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Zelda Nov 2019
Linux and Windows and Mac OS X
I say I got nothing to lose but
When the server goes down I panic
Got to verify your new laptop
Got a phone or 2 or 3
Got to verify a phone or 2 or 3
We're connected, we're disconnected
Maybe clear the cache, clear our minds
You say shut down, restart, but I keep
Windows running
I'm sleeping, you're awake
You're tired, me too
I say shut down, restart, but you keep Linux running
You're sleeping, I'm awake
I'm tired, you too
But we keep Mac OS X running
We're frustrated, we're cursing, we're evolving
I say I got nothing to lose but
When the server goes down I panic
Let's rewind a minute
Team Viewer
We'll debug the errors together
Refactor this code together
Like we used to
and it'll be up and
running...
running...
running...
Linux and Windows and Mac OS X
I got nothing to lose if I don't have you
And the server goes down
And the server....
And there are too many bugs to debug
And the code just doesn't make sense
And the server....
And the server...
And the server...
Linux and Windows and Mac OS crash
Quentin Briscoe May 2012
The Super Computer
01000001011011010110010101110010011010010110001101100001

Has been infected
Controled  
Hi jacked from the out
No hacked from the inside
You no longer have the control you wish
Over
01000001011011010110010101110010011010010110001101100001
Stop looking over seas for the problem
cuz this is happening enternaly
we need an anti virus program
called Truth
and feed it to our youth
because nothing can function on lies
Or eles the Super computer dies
So lets Debug this thang
lets get it functioning
properly
not normally
So lets calm down the hysteria
and Debug 01000001011011010110010101110010011010010110001101100001
Luis Mdáhuar Sep 2014
move your body
In all directions
Move it in the sewers
Where the flower bends
Near the sea
No history or false instructions
Debug it from anxiety
yours Is the metaphor of the muscle
with infinite hunger and thirst
Swing with me
Feel the substance of death
Without the worry of space
Your body will write the verses
Your eyes, feet, and  arms move
In the joy of pain ...... full exhaustion
your imagination will find
The livelihood of wonder
ease your body  
incantation
             mechanics of the irrational
Body of poetry
   The hand the eye slit waiting
for the lover
     slowly decomposing
In the sanctity of night
Your joyful body
will contemplate
Likewise
The beat and rhythm
of your presence
In the magic and mystery
of this wandering life
Ezra May 2018
SyntaxError

debug
debug
run

SyntaxError

rewrite
new function
run

SyntaxError

delete
rewrite
delete
debug
run

Synta­xError

quit
Terry O'Leary Jun 2015
Cast a glance to the comet up high
with a name sounding awkward and dry
          (in the stellar marquee
          it's marked 'six-seven-P')
and a motion that's hard to descry.

As the comet continues to fly,
caught in gravity none can defy
         (yes, it traces ellipses
         through solar eclipses),
we ask 'does dark matter comply'.

So, we sent the Rosetta to pry
and I can't help but wondering why
          (once in orbit) we spun it
          so close to the sun, it
is likely to sizzle and fry…

But before, we may soon verify
that the comet's a custard cream pie
          made of  green cheddar cheese,
          like the moon, if you please
(though that's gospel the savants deny).

When receivers no longer reply
(at the end of their solar supply),
          we won't seek to debug 'em,
          instead we'll we unplug 'em
and turn off our spy in the sky.

If it's certain Rosetta will die
then, oh lordy, I surely will cry
          if we land it like Philae
          behind the sun, shyly,  
before I can whisper goodbye.
Find You



Every time I hear your voice my voice speaks for yours ...
every time I think start thinking and I end up thinking about you,
but all the more times I remember you ...
It is just as I do not think you ...

every time I remember you wanted to go back and touch your hand
as a white root water
every time you guess, I imagine smiling
filling dark parts of my being.

curiosity called me as well as my prison sentence,
feel attached to you and not empty nothing to everything,
but take as a whole.

I know I'll see you at night and my soul will rest,
he longed to have you because she enjoys you,
even when you absent these, but want to blow on your cheek
the beauty of feeling the warmth of your words.
giving tilt my head to rest it on you.

I might take like a flower and plant yourself in the lines of my hands,
in order to know more of your white collar, to take over your body,
until you clear the lines of my hands of both adore.

