#cellphone
at home
head in my cell phone
staring at words
on a white background,
scrolling endlessly.
scroll.
scroll.
scroll.
"just one more --
then ill sleep."
what lies!
i keep staring at
these words
that keep appearing..
love
people
quiet
loud
soul
left
time
silence
felt
hurt
regret
sapphire
seldom
poem after poem.
i can't stop reading.
i can't stop writing either.
"just one more!
for real this time!
ill go to bed i swear"
12:11am
12:13am
12:34am
12:59am
01:10am
02:33am
"ill go to sleep now.
i swear. just one more."
and it's dawn
all of a sudden --
the sun starts to rise.
and it's morning.
a new day,
but im still awake.
staring at the words on my cell phone.
reading one
after the other,
then the next.
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 8:13 PM UTC
two beggars on street
asking for dollars and change
tapping on cell phones
Aug 30, 2021
Aug 30, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC
where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you
where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you
where's my mobile, without you, i'm not global
if i'm not global, i'm not really mobile
good heavens! it's twenty-four to eleven
i have to call shannon but i can't find my mobile
what can i do without my mobile? life is trite
don't know the difference between day and night
without my mobile! i freak out, suffrin' from a black out
i'm prayin' to god, lightin' up a candle, hopin' to find it
where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you
where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you
Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 7:59 AM UTC
(me and my shadow)
<o> <o>
The evening air was cool
that rainless night in June
on the street, i looked around
my backward steps were measured
i needed a right spot,
i needed a good shot
for, up there, a creamy full moon
hung above the neighbor's roof...
the pavement was moonglowed
whence stood me and my shadow,
no noise, not even a soft wind's blow
as if God had stilled the world,
a finger on His lips, to stop all sounds
and movements...to call my attention,
...........to waken my perception...
then, i heard a hurried crash in the dark,
i thought, perhaps, a bat made its mark
in my mind, and up my spine, fear sparked
a cold wind swayed the branches
followed by thumps on the ground, a crunch
of footsteps, confirmed all my hunches,
God, both my feet refused to cooperate,
'til i felt something in my pocket vibrate
thank God for my phone, it shook my limbs,
until.....fear no longer kept my mind dim
i whisked...away from the pavement,
enough of these moonglowed moments!
Sally
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 30, 2019
Aug 7, 2020
Aug 7, 2020 at 11:32 PM UTC
Continuously waiting for a message
Eventually, bzzz – bzzz – bzzz
Looking down quickly to see who it is
Look another status update
People’s lives are so wonderful, it must be great
Here I am just sitting alone and checking my phone
Outside my door, knock – knock – knock
Now who could that be I wonder to myself
Except I’ll never find out, I’m waiting for a message
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 12:56 PM UTC
It's said
Behavior is learned
Especially thru close association
This explains why
My cellphone is also depressed
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 10:13 PM UTC
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.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 8:22 PM UTC
cellphone to heart, mobile to immobile, electric dead to living
you know that sleep and I are but passing acquaintances,
when it drops in, to heavy my lids, it is through a cracked window slivered, just enough for a Pan boy to grab me and away me to Almost Neverland
when the alarms sound that it’s sleepy time,
(quite like that quiet verse)
no time to delist the “those pre-shluffy to do things,”
cell drop upon my chest, like an open mic,
then the raging observatory tapestry begins!
the cell lies directly above my ventricular chamber,
and communication is live, the brain cutoff switch, well, cutoff
all manner of imps, devils, rejected poems, angels and
Greek gods and some Indian as well, stand in line for to make
free calls via a beating human message call center, utilizing my friends and family verizon plan to register complaints,
close out unfinished biz, or just contact, friends, family or other
mischievous imps or even you, in other time zone worlds
though my brain may not interfere, like the CIA, it records all
conversations and give me a list of new poem titles, notions, stories glories and wrenching heartbreaking heartbreak,
requiring “fleshing out” when I awake from my three fingers
of scotch, glass eye tears drops made me drunk,
damning this transmigration chorus of voices that offer up a treasure of divine humankind’s hopes and travails,
and the occasional call on the divine’s 1-800 confession line,
hear it all, my chewing out by one particular god of mine who does not suffer my criticisms well of his ungodly actions, nope not sweetly and
when else would he dare contact me, except when no edgewise
words of mine can appear to contradict his mealy mouth excuses
did you musty misty mistake my poems as the product of
the miracle water wages of my imaginary inspiration,
no, not, from the replaying of your desperate exclamations,
the cancerous shrieks of loss and prickly investiture of the aesthetics of soft whispers and solitary foot treads,
that is where my insanity is bred, and tumbling s-words, sworn
don’t consider it eavesdropping as there is no signed rental agreement, consider this unfair warning, if you should secret use my cellular line, your everything is now ******
your genetic material is materialistic mine and my poems yours,
this bittersweet sentiment is a measure of our bloods commingling,
your tears and impish silliness, are shiny hidden within mine
somehow I feel compelled to state this unique statistic:
I love you
4:47pm on 3/11
who writes poems like this?
silly old boys with gray hair, standing on one left leg. but you knew that, right?
