"appliance" poems
Teamwork Solves The Problem
They say “two minds are better than one.”
Nothing could be truer.
As I watched a friend and his relative, patiently, take apart and fix a broke appliance.
I relaxed and observed.
The two had the item repaired and figured out quicker than one whose questions are the parts in which the other can answer when there, with him, aiding in the battle of winning the war to piece together a needed tool , that needs mending.
Through answered questions from a partner well answering problems, the other had faced,
piecing together the problem, through help and sweet and strong reliance.
Upon another to help in rougher times.
I remarked on such, the phrase, as they smiled.
In agreement…it wa voted unanimously.
That :”two minds are better than one”
Simultaneously….we all nodded.
It was a new motto on which we have started to have styled…
Even more so, even a “ton” of minds wishing to achieve the same goal - to fix a broken moment…
or even a city that is in disrepair.
such, through unity, the item was finished and the conversation had ended….
It is alike war and conflicts…… ….
Having people, ready with you, voluntarily by your side…
Is better than being too tall for one’s own good…or even better motives…
If he fails to see that “one is not an island…”
“Nor is one an army…”
Common Sense tells him to ask for “brother’s in arms”
which overrides any strong form of blind pride..
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
the cookie is in the cookie jar
the cookie is now a picture
the cookie monster tries to steal the cookie but
the cookie monster is now a kitchen appliance
loading the cookies into it, and pouring the jar
of pictures out into the sink
the cookie monster wants to scream
but his eyes are now made of cookies
and the stars now descend upon the earth
outside the kitchen window
an old man weeps while his son watches
the cookie sun set upon the hills
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC
I wiped my *** on Shakespeare once:
in the absence of guidance
or conscience or prudence
bereft of any toilet paper
the solution appliance
which at the time felt like brilliance
was the re-acquaintance of Hamlet.
In that transient experience
the resemblance of ignorance
and the reverence of indifference
ignoring the previous deviance
was replaced
with a new found sense
of future
toiletry diligence.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
Christmas.... ugh
Isn't this a perplexing situation?
I have an interesting question...
First, I know this poem is not perfection
But does any one know what it's like
To be utterly alone on what's supposed to be
A most joyous day, surrounded by friends and family?
That annoying cherubic man
Won't be visiting my home
It's just an idiotic holiday
And no one cares I'll be alone
No homemade Christmas dinner
I might make myself a grade A steak
I'll raise a toast to myself
Nothing to boast about
Probably just whiskey, bottom shelf
I immense-ly hate Christmas
Say I'm dense-ly, I don't care
Been that way as long as I can remember
From the makeshift tree, when I was three
To being stuck homeless in a snow drift at sixteen
I can count all the "merry Christmas's" I've received
On one hand
It's never been merry, or happy
Most I got was engorged on stuffing
And a poorly cooked, dried out Turkey
No presents under the tree
With a gift tag saying Melanie
You know what? Sorry Quin,
but this is too **** depressing...
I quit...
Tequila, Velveeta
Distant, instant
Solemn, Gollum
Under-wear, I don't care
Tiny, finely
Flightless, loneliness
Hindrance, appliance
Backward, forward
Orange, purge
Rooftop, please stop
Kringle, Pringles
Ha! Invitations?
No...
Salutations...
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
My skin has been itching for three months
I’m not sure why this is addicting
I’ve crashed a car in my head 3 times today
My mental awareness consistently letting go of the wheel
The Anterior teeth of my mouth have started to yellow in disapproval
I’m not sure why this is satisfying
I’ve been taking toxic psychotropics in light doses more than twice a day
It’s warmth is comforting as the jittering and hyperactivity become null
Bags have formed under my eyes
If you were to open them, their roasted smell would overpower you with stimulation
Constantly on my toes for risk of Insomnia and Narcolepsy
I’m not sure why this is outstanding
Adrenaline is being forcefully factored into my body
If this is the bullet, I’m biting it after an appliance pulls the trigger
As the high passes, it ripples through my mind
An otherwise calm sea, tidal waves pound the shores of my subconsciousness
Vacuum sealed can are filled with awareness
Sleep has become a rare odyssey
Warm comforters are replaced with long trachea trips of boiling beans
I’m not sure why this is alarming
Double trips become tripled and troubling to my mother
Arguments over the hours I shall harvest from the night are increasingly frequent
Slow to roll out of bed in the morning
I don’t hit my carpet, I splash into sugared preparedness
In my backpack hides a cup full of GI Joes
I’m not sure why this is troubling
If anything, I’m drinking a medicine that prevents death by 10-15% for 13 years
The New England Journal of Medicine was happy to acknowledge my existence
Till they announce anything different, you’ll find me taking a mud bath
I’m not sure why this is disgusting
Tell me everything that’s wrong with it
Because from where I’m standing
There is nothing wrong with
Coffee
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
Wanderlust warlock blaspheme rapacity
Obsequious diligence pier pair appearance
Obstreperously vituperative vociferous tenacity
Consortium eclectic synectics concurrence
In extremis extremity cantilever capacity
Citadel clairvoyance pilaster conveyance
Inductive integration interpolative audacity
Derivative factor derivational appliance
Futurity fatidic’s laconic sagacity
Aseity veracity cacophony compliance
Accidence ambience aesthetics opacity
Acoustical articulation intonational occurrence
Apomixes anabolics histophysiological mendacity
Epistemological somatalogy syntactics refulgence
Refractive reflective semantics complicity
Hephestian dialectics Hegelian effulgence
Linguistic syntax synaptic intensity
totally tangential
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
During the night, a dreadful night, a mole dug deep
deep and around my garden that I love
This cheeky mole then had the nerve to stop burrowing
and then surface to check the damage from above.
Up came his velvety head and sniffed the fresh air
parting my newly laid lawn like a digger.
Now he appears to be smiling the cheeky scoundrel
He is making the problem a whole lot bigger.
"Look what yo have done" I shouted "made a right mess
The piles of earth are everywhere with your coming and froing"
"With all due respect madam" sniffed the mole "what do
you expect when I cannot exactly see where I am going!"
"I have no map, no satellite navigation device, just my claws
I am just a mole and all that I can do is dig, I've no appliance
No shiny ***** no mechanical device, what do you expect
Honestly madam it is not exactly rocket science.
He tutted and rushed back down the hole leaving me
speechless and trying my best not to cry.
The mole had made his way underground by now next door
but my hard work was down the drain - I wonder why!
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
I'm a table, I'm a bench
I'm an appliance with many uses
I'm a dead girl in the front seat
of your Cadillac
Was hoping to get dicked down
by your Master Sword but
cell connection's kind of spotty
I'll clean it with my pics because I want to eat
spoiling your paradise
tie me down and school me
make me clean your mess
is this what you want?
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 5:01 AM UTC
A title, from the "Best of the Alternative Press"
After reading
I realize I'm not a woman after all
She can talk about the cruel things
men do to women
**** and ******
Then discuss draperies
in the next breath
how to organize your closet
Female Genital Mutilation in Africa
and her favorite appliance:
a Panini maker
I am supposed to rush into my kitchen
to make sure I have the same brand
"She understands how much women care about their houses"
I look around
I am happy here but
A new cake of soap doesn't send a thrill through my body
A fresh towel doesn't make me ******
I could make a grilled cheese sandwich
The way my ancestors, male and female have done
In a skillet with bread and cheese
If I squish it it, it becomes Panini
I check the mirror
I'm naked, and I see
I am a woman
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
My lungs are beating like they have swallowed my heart whole.
Divided on who she loved more, they choke my breath so I taste sour gummy bears as I curl over wounded,
a victim of one of loves ****** battles.
As I have fallen in love with every girl I have seen since I was 10.
I saw her in the playground with hair to her waist and we picked daisies like I picked her.
Seeing something beautiful and killing it for the sake of beauty alone.
I stopped falling in love when I chose the scent of musky sweat over the scent of rose blossoms.
It left a stench on my pillow so pungent and powerful I slept by the toilet which I shared my dinner with unwillingly.
Curled over out of no love I spat into the mix of **** and princess shapes and went back to the man who thought my interest in women was a turn on, so I pushed his button to turn him off.
It was that night I left.
It was that night I put down my fork and threw out my two meat and veg into the recycling to go into the arms of another woman's cutlery.
It was that night I stopped dispensing my body like candy from a machine and instead knocked on the door of myself and welcomed her in. Fall in love she said, but with me.
After putting the kettle on I fell in love with the curve between her thighs and the scars upon her arms. I fell in love with her inability to eat spaghetti elegantly and her obsession with trees.
Ever since then I have started living in my body as a home rather than a hotel I can change every week, I have begun to uncurl my spine and untwist my mind.
I now love a girl who smiles at the sky and shares food with her lover rather than an appliance.
But love spreads faster than fire and if you're not careful it can swallow you whole.
I say swallow me whole. Swallow me completely. Rip out my lungs and replace them with trumpets as I refuse to do anything but love, love, love.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 8:53 AM UTC
The refrigerator stood alone at a corner
where his tears were saved in the freezer.
Strong and sturdy on the outside,
he was cold and heavy on his inside.
In the house lived a woman who stuffed
all kinds of junk food to mess his heart.
She considered him as just an appliance,
walking past him as though he's invisible.
One night she came home crying to herself
She's been terribly hurt, that he could tell.
She walked toward him, and held his hand,
swung it open gently, and took a glance.
Ice cream, chocolates, and cans of beer
For ice, she drew open the top freezer
The fridge wished he could say to her,
"You use my tears to save your tears."
Copyright, Ronnie Ng, 2011 (www.facebook.com/bolametrics)
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 12:21 PM UTC
Happy 51st Birthday Honey-Bear
We meet so many years ago
through the web tv internet appliance
You made my life so bearable and so nice
You helped me to get through a difficult life
and
When we did meet I knew we would get along
so well and we had so much in common.
Even our little arguments we could mend
we would cry over the telephone when we
hurt each other.
I know throughout each other's life
we will always be there for each other
You are so special to me
so on your 51st birthday I want
to tell you only one thing
I will love you for the rest of your life
and how much you do mean to me.
Happy 51st Birthday, Dear Honey-Bear.
Love, Lucie
In loving dedication to Robert McIntyre
Born November 17, 1960
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 12:56 PM UTC
we're all armed
with an appliance
of emancipation
we can nurture non-violent
defiance in a
non-compliant ethos of
antiauthoritarian self-reliance
we have the ability to eliminate the
vestiges of imperialism and
dominant dogmas that choke
and impede our creativity and shackle
our imagination to impotent ideologies
fragmented unrealities augmented
by fractures in our psyche
tendrils of theology that prey
upon our fear and exacerbate
conditioned responses that are
at once
unnatural and irrational
and lead
inexorably
to infantile expressions of
regression and fantasies of an
aggression rooted in the
suppression of dissent and
the oppression of dissidents
deities
as impotent
as our terror
of the unknown
by the promise of security and prosperity
a cabal of brutish thugs have erected an
imaginary hierarchy and demanded our
subservient obedience and reverence for
this malfeasant apparatus that leeches
our paychecks and robs all of our dignity
while somehow retaining the illusion of liberty
a delusion that festers like an open wound
a tumorous ulcer oozing foul fluid into our minds
blotting out our capacity for cultivating a
future divorced from misanthropy
so pour kerosene on this fluttering
flame of revolt before it sputters out
if we'd quit looking back and forth at
one another rotting in the gutters
checking to see if we have more to
our name than our sisters and our brothers
we might just muster the courage to overthrow
the vapid and misguided fictions that
divide and segregate us into pawns
trapped in this unending rat race
they've deemed the American Dream
harness the revolutionary tenacity
dormant in humanity's most important *****
infinite potential latent in every molecule
each neuron dancing across synaptic
gaps and fanning the embers of an engine
that gives motion to this evolutionary frame
the human brain is omnipotent
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
I'm a doomsday prepper
Afraid of zombie lepers
And nuclear line steppers
So I spend my life preparing
Instead of repairing
A civilization that is constantly crumbling
I focus on post-apocalyptic rumbling
My self reliance
Met my defiance
In an alliance
Of deadly appliance
When I have no faith in the government
Because they might make preparing futile
For the disasters of my wonderment
I don't copy their community style
They'll just die when the world ends
So they're a waste of the time I spend
I tried to look above
To find love
But a giant tidal wave
Blocked the sun's rays
And I could feel the Earth quake
Under my shaking feet
So I decided it was a mistake
And to avoid what's sweet
I will no longer be a misfit
After the apocalypse
I will be more comfortable than everyone else
But will I really keep my resources to myself?
I say of course
From my high horse
I fantasize about being right
So others will see the light
Of a nuclear blast
And see that I last
They'll beg to see my stocked shelf
Yet I will offer no help
I'll say my memory is hazy
Didn't you call me crazy?
Protecting my goods in that vulnerable hour
With a stockpile of firearm firepower
I prepare for an impending doom
That'll create some elbow room
Instead of friends I gather supplies
For a cataclysmic surprise
Where everyone dies
Then I'll be happy
Hunting and trapping
All alone
In a blast zone
Where someone once said
Life is what happens
While you're making plans
But the apocalypse
Is my promised land
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 4:50 AM UTC
The refrigerator did it...
Results are in,
The crime is solved,
The botnet's done its ***** work;
The refrigerator has been caught
Just standing there,
But running just the same,
Cool as a cuc...
Never mind....
No appliance now is safe
Connected to the Net;
Programs roaming find some space
To pick up every megabit,
Conscripting all the little brains
Thinking on their own
To join together,
And while it's cooling Easter ham,
My fridge is on a mission now,
Releasing spores of spam.
(Check today's news...kind of frightening, but also funny.)
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
you group these letters on a silver platter
that have slyly slipped from your siren lips
i,
a simple sailor lost in the mist of your voice,
trapped in the waves
of your heart's ribcage.
i never had the chance to reach the harbor
nor did i want to,
after swallowing your store window words.
your voice is complex lights and welcome signs.
las vegas casinos envy the way you sell to the gambling addict,
to the slave of the unknown.
you are that.
a gamble,
advertised as a sure thing.
you are an array of bells and whistles purchased at 5 in the morning on the shopping channel
but when delivered and when your big colour full box is ripped open,
a scared and average appliance is all i find.
Average i know this word scares you.
its the worst thing that can ever become of the extravagant,
of the bold.
but average is comfortable,
average is no more need for shows,
the circus elephant can finally go home.
its real.
its everyday life,
its mix matched socks and its stolen road signs.
you and i are average in the most unique way
because we mold together layer upon layer and become one of a kind.
the one of a kind I'm proud to call mine,
the you and me combined is something i cannot quite define, in words that is
but in just one kiss
everything begins to exist
words aren't needed,
in this permanent bliss
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
it was an inevitability
that we'd unearth the evidence
to validate Einstein's theory
of general relativity.
three cheers for the
method of science,
an appliance that
liberates and enlightens,
suffocating the miasma
of dogmatic parasitism.
pariahs can't stand beneath
the weight of empirical data.
a culture of imperialism
intoxicating inane idiots,
inundated by asinine philosophy.
ideologues instigating turmoil—
vainly believing
an intergalactic being
created the cosmos
in seven days for the
predestined elect.
to insist inanely that the legacy
of our existence could be measured
in seven millennia
is to extinguish the light
from the majority
of our neighboring galaxies.
you read the opening lines
of your holy text too literally.
open your mind to the poetry
of a reality that no deity
could ever breathe into existence.
we are not special.
our fate is tied to a
planet choking on CO2
and you deny the truth
in the same breath you
disparage any challenge
to your impotent,
imaginary friend.
**** sapiens—
mere animals
cursed with
conscience.
if you would deny
the ancestral history
of our evolutionary biology
simply on the premise
that it's “only a theory,”
then i'd invite you to put
your vain hypothesis
to the test and take a long walk
off a short bridge.
perhaps the theory of gravity
will provide with you some clarity.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
people ask me what i
believe in all the time.
maybe god or buddhism or
maybe even poems that
rhyme.
but i believe in
the universe and
the art that surrounds me
so,
there is a black hole in the
middle
that not many people
do know.
i believe in art
and the smiles on
her face,
i also fall for her
and her un denying
grace.
i believe in books
wether fiction or
not,
i believe in the facts that
tell me the sun is
hot.
I've heard that there isn't
any room for God in
science,
but maybe there is if
you show some
appliance.
and the stars that shine
above,
are hydrogen gases that push and
shove.
the middle of our galaxy is
a massive black hole,
not even light can escape,
nothing ever whole.
you see the parts of me,
and you think, "oh shes so fine!"
but deep inside of me is
that black hole heart of
mine.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
We have bulldozed the Garden of Eden;
we are nothing more than a parasite with an unending appetite
for destruction in the name of civilization.
Our monstrous monumental achievements can be viewed from space;
we are the cataclysmic legion, the unbeaten ****** the demon of freedom
with the desire to demolish and impoverish the last bastion arboretum.
We are mad and frenzied in our passion;
we are the phantasm assassin choking the very lungs we use to breathe
the misanthrope who carves materialistic thrones to sit on and wait for exalted death while we replant trees in self-centered glorification of hope.
We are doomed and we know it, but we still don't care;
we question science and bemoan nature for wreaking havoc, stare into the microscope looking for answers in the reverent appliance of defiance waiting to find the sparks to eternal life there.
We are the envy, the mistrust, the sadist and the snake;
we squabble over the scraps of apple peel and douse ourselves in ice cubes
whilst far away some African child walks 50 miles for a sip of clean water
we are the plague of mistakes broadcasting hurricanes to entertain.
We have bulldozed The Garden of Eden
now only the snake remains and there is no escape
freely offering the apple peel to those who obligingly accept
our epitaph will read:
humanity stepped back
to be overshadowed by an ape.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
Monkeys in cars
Strumming guitars
La la la la’s
We ain’t all that
Shaving our faces
Finding new places
Tying our laces
We ain’t all that
Appliance reliance
Making new science
Moral compliance
We ain’t all that
Leaving our instinct
Down at the precinct
Never be distinct
We ain’t all that
Barely evolved
Nothing resolved
Power absolved
We ain’t all that
Opposable thumbs
Beating our drums
Hating our mums
We ain’t all that
Intelligent beings
Believing is seeing
Rather be skiing
We ain’t all that
Monkeys in space
Saving our face
Playing the ace
We ain’t all that
Living the dream
Not what it seems
Chicken Supremes
We ain’t all that
Monkeys in cars
Smoking cigars
Staring at stars
We ain’t all that
Monkeys in cars
Counting their scars
Filling the bars
We ain’t all that
Monkeys in suits
All in cahoots
Playing their flutes
We ain’t all that
Where’s little Bo Peep
Cos we are just sheep
And this poem ain’t deep
I ain’t all that
Sep 5, 2010
Sep 5, 2010 at 11:09 AM UTC
1
Pete sets off the alarm as he walks in the doors
Tells me his new heart must be talking to the machines
He talks like Jimmy Stewart was from Boston
All elbows
While I am bruised ribs
Vera sounds like an airplane concession cart
With all the right liquor
Her faded blue walker
Drowns out her sighs
Maybe it’s her knees
I am not sure
2
Before our bodies blend
And I am part appliance
I want to love your sound
If your navel were a ****
I might turn your soft belly
Into a music box
So I could listen to your heart
Through your ribcage
After I bury my head there
Put me to sleep with your
Human sound
I want to hear the rust in your hips
With my head on your lap
The sweet sound of our lively decay
There is no better music
It is simple
Like my name
You can still say it while being punched
In the gut
You breathless barbarian
Just dance with me
Until it is all that we have
To know we’re still human
Dance like flames
Without the fear of swelling joints
Dance like waves trying to break the boardwalk
Dance for your future fake hips
Just dance
3
We link arms as we walk
Even through your jacket
I can tell how soft you are
I want to tell you about our footsteps
How when we are old
And we both have canes
When walking down hallways with linoleum floors
I know we will sound like the saddest horse
So I tell you that I will still love you
Even after our bodies are made into glue
You know me well enough by now
That this is just me being sweet
I kiss you goodbye
Listen to your car’s engine hum
It is so quiet
You might actually hear me sigh
When the sound of you driving away
Sounds like the horsepower of one sad horse
On his last three legs
Like
One sad old lady
Even if we’re just friends by then
I won’t forget
The sweet music of our decay
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 7:24 AM UTC
2nd to rise, she enquires
you ready for coffee?
it's only 6:22am
if you're having, I'm having...
she quiet disappears
thinking coffee's coming,
when to this layabout,
it occurs,
she's making
coffee in the ****
get up, make myself presentable,
track her,
the coffee aroma pulsating,
radar signal emitting
sure enough,
coffee in the ****
grinding, dripping...percolating
but what I see is
contrast and
definition
appliance white
stainless
steel chrome gleaming,
walnut wood cabinetry warming in
Vermeer sunlight window in-streaming,
a Chagall and Botticelli duet,
freshly filtered
thru a Manhattan sky
and flesh,
freshly filtered
flesh
is not a Crayola color,
or
if it is,
it's more a spectrum,
than a single shade
but this moment morning
flesh is more realized,
as if recognized for the first time,
by a newborn old timer,
who senses the
comprehension tension of circumspection
circumcised differentiation,
flesh knowledge gradation gained
this poem,
a first attempt at
painting a ****
in words
appreciating task enormity,
for there are currently
insufficient words,
too many striations,
all cannot be straitjacketed to the
vocabulary palette
this then,
but my first definition of many,
of
flesh
so many canvasses,
so many undiscovered shadings
awaiting
****** recognition definition,
composition
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
My old vacuum lasted over five years
Can't tell you how many times
I unscrewed it and cleared it with
a wire hanger to make it fine
On TV the Olympics roar
people making history
but I'm just happy with my new appliance
in my humble home, making it clean
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
I cant recall the curve of your body....
I can only see the bend of your smile...
How at night I never slept more comfortable....
On a single bed close to you....
We danced on linoleum dance floors...
With appliance audience.....
Endless selfies together....
Everyone called me.... "Us".....
We saved the planet every morning....
By sharing a shower... Where I know we got dirtier....
The way everyday i picked you up from work...
You ran into my arms like a child....
I knew you since we were small....
You were my sisters best friend....
You became mine....
I still love you... And probably always will....
My dear sweet Terri- Annn....
You are my reason for believing in love...
Keep my heart it was always yours...
And if you want to dance or laugh...
Ill be here in the kitchen with arm extended....
To tell you a joke....
Because i cant remember the curve of your body...
But i lived for the bend of your smile....
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC