"buffering" poems
You are my mother:
I suffer separation anxiety when I'm not with you.
My headphones are the umbilical cord
that keeps me close to you.
Maybe I should invest in scissors.
You are my child:
I must pamper you or else
you'll throw tantrums.
Maybe I should look into tough love.
You are my friend:
I like your company best
and you go nearly everywhere with me.
You never talk back,
but you never talk at all.
Maybe I should make more friends.
You are my lover:
buffering is our foreplay.
You've always been good at seducing me
but the *** is crap.
Maybe we should see other people.
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
The clock struck midnight
With an informative pang
I couldn't face it's music
So I turned counterclockwise
But time kept moving forward
As my wisdom dissipated
Bad times I anticipated
As I wandered through life
Burdens grew
Weight added with each step
My feet started to sink into the ground
So I got in my car
And drove
And kept driving
The more I traveled
The more I witnessed
The less I talked
As I grappled with the futility and necessity of communication
The clock warned of night's approach
I decided to continue driving
Luminous fireflies pelted my vessel
Their lamps exploding upon impact against my vehicle
The ability to destroy light
Exhilarated me
And I became addicted
To extinguishing that which shines
Until darkness flooded my engine
And an abysmal order was made by my abyssal odor
I had to exit my vehicle
And consult a mechanic
He explained my engine wouldn't work
Unless my windows were down
Which solved my darkness problem
But those ****** pests pervaded my car
Their locust glow disoriented me
The slight variations of their unique displays
Manufactured chaos within the light
My eyes grew accustomed to entropy
My brain grew accustomed to impairment
Commuters noticed my erratic driving
And offered to assist me
By attempting to ram me off the road
But the impenetrable light created a force field
Impalas couldn't run through
For my light bugs too much
Buffering me from others
And driving others from me
Leaving me alone
As a giant pulsating light that never stops moving
Is this how a star is born?
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Two roads,
Both of suffering,
A travel of torment,
An alcoholic buffering,
A mental health descent.
Two roads,
Both amnesiac,
Disasters once foretold,
A twisted aphrodisiac,
A trauma to remold.
Two roads,
And no yellow wood,
The lines are blurred and gray,
And no choice is ever good,
With the forces at play.
Two roads,
And a traveler,
With sanity at stake,
The wrong choice could unravel her,
A choice she's yet to make.
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 4:31 AM UTC
You three believe in creating scarcity,
NOT union.
You build HOV lanes for your luxury cars,
caring less how efficient they are.
They roll royce cross your game board,
fuming trails of money.
Bell Atlantic bought Madison Avenue,
you bought all the properties.
Now tenants can't avoid
the traffic or the noise
of an internet rolled in palms
and diced
spiraling
to speed limits
...
...
...
...
and red highways
...
...
...
...
and orange traffic cones that
block hybrid cars,
already swerving
to avoid bankruptcy.
We
STOP
the
STOP
people
STOP
moving,
our preamble crumbles to a
STOP,
becoming a eulogy —
an ideal dumb to power trippery,
after Time Warner and Comcast merged,
allies on opposite sides of the game board.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
together you own pretty much
everyone but Fox and Disney,
(yet have invested in them heavily).
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
your oligarchy is
NBC, Universal, CNN, Warner Brothers,
and now FullScreen,
family-friendly nepotism
that inbreeds bearing
deaf drones bored of flying,
over
Why Beyonce is a Feminist.
or
Why Ferguson was racist,
media's offspring
just keep clicking,
the headline genocide victims
basking in concentrated lamps
for a sliver of attention.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
Now you want the backend buffering,
bulging eyes and emptying pockets
of those Spocked into believing,
hyperspeed was ever necessary.
No choice when the exits are slow
and there are no backroads.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;,
offspring of the
Bell Atlantic Company,
we will not let your
****** populate the internet.
Call it Capitalism,
but your playing Monopoly,
yanking the carpet underneath
to the wood of Tyranny.
You shamed
Bell's invention
by stringing together
telephone
internet,
and
entertainment companies
until you could be lazy.
Monkeys who spent millions
to shriek at government parties
about the communication machine,
a system downloaded so slowly,
we
did
not
act
on
cons
piracy
theories,
when Amazon made online shopping so easy.
Dear Internet Service Providers,
so called ISP's,
WE ARE DONE playing Monopoly.
Our collective voice
will shout blasphemy
on your streets,
hashtagged
net neutrality,
till you're counting pennies.
So empty your Washington banks
cause it's 3 a.m. and
no ONE is winning.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Back bathing by Bambi's Bath
Biking Below Big Bridges and Britches
Banners believe bass bands become bad
But besides Beans Bumping by bricks bring bags back
Buffering bemused banned bakers
bring bad buns
brake bonds building back.
Apr 16, 2010
Apr 16, 2010 at 3:42 PM UTC
What's my name?
Take that universal,
that yeah yeah, that
ohm and play it backwards.
I'm that undercurrent,
the invisible force that pushes the hand, that pushes
the red button, that levels seven stories--for?
What's my name?
Take that post-post-modern literature,
that self-serving academia-meets-nihilism,
and think as far opposite, Herculaneum/Uruk,
and you might just find it, my name,
carved in Aramaic or Latin in a dark wet cave,
forgotten, misspelled in a dead language.
What's my name?
Look just past that buffering screen,
right before the pixelated beheading starts.
I'm between the zeroes and ones in that heaven-place,
the Internet, where people go when the final death takes.
What's my name?
Take that ever so subtle airport terminal muzak,
and listen for the counterpoint, the competing rhythm.
It, my name, swirls and mingles with that ever flowing
crowd, weary and reduced to numbered tickets and departure times,
speaking fifty different languages, a flattened and recurring Babel.
Take that ohm, and play it, play it backwards.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
Do you have to get high to feel more fly?
Soft *** stoner
I'm more blunt when I'm sober
Excuse me to the real dudes who use ****
I know how it be
But if you only smoke because it's trendy
Right now your life is pending
Because you not downloaded
You buffering
Losing connection
I can't respect it
Your life isn't hectic
You had to use other folks addresses
Just to get public school lessons
Never got a suspension
Detention because you wasn't paying attention
You wasn't throwing pencils
Or raising up dresses
Or erasing the "warm up" messages
Or guessing during benchmark testing
Word I heard you was a nerd
And that's cool
But don't have tape in between 'yo glasses then grow up to gain bad habits
That's backwards
Thought life was all about progress
You have a background which is flawless
But for acceptance
You start making exceptions
I do it for the breathless
And of my God I don't question
Exclamation
To all perpetuation
But hesitation
I don't condone perpetration
Why dissemble on some **** that isn't providential?
Everyone who practically had no choice now want a way out
Little *** kids you didn't even weigh in
How did you find your way in?
That's from real men being pliant
For all you cats who trying
Stop 'yo lying
When I'm around Amateurs come in silence
Like what's a scavenger to a lion?
About time for all of you late bloomers to become compliant
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
If one word was to define who you were -
Not what you were like or how you come across -
But what and who you are,
I would strive for sincerity.
Capturing the nuance of being counter-cultural
(stark against the world we live in);
Honest to the point of perfect precision in what I say and mean;
Genuine in openness and lacking deceit;
Firm and unmoving against the tide;
Secure in the validity of that on which I stand;
Disciplined for integrity and truth;
Heartfelt and reliable (despite frequent shortcomings);
Prepared not only to go the distance but to run it,
To invest and care through thick and thin,
Not to forgo earnest in the buffering and buffeting;
Wholeheartedly honourable, the man others would wish to be;
Virtuous and steadfast in quality and character,
A rock to hold onto, a solid foundation,
A dedication to being authentic and true.
No false wax to the visage you see,
An artistic and inhuman ideal.
-
Sincerity has been under attack, besieged as an unachievable goal
In a world focused on the self - to be selfless seems foolishness.
Attention in this life lasts the sum amount of difficulties;
We flee from the floodplains when the river comes
Rather than endure and be refined by rich streams.
Sincerity does not crumble under commitment,
Nor erode in the face of effort:
Prepared to invest, forgoing instant gratification,
Persevering under pressure whilst all else fades.
It does not shrink from the fight but turns its cheek,
It forgives the slight and suffers for the lost,
It carries the cross for the rejected and the weak,
It sacrifices all it has at great personal cost,
It stands up to scrutiny when it stands for truth,
It lives and dies in unfathomable love.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
15 March 2018
09:33 PM
In everything there appears to be a pure crystalline form
Chiseled, clear cut, categorised
Perfectly defined
We're one touch away from knowing everything and nothing all at once
Machines of habit
We're predictable, we're sequences and probabilities on a screen
Craving what we don't have and ignoring that we do
Seeing what's directly in sight and dismissing the depth
Imaging intangible possibilities yet living them through a screen
We know and don't care
We have arduously laboured over assembling a fortress in protection from fluctuation that we have unwittingly forged a cage
Lit by screens
Ruled by 'don't's
Deviation from living to halt death
Abruptly it did come, now slow does it wait
A blessing perhaps but for the dying, a curse
We uncover love so easily, so readily
and yet we lose touch of it so fast, despite our ever growing connections
We have knowledge
We have our memories to scroll through
We have lives to read about
We have inspiration upon every touch
We have it all a second away
Yet we spend our lives whiling away
In situ
Constantly buffering
k.g.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
Hello
Why does that little wheel spin?
Why does my patience wear thin?
Where are the poems I seek to read?
Where is the solution that we need?
Please repair the sites buffering
Please end our incessant suffering
We want to feel through others words
We want to work towards
Poetry
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 11:23 PM UTC
Master of puppets cease the chatter and ruckus find what life's sum is
Climb to the summet notice the smell will be pungent
I can see his sights clear I hold no fear you froze in the middle like headlights on a deer causing the cataclysmic fate into which you peer
I'll try not to get too wordy, to many word patterns while I chop this rhyme up in fury tell me what might the cure be ?
Lines lay down like corpses in a morgue dissecting you into a gord you life hangs by a thread or cord
Empathy is something I can't afford
Bitterness hate enacting my raging states leave you stiff In a lake
Your body's bloated like yeast in a cake you existing was a mistake
Your a ****** and who's body was turned stagnant your mind devoid of thought life in fragments rigamortis leaves you muscles tight together like magnets
**** it , the bay harbor butcher with looks like Ashton Kutcher leave you with cuts you can't sutcher
Put ya in a state of endless suffering no pain subsiding or breaks ,there will be no buffering
Let it end ,feel the life you want go and the agony tear your mind apart slow, you have nothing left to learn that I don't know I will forever domineer your soul
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
it’s like
the clock is still working
but the gears are no longer turning
i’m burning up on empty
*fuel
dripping,
leaking,*
no longer capable of containing
contemplations too volatile
for proper taming,
and so i’m just… resting.
a dormant chamber of magma
underneath the bedrock is often
due for massive explosion
but i never liked being out of control
and the last thing i need are
for my insides to get torn open.
a tree bearing great fruits
brilliantly disguised to hide its
reckless disharmonious motion.
*That is fear speaking.
Apprehension.*
Avoiding the waves because
what follows next is spinning
down through the vortex
violently into uncharted oceans.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
I'm not the better half,
I'm not the worst either.
Not that we are equal or same
You are just the best and the worst,
The first and the last.
I just lie between those two extremes,
Never to surpass my lower and upper limits.
Have you wondered what average feels like?
What insignificant or common tastes like?
Always being at the buffering state,
Neither acid nor base,
Neither hot nor cold,
Just lukewarm.
No distinct shape or colour
Not white or black,
Just grey.
This is my state of mind at the moment!
Not evil, not good.
Just there,
Lost in the shadows of time and space.
Weren't we all born special?
Aren't we all perculiar?
Is this just my speciality?
Never to be specially special but to be specially normal.
Counted as part the masses.
Never in the spotlight,
But the one behind the spotlight.
Do you care to think of me?
Jack of all trades they say,
Master at none
It seems hard to understand my plight;
Difficult to comprehend the sight.
You look down on me from that height
And you say, "YOU MUST BE ALITTLE ALIGNED TO THE LEFT OR RIGHT"
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 7:10 AM UTC
On a moonlit night on a deserted beach
these ocean wonders destination have reached
they come ashore in hundreds strong
to lay their eggs where they were born
lumbering slowly through fine sand
on this tropical beach in a distant land
deposited with care, buried entombed
growing in darkness for many a moon.
When they hatch to the surface they will have to fight
the dash to the sea will not be the end of their plight
gulls wait on the buffering sea breeze looking for earth sign
as lizards petrol the coast for they also want their fill and dine
In a miracle of nature most hatch together
little legs bounding this gauntlet hell to leather
with the relentless bombardment from the air
and ravenous reptilian foes almost everywhere.
Many will die on their first fatal day
yet some will cheat death and get away
good luck dear turtles
I will remember thee
to home dear turtles
your domain the Sea.
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
You woke me up when light touched
Our sleeping forms in shadow
Morning never held as much surprise for you
As waking up at midnight did
Cold smoke windows buffering
What little I could see of your face
Then you smiled
Lit up the room like a bonfire
Warm and safe running fingers through
What I feel is heaven, your beard
Groaning softly, no please don't roll over
Here is where we fit just right
Tracing sacred lines of our cosmic geometry
Making trapezoidal hearts along your fault lines
I'm no math major but I know a square root
When I see one
Always 1+1
Why can't we be it all?
Adding together for eternity
Until our edges fit cohesively
Instead of waiting for the light to melt them
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
From birth until death we ply our trade
pulling anger and frustration to enslave,
save our fixation on the withering winters grave...
where we buried summer
and found our calloused hands warming on a fire
we spent hours forming in history’s funeral pyre.
If we could see above the suffering
and the internet buffering
if we could hold eternity in our hearts
and not let it get torn apart
we would see beyond the frogs well
and believe in heaven and not in hell
Jun 14, 2021
Jun 14, 2021 at 6:04 PM UTC
I'm going to stop acting like I know anything
And slow down on the *****
And singing blues
I don't know much
My thoughts are all feelings
My heart is in my head
Reality fills the voids
Left between
Saccharine dreams
Who am I?
I don't know anything
I can't trust my instincts
I need input
My eyes are depleting
Who am I?
The autmn wind
Upon your face
Feebly wispering
Who am I?
Love drunk boy
Lost in the universal last call
Of copresence
In a human kind
Buffering
Your body
Your face
Your skin
Your hair
Your essence
Your personality
Your touch
Buffering
Has left me only
Saccharine dreams
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
*Spectral & Whites,
She shoots liquid kryptonite,
Forming civil twilights,
Lighting up satellites,
Effusive she moves in crowds,
Vetting the loud,
Entombing in her vortex clouds,
Fiction stitched exclusive to her shroud,
Translucent transcendence,
Sinking in ascendance,
Obscured abundance,
Her celestial dependence,
Mutating sacraments,
Dissolving electrolytic laments,
Decaying she resents,
Her serene blood stains,
Choking reckless intents,
Torrential far cry,
Of her desecrated lullabies,
Edging serrated highs,
Triggering sulphur lies,
Profanity in her transmits,
Photonic duality she emits,
Fluttering in trance,
Her psychopathic stance,
Initiating empathetic dance,
Seductive incandescence,
Buffering her schizophrenic vehemence,
Veiling the era of repentance,
By unveiling spiritual severance,
And pseudo sacrosanct irreverence,
The future’s here,
Nuclear souvenir,
She past my prime,
When the evidence realigned,
Confiscating her downtime,
She committed my crime,
Make amends… We are designed to be outlived….
03:22AM*
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
The invasion of other countries
Has to come to a full stop.
You’re making us the Evil Empire
By playing at being traffic cop.
We are stuck in a sick cycle
Of meddling in the internal affairs
And financing revolutions and wars
In countries where nobody asked us there.
You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.
You tell the voters one set of lies
And secretly agree on others.
Your backroom manipulations
Kills our sisters and brothers
While hiding behind patriotism
The overseas battles of duplicity
Are not about threats to us here,
But are about oil and ethnicity.
You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.
You take advantage of the state
Of poverty out nation is suffering
That you politicians caused
By removing our safeguard buffering.
You are doing your best to remove
All the national checks and balances
So you can ***** our world at large
That has no recourse for grievances.
You’re evil
And even more so;
Pure evil
Because you don’t think so.
At least that’s what you claim
But you’re as phony as your fame.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
incubator
technological mother
wi-fi our blood vessels
to your eternal link
make us passionate machines
symbiotic connections
programming a love
continuously on update
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of...
fail
buffering
abort
retry
error
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 9:14 PM UTC
"You're a ***** girl"
you've gone too far
"The ***** is back"
actually, she never left
There's a few varieties in this domain:
Some of us hang back, quiet
observing
armored
locked and loaded
ready to protect with that forcefield...
Alert
Aware
Buffering
Then there are those
malicious and spiteful
poised to pounce
and
take
take
take
Gluttonous
Perverted
Cruel
Which one are you?
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
Sheets of white piling up on my desk
Red alerts with red flags flooding my mail
The little ping, ping, ping of incoming messages from various correspondents
Demanding my attention
"You should learn to say no; stop doing everything by yourself."
Once, my insides would clench and I'd feel like I'd been
Kicked in the shin whenever I see something that reminds me of you
But now, search as I might, I can no longer see your face
Even down memory lane, you've vanished as suddenly as you did in reality
Other events flow like running water, with the clarity of a clear lake
Yet when I try to recall the words you said
It was as if a mischievous kid decided to mess with the tap
On; off. On... off. On... off. On; off.
A buffering in my mind like chopped up notes of a song when a video wouldn't load properly
1991. 9893. 0306. 162. 0341. Numbers are all I remember.
How did
Your smile look like?
How did your voice
Sound like?
I stare at the excel sheet I've been populating
I stare at the values I've been entering
One after another, work requests come
One after another, the traces of you go
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
I look up..into an blackening sky
and imagine a wonder as I fly..
gaze upon Cygnus the swan
and think of X-1 residing inside..
A spinning hole of fourteen solar mass
as black as the devils devious ***
enshrined in belts of orange and red
energy stolen from the star that has bled
Into its fierce companions consuming hole
gnawing on the sun like deaths own toll
blasting out jets like an angels glowing trumpet
swallowing stars like a streetwalker strumpet
Its partner a sapphire star seriously suffering
the loss of mass with no way of buffering
its pull into the black holes continual maul
matter tattered like an old beautiful shawl
six light years away from our Earth
as a massive star its original birth
as a super nova mass playing its role
shrank into a carnivorous black hole
X-1 sprawled as a devouring creation
cruising through the Cygnus constellation
event horizon spinning 800 times a second
even as it grasps and continues to beckon
deadly beauty dancing in an obsidian gown
wearing the stars matter as an elegant crown
energy it has stolen and devoured whole
lost forever to the mouth of a black hole
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
i've heard the songs
about killing pain
sounding like the only
way is with a vinyl
record and several
shots of something strong
*(but pain isn't all
alcohol and turntables)*
it's a stack of cds
still shrinkwrapped so
they shine like diamonds
a discard pile scratched and
cracked so i know that
life keeps skipping on
a fourth cup of coffee
to send my heart
rattling and my
hands shaking
*(i've wished to be in
love before just so
my heartbreak could
someday be justified
but i can let the music
paint that picture easy)*
buffering lyric videos
sprawled out in bed
watching the light grow
brighter behind the curtains
finding myself addicted
to pain and freezing cold
because i need the white
noise of a fan at night
*(but pain isn't all
alcohol and turntables
sometimes it's just old
boomboxes and black tea)*
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 12:51 AM UTC
In my calmer moments
sometimes I wonder:
I'm just a girl trying to make my way in the world as a woman.
Who knows what I truly am?
It's all just living in progress.
Strains of aura,
Strands of thought,
All shifting factors of society, lost
in a world so big, often
I just don't know what I'm supposed to be.
That's okay,
Life is all about discovery.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC