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Thomas Sloan Nov 2014
click click click
Do something
click click click
Click click click
No now
click click click
click click click
Yes now
click click click
If I don’t do something now I won’t
Click click click click click click click click click click click click click
Ashley May 2018
Click, click. Click, click.
He was blinded by the light. He smiled knowing it was a camera.
Click, click. Click, click.
His family looked at him in despair. Why aren’t they smiling? Aunt Betty is crying?
Click, click. Click, click.
The light got closer, his vision was non-existent.
Click, click. Click, click.
He reached toward the light to shut it off. Still smiling for the picture.
Maybe his friend was kidding around? That’s why his family was sad, they’re disappointed.
Click, click. Click-. Silence.

He layed in the hospital bed, almost dead. His family looked at him. Knowing it was the last sight of him thriving.
The electrocardiogram lost noise as his daughter screamed
He reached out for the ceiling and closed his eyes.
Joe Bradley Jul 2014
Time Volume: 1
I’m eating up the hours
one by one.
another screen,
more non-words
Just letters.
9000 more words
and more time.
To be forgotten.

Learning to forget
The melting *** cast a boy and I ran outside,
A slime soaked goblin, a monster from the pit
Lobbing clods of mud at a harmonic sky
Whirring with dragonflies and lolloping bees.

Sun and rain prepared a day on a different earth
Where there was life in the monkey puzzles,
And scuttling battle grounds that
hid hundred-handers beneath concrete slabs.  
Gravel churned up tiny black dragons,
rotten logs, fortresses of tiny fiends.

I had a sword in my hand, I was noble.
Defender of the realm, scourge until tea,
The hero of worlds
everyone else couldn’t see.

Time volume 2**
Excalibur was stuck fast
When the new branches fell
the tips of my fingers are beginning to rot.
If only I could
stop the second
See the world behind glass.
and dance out of time.
This snow globe,
Is not the Antarctic.

Artificiality in Imagination
Turning my back on time and space with
Bottled brains, ***** mist, powdered thought
I chiselled into old pathways.
I carved a silk road through synapse and nerve
to return to my monsters.

I saw a sickness of colouration
A lynx effect for the sky
tearing punkish streaks into the atmosphere
that were quickly blinked away.
Sunspots, cloudbursts, tussocks, grass,
Paper squares, green, red, purple, pink, blue,
pungent smoke, bugs, ripples, shivers,
polka dots and blank spots.
A storm-cloudy stomach.

The perspective of a head plastered to the soil again
saw thing for what they were,
a tiny amazon thought lost to rationality.
My heart thumped for a fear and joy
in a way forgotten by time.

Time Volume 3
Why is it called wasted when it is time well spent?
my god, my eyes hurt.
Just 9000 more words.
What would I give for a pretty girl sat under a tree.  
search * (pretty girl sat under tree)
She’s hot.
So is she.
… could always.
don’t be stupid.
Just 9000 more words.

Fantasy for a Counterpoint
I questioned what’s real when she blinked at me
and stopped existing  when she closed her eyes.
No one taught us to write in blood,
Tattoo our names into each other’s skin,
Leaving claw marks for the world not to see.

Whatever you drew was Van Gough
Whatever you said was Keats,
Whatever bruise you left was Tyson’s.

The outer layers of or skin are dead,
It’s funny whatever you touch on a person,
Is already dead.

Just before our love got lost
I noticed a thread break away from the braid
Around your head,
a small incongruity,
That made your hair a mess.

Love became what it was when you said you were
‘as constant as the northern star’,
And I replied, ‘yes - always in the dark’.

Time Volume 4
This is progress for my sake,
Just in time.
Time is money.
Time flies.
A stich in time
This is a paradigm of nothing time.
I’ve got so much time.
And so little time to waste.
I’m a long time dead.

Hope for a handful of dust
Eventually I will while away these lonely hours.

What black rocks stir while we sleep?
What prayers rumble still, among old stones?
Do they speak the eternal city and glow civilised blue -
Or burn timeless black?

Does the probing ivy find us out
And the blunt head of a worm investigate
our most intimate parts?

Or does a spectre rise from the soil
To live under children’s beds?

When is the point that death
Becomes something breath-taking -
And the brook, my brown blood,
The dead leaves my skin,

Is it fantasy
to put something
where nothing should be?

The soft earth will **** me in
And give my brittle bones
To worms and crows
What stirs beneath the stones,
may always be worms and crows
I know its long, i don't expect anyone to read all this, i certainly wouldn't but if you have, thanks.
A snapshot to remember me
When I leave.
Click. Click.
Two to remember us
As we used to be.
Click. Click. Click.
Three for what we said
In whispered conversations.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Four for the squeal of the door
As I walked back in.
Click. Click. Click.
Three times for the phone receiver
Dropped as you saw my face.
Click. Click.
Two for the loaded gun
I held firm in place.
One for the trigger
I pulled.
All that is left
After I'm gone.
Keith W Fletcher Dec 2015
Topic of the day
As I walked in the store
Was  the military going gay
Storekeeper ready for war
I liked the guy normally
So I hated to spring my trap
But its what I do ...regretfully
I listen to people and see past the crap
It doesn't make me many friends
But I' that for any light I create
In those dark and dingy corners
Where no reason or reality has...
          ,,,,,,been able ..penetrate
Ever notice how people resent it
If you really listen as they speak
So sometimes I pretend to be vapid
So I won't be considered some kind of freak

It doesn't work either
Cause they always see it in my eyes
And say "WHAT ?  ,You really think I'm wrong.?"
And I get the job for which noone else applies
Somewhere in my DNA is a madman gene
Where I say if 2 x 2 is 4 then 200 x 200 is 4
The zero is a distraction if allowed to come between
Reason and  abstraction the surface and the core

So I jumped right in that day
When any normal person wouldn't dare
"Whats your objection Mr. Appleton
You don't think all things should be fair
And he pulled out the playbook to find a quote
A book that is a cover and a cover not a word in between
Censoring out all reason means that  thats "all she wrote"

Then out it came all the same a 7 with 4 zeros trailing along
"They shouldn't be allowed to be in the military cause ...
I'm  thinking don't use the zeros no  no .. I FOUGHT IN VIETNAM
                  Click ...CLICK....
HE AGREED So I let him keep the zeros (a couple more seconds)
And they have a right in a free country to be who they are? I asked
He nodded as I reclaimed the now sad little zeros CLICK....
IM CONFUSED Sir they get freedoms men FOUGHT and died for
He again nodded  O.M.G. but they don't have to pay for it.? Right?
I just went ahead and took all his playbook stash of zeros CLICK
Click click .I  leaned and whispered "Thats a hell of a deal - how you were willing to fight and die click click click click so gay men
Could stay here where its safe while you pay for him to ****......
     Click click click click.... Needless to say I had to find a new store to shop at.CLICK.
Q Apr 2013
Click, click, click, click
Precise and unhurried steps.
Standing tall and straight.
Always knowing where you'll step next.

Click, click, click, click
Whether in pants or a dress
Step with confidence and elegance
Remember you're the best of the best

Click, click, click, click
Now subtly sway those hips
Walk briskly but leisurely
Coy smile high on your lips

Click, click, click, click*
You're now walking the walk
Sophistication in every step
Next is to learn the talk
Welcome again to The Classy Lady Series. This is the second installment, the next installment is "The Classy Lady Series: The Talk".
Memmaisgold Jan 2018
The images of you flicker in my mind like the Automator of a camera.
Click. Click. Click.
Your lips wrapped around a chicken bone.
Your laugh, deep laugh, that loses oxygen and you struggle to catch your breath through each chuckle.
That smile that says, “You’re beautiful.”
And I believe you because I see it in your eyes.
The touch of my hand across your back.
Shoulders silk.
Chest like fresh feathers.
Your dance.
Your quench for knowledge, insatiable.
I miss you.
Where are we going next?
Wherever it is, keep these memories for me.
Put them on replay in my head.
Let me revel in the life we have made–the love we have made.
There are albums of us.
You look beautiful in every picture.
Click. Click. Click.
John Sep 2012
Paris Hilton and her views on homosexual men
Lady Gaga and how she gained 25 pounds so now she has to go on a diet
Rookie outfielder fireballs a man out at home plate from deep center
The deathtoll in the Middle East is on a perpetual rise
"Have you ever ****** for money?"
A kitten flounders around on a carpet while a baby watches, points and laughs
A boy on bicycle does a wheelie and falls backward, blood spewing everywhere
"I'm Mitt Romney and I endorse this message."
The far reaches of the universe are estimated to be... beyond human comprehension
Morbidly obese men chugging three forty ounces of beer, one after the other, and are paid for their views by Google
"You will never know the truth."
"The meaning of life is to simply live."
Click here to find out how YOU can make $800 without leaving your house in just one day!
"Spread your *** because that's what you're here for."
Dameon Smith Mar 2017
New Message.
I'm beaming
The minute I see it's you.
Click Click Click
Message Sent
Just a simple
How are you
New Message
How was your day?
New Message
I miss you!
New Message
I love you!
Click Click Click
Message Sent
I Love you Too!
Click Click Click
But not the way
You love me
Click Click Click
I want to kiss you.
And date you.
And hold you.
Backspace Backspace Backspace
Click Click Click
I'm glad we're friends. :)
tigerdan Sep 2012
College: the four year roller coaster ride,
Ridden by purchasing a one-way ticket to adulthood.
Blink, and it will pass before the very eyes
That take in media-based images,
Depicting college as no work and all play.

Click,   Click,    Click,    Click,

Leaving proud and teary-eyed parents behind,
We enter *******-box bedrooms
Filling them with unbridled enthusiasm, unadulterated optimism, and a hint of unidentified angst.
Even menial tasks like eating at the cafeteria or watching television
Are made enjoyable with new friends and a sense of independence.

Click,   Click,    Click,    Click,

We are filled with energy like hot-air in balloons,
Rising in the coaster as we ascend upward.
However, we ignore an important lesson
We have learned from any ride we been on or story we've read:
Nothing stays positive forever.

Click,   Click,    Click,    Click,

They say that ACT scores are designed
To determine your success in the first year of college.
But few of us take these tests while coping with things like:
Depression, suicide, bad grades, fear of independence,
Loss of identity, or unprecedented amounts of drinking.

Click,   Click.

These factors inevitably come into play
And collapse the kickstand of optimism holding our chins up.
We find ourselves hurling toward the ground;
And as if gravity has pulled them harder,
We reach to the seat in front of us,
To retrieve our hope, our control, our breath.
As we fall, we feel hopeless, helpless, speechless,
And wonder if we will make impact.

It is perhaps at this time more than any other,
We realize the importance of friends and family.
They reach their branches out
And root us in the soil of understanding and openness.
Like the front car of the coaster,
They pull us out of the plummet.
After experiencing the highs and lows of the ride,
The rest seems a manageable imbalance of work and play.

We spend time in libraries, cataloging our actions and emotions
Into a book, self-titled but preceded by "face."
Such internet activity is the placebo
We self-prescribe for procrastination, an epidemic among our people.

Drinking from Solo cups half-full with liquids as impure as our intentions,
We end our weeks hungover from mental exertion and social immersion.
But the optimist in me sees that these cups are half empty,
Ready to be filled with future plans and dreams.
Dreams of being teachers, doctors, nurses, lawyers;
Having houses with three-car garages, guest rooms, and foyers.

You see, this is a ride where no one judges you
If your hands or feet are outside the ride,
If you scream when you're excited, cry when you're scared,
Or puke at the end.
So remove your blinders and beer goggles,
And enjoy this while it lasts,
Because it is the final ride in the amusement park of youth.
Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
Restless days,

torturous nights.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

always clicking over in my head.

Snap to one image,

snap to the holiday you gave me,

snap to the dinners and treats,

you temptingly placed before me.

Fading hopes,

nightmares rising in the daytime.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

I confide in you what happened.

Why I’m always cold when

you reach to touch me.

Why I always patiently wait

for you to want to touch me.

Why I always wish to say

something but I hardly whisper instead.

And how it broke us.

Lasting, loving smiles,

darkening gazes and empty silences.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

I shared as much as I could.

I gave you whatever was

left over, still mine, not theirs.

You fell for me, I know you did.

Showered me with silken kisses,

steamy nights,

in all my curves

you found something beautiful.

Me on top, you

lulled me with sweet words.

I was like no other.

Fanciful dreams,

a bruised and aching reality.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

You made me want you, so badly,

because you believed I was good.

You handed me golden platters of

worth, passion;

I could finally acknowledge the shape

confidence takes.

It walked beside me.

I was foolish to place this charge in you.

Click, click, click,


You promised you would always

be there.

You phrased such blissful melodies.

You wanted to be with me through anything.

You said that.

Why did the tide turn?

How do you go on pretending,

deceiving yourself,

when you said those exact words.

I heard you.

I heard you every night onwards.

I don’t believe you wanted to lie to me,

but you did.

You tore those stitches out,

thread by thread.

When you walked away,

leaving me turning to stone

in the freezing night air.

It whipped me, beat me and still

you didn’t look back.

Only now can I go to sleep,

knowing I don’t have to see you


behind my eyelids.

I don’t crave you anymore.

Is it the same for you now?
Anshita Mehrotra Aug 2016
"the locks
click click clicked
smiles here
kisses there
strangers waddled
this ones for us,
the metal collides
starlight hidden within it I'm sure
the promise of a lifetime
and click
click clicked
"I love you,
forgive me"
click click clicked
the starlight bursts in fragments of pain, falling into a river of broken promises,
click click,
Love locks, 7 months between metal, and its gone.
Ash May 2018
I’m locked in a room
Click. Click. Click
That’s far too bright
Click. Click. Click
But there is no room
Click. Click. Click
There’s swirling thoughts so twisted with fright
Click. Click. Click
I’m chained in this chair and they won’t stop watching!
Click click. Click click
Chaotic and scrambled. This is too bright.
It’s wreathing and squirming, with no signs of stopping.
Please someone turn off the light!
I don’t want to see, I don’t want to know
Get these demons out of my sight!
I’m chained in this chair
In a room far too bright
I’m starting to think, no one cares.
Please shut down my mind
Turn off my light
My thoughts are far from kind.
Tick tick. Tick tick.
I’m out of time
Struggling to stop the depression before it’s gets worse
Rob Sandman May 2016
Playin' games.
Jay Text Sandman aka Skitz Text

