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#mobile
​You’re a **** you know you are. You the **** in your tricked out car. You're the **** in your SUV. The ******* **** in your MGB. You at the wheel of your Scania truck. A ******** boy, you don’t give a **** I see you texting as you speed along. Checking your social or choosing a song. I’ve a friend who’s now left alone. By one like you and your ******* phone. One day you’ll **** or ruin a life. As someone did his lovely wife. I pray that day will never come. So just stop now, don't be so dumb.
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Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 1:50 AM UTC
Phone ****
I’m not addicted I’m just conflicted This phone’s my friend Till batteries end. Fingers prone I jab this phone My face lit up Like a buttercup. If you’re on your phone You’re never alone The world is there With room to spare. You’re with your friends Till the rainbow ends I’m telling you This phone’s brand new.
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Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 3:07 PM UTC
This Phone
They made him A slave of The Past A slave in the present Creating slaves for the future Through that little thing He holds in his palms You are holding right now
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Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 12:16 PM UTC
Slaves of The Past
Should a poet consider what their work looks like in portrait mode and adjust their lineation accordingly? Or should the responsibility be on the reader to use landscape mode?
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Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 2:44 AM UTC
Mobile Device Lineation
Mobile/Stabile - I don’t speak French Main two types of mainly 3D artist Alexander “sandy” Calder Mobile - is a French pun meaning both "motion" and "motive" If you had one of these above your crib to muse over as you drifted to dreamland, you have Sandy to thank. Stabile- following the style of the name mobile, is a sculpture that is unmovable Both are French words I have trouble saying I am becoming or was becoming paralyzed from my feet up (they still haven’t decided which, feel free to laugh at that) Feel free to laugh at all of it, I do I have complications from unbeknownst year long scarlet fever that turned into rheumatic fever that turned into julian Barre to thank for that. There is no cure, so I’m using condescension. I call it Julian Barre because “Gee YAWN BERET” is just so **** hard to eek out. And It requires more pomp than it deserves Okay it’s part condescension and part more French words I can’t quite say. It’s sort of like the opposite of when I try to say “petit” pwessON” to be cute, I mean to say Little Fish to address my partner: But instead say “petit pwazOne” which means little Poison
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Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 5:19 PM UTC
Preface to Mobile/Stabile
Shining bright, Leaving me Fooled. It's a vortex And it feeds off of my light, kind to be Cruel. It taints and slithers into Every life's necessities. Now it wears a crown saying: "You cannot go on, You cannot survive without me!" It has become The Judge, Jury And executioner Without Authority. It has become Our only means of Expressing beauty and Creativity In the most perverted of ways As it tries to Simulate an alternate reality Making me A fool Who’s Kind to be Cruel.
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Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC
Kind to be Cruel
Words die little deaths, Hopeful kamikaze runs, Endings on windscreens.
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Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 11:52 AM UTC
Haiku #2
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
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Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 7:59 AM UTC
Where's My Mobile?
Oh mobile you are the one for me It all started with my Moto Razr V3 If only other could see The mast on the M4 disguised as a tree From text to WAP to offnet rendering More love from you I will be sending That scratch on the screen I will be mending
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Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 5:29 AM UTC
Mobile love (Cheesy poem)
Imagine you kneading dough... and then something falls down.... and then you bend to reach it....... and your elbow causes the flour to fell down too, And you slip and fall on the mess.... Moreover, your mom comes and gives you a lecture, which automatically ends on "That devilish mobile phone of yours.... get rid of it" Hell yeah! Like my mobile phone caused all this!
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Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 12:21 AM UTC
Untitled
The world has turned into a global village No one can deny on that... But..remember the phone we had placed on that beautiful table mat? Yes...it was a matter of pride to have one.. The only fastest medium of communication we had at that time It too had models...the rotary phone, the keypad and many fancy ones We talked, laughed and sobbed sitting at one place as we were tied with the corded set with everyone. It was safe.....no fear of radiation or loss of eye sight . Though it was much too costlier than what it is today....people still communicated and talked their heart out Now...every hand has a cell phone which comes with many features overcoming the limitation of the old one People can connect anywhere in no time Then why...? We are so disconnected.....! May be we mastered the art of telepathy?...or we are blessed with a magical wand...? We talk no more We only make groups We love forwarding messages We have become mute..... So can we again move to landline? Come out of the virtual world by talking to our dear ones at this time? Can we try and understand what they are hiding behind their smiling whatsapp profiles? Let's do things one at a time...rather than multitasking with phone on one hand and laptop on the other... Let's give them the love and respect when one needs from your side. So ..... sit back and dial a number of your loved one...and help the world again to become one if not through landline but may be your heartline!! Bina Mukherjee
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May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 2:39 PM UTC
Oh!that landline
we make camp at the coffee shop turning a table and four chairs into temporary home decorated with a decor of scarves, coats and bags an invisible wall focusing in on our refuge the intimacy of the cups, saucers, plates and conversation in the corner a man on his own invades the whole room conversing into his mobile which I am not convinced is in a call nudging everyone into looking beyond the realm of their comfort zone
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Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 2:46 PM UTC
The Call
emma, 13 years old. alfredo, 61. emma: hi grandpa nice to see you what's your wifi-password? alfredo: i don't have wifi. emma: written altogether?
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Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 10:04 AM UTC
Emma And Grandpa
countless nights the same dream: awaking in black water dressed in jeans and a rugby-shirt legs under water so i am trying to protect my cell phones from damage
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Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 2:41 AM UTC
Always the Same Dream
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?
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Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
cellphone to heart, mobile to immobile, electric dead to living
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?
Continue reading...
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We walk In glow of silver screen, We talk In acronyms and SMS slang, The star Of an everyday movie Camera man, script writer, director Floating in the ether Weaving our tapestries, Between radio masts Life on earth, live on earth Spaceman, time traveller On a voyage of discovery, Walking and talking to ourselves Without noticing the outside world, Only interested in our own Biographies; Time for another selfie…………….
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Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 5:57 AM UTC
Silver Screen
We are moving forward No looking backwards Don't mind the past Be worried about the present Consider true elements and thats going to make you relevant and always be eminent cause thoughts release information.... Mobile influence your motion and emotion expose your profiles
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Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 6:08 AM UTC
Mobile
Dear __________ , We barely talk, we spend mornings and nights looking down on those rectangular box. You don't even look at me anymore, unless it is through the lens of yours. You can't hear me over those phone calls of yours, and now my heart sores and roars for I feel alone.
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC
Phones
My voice is not a font My face is not pixelated My life isn’t a snap My emotions aren’t emoticons My love isn’t a tap My compliments aren’t comments I am not down there, but up here .
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 11:58 AM UTC
I Am Not Down There, But Up Here
I am a Romeo or a lucky one, I have both, A wife and a girlfriend. My wife is my T.V., Stable, always there,homely, No extra cost, Only pay for maintenance. Enjoy it when home, With popcorn,hot coffee or tubs of icecream. Even has a remote for you to control it, But no talking, Keep quiet and listen. My girlfriend is my mobile, Lovely, slim and **** Turns people's heads when you go out with it, It's portable, Take her everywhere with you, Talk and listen, Play with it without getting tired. No remote to control it, Expensive to maintain, Pay or get disconnected. Can be hacked or stolen easily, Have to be careful of viruses, Easily replaceable.
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
Both
#Two hours with pay To roam around town Anything, to get away This cube paints my frown I used to do it just to get away But now I am not so sure Now I take, No I mean volunteer, My day The one moment I can savour Never thought pleasure would come By giving a helping hand Never thought a smile would be from Helping those that life has left astrand I travel the town for miles Deliver the weekly meals Return to work with a genuine smile A frown, upside down, now heals Well at least for a little while.#
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Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Mobile Meals
I was nomophobic, A mobile addict, I had no time for anyone, Day and night I was glued to one. As soon as I woke up, I browsed through Whats App, Photos,videos ,and juicy gossips, Not to forget some useful tips. With coffee,butter and jam, I  switched to instagram, I updated photos in latest style, It took a while, Soon it was time for lunch, With the children a quick brunch, And time to open Twitter, My tweets were getting better, I had a good fan following to the letter. Tea and again Whats app, A bite of a piece of cake or a chicken wrap. Dinner and Facebook, To the kitchen to have a quick look, If the food had been prepared by the cook, My mobile was my partner, My relationships ceased to matter, More important than my child was my charger, When my mobile's battery was low, Seeds of anxiety I would sow, And when there was no connection, I would sink into depression. Something had to be done, My addiction to lessen, My husband sent me to a clinic, Till I was no more an addict.
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Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
Nomophobic
organizations or persons of philanthropic bent can assist the Hello Poetry site by donating five thousand dollars for a mobile app's content as the members of this literary forum aren't millionaires there is a need to fund the app's affairs it is hoped that lovers of written art can give a bountiful hand their valuable contributions could easily cover five grand now that the seeking call has been placed online may donors soon flood in with a veritable gold mine
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
Gold Mine
Harsh day, exhausted, stressed and broken. She reached for her mirror. Ignoring family,mobile And virtual friends. She needs an old friend.
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Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
My mirror friend