I know I put our heads together on the leaves,
and the leaves break the silence to say with my lips
the tenderness that numbs my words and my mouth,
to defy the force of the stars to hug and kiss you.

my lips and my heart smile wet at the edge of a river,
and I think every time before a humble piece of stream
touching my feet; Think about the time you double the corner
believing walking behind me were coming to give me your sympathy grace.

my lips smile that always come,
but do not look back,
appearing as a wish of yours and mine
that slips pretending to be an enthusiasm.

but my skin want your sun, which makes sun, your skin
my heart wish your hands so that you shake
my soul upright in his moral extends through your body as tripartite;
unnamed your anxieties, your blessed feel ...
and my eyes that sometimes yearn to know that your eyes are away from
mine enjoying the beauties of the world.

on crisp leaves silence your sweet voice makes my kisses,
and your mouth will seal fearful passion,
taking our hands and brushing silent crunchy
Crumbling leaves chanting your name and mine.

when you come swinging will open the puffs of wind,
hold my breath to see barefoot and dream my
Belly want to draw your geography ...
as an alliance that unites sheet by sheet,
that unites high heaven looking adorned with lights.

lie down every night in my sheets,
so we cross our clasped hands,
we will touch the stars that will make us sleep ...
whenever your hands are not intertwined with mine
talk about other things in the world.

will remember the starry sky uniting our thoughts,
weaving and calming my whole dream to kiss,
the next time I see you not cease to tell you;
that no harmonious feel more open way, as sheltering your image with my numb hands
by debug of exile and cold untouchable.


unite our dreams as a pale light,
we´ll join in our service and the sky of your forest,
calling in the early evening
looking for you to hold you whole.



Jose Luis Carreño Troncoso /  Copyright  2000.
Chile South America
Mary McCray Apr 2019
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 17, 2019)

I see lots of ******* and armpits
and double chins
as a computer keyboard.
I am literally a tool
but the best kind.
I see the monitors too.
I know all the logins
in a very intimate way.
I’m a tactile person:
I know what you had for lunch.
And I’ve seen all the software apps
come and go, come and go.

All those logins, all their required tasks
just to get up and running.
I never see goals, strategy or time
used well for all the configuring,
for all the upgradings, new releases,
improvements that take so much effort to learn.

All the shiny new tools
with their compelling backgrounds
and addictive interactions,
they all pile up to a heap of work
to do before you get to important things.
And the more tools you have,
the slower you go: time to load,
debug, and forget that they never
completely do what you need them to do.
They never play nice with all the other tools.

They’re all just shovels
digging a hole.
They’re just hammers
putting up imaginary things.
They’re like those old silver, swinging *****;
they help you avoid thinking about hard work.

But not me. I get words out like nobody’s business.
I’m a real genius.
Prompt: write a poem from an unusual POV.
Geno Cattouse May 2013
I'm back at the grind feeling mad as a hatter.
Still floating on. A poetry carpet.

No friction or pressure or fear I will fall.
Swooping and turning my belt is unbuckled.

Standing with toes hanging off.
Hands out for balance.
What the hell rhymes with balance.

Oh. Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your right
Niagra falls is a vision at night.

There goes a guy on your left on a rug.
Pass me a ***** driver so I can debug.

We will be landing in fifteen minutes.
In. Front of the sphynx.

After that captain sully sullivan is going to take the wheel.
The carpet guy is going down on a wing and A prayer.

Then back to his house for a much needed nap.
Good night and sweet dreams.
Druzzayne Rika Apr 2017
Writing a program
is just like
following your dream

You know what you want
as your output
but it takes time to figure
which path to take
and you start with whatever you have.

You never realise the errors
you make along the road,
and sometimes ,
And you don't realise them,
till the end.

Some errors , you know
you solve them easily
And to debug some ,
you have to change the direction
And some errors , may make you rewrite    
and restart all over again .

But when it is all over
and you reach the place you want to
The satisfaction and excitement
makes up for all the problem faced
And we get ready to make
a new code, follow a new dream .
Looking back to the hidden days
I remember the hide and seek we denied we played
The absent days of distracted focus of thought.
I loved my yesterday a bit
It's reminds me of my binary dilemma of you.

Yesterday grows into today
And as I join the conference of thoughts
About the pain we passed through,
Though you, yesterday, brought them to me,
I shall consult today for my memory cleansing.
Even though, when I use yesterday to scratch the face of today for the hope of seeing tomorrow,
All I see is the moving pictures of yesterday
Looping through the blocks of codes of today.

But, I have to create
I have to debug
I have to call the functions of a peaceful lines of codes
written in my moments of distress.

Today, I clean my textarea
Willing to let go of yesterday's buggy loops
Willing to put my fingers into creative coding of my binary dilemma.
Maybe today will not return yesterday.
This I hope, as today, I crossed into a new line of moments.
willing to let go of my yesterday's buggy loops.
Willing to write a new loop of hopeful love.
New beginning...
G Mar 2015
As the smiles
Take over
Relieving
The despise
I wonder
If giving

A hug
To those
Who murdered
May have debug
And give a rose
To their love hindered

As the wireless
Feeds fake hopes
Love fades
Into a relentless
Dangerous *****
Towards hate

Show your Love
Imagine there's no heaven
Like the Beatles
Wear no glove
Do not hide, be driven
Eliminate the battles

Remember
That love starts
At your doorstep
Surrender
Your hearts
Take the first step

No 18 or 23 year old should feel enough hatred to bomb innocents.
April 19, 2013
(was written after the Boston Marathon Arrival Bombing-as the trial of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev is going on now, it felt apporpriate to add this poem today)
cv May 2015
the thoughts
running through
my head
i cannot
debug.

(is it time to install
an antivirus?
or to continue to
be stubborn
and
let it
consume me?)
there are 10 kinds of people.
those who understand binary,
and those who cannot.
teehee.
Michelle Lynne Mar 2013
I love the way that your steady hands
Embrace cold insipid metal
Breathing artificial life into pins and circuits, animating only on your command,

While trying to compose something beautiful from the chaos of machinery.
How I yearn to be one of the pieces of robotic scrap,
To be able to feel your touch firsthand,

Blessed enough to feel your brilliant eyes and your nimble fingers.
To hold all of your attention, to be your focus,
I want to be your magnum opus, beautiful and grand.

I want to hand you my broken heart, scarred and ******,
And watch as you tend to it, and make it uniquely yours.
I'd let you clear my mind of stress and pain, until it's no longer a wasteland.

I want to be able to shatter with the reassurance
That you will be there to debug and revise me
The security of knowing you completely understand.

As our souls become interlaced,
I want to feel your lips pressed against mine
I want to be good enough to call you my husband.

But I am not a robot
And our souls remain separate
My life remains pathetic, depressing and bland.
I wrote this about a man I used to be in love with. Although we're not close anymore, the poem captures the feelings I used to have for him.
Storm;
Rain.
Dirt;
Pain.
I'm gone;
Insane.
I could feel dessert in my vein
Terror running through my brain
And I see the fleet and the heat reversing my aim
Defeat;
Fell.
The flit;
Hell.
I'm sinking inside the well
But I live like all is well
Brain;
Dead!
My skin is turning to a shell
Mind and soul running to a dwell
The thought
And memory
The fall
And gravity
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves
And all that famous harmony of leaves
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky;
Had blotted out my image and the cries.
But I keep sailing on the deck of the abandoned ship
Maybe one day, I'll find my way, to the top of the hip
Irrespective of the hate speech and sar-donic
Some say I'm doomed like Odysseus and his wagon ship
But I keep levitating my soaring height
Like a moon climbing upon an empty sky
No climate or condition could dismantle me
Like a bat hanging on a drying tree
This language which my dream is written; keep-on baffling me
And there's never being a psyche to analyse or subtitles it
Maybe somebody hid hope and desire; + fear and hate
Under my feet that follows me night and day
Maybe someday my dark heart will at least turn to gray
For this is the price that I've got to pay
To be brave in the face of pain
*
Tears rise in my heart
And gathers in my eye
As I lean to touch the sky
The more I try; more I fall
As I try to blaspheme between the stars
The more I search; more I lost
More I cry; the more I mourn
For my book of fate is about to burn
The path to my dreams is about to u-turn
How on earth will I debug,
This raging fault
How will I erase this engraved dirt?
My skin will burn; my flesh will hurt
Though my dreams are dead but I still live
I shred my strength to breath; but I still breathe
How I wish to be with him (my dream) under the six feet
How I wish I got a deadly flick from this street
Then, I decide to take a walk through my district.
To rid away the thought from my instinct
Ironically, I walk majestically and peep at everyone I did meet.
And I think that how would it be
If I wasn't bred to slum filled with big filth
Then I shake my head
And I said.
How could it feel?
To live without being seeing
To live like a god in my thought
To live poor but humane in my hut
To live in this world without being hurt
To pass through enemies plot without being caught
The abhor and foe won't want me grow
Let them go to space and stop me glow (the vibe, they don't)
So I don't feel abice with their songs of hate;
Malice and rage.
I have worked hard
And at this juncture I cannot ******
That tears I've shed were because of fear,
The kick I took that deafened my ear.
Eventually I became this child of steel,
Hard as a rock, with no tender feel.
I became immune to the blows to my head,
As the tips of my welts slightly bled.
The pain, it faded and my heart grew weak,
But as my body grew stronger, I became this freak.
It teaches me from wrong to right.
My rage grew strong,
And even against the world,
I won't take a flight
I stood to fight
Chantel Gerber Jun 2014
Theres a voice in ny head saying sinner your a sinner.
I try to cut it off try to **** it, not to feel it.
It follows me constandly
even in my dreams.
Its getting worse like a curse
I dread its screams.

I sometimes find myself
arguing in the street.
Like a crazy person,
tripping on ****.

Its a virus in my memory
that I cant seem to debug.
The only resort I have come to find
Is keeping myself locked up inside.
Ego
baby you've got an ego
way too big
baby you've got an ego
no one can dig

over the years it's
weight did accrue
now's the time for a
look at its value

why not trim
your ego's mass
cause you know baby
it's so crass

do you hear what I'm saying
about being too smug
adopting the right tude
will be your debug

yeah baby
vain ain't hot
yeah baby
vain ain't hot
why don't you try
modesty's trot

baby you've got an ego
way too big
baby you've got an ego
**no one can dig
Sometimes I think,
I have done the best,
The best of what I aspired to do,
But I sit down,
Reflecting it all as my small reminder,
Is then that I realize that I'm far behind,
Behind the expected and the schedule,
And I have to rewrite it again in a different script,
Filter and debug the errors into a clear pattern of it,
Into a recipe of the expected,
And put them in a humane format,
And I'm forced to admit,
On a daily basis that I'm nowhere near being smart of what I want to be,
Trying, failing, trying, falling and standing firm again,
Will see me through,
And I believe it will see me through in my forthcoming times,
In my dealings and my endeavors,
And I will be the best in my empire.
The king in my own world,
Cardboard-Jones May 2018
You say you love me
Does not compute
You say you need me
Does not compute
I am trying

If all my systems should overload
Just be aware, I may explode

Program my feelings, program my heart
Previous owner left me in the dark
Possibly, Robot learn love?
ERROR ERROR

If all my circuits should catch on fire
Do not panic, just need to be rewired

Reprogram!
Break down my firewalls
Reprogram!
Enter the password
So that Robot learn love

I sense your pulse, I sense your life
Your fingers running on my chest plate
Reboot!
So many errors, so many virus
Kiss me on my soulless lips
Debug!

Science, my creator
Science my knowledge
Introduce love as beyond comprehension
Upgrade!

If this experiment turns up fatal
Just hack my mainframe to be more stable

Reprogram!
Fill me with dreams and aspiration
Reprogram!
Penetrate this metal prison
So Robot....learn love
Empire Mar 2019
Fix
I go about my day
Through the motions I make my way
Until I get a familiar feeling
That always sends me reeling
I need another fix of my drug
These words that I debug
Poetry can be addicting
But never, ever feels constricting
Within these words I soar
Leaving me begging for more
Don't leave me feeling low
Give me my vertigo
That only poems can offer
From you, my gorgeous author
To all my gorgeous authors
Semihten5 May 2019
bite have in my heart
countless perpetratos
the worst I can not feel
whose pain
hard to debug
Dan Hess Dec 2019
Low density
slow entropy
expansive ethereal
immaterial inclusive
conducive conclusive
collective perspective

Interjected perplexing
Vexed intensive directive

Perspicacious intonations
repulsed over nullified
Emulsified dry mindless intrinsic duplicitous insistances
redacted and reacted upon retroactively,
in posthumous alacrity,
as backed and packed to me
are primitive tenacities
by classless massless animalistic catastrophes
in baseless traceless
uniformly adjacent replacements

Tasteless abasement
in braced,
placed erasure of nature
Replace her with infrastructure
Good old abundant mother, **** her

I'd love to plug her with rubber
unsung troubles debug her
rewind and entice
and drown and rend blind with devices incisively derisively winding
her planar engagements
to ownership taken
forsaken by god
but we're shaken by odds
of new values in clods
of endowments toward rods of power each hour we glower
and how her entreatment
might trap and devour
if we weren't so clever
we'd sever our heads as we shower
in the ichor of the dead
and instead we're just thicker than blood
with our money and crud
replace water with crude
and a bad attitude

I'd be true to the money
but wouldn't it be funny
if deigned be the dummy
as warless and lost
in the loathesome defrosting
of planetary exhaustion?

Now tell me the cost
of the death and the offing
of all we've been coughing
to the air we've been drawing from
gnawing the earth to her bones
always want some more worth from our home
but it's worthless if we end up alone
We used to be spiritual
Now it's all about that empirical material imperial
Jonas Mar 14
Open status window
Open inventory
Reapply stat points
Report error
Debug

Start a new journey
Override safe files

Do you want to continue?
Log out

— The End —