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Zywa Sep 2023
Ceiling with a hole:

the airco lies on the floor --


It is still buzzing.
"La Caravane de la Poésie" in 1999 - Hotel in Ségou (Mali)

Tale "A Change of tongue" (2003, Antjie Krog)

Collection "After the festivities"
Odd Odyssey Poet Aug 2022
My greatest poem—in every letter, creation
of new words and those profound sentences.
Line breaks of the metered stanzas, patterns of
end rhymes, All those wanting to be messages
in cryptic form. A wordsmith written in stone.
—I'm still searching.

In similes alike, metaphors based on everyday
pictures of life. Food for thought; in second helpings
of a secondary meaning. Allegory, an axillary joint
of alliteration. The alluring allusion of a shoulder
none present; I refer to being a connection. In all
other pieces written before, written in corresponding.
—I'm still searching.

In these continuing words—a couplet, in the irony
of a leading conclusion not intentionally lead.
But what is once read; is best to be read again....
a repetition. What is once read; is best to be read
again, what is once read; is best to be read again.
—I'm still searching.

In the deepest parts of a piece; the meat is on
the bone. To describe what's at stake, to be words
thrown at your face. A reminder the second time
of when we'll meet again. In puns of patting myself
on my back—these a self praises of being an ode.
—I'm still searching.

             And will I find my greatest poem,
                             ...Rhetorical question
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2021
~
No longer hyperbole

No longer making time

As children of the technological sea

Landfill up their dreams

Pour them like liquid

Pluck them like chickens

Aquarium their little minds:

Tell them they're lucky starfish

Better off without daylight

Able to live underwater

As offspring of nobody

No longer making memories

No longer exaggeratory

~
Talia Aug 2020
THESE GADGETS I DESPISE
TOLD I NEED THEM TO SURVIVE
AS THEY ARE GETTING FLATTER
SO IS OUR MOOD
WHERE IS THE INSPIRATION
NATURE EFFORTLESSLY SHARES
YET DEVICES MUST HAVE
ONE MILLION FEATURES TO CAPTURE OUR
ATTENTION!
FOR ONE SECOND
A CHARGE OF LIGHTNING WOULD CAUSE ME LESS PAIN
YET WHERE IS MY APOLOGY?
SORE FROM THIS TECHNOLOGY
IN AWE OF THIS ENVIRONMENT
STILL, IT'D BE AN HONOUR TO BE STRUCK BY
YOU. MOTHER GAIA
Empty pleasures, too many options and choices that are actually turning us backwards. Looking towards more and more gadgets or material 'goods' for happiness can make you feel so empty. It cannot fulfil what the natural world was made to do.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2019
We now return
to your regularly scheduled dream.
Do the math: ducks in the pond
swim upstream to spawn supreme.

Then pay it forward
as a string of numbers.
Continuous in series,
strung out and unencumbered.

There's some **** saxophones
lifting off in tune to the rhythm method.
Save the soft jazz for when you're really in the mood,
and read a bedtime story instead.

Vision begins when the lids
are closed and threading the daisy chain.
This is where we
place the refrain:

Caution--unstable, but microwavable.

The lines blur
where the vertical and horizontal collide.
Can't stand the swimming in the head,
yet enjoy the peripheral ride.

Hypertext Transfer Protocol Secure,
even as far deep down as this chasmic seabed.
Living with technophobia,
But married to sensory overload instead.

Making new babies in safe mode.
We lose sight when plugged too long into this hub.
Just another anxiety in need of a pill
--join the club.

We meet where there's free Wi-Fi
so battery life doesn't drain.
This is where we
repeat the refrain:

Caution--unstable, but microwavable.
Heavy Hearted Mar 2019
H for the humility be it here or there
U for understanding  yet so  unaware
G for the good and also the great
O for opinions we insinuate
French man
Marie Lozada Aug 2018
I hate it.
I hate that we're a generation
that's caught up with our devices.
Eyes on the screen,
incase you miss out.
Keep scrolling,
incase you miss out.
Keep tagging,
incase you miss out.
Keep tweeting,
incase you miss out.
Keep posting,
incase you miss out.
Yet,
here I am.
In front of a laptop.
Making sure I don't miss out--
about writing about missing out.
Hannah Zedaker Jan 2018
Anxiety is a cold, lilac purple.
It sounds like a care siren going off on a brisk September morning
It tastes like orange peels from yesterday's lunch
It smells like burning rubber
Anxiety feels like motion sickness from being trapped under impeding waves, with you hands tied to a post
Hannah Zedaker Jan 2018
Infatuation is transparent red.
It sounds like the quickened pace of a fox in the forest
It tastes like metallic blood pumping in the back of your throat
It smells like three week old lilacs
Infatuation feels like burrs stuck in the sleeves of your tattered wool sweater.
young lassies near and far
were subjected to looking
at his personal bar

he'd stage the exhibits
on mobile phone devices
all those groinal tid-bits

exposing his wares
in a devil may care way
of indecency to the eyes
he'd frequently flay

on a particular poetry forum
the fellow can be found
advertizing his kit bag
so unedifyingly around

a sixty year old man
would in time be
getting a nab
for putting out there
his wayward
tab

somewhere inside
the Ohio state
law authorities
will pinpoint
the repugnant gate
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