Set the timer click click now the clock is tick tockin'.
I came to play the game. Like a KNIK KNAK knockin'.
Your rhyme flow is slow you know like PLAYDOUGH.
I gobble up fine rhymes like a HUNGRY HIPPO.
Like SUBBUTEO I kick it.
Shruggin' off your challenge like BUCKAROO kickin'..
..up ****. I sunk your BATTLESHIP.
You played out your game of CHARADES. That's it.
I dig deep in me rhyme dictionary.
You scrawl on the the wall like palsy PICTIONARY.
Not strugglin'. I'm jugglin' the rhymes in me head.
Slam dunk. KERPLUNK. Nuff said.
No, never. No way. Who am I kiddin'?
You know I got the rhymes. And I got the rhythm.
I confess. Like a game of CHESS.
Checkmate. No debate. Not a pretty pawn missin'. *  

It’s the end of the games like RIP,
I Multikill MC’s like COD,
Keep your mind on your MINECRAFT can’t catch me,
Cause Skitz is EC's Artillery,
droppin bombs watch the FALLOUT or you’re Dogmeat
FAR CRY from the old days of CRT
So your attempt is DOOMed best clear the room,
SWAT’s get Swatted Mic shotgun BOOM!,
Blast backdraft will destroy your CIV,
No cheat codes PAC em up MAN time to give,
RESPEC- to the PORTAL gun hangin’ on me hip,
You’ve got HALF a LIFE left faster than NO CLIP
But I said no cheatin’ Hackers get Hacked up,
No Multiplayer,cause you’ve no backup,
I’m glorying in the games we play,
Checkmate VS XBOX  pass to Jay.

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic and it's Jay to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

When I flex it's hectic. Like SCALEXTRIC.
Switch lanes to PERFECTION.
I've a MONOPOLY in this game.
Don't pass go. Go straight to jail.
You fall like DOMINOES. I leap like a salmon.
Tisk tisk. Big RISK. Now I have BACKGAMMON.
Stamina. A steady hand OPERATION.
Ace up me sleeve and I'm just playin' PATIENCE.
Got me POKERface on.
Read 'em and weep as the game plays on.
I got a dead mans hand but I animate the mic.
BULLDOGS charge. You know I'll reach the other side.
Back to me den.
Repeat after me like SIMON SAYS.
RED ROVER, RED ROVER. I call Jay over.
You think it's over ?
No my friend. *  

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

This Steam Machine is heatin' up a treat
So don’t be TEKKEN the ****,just feel the beat,
This KOMBAT’s MORTAL to enemies,
But it’s a full HEALTH PACK to Fans of E.C.,
So OverClock your CPU,
get your Soundcard Jumpin like chimps in SIM ZOO,
drop DICE on ICE from here to Timbuktoo,
STREET FIGHTER’s and Writers BIOSHOCKin' you

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

I SPY with my little eye.
Somethin' beginnin' with J. I let fly.
As your JENGA tower wobbles.
I smile. You drop tiles. Dropped your poxy box of SCRABBLE.
Look out. That could spell disaster.
Triple word score as the rhymes rip past ya. Blast ya.
Quick out the trap like The Flash playin' SNAP.
Check the lyrical master. *
As the Dungeon Dragon spreads his wings-lets fly
playin' the game the pied piper pies,
catch you rats in me MOUSETRAP its a snap,
"cause I wrote the rhymes that broke the bulls back"
in THE SHADOWS OF MORDOR prayin' and hopin'
for a hero like MARIO to bust you loose,
Jay's SNAKE'n' up the LADDER time to twist the noose

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

What ya think ?              
Me rhymes kink, bend and fold like TWISTER.
A wicked rhythm like DOUBLE DUTCH. Skip, skip.
Like EVEL KNIEVEL. Flywheel spinnin'.
Rev it up. Dump the clutch.        
See me grinnin'. Knockin' down the pin and..
SPIROGRAPH lines in me rhyme. I'm spinnin..
..out of control. You can't cope with me GYROSCOPE.
I bring you back to the beginnin'.*

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.
Jay came up with this idea and tried to mention as many games we played as kids as he could fit in,when  he invited me onto the track I went more down the PC/Console game route,
let us know how many we missed!.
SP Blackwell Mar 2013
I am sitting on a broken branch

under the drug addled canopy of insecurities and lies.

I am feeling the steady sway of an oxycontin daze.

Walking slowly through a ketamine daydream that pulls at my core

like a phantom puppet master controlling my limbs.

It crashes into my brain like the breaking waves on the shore.

Breathing in nicotine filtered filth as I wait to catch a breath of fresh air.

Lungs filled with recycled tar that prevents me from gasping.

In darkened corners where lies sleep and rumors are hidden,

I wait.

I dance on a tightrope between conscious and subconscious

that is held by reality and dreams.

Dark sunglasses on to avoid

the blinding stinging light of what is real.

Mirrored glasses are reflecting the reflections back at intruders.

Deflecting glances, shifty eyes, and dilated pupils

searching for a focus point of truth  

in a neon technicoloured blur of hypocrisy.

The background blaring horns blended with a steady bass line

mimics my heartbeat.

Thump thump. Thump thump.

The fading noises pass quickly,

highlighted with insults and curses of hate and gossip

that are forgotten before you can make them out.

