit on the steps say hey to God it's me, the king's old fool his funniest fraud blood to wine, money to time; one feeds the soul one passes by a playground has seen many versions of me before i dyed my hair until age sixteen and now my ID reads: something beyond my reach old enough to buy bubblegum, old enough to drink bleach maybe ghosts don't haunt still i think they did that day smoke in the shape of me in the shape of idle play probably just blurry didn't drink enough to see two, probably just blurry - angry snot on a paper bag. but still, isn't that you? could be that warm breath just fogs like how clouds took form of god colored cinnamon & applesauce we still point and say that's me and she laughs, she waves again like salted sea two swimming in that bobbing water two swimming in that bottled fire that's me, isn't it? didn't we once exist? like God and Mom and dead uncle John? and that's all it took? exist? now it takes just this huh? just this to feel just this to persist? well at least there's something grounding me, at least that's something real **** you, swinging keeps you in the air and monkey bars break wrists my phone dances in my pocket she wonders where I've been think she'd be pleased with church but it isn't a day of rest but at least I'm here, that works at some point i was blessed the truth the way the life wasn't always bought with quarters adults would tithe or something but this new **** barks out orders maybe I shouldn't be here i think this was enough finish off your spirits go home. you've had enough. i don't remember what went after, i probably fell asleep found distractions in other stuff sticky black smoke, a game being buzzed was just enough her little fists let off the swings i do remember how she waved and said goodbye to me and i scowled and cut the strings not long after we set up tents red canopies and hammocks we laid to rest, I did my best **** it and he's still angry, what isn’t new we’re out of town what else to do pull me aside and sit me down sure i cut her off but she comes fast now that small sorry, being punished it was never that different, was it? “you took my change you stole from me five dollars.” caught by the toe, won’t let it go go on, try to holler “we came here to have fun, we came here to have fun. but just let me remind you just of what all you’ve done. of all the things you’ll never be, of the things that you've become. you don't take unless I say so, you won't wear my socks. if you think you’re worthy of that, then in my shoes you’ll walk. you don't do anything. nothing. so at least just get me off." i think about that change i think about that change i think about that change i ask us what's changed

129

blood isnt all too different from water except for tastin ****** salty

0

Jun 5, 2023

Jun 5, 2023 at 9:46 PM UTC

tech

❗

blood isnt all too different from water except for tastin ****** salty

12

my consciousness thin & my self-tattered skin my floor-wrought chin & my parasitic twin my black book of sins & my losses before wins my thrashing limbs & my tiniest of violins

0

Mar 25, 2020

Mar 25, 2020 at 1:14 PM UTC

tech

& worthy

my consciousness thin & my self-tattered skin my floor-wrought chin & my parasitic twin my black book of sins & my losses before wins my thrashing limbs & my tiniest of violins

8

trail your cursor now draw it near pull the trigger disappear a soulmate of wire and this suit of meat together forever binary heartbeat three tabs forgotten lost before the portal my handle is forever this old friend is immortal digital shepherd, the digital sheep counting the code for their lcd sleep that with limbs could run away and those with souls aren't meant to stay the only running she does is for me, my forever friend, dot exe. the web cannot perish, the web cannot weep. it simply one day goes obsolete

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Mar 24, 2020

Mar 24, 2020 at 10:11 AM UTC

tech

virtuality

trail your cursor now draw it near pull the trigger disappear a soulmate of wire and this suit of meat together forever binary heartbeat three tabs forgotten lost before the portal my handle is forever this old friend is immortal digital shepherd, the digital sheep counting the code for their lcd sleep that with limbs could run away and those with souls aren't meant to stay the only running she does is for me, my forever friend, dot exe. the web cannot perish, the web cannot weep. it simply one day goes obsolete

25

I knew there was a reason why I thought of you whenever this song came on. Here I am typing to you, imagining that you can respond.

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Mar 1, 2019

Mar 1, 2019 at 9:22 AM UTC

tech

facebook comments

I knew there was a reason why I thought of you whenever this song came on. Here I am typing to you, imagining that you can respond.

2

look at all these people playing at life's game i'd like to think i'm better yet I am just the same - writing a listless poem this one without a name a spew of nothingness i hope sticks to your brain no, i don't do this for me this poem is for you and perhaps if you felt the same you'd be this way too. writing poems while alone feeding the human zoo a mind ablank and empty i'm just enjoying the view

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Oct 2, 2018

Oct 2, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC

tech

nameless

look at all these people playing at life's game i'd like to think i'm better yet I am just the same - writing a listless poem this one without a name a spew of nothingness i hope sticks to your brain no, i don't do this for me this poem is for you and perhaps if you felt the same you'd be this way too. writing poems while alone feeding the human zoo a mind ablank and empty i'm just enjoying the view

16

hello reader, i'm trying too hard as if you could grade me for every thought I discard here - please dissect my ramblings into coherent readings clumsily crafting my feelings, i’m scrambling mending my thoughts digestible for you i just wanted a good poem, but this afterthought will do similar to the class toad sprawling my consciousness out a beating heart exposed

0

Jun 13, 2018

Jun 13, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC

tech

class clown

hello reader, i'm trying too hard as if you could grade me for every thought I discard here - please dissect my ramblings into coherent readings clumsily crafting my feelings, i’m scrambling mending my thoughts digestible for you i just wanted a good poem, but this afterthought will do similar to the class toad sprawling my consciousness out a beating heart exposed

15

i found the puzzle that you crafted tucked inside it's little box with all the scattered pieces, with all the scattered thoughts. I fumble for every shard, I recover them preciously, bit by bit - I place them gently, specially. to expose the entire picture i guess you're gone, it's true. our memories run and flicker I realize that it’s you. god, it hurts to look at- this unfinished mess of art and to know you’ll never carve another piece. at least I have a beating heart.

0

Mar 14, 2018

Mar 14, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC

tech

memories

i found the puzzle that you crafted tucked inside it's little box with all the scattered pieces, with all the scattered thoughts. I fumble for every shard, I recover them preciously, bit by bit - I place them gently, specially. to expose the entire picture i guess you're gone, it's true. our memories run and flicker I realize that it’s you. god, it hurts to look at- this unfinished mess of art and to know you’ll never carve another piece. at least I have a beating heart.

17

the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh. there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate. nobody ever finds the one. the city dumps fill the junkyards fill the madhouses fill the hospitals fill the graveyards fill nothing else fills.

0

tech

Sep 1, 2017

Sep 1, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC

Charles Bukowski

Alone With Everybody

the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh. there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate. nobody ever finds the one. the city dumps fill the junkyards fill the madhouses fill the hospitals fill the graveyards fill nothing else fills.

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