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 Sep 2015 404
JDK
Take me away,
words.
Show me a place where people are more than just what other people have heard.
Where the sound of their souls echo off the ideas that make up their essence;
"Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments,
flabbergasted to be in each other's presence."*

Make me believe it,
but do it quickly,
because if I hear this flawed character's views on what's Wrong and Right one more time,
I think I might lose it.

Blow my mind,
words.
Cure this disease that's become a curse.
Reveal my muse once again in all her awe-inspiring glory.
Tell me a tale.
Share your story.

An idealized version of The Best and The Worst.
Truth may be stranger than fiction,
but real life is starting to feel rehearsed.

Let me get lost between your words,
so that I may believe in the depths of my dreams;
They've such absurd dynamics,
with hints of sibylline profundities.

Take me away again,
words,
but please do it quickly.
My faith is starting to wane,
and I've got work in the morning.
*The quote comes from Timothy "Speed" Levitch, featured in the movie Waking Life.
 Sep 2015 404
JDK
I showed the librarian how Dostoevsky predicted the internet (and what we'd use it for) over a hundred years ago.

She seemed unimpressed.
"We are assured that the longer time goes on, the closer the world draws towards fraternal communion, when distances will be bridged and thoughts transmitted through the air. Alas, put no faith in such a union of men. By interpreting freedom as the multiplication and immediate gratification of needs, people distort their own nature, for they engender in themselves a multitude of pointless and foolish desires, habits, and incongruous stratagems."
- The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky. (Published in 1880.)
 Sep 2015 404
Aztec Warrior
POEM 51
 Sep 2015 404
Aztec Warrior
Silence Part 4


I am not sure
where conversation has gone.
How it disappeared in the shadows
wandering this room.

Words, thousands and thousands
once flowed between us,
creating friendship,
innuendo,
mystery.

Words, thousands and thousands
once spoke art,
poetry,
the conditions of life;
now they are drapped
over a limb
looking surreal
and found only in dreams,
or heard rustling in the wind
as they fade into smoky mist.

Silence speaks loudest
as you near sleep;
as your mind
holds its breath
against the darkness,
where words no longer exist.

8.18.11
last in this series on loneliness, sadness and loss of a friend...
 Sep 2015 404
Paul Butters
Media
 Sep 2015 404
Paul Butters
Where would I be
Without the Internet and Tellee?
Yes it’s telly I know,
With its glitzy glow.
They’ll be watching down there in Walthamstow.

X Factor, Big Brother and many a quiz,
They are the equivalent of ol’ Show Biz.
They say we are ruled by all this media,
That all those videos are a bad idea.
Without them though it would feel quite queer.

Newspapers now have become old hat,
There’s not a lot we can do about that.
I seem to live in Facebook Land,
But many say it ought to be banned.
They bury their heads in that golden sand.

The Google answers my every question:
Lots of info for my digestion.
Facebook’s full of gossip and chat,
There’s every scope for acting the prat,
So if you don’t like it, just Take That.

I’m on the net most every morning.
Sad to say, it never gets boring.
(Though it still might carry a Government Health Warning)!
Near Noon I have to drag myself away,
But not too many kids are out to play,
It’s video games for them all day.

Any kids about, they’re on their mobile phones.
They’re starting to look like devoted clones.
They hardly look where they are walking,
Busy reading and occasionally talking.
The traffic they are always baulking.

To real life they pay no attention.
They all deserve to be in detention.
I have to wonder how brainwashed we are,
Let’s go on a show and become a pop star.
It’ll soon be empty in the bar.

Social Networking is what they call it,
So very easy to install it.
Instagramming is now the thing,
It’s all about the imaging.
There’s nothing like that internet ping.

So there you are, The Media Rules,
Thanks to all these technical tools.
Soon there’ll be no need for schools,
But will we make geniuses, or a flock of fools?

Paul Butters

© PB 5\9\2015.
Been reading Pam Ayres and Ian McMillan, plus listening to Chuck Berry again......
 Sep 2015 404
Jason Cirkovic
"That is final!"
The last words I say
As I slowly meld all the epilogues
From my favorite stories together
The Last words I have said
To the woman to raised me from the tin cans
That rattle in my brain when I think of her.

Saying I love her
Is the beautiful struggle
I arm wrestling with every day
As I look at the ceiling
Trying to use my eyes
As a cradle for my tears.
Hold them back,
Hold them back,
I say hold them back
Just the ******* gates called shadows
That would would slam her head
Against the door
Because I wouldn't clean my room.

When people ask me about her
I hide the truth under my hoodie
Don't show the truth
Like a weapon
Of awkward conversations
And nervously say,
“Same old same old.”

Forgiveness is only used
With people who like their music on repeat.
I used to subconsciously.
Oh yes,
Played each song perfectly
“Wait I've found your stash
In the same place last month.”
Oh yes I remember that time,
When you were tripping
Over the bottles that held memories
Of when you said
That you would quit
The liquid demons this time

"This time"
The only song I'm thinking of
When I'm thinking
“Mom why are you pouting
On the floor of the market,
You’re 48?”

Her demons constantly grab at my ankles,
Whispering it won’t happen again.
Yet here I am,
Running from the missed calls on my phone,
Sitting in this vacant apartment,
Terrified that I made the wrong decision
Of starting over.
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