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
I have a universe
in my pocket... and some
lint. The world
at my fingertips,
all knowledge awaits
and forty two cents
in change rattles next to it.
I have a universe
in my pocket and what...? I
use it to watch cat videos
and trade petty barbs
with fellow trolls under a bridge.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 9:18 AM UTC
The one that winks,
The one in hysterics,
The beer,
The wine,
The OK sign.
The shocked one,
The facepalm one,
The angel baby,
The thumbs up,
And the one throwing up.
Life can't be bad:
My frequent emojis aren't sad.
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
Before I knew it.
I pressed send.
A long text meant to be erased.
Thought about,
Re-thought about.
I smiled before thinking about
The initial reply back.
My heart sunk.
Sick.
Constantly thinking.
The buzz of notification.
Exactly what to do when her face shows on my screen.
Exactly how to play off
The only voice,
The only face that mattered this time of night.
To be honest, I wasn't sure
What I expected to see.
Of course lying to myself.
My pinky underneath the phone
For support.
Waiting for reply.
A mental continuation
Bringing another thought to the message sent.
Fighting the urge to send Lol.
I sat almost a lifetime.
The same heart wrenching feeling.
The moment you realize you lost your phone.
Or my case.
A brief text denying all evidence of what stares at her nose.
Brightly lit.
Signifying what I saw
When she'd call, when she'd text.
That same delicious smile I'd heart over a million times.
All reserved for future reply.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:53 AM UTC
This isn't a love that can be
Put on speaker phone.
We're far too silly for that.
Easily saying the first thing that
Comes to mind.
One moment to the next,
Stunned slience.
Phone etiquette thrown out the window.
This isn't a love that can be sat down.
Kept between an ear and a shoulder.
The amount of time it takes for someone to leave the room.
Conducted in civil manner.
Attempting not to shout,
Completely losing train of thought.
Not sure of validation,
Our voices raise a bit.
By now you should know we shouldn't have to limit ourselves like that.
Denying a freedom that connects us to whom we truly are.
Our quirks, general weirdness.
The crazy looks from those around.
The laughs that get funnier each moment that passes.
By now you should know that we are the complete definition of crazy.
Often appearing in person,
Before one of us can hang up.
Laughing hysterically,
Continuing the conversation
At any given time or place.
This definately isn't a love that
Can be placed on speaker phone
If we have to applogize for what we say.
Afraid to be who we really are.
Isolated from who we truly are
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
I've used them on my windows
To see the clear outside,
If I read the Op-eds,
I shudder, shuttered and hide.
I've spread them 'neath my plates and cups,
My shelves all neat and tidy;
But the headlines made it clear to me
My glass is more half empty.
They had a place in the litter box
For **** to scratch and squat;
I laid them round my garden plants,
They made fine insect traps.
Rolled and twirled they'd start a fire,
I could fold them into hats.
They cleaned the grease from BBQs,
And they're safe to pick up glass.
Crumple them for packaging,
They work as school book covers;
Add water and some flour,
To shape papier mache lovers.
Fold seeds in them to germinate,
Then use them for compost;
There's many ways to employ
Your Times and local Post.
But I won't subscribe to Dailies
For the felling of our trees;
And yet I miss my papers,
And the ways they worked for me.
But when enthroned,
You'll hear me grouse,
*There's no **** paper in this *********
My cell works well to scroll and swipe,
But it's only good for a virtual wipe.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
We allow the wicked run
Kills us rather slow
Through the lights behind our thumbs
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
In my mind
Seeing you was the perfect form of communication.
To watch the expression of depth.
Every wrinkle that crinkles the side of your nose.
The sentiment grown from standing so close.
Eyes grown in anticipation.
Every depth expressed.
Explored until we're tired.
In my mind
seeing you was the perfect form of communication.
It's only so much to do behind the screens of phones.
The customization of emojis plastered on blank screen.
A temporary thrill that we enact before actual contact.
In my mind we restrict too much of ourselves with the press of a button.
Cheeks spread loose, folds undistracted by the moment where we ourselves are drawn to life
By what we anticipate most.
Without need to talk as much as we can before an abrupt end.
To consider you without call waiting or the awkward feeling of having to call you back.
Malicious moments before the call actually goes through
The introduction of physical smile.
Separately from the window of a phone
Leaving more room for availability
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
To a point of trust.
There is no such barrier as insecurity.
In over one hundred pictures you are free to do as you please.
Intuition doesn't lie.
A sudden sensation that strikes out the blue.
Theres no need for passwords or indiscreet glances.
A rare case trust comes into question.
A certain closure that adjusts to a overwhelming thought.
A sudden reach or pull confirms this serious accusation.
Things change.
A subtle glance to remember the way things use to be.
In over one hundred different pictures I witnessed your body language begin to change.
In over one hundred different ways you hid pieces of yourself behind a password.
In a world where we are free to do as we please.
You decided to hide yourself.
Second guessing that truth would never find the light.
Appearing against the phone of a random stranger.
Another secret.
A light to peek through the crevice
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 11:20 PM UTC
This is my only and first ever poem
that I did scribe upon my phone.
A pal of mine does it, does it with ease.
She makes it look easy, just like a breeze.
But it's harder for me, with my thumbs of ham.
I prefer full-sized keyboards, as that's who I am.
Typing and retyping and then wrestling the spellchecker.
If I tried this while in my car, I would surely need a wrecker!
Squinting, so that I don't have to strain my eyes.
To say that I'm enjoying this, would be nothing less than lies.
Well there you have it, I'm finally done.
I'm gonna pass on this foolishness ... and let her have all the fun.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
And when ever I reach down everything is OK.
A jingle of my keys, pocket change.
And there you are.
I'd have a heart attack if I were to reach down and you weren't there.
I don't know what I'd do.
Back tracking every step. Doubling back every where I've been.
Pacing my breath in attempt not to panic
I know it's an unhealthy dependency but face it.
You are a part of my everyday walkabout.
Whether it's something that I need to know or randomly bored.
You always put a smile on my face.
Although some news I'd rather not know. You tell me in a way that I'll understand and I appreciate that.
Searching for a smile pure and humble.
A small print made large. Easier on the eyes.
You teach me things that I'd never think to look for.
Random searches that tie into the things I don't know that I need.
Me sitting in front of you face to face.
Our conversations spanning for hours at a time.
I know at times you need to recharge your batteries and I try to let you be.
But even when your sleep you don't mind waking up and keeping me company.
Even if it's just a second
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
supermoon!
super achievement!
we finally look away
from our cell phones...
three...
two..
one.
back to our
prolonged
eclipses...
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
I clench my fist tight.
So dearly trying not to cave in and dial, but the device taunts me.
That Pandora's box full of the emotions, images, and echoes that drench me like rain.
It seems the pages have run out.
Every excuse, every apology, every sweet nothing drained like the battery on my phone due to the over use to distract me from you.
You, sitting there on your shelf.
With your legs dangling and hitting my face. Swelling my eyes and lips shut as you watch my greatest regrets play repeatedly in my mind.
Making me unrecognizable to those around me now.
This is who I've become.
A silent shell filled with the echoes of your laughs and smiles.
With only melancholy music to comfort me.
The world around me only now visible through rain soaked glasses.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
A distant voice calls.
Fragile and light it echoes.
Network service *****
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
We are in two worlds together
the one outside the window
the other one, inside the cellphone
Juggling between both of them
exhausting our mind
to become so hollow inside
We forget ourself altogether
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
*I think it was pop....yes, the Hinoi Team, among others. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i3VCVHzTAY]
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXLI)
Rain. Streetlights hemmed by ghostly mists' detail
Watch cars line up to scatter in a sense
Upon their ways, and it is late, for hence
We do not listen to beat music's scale
Of "happy" thet I'd smile for ere, the pale
Eye of these sent'nels blacker night'd fringe thence
Our silent what? as he talks of defense
In sheer forgetting, like I knew'd avail.
None knew quite why my cellphone's covrage poor,
And I suppose in retrospect, laughed to
Themselves for how I'd sit there so demure
Without my ride, the libry's bench wet too,
Me wrestling with that slim device sans cure.
I oiled my boots for sloshing puddles' crew.
03Apr17a
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC
Some of my friends swear they are, but I'm not.
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXL)
Rain. Just a whisper as how twilight thence
Steals thinly 'cross the ist more fragile scale
Of wet? I caught that note in sweet all hail
To say "it can't be--!" puddles' ghostly sense
Now winking lightly from the blacktop, whence
That subtler voice of traffic hissing, pale
In deeper shadows' lonely wake, t'avail
Was't true, and phone recharging, what from hence?
I'm sleepy. Blackened silhouettes hulk fer
Good measure in the darkness, like a crew
Upon some ghastly mission as it were,
But I'm too tired for aught now, lying down to
Effect right in this stuffed chair. Call it poor,
And one espresso long gone, kiss me too?
02Apr17c
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC