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your voice frantic in voicemail lit up my night like mortar fire
i hurdled headfirst, crashed outward and over, chased by fear and following desire
broke through my door and stepped into the stars
filled with panicked concern and without a thought ignoring my scars  
frigid fingers shaking with shock at hearing your voice
not a thought, not a question, not a choice
just did it
"find her number, **** it where is it"
"she's not on speed dial - new phone"

finally found it - still first in my contacts
your name embroidered at the edges with ASCII smiles  
(:Abs:)
catch in my chest, my worry spreading like cancer
dialed your number, but there was no answer
Namal Apr 2018
words without warmth
are like the dry wind
that has lost its water
over the high cliffs of life

they cannot water a wilting soul
but  will only take away
the little life left
and leave it collapsed

"thank you"s are tired
over worked, over used
only an ASCII  string, no more
"i’m sorry"s stare in the face
of the expectant mind
expressionless

bring words back from the wastelands
give them the life they’ve lost
make them carry between their bits
the warm care of a human for another
Axle Avatari Apr 2016
Ones and Zeros
In the online digital world
Every boy and every girl
Are villains and heroes
Who knows which?
Son a of a *****
 
The truth is lies
Wrapped up in disguise
We want to believe
Electronic love we receive
Is not there to deceive
The flirting
The sexting
The online molexting
**** pic rejecting
 
Encrypted ascii code
Sent through internet nodes
Wireless whispers transmitted
Thoughts of endearment committed
Fact are conveniently omitted
Lies are ruthlessly submitted
 
Straight jacket
Packet hackers
Hijacking a loving heart
Holding it ransom is their art
Scourge of the community
Harassing
Surpassing
Any level of dignity
 
Players and haters
And the masturbators
The downright crazies
Acting like timid daisies
The cheaters
Defeaters
And quite possibly
Wife beaters
 
The losers
The boozers
Mentally abusers
The popular sexter
Who may not be a her
Quite possibly a guy
But will vehemently deny
 
The whiner
Data miner
The ******* seeking minor
The scammer
The Christian Damner
Super **** grammar
All thrown in together
With the digital picture collector
 
And still we’re looking all around
For love to be found
In a world of made believe
That anonymously deceives
We are ones seeking zeroes
Running into villains dressed up as heroes
 
Hearts shredded and deleted
Retreating and defeated
Yet somehow we try again
Hoping for something less than pain
We are all a little bit insane
Playing the online dating game
One’s and Zero’s
wordvango  Jun 2015
just then
wordvango Jun 2015
you sent a message to me then disappeared into the vaguest distance
I sat scratching my newly found bald spot because it itched, then
All my hair came down into my eyes, thought I might need a trim
but my head glistened shimmering in the moonlight standing
looking over a hill for you, to appear. My shoulders covered
with fragments of black hair once there, on my skull cap
now laying all over my keyboard, making a nice tapestry
of black on black, ASCII
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
2022 2:04

the VA Webex conference
future, bogus billable hours, a job,
and something to use old sad men for,

measuring, me re assuring, my more
aggressive conserver of self-will,
trained to lead, since learning to read, DID
that not occur, in each boy's life

dread of the cobalt bomb,
constancy of light speed and pituitary assisted
thought speed,
pinging pong responding, thinking we may
think
along similar lines, so, I
decided,

to find a reason to bring to any reasonings,
I recross, as many of my first reasons
are in a framed loom, with four corners,

that bronze on the map coordinates,
marks nothing, four lines dividing states,
grants given the takers and tamers of the land,

whose sons have gone on to inherit this wind.
Imagine that.
Millions of letters aligned in code to readers
of ascii nada mas this exists in a series of events

solid backups, foolproof, we say CFO proof,
in the pre-Y2K IT game, geek veteran deaf,
high-demand HR,

so much so, mucho mucho, skip the queue
step right up
look achew

gotta tale or a story, is that your's that
you're eating?

Oh, my camera is still on I'm talking to me,
in my perifery
a mete-able bit of time delay,

the in, the way, das sein, dime a time

slip on through, think we may
as well
as any, I'd agree, and off we'd go

wild blue yonder, but that,
was no longer than this two weeks,

less, far less, threaded through now,
the real me in this chair,

in the back ground, one of the service's
perks, choose from these the background,
set and setting, photo director's call

Art's call, talent is a tool, shut up,
Intuit, tweak. Test… fo' won't you shut up see

that's me. On TV, in my easy chair,
on a Federally mandated budgeted service,
to me, that allows me eight easy
pseudo-greenscreens sets, one,
defaulted to my subconscious profile,
I'll assume,
that's me. On TV, in my easy chair,
rocking in floor lit wonder in front of
Gobekli Tepi,

and nobody says a word.
Convergence foreseen in the nineties,
has occurred,
much of this sub-mit-sci-o-usly con meat
mind excuses for war,

well, long ago, it became this game,
few lived so long as to need to know
the patience going gives a slow belly
and a liar.

Dancing at the door of the iliad within,
feel free to think, that me.

The camera is on, in text, seeing me
seeing me glance down, my fingers,
pointing from the mirror, not in the mirror

my face me face, same effect, not mirrored
neurons, my neurons, feeding back

way too late to care, no coda queue for me
that is no monkey in that mirror, that is me.

Tvme offers me his right as I offer mine,
omagod that's me. On TV, in my easy chair,

this never gets old, this phase on one of these
fridays, I can do one of these groups.
with some pretty sad sacks, when seen on TV,
I fit right in, with
Gobekli Tepi, floorlit, pre-roof

Real as can be imagined, this world
common old men, commonly share
live talking head time, everybit as
trustworthy as Kronkite spelled with a c.

The c at the center of we in time where u
find sounds form some things that seem ok
if a crow caw does mean something, only that
I heard you, ok, did you hear me I don't know.

That may be life's most enjoyable time
for any idle thought poured into a word,
there, breathe, you have it, I read, read
I said, I can.

I can tell you, partly, how I came to know
I can read:

We lived behind the courthouse
with the machine gun from world war one
and absolutely olympish champs from
army navy and marines, over there
over there,
across my street, is the lawn I play on,
over there,
over there, is the jail for drunk injuns
over there is where I learned the audience

reaction to a Hualapai child, being
evangelized, he was in a mob of snot nose,
rez kids, in the nineties, eh, think about it,

this kid in the crowd looks at me,
and my stunningly ebullient zealous wife,
he says,
my grandpa has never been in jail,
and I think
my grandkids won't be proud of that.

And I'm kinda proud to think of that,
as a test, love your neighbor as clause…

that part you work out, some days amaze,
some days,
right back in the maze,
picking up fragments of prayers we made
effective,

sort of, means, sorting idle words for worth,
is what sorting any thing is for, what it's worth,
or what its worth, that difference,

a breath equivalent,' force of mind to think,
after one another then and now, the
whole life on earth is better 2020 wide,

on the layer where nothing we learn is new,
we passed that so long ago in terms of
jellotime and bulletspeed and thought
godspeed in biblical time

using the stacking of the stories for effect,
the honor to the scribes taken from the brite
sons of the weavers and spinners of yarns,
tenders of tavern, need not apply,

ah, but when the Hans were in, we could test,
life was to be examined, prepare to enter

the gate, and wait for results,
life is that test, still
smallest yes voice says.

— The End —