Spun truths turned into lies

intermixed with resin

left from yesterday.

The litter paved streets break under my heels.

Click clack. Click clack.

Broken and cracked

like the false promises

And hopes

And dreams

of those who have walked here before.

The monotonous pace is repeated

only pausing to notice the gum under the stiletto

that fails to hold her in place

as she runs towards the wet cement that has replaced

another sheet of cracked concrete.

The wet cement that has covered another lie

in order to show the simplicity of fake appearances.

A reminder of how easy it is to replace and mask

the hate filled holes that get trampled on.

The flicker of hope is suddenly unseen

like the street light lined alley that is now dark.

The stench of garbage, decay, and rotting flesh

is mixed with expensive perfume, sweat, make-up, and spilled *****.

Garbage cans are filled with the leftovers of last night.

A *** stained dress with no owner draws no attention

as the sound of snapping latex is muffled

by the screams of ecstasy that rapidly fade

like the fleeting feeling of MDMA.

Thick white ****** fluid oozes out like human glue

in an attempt to mend the lack of connection.

Strangers intertwined in hasty conversations

waiting for human contact to forget

that they are in dark alleys.

To forget

that they live in dark places

where no one lays down wet cement.

The distorted reality of alleys deceive passer bys

into thinking that they are not menacing

has been weaved like a web by street sweepers and garbage men.

The pressing sense of the need to avoid the sweepers

is unsaid but felt.

They falsely clean what will always be *****.

The *** filled backstreets yearn for love

like the treacherous woman guarding its corner.

Daddy issue lined dresses are asking to be undone

just like her lost innocence that can never be mended.

The issues and clothing that can never be fixed

abandoned on top of garbage cans for someone else to pick up.

Patches of dead grass are left

untended, unwatered, and unwanted

waiting to be replaced by wet cement.

Wet cement that soon enough will crack and break

under the heavy heated pressure of the stomping heels

of lost Girls in a desolate city.

Blood trickled trails are left behind

that have dried into the cigarette lined streets that lead nowhere.

The injured egos of men are left to linger at back doors

that will never be opened.

******* induced insanity whirls around a flurry

of whispers and paranoia wanting to here the Truth

between the spewed anger and rage of the low toned hushed voices

that wish not to be heard.

Whiskey hinted murmurs pressing on the sidewalk cracks

knowing that they will never be heard.

Looking into the dark where

Truth will never be seen.

The constant beat of narcotic users searching

for salvation in pre-packed bags of white powder,

digging for redemption in empty bottles of multi-colored pills.

Screaming through the silence,

They are not heard.

The desperation can be heard through the whining moans

of the junkies that are tethered to addiction.

The over whelming sound of

Want and Need and Lust

move through the streets like the overflowing gutter water.

Heartbeats are replaced with the impatient pacing of

her stilettos waiting for her pain to cease.

Stilettos stomping on broken dreams

waiting to cross broken streets.

She gazes at the other side as if it is different.

Stilettos tapping on the street

waiting for the firm grasp of a sweaty hand to distract her from reality.

Waiting to be touched

And grabbed

And ******

                                              In hopes that love will arise from ****** ****** encounter with

strange men in uncomfortable places.

Clothes are feverishly removed with the promise of

flesh on flesh enveloped in a hazy cloud of body heat

that warns off the internal coldness.

Heavy breath and touch and kiss release chemicals

to replace the drug depleted emptiness.

The rhythmic sound of rubbing flesh mingles with

the moaning of the streets.

It fuses with the short lived pleasure laden moans of

lonely people and un-climatic *******.

Awkward silences are brief as the sound of her heels owns the street.

Click clack. Click clack.

The sound of stilettos on cement hurriedly walking away when there is

no longer a need for his body heat.

That unmistakable click clack click clack

on uneven, *****, dangerous streets.

Red lipstick smeared stains are the only trace of her that is.

That is the only trace of me that is left.

Click clack steady on the street.

Steady like mimicking bass line

Click clack heartbeat.

The crunch of broken glass under the stiletto

echoes her broken dreams.

Click clack.

Head held high never looking at the ground as she walks forward.

Click clack. Click clack.

Click clack.

The urban mud of

Wet cement goes


under her stiletto.

Ronald Jones Apr 2015
I've got the computer blues.
Where is a live human being?
Where is the touch of a warm hand?
Where are eyes I can look into and trust?
Gotta lose these computer blues or bust!
Once folks talked Windows of the Soul
Now it's Windows 7, Windows 8, Windows 9, Windows 10
More high tech to make us nervous wrecks.

I'm ruled by a tyrant's silent commands:
Click here, click there, double click, go back
Click again,  go to tools, , click advanced settings,
Click here, click there, ( hey! why the blank screen?)  click yes, double click
(hey! where did advanced settings go?)click, double click help click! click!
But help isn't helping, not a bit.
Not even in the quick digital "information age."
I whirl away in a rage!
Gotta lose these computer blues or bust!

I clear my throat.
Dare I speak?
WHO to speak TO?
I scream at the silent screen (unheard).
Much easier to talk to a bird.
Gotta lose these computer blues or bust!

Where is a live human being?
Where is the touch of a warm hand?
Where are eyes I can look into and trust?
Jess Sandler Jan 2013
Earsplitting silence surrounds me
As I waste time envisioning a new setting,
Where my paper, pen, mug, and coffee are still there,
But the paper is bursting with passion,
And the magic of espresso beans enable the pen to float along my rapid thoughts.
Right now it is used to stimulate the monotony.
Money cannot be bled from words on paper and,
Beers are not bought with dedications in hard cover.
Yogurt wrappers opening, spoons being slurped.
***** expanding atop their encompassing chairs.
These are the thoughts that fill my head,
As co-workers plan the next birthday party,
The next lunch, client dinner, and snack.
It seems that bars do not enclose me at my desk,
There is no guard at the door and,
Above me the exit sign gives warmth.
Not today, today is not a good day.
There are presentations, Power Points, data to analyze.
Analyze feels like a ***** word in my world,
It covers my neurons and destroys imagination,
Synopsis seize to fire.
It seeps into my blood until I become a replica,
But it is the word that takes my balance off negative,
And applies charming labels to my purse,
I wonder if this is how it starts out for everyone,
Humans are adjustable, no batteries allowed.
Reem Aug 2018
their feet clicked along the marble floor,
blue, gold, and embroidered flowers
covered every tapestry of the castle.
click, click, click
chants rose in the air,
statues of past kings judged the dancers,
diamonds fell from ring fingers of maids,
my presence embellished by the eyes of the admirers.  
click, click, click
the horologe matched the tapping sound of the guests’ footsteps,
my time was running out.
click, click, click

an angel whispered,
“time was never real.”

(only this time, it was only my feet.)
Leon Labastide Aug 2013
Dear, Mr Adam Lenzra
I had a dream,
that death was having conversations with little children
Playing in revolving doors,
So that Russian roulette would be in sandy boxes with more then one bullet in the door  
They say, Heaven needs more Angels
All Because of Revolving Calamities from Hurricane Sandy
all the way to Sandy Hook Elementary

They say when
Sand and ocean intertwine
tectonic plates shifts
So to Every action there is a reaction
Mother earth reacting 2 our actions
Contaminating her with our actions
Sun give life, but man bring death
systematically incorrect
Money lusting, wall street mob
With corrupt with ideology in their system
Building dreams on fantasy
But, In Reality nuclear bombs, atomic bomb
White house effect, failure 2 elect
carbon dioxide becoming the new oxygen
modern day trickery we're consuming
Government feeding

Click, click, click!
Take a picture
Maybe you can document this
the government is lacking exposure
License to load up and click
Lusting for their finger to click
Gun laws are being extinct
You too, can have your own two/two on you hip
All you have to do is sell your soul
And follow their click!

Let me hook your attention for a bit
death was having conversations with our little children
Way before Sandy Hook got hit
Modern day trickery
we're not blinded from the truth  
We just ignore the truth
Kids killing kids everyday in our neighborhood
We just ignore the truth
We joke around
calling this the black KKK's
But in reality
revolving those doors on government floors
Will cause chaos on ever Media floors
Lets change the Channel for a bit
Click !
So they censor the News, not showing you the truth
But they won't censor the music that is killing our youths
The projects is a project, and they have feelings too
Those Parents in the project are grieving
For those children that are lost by gun violence too

Let me hook your attention once more
If the State didn't separate it self from the Church
The attendance would always be a hundred percent
Teachers wouldn't have a problem checking their attendance
Christ would always be present and never absent  
So when people say, " Heaven needs more Angels"
I simply say, "humanity we need to put Christ back where He belong"
On His pedestal!
All the way from nursery, to elementary, all the way to universities

But I tell you, I pray
For those Sandy Hook Elementary children
And those project children
That are dead and gone, because of gun violence
I hook your memories into my *****
like Christ does His Church
And feed on your memory for a life time
So that death wouldn't  have conversations
With my generation to come...

Your memories will live on, as we  remember falling dreams..

To falling Dreams

By: Leon Dylan Labastide
Written by Leon D Labastide (Ruachpoet), this poem is to invoke change on gun violence.
The Fire Burns Nov 2016
Click, click, click, click
the everyday sounds of life going slow
climbing and climbing most days
then a bit of a stop as life plateaus

Then life changes
throws you a curve
the bottoms drops out
and steals your breath as you swerve

Be it love or death
new jobs, baby's birth
a move to some place new
and then some loops in self worth

Or sometimes stops
and runs in reverse
you feel de ja vu
and sometimes that's worse

And then it slows down
your tired and out of breath
and gets toward the end
then it stops, and time for death

The highs and lows
flash before your eyes
you relive the laughs
and some of the cries

Then its over
there is simply no more
the lap bar opens
and you head for the door

The gates are ahead
and the amusement is done
you pass the torch
to other someones
Alex McQuate May 2017

The butterfly knife handle is smooth against my palm,
Worn down through years of ownership and use.


Curtis Stirgers is telling me the story of Poor Ol' John,
My mind is at peace,
And my thoughts are clear.


I can see the flashes of steel,
Sending off glints of light out in the darkened room,
I'm mostly zoned out,
A quasi-zen state in this dance of blade and flesh,
A Balisong Ballet.

Found my old blade. Was listening to  Curtis Stigers & The Forest Rangers-  John The Revelator.
John Mar 2012
The fog
The smoke
My boots
On the pavement, click

Click, click, click

My mind
It runs
My feet
My doubts
The only thing I truly despise

Click, click, click

Her hair
Flows like the stream
The water
Slithering around rocks and back
Our hell
It's given us everything but that awaited heart-attack

Click, click, click

I'm done
It's time
This place is no longer fun
In space
We are nothing but fodder to the Sun

Click, click, click
Maria Imran May 2017
Click click click thud,
click click click thud. Click click

Click thud click thud

Click click click thud.*

You place my dreams on a butcher’s board and chop them off one by one

As if they weren’t living cells of myself, as if they couldn’t see what you did

You pick one up, like you’d pick a grape, lick it and say too much

You never tell me what too much, was it sour or sweet? Maybe you’d like red if not green

I could have showed you another.

I could have showed you what I could do with them but you have me shivering against the wall,

I am too scared, too scared to move, and no voice leaves my throat or I would’ve screamed so loud the walls would have rattled, I swear the roof could have fallen if the voice inside of my body could only find an expression out

Just an expression out

I look at you and my eyes beg to say, but I know even they are red, just red, or are they green? – which do you like? –

I could have seen them ripen, I could have seen them take me out of this dingy, dark room to a different world and you saw that. I know because you took in the fragrance when you brought them to your lips and you shuddered but smiled, and you said

too much
Maddii Lloyd Apr 2016
Pout click
Smile click
Stick tongue out click
Peace sign click

Argh, delete, *** was that ? Yuck, disgusting !

Curly hair click
Space buns click
Selfie with Bruno click
Trying to be tumblr click

No, no, no the dogs licking my nose, **** I forgot you have to be pretty to be tumblr ...

Smile again click
Tries, but slowly fading click
Puffy, watery eyes click
Tears falling from my eyes click

Why, no, not again ... Fine !!

-uploads picture-
feeling, (depressed, suicidal, anxious, unworthy, not needed) happy ! I am feeling happy ..
-not to add the fact I'm slowly dying inside ... - back spaces the last piece !

Fakes smile click
I guess they will never know what goes on behind closed doors or my eyes ....
Paul Gilhooley May 2016
Clickety click, Clickety clack,
The train it rolls along the track.
The kids all get restless the parents all natter,
But at least they aren’t crying, so that doesn’t matter.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
A child hollers out “mum I feel sick!”
“What did I tell you about eating those sweets?”
“Don’t make a mess all over these seats!”

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
The guard sitting bored, in his cab at the back.
We thunder through towns and all of its people,
Passing by churches, and that old pointed steeple.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
A drinks cart on the train? Ah just the trick,
A nice cup of coffee and a cold can of beer,
“How much?  You’re kidding!”  I won’t get much change here!

Clickety click, Clickety clunk,
Oops, sounds like that rail's missing a chunk.
We cross over bridges, spanning their rivers,
I must close that window, it’s giving me shivers.

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
I’m getting hungry; I could use a good snack.
Back comes the hostess with her goods laden trolley,
No chance I’m parting with even more lolly.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
So many destinations, which one should I pick?
Should I stay local, or should I go far?
It’s certainly more peaceful than driving a car.

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
It feels like we’re speeding along a fair whack.
The seconds to minutes, the minutes to hours,
From towns and their houses, to fields and their flowers.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
Wherever I’m going, I’m getting there quick.
Bright eyed young faces, an adventure, exciting,
The doddery old folk, complain when alighting

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
We pass many crossings and a ***** old shack.
How many golf courses and quaint country pubs?
And weekend gardeners out pruning their shrubs.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
These seats so uncomfy, now my neck's got a crick!
Now finally I've reached my long journey’s end,
And I'm glad that I've shared it with you my dear friend.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
Makenzie Robison Oct 2015
I see him walk into the school.
The bag was slung on one shoulder.
In the bag was a faint outline
Of a gun
I had the same thought until 5th hour
I hope I live to see tomorrow
When I hear a bang and see the teacher fall
I see a couple students fall too
Then I'm looking down the barrel of my demise
I freeze...
The bullet comes out and hits me the the stomach
I fall to the ground
My last breath leave me

She looks on hoping not to get shot
Three students and a teacher
She wanted to scream but her voice escaped her
She thought that if she lived through this she would tell her family she loved them
She looked down...
She she looked back up and saw him point the gun to the right of her
She saw the bullet exit the barrel
She felt it hit her shoulder, another one hit the person behind her in the head.
The next bullet left a hole in her chest. She got one glance before all was white

The man behind the gun
Had pointed at me
He clicked the trigger back
Click click click
Then I see the bullet leave.
It hits the girl in front of me
Her hand grabs her bleeding shoulder
I look back up to see the trigger pulling back again
Click click Click
Then I hear the boom
I watched wide eyed
Dont even try to move
I feel the bullet enter my head
Then I feel no more

I watch them all drop to the ground
As they dropped like flies
I press the gun to my temple
This my final goodbye
I can hear the clicking
Click Click Click
I smile as I go to let the bullet free
I see the other look on fear
"Goodbye" I said
Then the bullet leaves the chamber
It rattles around and I feel the exchange
I died with a smile on my face
Twas fun my friend
I'll see you again

As the mother reads this note her son left
She realizes she was at fault
She shouldn't of ignored him
She made him snap
Now she's a victim of guilt
All around her
Guilt surrounds
She watches her other kids go down the same path
All that happens
Is when she doesn't pay attention
But you see the other families on the news
Along with yours when the rerun happens
You notice you are not alone
You are a victim just like them

A thought passes through your head
No one thinks twice until they hear a bang
Then the gun you've been holding
You didn't realize you picked it up
You placed the gun upon your head
You pull the trigger back and hear
Click click click
Then you are dead with blood pulling around you're head.
Meredith Mar 2014
Click click click goes the lighter

I stare at my beautiful back bone as she breaks a part

She takes her poison just the way I taught her

But is time with her new lighter

Click click click

Tears run down her soft face


Her nervous tick gets slower

No please keep going

When she clicks the lighter at least her mind is on something else

Just for that split second

Look forward, only a little longer

Why can't I help you like you helped me

I want to hear you trucking on strong

Click click click

That's better
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
A poem by someone in Chicago
A poem by a girl in love with her best friend
A story by a young man trying to find out himself
A poem by someone whose cat is in front of the screen
A piece by a rusty old man in need of attention
A piece of soul
Posted for the world's criticism
A shred of heart
Bared with anonimity
Thoughts from the mind
of a fellow poet
Cheyanne Hopkins Aug 2018
The stuck together fragments of my body tap against each other
Making a beat that fills my ears, why can no one else hear it?
They click and clack and clap and ding and knock

click, clap, click,
clack, click,
Knock, knock, knock

Whose at the door now?
The noises fill my ears and my brain
and it is hard to think
hard to focus
hard to calm down because the noise never stops
and then it calm
and the world is quiet and look around a dark room and I can focus

click, click,
ding, knock, clap, knock,
ding, click.

why won't the noise stop
just leave me alone

click, clap, knock,
click, ding.

I just wanna sleep
please just be quiet for a while

click, clack, knock,
ding, knock,

I'm going insane
just stop
I'm always on the verge of tears
the dam ready to break at any second

click, clack, ding, clap,

Andrew Rueter Jan 2019
Click here now
Puppy dog chow
Click here now
Thought disallowed
Click here now
To be part of the crowd

The buyer’s locked
In a liar’s box
On Firefox
In only socks

Click here now
Boom Boom Pow
Click here now
For music that’s loud
Click here now
For soothing sounds

Listen to your peers
Receiving cheers
While you stay here
With a computer near

Click here now
Look what I found
Click here now
**** singles around
Click here now
To be gagged and bound

Open your browser
And act like Bowser
Buy a Mauser
Or trendy trousers

Click here now
I’ll make you say wow
Click here now
I’ll show you how
Click here now
To slowly drown

Ignore your tasks
And buy a flask
Tell your past
Or buy a mask

I keep clicking
Like the gun to my head
Finger flicking
Laying in bed
Andrew Kerklaan Dec 2011
He descends the stairs of the porch on the house sleepily

.....He is calm

Realising his wires are tangled he quickly unbunches them...

The sidewalk clicks by unheard to his ears...

Houses... Dark pictures from which he sees images of people -- Looking out, watching TV, talking...
He hears the sound coming from inside his ears but it does not register to him.... He remains deep in thought....

click click click
The stones pass by unnoticed

click click


The criss-cross patterns on every single lawn...
Like an endless sea of unchanged, untouchable conformity he thinks to himself...

Reaching for the small chunk of metal in his pocket to turn up the noise and drown out his thoughts...  
What is it?  
He questions himself without answers....

With a fear of the unknown but completely unaware of what he should fear...  
He thinks quietly...

A building approaches... Bricks that are red like an African sunset... A prison... A place of hatred and sadness...

He stops, there is a man far away calling to him.....  
Ignorantly he continues without a second thought.

"****! An endless sea of it...." He speaks underneath his breath  
Black leather hangs around him in long sheets... As he walks it sways... This pleases him...

Such a hollow pleasure he thinks bitterly....  
What is purpose? is it merely the quest for meaning? or something more...

click click click  
......Darkness is now around him and a place to rest is close....

*click click....
One of my very first poems

— The End —