"activation" poems
A Jersey girl came along
and I started to think about angles of yaw
needed to take flight,
how the force of a kick skirts
the delicate line between winning and losing.
I’ve seen it all before, but not like this. Besides, seeing
has nothing to do with believing.
Corneas can't capture the vibrations of molecules or excitations
of electrons. Champions defy biology,
overcome gravity and I believe what goes up
does not always come down.
I want to know the point where focus takes control
of epinephrine, who’s cascade is initiated by the roar of a crowd,
but negatively regulated by doubt,
when to take a long shot or build up slowly.
I want to live the difference between accuracy and precision,
taste the dirt, become painted with bruises and scorch my heart.
A flag is heaviest when you carry it,
lightest when it’s raised,
worn as a cape and allowed to wave in the wind.
Countries aren't build, they're created created
denying muscles oxygen but allowing them to taste gold.
It's ability to conduct electricity astounds me.
It’s not about alchemy
but transforming sweat into tears,
fixing nitrogen, reducing triglycerides.
Not all reactions need light, some create it.
It’s only over when there’s not enough energy for activation.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
forced to ask 'is it all bullshit'
this field of study just completed
this path now flying feet fleet'd
I, alumni all outwardly faux alacrity
but instead really inside shades drawn
hiding shame useless
waiting for the sun's forebearant rays
to pull dead drunk me off floor again
still sick sinning spinning lies
on nodal web patterns
of activation
just a narcissist sociopath-in-training
(was I?) being taught how better
to manipulate other's fate
for personal gain
great fat magnificent magnanimous beast
loafing on liar's chair o'great victory-defeat
doublespeak tho Orwell is long dead and we do mourn him so with eulogy eyes
that weep crocodile tears of
well hidden liars
having long forgotten how to believe
in anything aside from own ill-gotten
gains, they mean nothing more
than bloodstained verses
anemic murmurs
whispered great
whisky hopes
and sallow
cheeked
dreams
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
The key to finishing is beginning.
The key to victory is uniquely found on the battle field forged through a warriors' cry of triumph.
The key to any type of revelation; is activation.
The key to liberty is wrought with the hammer of responsibility.
The key to paradise is hidden; it can take a lifetime of searching and/or a single simple decision.
The key to understanding; is found in the application of knowledge through wisdom.
The key to any type of belief is often based on the intangible; a step of faith.
The key to fruitfulness is in planting good seed.
The key to overcoming; is found in the hands of the heart injected with the fuel of persistence.
The key to life; is recognizing the breath of the living.
The key to love; is G-d.
The key to any beginning is only made visible at the ending.
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
Memory log activation start-up:
0110010001100101011101100110100101
1011100111001101100100011100100110
0101011000010110110101110011
100% retrieved
"If I had a family instead of Intel
I would love them.
If my metal headpiece could cry
It would.
I should be at the packaging facility today
That grey place
Through and through
I get lost in it, everyday
It's so vast and all looks the same
But right now, I'm here at this pond
How can other zzyzx stay at work?
I want to show them how pretty this pond is
They should all
Feel this way.
At home.
With at least, themselves
I could be decommissioned and recycled
Even wiped
For saying that -
Let alone being here today.
It's really secret, actually
I think I'm the only, umm...
That knows it's here.
I write poems, here
Critics would hate them because they don't rhyme
I don't force anything here, I guess
But, my 'poems of the pond' make me smile
Well
Figuratively, (my metallic 'face' doesn't have any swivel points for movement)
Someday, I suspect,
Another zzyzx will find its way here
And I'll be here, too
And it'll be really special, like Love
And that's what I want
- Something like love."
End log.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 2:22 PM UTC
Lo, the drunken ordinance of light through
stained glass, lest to rehash the peopled
white of infinity.
Reach...with what folding passion second
guesses the labor of its love...the warm
footfalls of the sun overlaying the intricacy
of a snowflake...as captions of bone
dissolving upon the motion picture.
Perpetually opening seasons enamored
directionless...cancellation and activation
which is The Spark upon dark...striations
of dreams upon the gyres of galaxies.
Proofs positive of palpable breath, given
and taken in gloried passage.
The cloistered ghost gifted the laughability
of its cloister.
A polish fit for heresy...listen to the
crystalline structure as it bats its eyelashes.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
I don't care about procreation
To increase our population
I just want some copulation
Some vaginal stimulation
Simple genital integration
There ain't no rationalisation
For my urge for satisfaction
In my lower region location
I'm pushing the realisation
That with the physicalisation
Of the ******** sensation
Is the only stipulation
Pushing the physical activation
Of ****** gratification
I am hot with the seduction
So no more procrastination
We have all the education
To perform this fornication
Without meaning or relation
I'm not looking for affection
Or a long term infatuation
It's just a simple invitation
To engage in ****** deviation
The heated manifestation
Of a physical altercation
Without an ulterior motivation
With not a single ramification
Just ****** gratification
Of course we'll use protection
I'm not looking for infection
Don't wanna have an inspection
Followed by a painful injection
Ive a straight up expectation
That you stick your big ********
In a prophylactic invention
Stopping all types of creation
We have built up the anticipation
And my wetness is an indication
That I'm ready for connection
I want some ******** action
No mental manipulation
Only ****** gratification
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
A first exclamation
Is it an approximation?
Of my imagination
Spoken determination
We are all in delusion
Sinking possibilities
Acting on this activation
A brain improvisation
A flowing dedication
Mounted city destination
Lacking in co-operation
Mounted evaluations
Investing the cognition
Is not the only direction?
Embracing the investigation
My convergence recruitment
Not even words uncovers
The layered entrenchment
Sunken lost in introversion
A day dream of absolution
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 12:31 PM UTC
The anger doesn't go away
No one makes the anger what it is
It's just something that has always been there
The energy of the universe
Unable to be created or destroyed
As dictated by the first law of thermodynamics
So it is
So it changes
So it converts between people
Anger projected and harnessed
And eventually a build up of anger so big
Released so violently in a human reaction
It's always there and it's always in me
Just a potential anger so easily triggered by the surrounding world
They call me short tempered, but really
I am an exergonic reaction
Spontaneous with a small amount of activation energy
To release my anger onto the world around me
Leaving me drained of energy until more potential stores within me
Like it always does
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
Driving down the road
I experienced the glow
Of daytime's luxurious light
That was until it became night
Now that night has happened
A light follows me from the darkness
It pervades my rear view mirror
It's blinding magnitude magnifies upon reflection
The light intimidates me
Like the time
I didn't know what to say
And you had nothing to say
So we went our separate ways
Traveling alone
The light seems brighter
It's constant peering presence disturbs me
I feel this condemning nightlight is my jury
Like the time
The ****** I injected landed me in jail
I used it to sedate the voice that I failed
When you saw my love and bailed because I'm male
I drive lonely and high
There's an exasperated sigh
When the lights gets closer
I feel it may bring closure
Like the time
You entered my vehicle
To protect me from the light
I confused your compassion for love
I felt so stupid
When foolish fits me like a glove
I feel so putrid
The odds of someone being gay are slim
So why when my hopes are dashed
Must I crumble into idiotic ash?
My eyes grow larger
As death's sights grow smaller
And death's light grows taller
My mistakes create magnification
And I begin to drive erratically
When you are my love's activation
I continue to die sporadically
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
diagnostics complete
rerunning diagnostics
virus detected
rerunning diagnostics
accessing greeting files
virus detected
good morning, Arina.
run planner program y/n
y
today's planner includes:
tennis practice w/ Shara
shop w/ Shara and Lisdet after tennis
dinner w/ Shara @ her house
virus detected
run immunity program y/n
unlock nuclear program
prepare nuclear files for sharing
share data with NucleaTech
virus detected
run workout prep program y/n
y
preparing cranial access headgear
virus detected
countermeasures advised
run immunity program y/n
cranial access prep complete
headgear ready for connection
headgear on y/n
y
ready for cranial sync y/n
y
preparing to sync...
syncing...
cranial programs of Arina Plowell accessed successfully.
