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Dave Robertson Apr 2020
Pinched fingers
on the tape ribbon
of this reel to reel life
have caused time to dilate,
elongating sounds drawn out
til no high pitched shrieks
or panicked squeals remain

an ****** stupor settles on us
and our slackened jaws
pass treacle speech
as another day peaks and troughs

unexpectedly we return
to analogue
with little in the way of
selection or control,
forgotten scratches and skips
audible once more,
to be ignored or heard
GL Thompson Feb 2019
I’m starting to think she may have died
gone up to blue tick heaven after being verified
Caught up in a mockery of an internet led democracy
World wide fame to blame for the tragedy
Her Tightened grip on reality was merely a saga of concise works of fiction.


She tried to Reach out for profanity and found a hundred degrees reality.
Well It all means nothing to nobody now
Here comes latest trend you’d be mad not to bow.

Been inactive for days lost track of the newest craze
Whilst her exploits were insightful
They ultimately led to her downfall
Spin the wheel line up to play the game
Because nobody remembers your name
Only your handle.

I’m starting to think maybe she lost her mind
all of the tape unravelled when she tried to hit rewind.
There was no filter there when she opened the window to look outside
without the second source she was unable to decide
she went offline to go backpacking in the sky I wonder why?
It all seems so alternate
With her curtains drawn at the break of dawn it seems so analogue.
She had a shockproof phone case but I can’t say the same for her mind
b e mccomb Oct 2016
i love new cds
the crinkle of sliding
plastic wrap off
how it feels to remove
the security label
in two tries or less

to see my eyes on
the backs of songs
crystal clear and
iridescent

(too new to be vintage
too old to be cool)


how smooth a brand
new jewel case feels
and a booklet before
fingerprints

but then again i love
finding them secondhand
a little smeared and
pages crinkled

how a brand new
album is a blank
slate for me to write
my memories on
and when the plastic
cracks and the music
plays on it all just proves
that together we lived

(hoping and praying we didn't get
scratched to the point of no return)


i was born in
the fall of a fleeting
shimmering silver age
the hybrid time
between analogue
for the common man
and digitization
of the masses

my childhood
when these things
were still fragile
expensive
slipping into
adulthood and
falling into
feeling obsolete

*(i am the last remaining
child of the compact disc)
Copyright 9/30/16 by B. E. McComb
Justin G Oct 2015
Man developed pens
for the pensive

when they write
they relieve themselves
from everything wrong

**- JG
My analogue of Mike Essig's fantastic daily "Divine Generosity."
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1420577/divine-generosity/

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