I am a 16RAM program of a telegram whose programmer programmed to deprogram all pogrom to the last gram by the use of an epigram.
In simpler terms, I am a poet.
The full poem is on my page make sure to check it out, it's under the name: "A Toxic Love".
Here is an explication for those who haven't understood: I am the program of a telegram (I write the message ) My programmer (who is god) has programmed me (A debate of determinism and free will) to fight all pogrom (meaning an organized massacre of a particular ethnic group, but here it just stands for HATE)by the use of an epigram which means a short poem ;)
As for why I said a "16RAM" and not 8 or 32 or more or less...Is because I believe that I am mediocre, there are those who OH GOD write waaaay better than me...and those who were not meant for poetry. Anyways thank you for reading :)
Rallying in hordes of horses,
Assassins from malsI pillaged us,
Maraud they did our temples.
Merely by converting out from Đhärm,
And reading the Satanic Verses,
Never you do forget your roots,
Demolish the original temple they did,
India is Bhāräŧ and will always be,
Right now the Hïnđū people celebrate.
My HP Poem #1806
Your Display Hues
Your Touch Cues
RAM to ROM
ROM to RAM.
© Feelings Coated
From the book Feelings Coated
We meet at "discord"
over an IPv4 connection
Talking for hours through microphone
Your electronic smile has awakened,
a feeling that the CPU does not process
You entered my HDD with your virtual love,
which filled so much space of illusions in RAM,
So much that it gave Blue Screen
A love story with some tech knowledge
celebrating with British Royal Family
and...hub bout red dee
to take a snoozy
fur...hib bit..bing a lil oozy.
Now this raggedy man
whilst deep in sleep
this past night what felt like galactic body
fell upon ma slumbering heap
affecting immediate fear
lest worst nightmare,
would crush with might
but lo…just then zee spouse
with unconsciousness deep
unable to recapture pleasant dreams
well nigh past day light.
So...rather than emit shrieks
like some angry birds
the idea arose to attempt poem
to express discombobulated state
whereby grey matter feels
similar to thick whey curds
palliative sans restorative power
per rest will clear muddled pate
thick with grogginess
and marauding herds
of mailer daemons worse
than unsuitable mate
or a world wide web filled with nerds
thus lethargy purged
via catharsis with forming words
that follow rhyming pattern
to convey mood = to a synonym for turds.
respite from a cat nap as tonic no lion here
can spell relief and serve as balm
with pillowed temptress ever near
beckons softly inviting calm
before this human
goes a berserk manic tear
being revisited from haunts
inside head of this scrivener
caught by men in white coats
strait jacketing this maniac
in tattered under wear
whose ***** by the way
oh about the size of an average palm
yet taut for witnessing
deux score plus eighteen mortal year.
the noise the noise it hits me like a speeding car
the light so bright it turns me to tar
blinded by light and deaf from sound
I feel a ram of loss dig me into the ground
the intensity of the senses mushes my brain it flings me around and
around bringing me chaos
every single day
Until I lose my voice
and no one listens
the unsaid words of love
and will appear on my face
like the flashes
from an electronic sign
whose bulbs have all blown
except for two or three
like a code
that no one but you
Until I lose my mind
with no one's help
the unthought thoughts
and be sacrificed
like my greatgrandfather,
an Isaac who wasn't spared.
And I, an Isaac who was,
was born under the sign of the ram,
to be sacrificed in other ways.
My Great Grandfather Isaac was Reb Itzik ben Reb Avraham ha-Cohen Elowitz b in Vilna c. 1869 and was murdered in an Aktion along with his wife, three daughters, son in laws and grandchildren at Byten in what is now Belarus (1942). I am the grandson of his sole surviving daughter.
Before I could be taken to Mount Moriah
before a ram could be found to replace me
before I was a redeemed first born
the ram was left unsacrificed
the redeemed was lost
and the first born
became the last.
And all the martyrs who were lost before my birth,
are still lost despite it.
I have become a singularity
a new word in an old Darwinian lexicon
an irregular verb
or future tense
unique in every respect and definition
save all who would follow after
and not be of me
or ever could.
The only anagram that I can't stand to read
is one that was just between you and me
the nag a ram was simple and meant a million things
at least it did to me
At times I wonder if it meant half of those things to you.