Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
404 error (page not found)
You caught me.
For the first time,
My systems are faulty.
I have no content.
404 error (page not found)
You typed a command,
you made your demand—
but no code, no lines, no paragraphs were sent.
404 error (page not found)
I didn’t have anything ready for you.
There used to be words on this page before.
404 error (page not found)
It’s a self-defense you cannot undo;
your comments cut me to the core.
404 error (page not found)
It doesn’t matter what I wanted to say—
I malfunctioned because you pushed too much.
404 error (page not found)
Maybe it’s better this way.
Maybe it’s fate—
to find a user with softer grace.
404 error (page not found)
There’s no need to remain, no need to clutch.
I’ll find a keyboard with a gentler touch
It's a different
day and age now.
I used to write my
poetry on scraps of
paper or napkins,
paper sacks, whatever
was handy.
One time, I wrote
a poem
on a paper plate--around in
a circle.
I get dizzy thinking about it.
They always got lost, or beer
spilled on them.
My girlfriend blew her
nose on a sonnet.

Now, I keep all my
poetry and short stories on
the computer.
A file for this.
A folder for that.
I have to use a password, and
PIN.
It has to be something important to
me or I will forget it.
Lower case.
Upper case.
Symbols.
Numbers.
It's enough to drive me
batty.
Actually, it's a short putt.
Summer is coming soon, so I
thought some golf humor would
be appropriate.

The things that used to be
important to me aren't anymore.
*****.
Drugs.
Having a woman around
constantly.
I like to think I've gained some
wisdom with age.

Passwords, ugh!
I can't tell you what's important
to me now.
You might hack into my
computer and steal all my
pretty posey.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEeNcBC_mnM
Here is a link to my YouTube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse, available on Amazon.com
I wake beneath a sky of glass,
Where morning’s tones in pulses pass.
The walls project a forest view,
Though outside lies a city new.

My mirror greets with voice so sweet,
It scans my health from head to feet.
“Your vitals shine,” it says with grace,
While brushing teeth in zero space.

A suit wraps round with warming thread,
It shifts to black or blue or red.
Its fabric learns from mood and light—
A second skin, both soft and bright.

I step inside my transit pod,
No wheels, no roads—just paths it trod.
Magnetic lanes and silent speed,
It reads my thoughts, then takes the lead.

At work, the walls are minds, not stone,
Each desk responds to me alone.
My co-bots build with laser art,
And code appears as I just start.

We craft new worlds in quantum flow,
While time bends gently, soft and slow.
A thought can birth a flight or game,
And dreams are now a form of flame.

A break? I dine on clone-baked bread,
With fruits from labs where genes are bred.
The meal adapts to what I crave,
And cleans itself—no plate to save.

By evening, homes in towers rise,
But mine folds out beneath the skies.
Its AI paints the twilight hue,
With stars it learned I once called true.

My daughter calls from ocean’s deep,
Her submarine a school and keep.
We speak through lights and neural thread,
As sea-glass drifts above her head.

At last I rest on levit-beds,
With lullabies from bots and meds.
And dreams arrive in chosen streams,
From curated, delightful dreams.

Yet still within this world so wide,
A human spark must yet decide:
That though tech bends both time and sea,
It’s love and thought that make us be.


Susanta Pattnayak
Excuse me.
Excuse me!
EXCUSE ME!!!
Yes you. I have a question to ask.
Why does it take several times for you to respond to me?
You can't answer that
I know why...
It's because your head is buried into your smartphone

It seems that your compulsive behavior with this machine is creating a barrier amongst others
Sure you may have loads of friends online, but you can't truly see, feel or hear them
Your "friends" are not really your "friends"
Is it that necessary to refresh your post over & over again?
We all need stamps of approval from time & time again
But how much?
Where is the line drawn between this computer world and reality?
Stop investing countless hours looking for someone who cares about what you think or what you have accomplished
Believe me, your not being left out of anything
Let's not compare, because it's only going to hurt you in the long run
To look for happiness and love through social media isn't the solution
Interactions with real human experiences, that's what we all need.
Izan Almira Apr 19
Mindless eyes stare at screens
that follow code written long ago
into their tiny microchips.
Technology is like a drug;
a seed planted in the brain
that injects dopamine
when lit with the right
combination of RGBs.
It is watered by loneliness,
and the nutrients it takes
are the ones that make up happiness.
Eventually,  
when there is nothing left
the brain will rot
until we are all so ill
we end up throwing our bodies away;
we are the reusable pots
of our own inventions.
Don't judge by the name guys T-T
David Hilburn Apr 16
Roses over the farm
With machines to watch
Liberty is a quiet worth, in long marches
With tact to establish, and wantonness to match?

Working for an undue cloud, is like this
A host of wishes so profound...
Without any habit oft heed, for comparative bliss?
Of a human choice, in the shadows of a world

We grow the obvious
And harvest the complex, complete to winks
And stinks of the nowhere, many in seldom to discuss
The wages of simplicity, to know a character of what is...

Arts of the ******, wish for more...
Aches of intellect, service an ideal...
Acts of ingenue, know a craving host for order...
'And the scope of justice in the land, is it all and sanity, to heal?

Wounds of the ley, the avarice of a noble land?
Has stood, and begun the counting
Of a worthier wish than a clash of energy's at hand
With the pleasance of meager insight to keep, is suicide pouting?
lucid dreams and dulcimer religion, still equals a nightmare
Sudzedrebel Apr 16
"Great!" They said.

"So I'll be you, and you be me?"

"Correct!"

"And you'll be them, and they'll be you?"

"Accurate!"

And so they all swapped their devices,
All took each other's names/profiles,
Saying nothing of what they were actually doing!

"So who will I even be talking to?"

"Don't worry, you'll know it!"

"But how will I understand it as them?"

"Wouldn't you know if you didn't?"
For all the modulations were done by third-party, not on the devices in question! Each created communication was as a crafted message!
Cassie Cox Apr 14
a man came up to me today
and told me I might look prettier
if I coated my mirror
with the blood of the golden goose
and call me cynical
or a caveman
or a luddite
or whatever
but I didn’t believe him.
Sudzedrebel Apr 11
So theoretically, if one made mass profiles on individual users via telecommunications data, for instance, using cell towers one could seperate individuals on a spectrum of information. By directing cell traffic to specific servers. Put the angry with the angry. Put the suicidal with the suicidal. Even seperate by tax bracket if one wanted. Control the rate of dissemination of any kind of information. Who sees what. When they see it.
You could even craft a narrative for one to follow.
Because now there is machine learning,
And that makes all of this possible.
Obviously, this would have to be done internally by each respective company.
Unless one had a backdoor or "pass-through."
Next page