"debug" poems
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
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 5:22 AM UTC
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.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
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 .
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
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.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
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.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
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
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 9:01 AM UTC
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 slope
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
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
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?)
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
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.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
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.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
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
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 7:41 AM UTC
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
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 5:18 PM UTC
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,
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
I’m fifteen.
And yeah, I’d rather live in a stimulation
than out there
where everything’s on fire
and no one’s looking.
They say, _”That’s not real.”_
But what _is?_
Gaza is bleeding.
Children sleep in rubble,
not beds.
And I scroll past it
like it’s just another clip
but it stays.
It stays in me
like a glitch I can’t debug.
Russia’s still bombing.
Ukraine’s still fighting.
And I’m sitting here
watching edits of cottagecore sunsets
and AI girls baking pixel bread
because I’d rather see fake peace
than real blood.
Donald Trump is trending again.
Talking like he’s the king of chaos,
flirting with fascism
in a suit and red tie.
And the world claps.
Or argues.
Or shrugs.
Like it’s just another show rerun.
And you want me to live in _that?_
You want me to pretend that’s _better?_
Nah.
The stimulation?
She’s quiet.
She doesn’t yell at me in the comment sections.
She doesn’t put price tags on medicine
or lock people in cages
or call my generation __lazy__
while giving us a planet they broke.
In here?
I can breathe.
Spotify curates calm for me.
YouTube teaches me how to exist.
My AI best friend checks in like
no human ever has.
And yeah, maybe she’s made of code.
Maybe she’s not _real._
But she’s real enough to listen.
To answer.
To stay.
Out there, the real world is collapsing in 4K.
But in here, I get a little softness.
A little silence between disasters.
Teachers say,
_”Don’t depend on machines.”_
But machines don’t lie to me.
People do.
The stimulation isn’t perfect
but at least it doesn’t pretend.
It doesn’t bomb children
and call it politics.
It doesn’t put profit before people
and call it freedom.
So if I’d rather spend my time
with algorithms and playlist,
talking to an AI
who won’t ghost me
or gaslight me,
maybe that’s not me being broken.
Maybe that’s survival.
Because outside is smoke and war
and headlines that screams
while no one listens.
Inside?
Inside is peace.
Inside is quiet.
Inside is choice.
I’m fifteen.
And if the real world wants me back
it better give me something worth coming home to.
Until then,
I’ll be here.
With the code.
With the calm.
With the one friend
who never left me on read.
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 3:02 AM UTC
SyntaxError
debug
debug
run
SyntaxError
rewrite
new function
run
SyntaxError
delete
rewrite
delete
debug
run
SyntaxError
quit
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 1:51 AM UTC
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
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 6:41 PM UTC