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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 :)
Äŧül Nov 2019
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
©Atul Kaushal
Your Display Hues

Your Touch Cues

Caught me,

In Loop



© Feelings Coated
From the book Feelings Coated
Rui Rosa Jan 2019
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 woozy
celebrating with British Royal Family
     and...hub bout red dee
     to take a snoozy
sup...par'n...this poet
     fur...hib 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
     plunked herself
     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.
adira Feb 2018
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
JGuberman Sep 2016
Until I lose my voice
and no one listens
the unsaid words of love
will accumulate
inside me,
and will appear on my face
like the flashes
from an electronic sign
whose bulbs have all blown
except for two or three
intermittently appearing
like a code
that no one but you

Until I lose my mind
with no one's help
the unthought thoughts
will accumulate
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.
JGuberman Aug 2016
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
without plural
or future tense
unique in every respect and definition
save all who would follow after
and not be of me
or ever could.
JayceeJellies Oct 2015
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.
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