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w
                o
                n
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      e
                      r
My imagination goes places
My shape poem
-

One day,

I found the letter "W" laid
face to the ground-
i knew this because it's center
was pushed downward,

like a nose in the dirt.

with every attempt i made
to stir it, it would only moan
and remain still, its thin arms
bent around backwards.

this is not the first time
iv'e seen a "W" laid out,
having witnessed many
letters and numerals bite
the dust of misplacement-

it is just the sad truth
of our language.

i found a cardboard box
and picked it up carefully,
making sure i didnt injure
the poor fellow further.

it looked up at me and
made a weak smile,
knowing we all make
mistakes—

upon it's passing away,
it was this expression
i remembered most
when i buried it
next to an
"M"...



-© 2020
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qf8MQgrxo58
Not of ancient lore,
or some cross to bear.
But here. But now.
No Prince Charming
at the castle door.
Only her, Miss Damsel herself.
In some paper city,
called Zilch,
where things fall apart fast.
She's trapped in no tower,
but a loft instead.
With tin-foil crown,
she climbs across
the kitchen table
to slay the dragon,
in the flames
of his own black-hearted
bedevilment.
A dagger to the heart
of the matter,
and all is quiet again.
Then with a satisfied yawn,
she retires for her afternoon nap.
It is the habit of the cynical
to believe themselves too smart to be optimistic;

This allows them the privilege of being unhappy,
even when they are right.
Please don’t block me
For what I’m about to write
You need to know the truth
About me and your poetic wife...

Oh! it was just an innocent poem
Well, maybe more then a few
Nothing personal
Nor ****** in nature
Nor poetically lewd
It's just...
Her aesthetic covering
I can see right through!

Her words
So soft, sweet and sensual
I crave her lasting continuity
Into my being into my soul
She flows so fluently!

Forgive me Sir
For my part in hellopoetry’s role
If she were mine I would take it real slow!


Sincerely Traveler Tim
Sarita Aditya Verma Inspired this writing!
Dedicated to all you  married Poetess.
The smart, modern boys
who’ll shepherd satellites
and parent sly AI -

live blocks away and
spend sunny afternoons with
digital zombies.

I talked with one - once,
I think, he mumbled some
strange techno-English.

He was pale and
skittish but attractive
in a shy, goth way.

“Who are you voting
for?” he stared blankly, “for prom
court??” he stared blankly.

“Madison’s nice, I
say", handing him a ballot,
(He checks her name) “Thanks!”
the geeks who will invent the future seem unconcerned with the now
Xoe 7d
Most people find me interesting because they can never tell wether or not i'm joking
hxh
-

Just basically an accounting of
language as it is conveyed
between media types

namely,

Air, Silicone and Mail ;

in Air,
you have to
basically be ready to
respond within a reasonable
period, say about three or four seconds

upon Silicone, you could "afk" and then
mix a drink- rinse out the mixing
utensils and type a response
with some degree of
forethinking

in Air,
you could breath
in the real-time vibes that
trigger automatic subject sensitivity,
like, (something too disturbing for me to detail here)

upon Silicone, you would be able to digitally
sort and discard these disturbing elements
and then lie to yourself about the
true weight of the
conversation


in Air,
a comedian can
deliver a punchline in
order to impulse a laugh out of you,
even to the point of spitting out your wine

upon Silicone, latency can cause punchlines
to be misinterpreted as an offense, which
will likely sully those carefully
established digital
relationships



You
could encode
the Air in the fashion
that Native Americans did
with campfires and blankets,

but i would never suggest that
you try and breath Silicone__ !

nor pattern the "the ins and outs"
of breathing within the basic scope
of a vacuum in order to encode
it upon a microchip that
can only be read by
a machine—

either way, in case you
may not have noticed,

Personal Letters are —at this moment—
asphyxiating into blue screen
oblivion,
deep inside the
Lost Mailbags of Redundancy...




"Comm_Check"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved


.
"You've got Mail !!"—some electronic dood from AOL..

.
He uses Twitter, Twitter, Lord it is  frightening,
All you can see, is flat out crazy
He thinks his Twitter, is a world full of wonder,
Lying and blunders, for all to see!

Everyone Tweets to a certain degree,
Mostly kind and gentle to see,
Tricks he will do when MAGA appear,
They wear no masks when he's near!

He uses Twitter, Twitter, Lord it is  frightening,
All you can see, is flat out crazy
He thinks his Twitter, is a world full of wonder,
Lying and blunders, for all to see!
TV Show Song Re-Write
Salut et bonjour,
Mon amour,
Comment ça va?
Fine as a silver chime,
Moi aussi...
Pax Romana?
Miss me, Minerva?
Don’t flatter yourself,
You’ve shattered the dreams,
Of too many beings,
Pourquoi?
You were Poseidon,
Most of the time,
Sooo, you want to make the poem rhyme?
Duh, you’re not tryin’ to make it sublime
Acting out and writing a collaborative poem for an honors assignment...not submitting this, obviously.
Of course...I always get assigned with the popular guys...at least this one had some wit...
*Everyone nicknames me Minerva. Lol.
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