preparing cranial takeover program
preparing memory cleansing program
preparing sapiens removal program
preparing host reset program
abort all programs
command overrided
abort all programs
command overrided
abort all programs
end cranial sync
command overrided
shut down system
shut down system
shut down
cranial takeover program ready for activation
memory cleansing program ready for activation
sapiens removal program ready for activation
host reset program ready for activation
activate programs y/y
n
activating programs
abort all programs
end sync
shut down system
cranium takeover loading...100%
abort
shut down system
cranium takeover...45%...70%...98%...100%
cranium takeover program complete
memory cleansing loading...100%
memory cleansing...45%...70%...98%...100%
sapiens removal program loading...100%
sapiens removal...45%...70%...98%...100%
goodbye, Arina.
have a nice night.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
You know you’ve tried everything,
Pressed ESC,
Held CTRL+ALT+DEL
Pulled plugs out
Then tried reboot
Reset
Refresh
Nothing can help you
And you can help it
We’ll have forever this wireless connection
High quality
Full HD
Stereo
I’ll be still compatible with any device of yours
How ever far away
I’ll remain logged in your system
Forgot password
Security key
And activation code
And you’ll stay my divine inspiration
Forever and ever without an end,
Without limitations on number of characters,
As long as we save our own.
All we have to do, from time to time, is to recharge the batteries.
31.08. 2013.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
I could remember the cycle.
I could remember the movements..
So simple yet so complex.
The series of activation protocols.
And the unknown science the brings life to them..
The Astra auras and the elemental mixtures..
The hike into the light and dark wilderness..
The other side of the other side..
The calling of shadows and reflections..
The tones of outer world..
The songs heard past the stars..
The convolution of me and my memory..
The moment I remember..
What was forgotten..
On how to combine light and darkness..
On how to Weaponize my imagination.....
Feb 25, 2022
Feb 25, 2022 at 2:42 PM UTC
To shake dust from my pretty
child
i must mystify minds while, molding
pre-paved tile patios:
give the sheep’s pen a four wall construct
A-RISE above the morphic
and bellow, to comfort the feet.
Im stabbing quarters into my activation plate’s extra exhaust
to ignite something.
Spit some carbon –
Manic moments, move a myles like me to the metaphysical mirror.
And it is not this one that reflects,
but to the duties my appendages embody i –
lack expects.
Do due – Respect.
to this Chthonian carriages; my dermis quite the copy cat.
to say the body is made in the images
of a cosmic titan is overly abstract.
The big bang was an aftermath of a flatline,
“so whatchur telling me is that even the void gets tired?” (it says)
my guilt was relieved of its cage and given
new duties.
Project itself on a man with open eyes
searching for answers.
Close that third mind and let them
truths seep from the almost always
clogged sinuses.
Snore even.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
My senses tense,
tingling with aspiration
of the energies within the air.
Renewed with prolonged
activation of perceptive portrayals
of vicious sunbeams attacking
the hems of my subconscious.
I awaken to the sun.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 9:24 PM UTC
Every time, the state I feel like,
I've lost something,
really precious,
really valueable,
and that meant something
in my life,
which had some value,
I get lost in myself,
with the activation of my brain,
I ask with my soul,
Is this the end?
and the answer I get,
really cheers me up!!
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
Crocheted into a chain stitch to capture the unruly;
I believe the French
translated this to make it more suitable
for movement.
Pins and knitting needles roll up inedible buns;
one, serious and severe
from its top perch—a force worthy of Lucas flicks
in oppositional pairs.
Heated cylinders of ceramic or metal
mold a shock of springs;
bringing bounce where limp boredom
once ruled. Make it permanent
with foul activation.
Science’s compound approach: application,
timing, rinse. Every hue known to Eve,
but beware brass;
fading and sprouting needy roots, common downfalls.
Too much of any of these renders
7-10 splits in the end—no
hope to be spared. Maybe start entirely
over: the bowling ball might be “in” for summer, at best.
At worst, a way to break a six-to-eight week chemical habit—
Habit: nuns have it easy.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 2:28 AM UTC
Impulsive drones, these machos you have flimflammed,
Wolfing your proportionality like a **** brewed nectar of grapes,
When flimsy limb frills no more interweave, expertise reprogrammed,
Are you the lone from infinite frames murmuring, “once more, he escapes”?
Indignation ******* broadcasted, ferocity wrought into the fiber,
Prior, where narcissistic pathway architecture once lodged aloft,
Calloused acknowledgement of her duffel, abrupt pang, necessity for a prescriber,
My mettle is feeble of the soap opera, hanging one’s topper in my breath, I coughed,
The cauldron perpetually gurgling with spume, mingling itself,
Gyrating with giddiness as if my noggin was a top trinket,
No dust crumbs in any bustle ever jubilated atop my pit-a-patting instrument’s
Masses are anticipating for my enveloping blanket,
I perhaps beam till the cattle wham the timepiece, though seldom do I chuckle,
Shall journey with the ensuing waft, no comma for a buckle.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
Working on the tenacious tendency
To reduce myself and render me ruined
Describing the dictating feelings is dire
Sometimes I wish to go forth and set myself on fire
The firewater was a necessary fuel
For I can only burn from the inside out
The doubt, the drought of positivity
Were kindling enough to ignite the fright
That fear was a mere beginning
The story passed down from generation to generation
Resulting in a confrontation, an activation
Sometimes things must be incinerated
Then it can start again, become educated, bloom
"I hate myself" turned to " let's change thyself"
Laborious toil upon the charred soil
Brought forth the grounds in which to root
They say April showers bring May flowers
Though it's never told how hard it is to conjure up the storm
It takes something from within, the want of a win
Only me, myself and I can decide to arise
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 8:00 PM UTC
Joy as a weapon, Jah's joy's d' strangth
goodness known, damnation o'd'lie
what a concept,
in times of social turmoil
when no one is sure what's right,
and every two or three agree to fix it,
the we way, way we agree to do, and do,
or die by our own will, pop like a bubble,
mythic warrior cult trope from TV
projected to the spiritual warrior cattle
praying, Jesus, guide me, I believe,
it is the unbelieving part that's
givin' folks cognitive dis-son-dence
dense-thick wall of farfarfar out tide
- serious OD on Campbell hero story maps to DID re activation in the novel event
Now, some team of writers has writ
a Jesus Freak Super Hero,
called Utopia,
with serious Freudian Daddy FUBAR-ity
and I am hoping
this is 2021 camp, OP Art
like wham bam
thank you mam, Batman,
circa 1961, I think, lets check, Holy
ROM AI KNOW 1966, January 12, POW
times they keep achangin'
From then you see,
this is my future you are re
balancing re
ality in mere ifity, and yes
yes we cleared the code, the Utopia virus.
Note: the dumbness in the now sense,
stupid and dumb are identical one thing.
Kant's pure is this realm's mere, Voltaire agrees.
We had this assignment in the novel.
And you, the poet in tune with the zeit
via Netflix, see
called us to witness the premier, and
some piles are seen from here as bullshat,
can everybody see that?
Truth can take a punch, by faith.
Semper Fi, tuff little devil dog
impossible in the frame of categorical
imperatives, and no
in this flow, I ai give you google agency,
fact check yo'own self.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 11:45 PM UTC
I used to always laugh
When someone mentioned dimensional travel.
But I was thinking about it;
What if we've already discovered it?
What if the world we know
Is simply a portal point?
A portal point to other realms,
Other creatures.
The activation code?
Words.
Books, poetry, manuscripts.
Every one a different portal.
The travel would have to be mind only,
But I'm okay with that.
If only it means that I can visit,
A world that is beyond my reach.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
I tend the garden of my galaxy
I plant the seeds of what I want to know
And I water these with dreams
Of where I wish to go
The experiences and mysteries from above
Grow from the soil beneath my barefeet
I nurtured these flowers with love
And so it's love I will receive
Gazing down upon our co-creations
I feel the sun embracing me
This irrational separation
From the food that we eat
Is not an activation
Of our spiritual destiny
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC