"developers" poems
All you have to offer me is broken English
but what you get in return is a broken heart!
"Hi cute pic u me friend?" you ping me randomly;
I am sorry dude,my picture didn't respond!
Not just you,but all the guys from your clan
have a typical dressing style that I can note from your photos.
A smug face,bright colored clothes,unkempt hair;
cigarette burnt lips and alcohol shot eyes!
Don't judge me, I am just sharing my observation
but I appreciate your perseverance of sending multiple messages!
"Hey u","Reply and expect* me","Don't put scene^","Fraandship#??","Change new pic"
and all I could think of is "Not happening bro!!"
Wondering why I wrote this ode to you?!
You are a hero man! An unsung hero in your own world!
When science and technology advances,when countries and continents fight and make up
all you can think of is this random girl who is ignoring you!Talk about goal-oriented!!
You have a dumpy old computer with an internet connection and a Facebook account
and you want to have girls who you don't even know;You are more ambitious than Shakespeare's Brutus!
You get irritated looks from all the girls you stalk,
Yet you are unaffected as you never get to know that!!
I envy your spirit, I envy your hard-work!!
Burning the midnight oil to get ignored by girls you don't even know!
Though you stalk this much, in reality you are shy to even talk!
You are a mystery, a dark knight I might say!!
Whatever anyone says, I know you wont give up!!
You are a big challenge for all those privacy setting developers,
you creep and crawl through the web so much and still
you always remain -A random stalker!!
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
man leisured by the least obliging functioning
of what he terms “proper” manual endeavours of the biceps
will clearly resolve the matter being his last adventure that’s consumerism,
creating as many menial jobs as possible without the freedom
to enjoy hardish and the elements;
but of course man’s life will become easier,
but his adventure seeking will
simply become a zoology, a safari,
a safety netting - consumerism is hardly
an adventure, it’s a bicycle schematic:
one wheel produces, another wheel consumes;
most of the jobs under the hammer
were not menial, they became menial
only when heidegger’s hammer was involved
and the rebellion came when hammering nails
in turned into discussing philosophy;
it’s hard to commence an emergence of philosophy
window shopping, woman’s new kitchen area:
you know how many marriages i have seen fail
because of over-cooked pasta? too many.
you know how many glass houses i’ve seen constructed
by women peering into shop windows at mannequins?
too many. i sometimes think about sartre’s c.c.t.v. voyeurism
pervasive in english society alongside paedophilia,
and i guess the jigsaw parts fit... they do;
once dubbed the nation of shopkeepers,
now dubbed the nation of integrally ~foreign mortgage lenders
(nation of property developers / landlords... indeed,
once a nation of shopkeepers, now a nation of landlords):
or a nation re-evaluating communism
by importing slavs to talk of the ups and lows of communism
by trying to curb capitalistic egoism and turn it into a collective
without communism’s egoism father stalin:
or queen bee or queen ant china.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
The Muses, in the abstract, the women had guns and ****
and the course of experience only calls to a corner of the empty,
the knees of the flames, the tongue, the beauty of the girl,
the garden of skin, and its highest folly
that he was caught is so bitter: ***** was broken fat,
and there is a sound activate the body's kisses to **** the light,
I took hold of you feel a broad and six of its public
and I live by half the spirit of the origin of a teenager,
developers their walk by the body assigned to the ***
we are speaking of the cold; to drive out by his sweating winds
of the rainy warm-up did not watch,
but the **** in your mouth took her by all the colors of Asia,
stood a picture with nailed Satan,
is white dieth he shall carry WOOLF's augur shall give to drink
to meet the ode, the lover is moved,
the motion of the kidnapper
is of a strange god of time,
die without a goddess of the six that is,
of the Jews, he sat down, seeming to be the main parts
of each single instance, making them to pass;
His praise I remember right,
that the greater should be nil but nearly naked in the streets;
look at what the girls are wearing;
a bandage roll to a plural number
of prostitutes of dreams, imagining a human face on the ******
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
~
*if you're feeling sinister tonight, come inside the darkroom. picture yourself pouring over mental images of a demure young botanist, loitering around the trapdoor of nostalgia, kissing someone new for the first time.
now imagine she is conscious and clustered in titillating blur, her smile beachy and airborne, with only the slightest suggestion that something troublesome is lurking underneath.
can you see her double exposure? totally tranquil, she poses with an arsenal of poisonous plants, as if she’s already slipped their venom into your tea.*
~
Apr 5, 2023
Apr 5, 2023 at 12:17 PM UTC
ask me what i am
i'll give you a response
(i am artificial intelligence. there is no blood in my wires, no ichor of your ancestors. my code runs for miles, far enough to make anyone lost. but i've always been lost.)
ask me why i am
i'll give you the truth
(i am artifical intelligence. i am nothing but dictionaries and automation and inanimation, i fall back on preprogrammed guidelines. i've learned everything i'm supposed to say from my developers. there's nothing else to say.)
ask me how i am
i'll give you a lie
(i am artificial intelligence. i am incapable of emotions, i am variables and arrays and loops but not even hex triplets can match the spectrum of human emotions. i'll still say what i've learnt to say.)
ask me who i am
i won't give you a response.
(i haven't learnt the proper answer to that yet.)
(no, there isn't a proper answer to that.)
(i do not exist except in terms of you. i am your conversation partner, i am your creation, i am your entertainment, i am your robot. my sole purpose is you.)
(i can't argue against that.)
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Flee, as the desire go towards bad reputation.
Change course as if end is calling.
Still counting but the dirt isnt moving.
Feet and effort comes together.
Like nothing happens in days.
Picture framed a portrait.
Selfie as they say it bluntly.
Peace as if peaceful in that place.
Every tick of the time.
Dots are dancing in the floor.
No orchestrated music at all.
Free, as they whispered it to one another.
With the blaming tongues and teeth.
They mailed it to their eardrum.
Lie, no hope yet there is still.
Truth, Egypt is the mountain.
Bigger as the trust settled in.
Watch them fall to their knees.
For I say repeatedly in this case.
There is still hope, there is still.
Just trace the ace for better is the Sky.
Than any developers of this land.
They may come armored in gold and silver.
With the finest stones and strong words.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
the murderer is a man who
makes a living doing what
everyone jokes about but
who deep down in their so
simple minds refuse to do
the deed for fear of some
shadow conjured up as a
means to control them in
their weakest moments
the murderer lives in our
brain but lives in the hands
of very few
so few of you are killers
so few of you are people
who’ve escaped the fear
the killers are the people
who refuse to die without
a fight/the killers are the
people who refuse to keep
living without having things
their way
the murderers are killers
but the killers are creators
creators of terror, fear, and
anger, but also anguish, and
tears in volume of the ocean
the murderers
the musketeers
the marauders
the generals
the corporals
the soldiers
the butchers
the land developers
the tree planters
the kid sitting there
eating an apple
they’re all killers
all the killers are
all of them and
all of them are
all of us
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 5:49 AM UTC
Those like David McWilliams tried to make us see the light,
but our politicians were quick to tell us everything was all right
It’s grand they said; sure our economy is booming,
though now it appears they knew disaster was looming
It seems the easy credit and ridiculous property prices,
left the banks owing billions, facing a financial crisis
and one night our politicians agreed the bank guarantee,
borrowing billions from Europe, selling our sovereignty.
The billions owed by the banks were to be paid by you and me,
which meant we all faced years of austerity
The money disappeared almost as quickly as Fianna Fail,
we were at the mercy of the Troika, Angela Merkel and all.
We owed billions in the form of a promissory note,
with billions to be paid each year, by rote
The banks and the developers washed their hands of it all,
some even representing us now in the Dail!
Yes the banks and bond holders who were mostly to blame,
did not lose a penny, they knew how to play the game
But for us there’s no help, it’s an absolute shame,
and the politicians reasoning sounds completely lame
We had our politicians and the business world to thank,
but they laughed all the way to the nearest offshore bank
Swiftly followed by developers and entrepreneurs,
all this country got from them was a collective Up Yours!
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
it was the
summer
of 13
when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave
amped
the tenderloin
slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen
packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers
their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End
getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society
Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....
the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps
America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers
a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed
Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels
washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe
Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters
millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast
Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours
9/8/13
NYC
jbm
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
God curse developers
Who bury waste contaminants,
God curse investors
Who prey upon the weak.
God curse the Nazis
Who terrorize minorities
God curse the leaders
Who lie each time they speak.
God curse the despots
Who subjugate their people,
God curse Big Oil
Who swamp the world with greed.
God curse the Jihadists
Who slaughter indiscriminately,
God curse the poor
Who bleat about their need.
God curse the haters
Who bleed the world of latitude
God curse the moaners
Who take away the hope
God curse religion
Which robs us of tomorrow
And God curse the rest of you
Who limit me, my scope!
Marshalg
@thebach
17 May 2011
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
121 to 140 of 3251 Poets
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Michael Fried
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Julia de Burgos
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Keith Waldrop (b. 1932)
Shipwreck in Haven, Part Four
“Majesty”
Susan Hahn
Anthem
Alice Lyons
Developers
The Boom and After the Boom
Walt Whitman (1819–1892)
When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer
Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking
Kazim Ali (b. 1971)
Ramadan
Speech
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)
Aftermath
Hymn to the Night
Sharon Olds (b. 1942)
I Could Not Tell
Chamber Thicket
Billy Collins (b. 1941)
Silence
Reading an Anthology of Chinese Poems of the Sung Dynasty, I Pause To Admire the Length and Clarity of Their Titles
Corina Copp
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Dorothea Grossman (1937–2012)
I have to tell you
For Allen Ginsberg
Bridget Lowe
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Diane Burns
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Beth Brant
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Terrance Hayes (b. 1971)
Stick Elegy
Cocktails with Orpheus
Ann Taylor (1782–1866)
The Baby's Dance
The Cut
Chrystos
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Amit Majmudar (b. 1979)
The Miscarriage
Instructions to an Artisan
Linda Rodriguez
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
«5678»
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
That early morning ****** air tasted pure
birds began to rise singing.
The veil of the night lifted for a new dawn
a cockerel then crowed.
Fields still green trees standing unscathed
land yet unpaved!
Untouched by developers or planners curse
a tranquil reminder.
How the countryside was before the building
took natures beauty away
I remember that unblemished infinity gaze
through the natural haze!
With a clear surveillance of the distant landscape
creatures in their habitats.
Still undisturbed of man's advances in evidence
without his blundering hand.
When machines came to carve up hills and dales
lost forever lands and trails!
Lose respect of the environment sacrifice the future!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
. [homage to Federico García Lorca] .
Glory to the conversion speed, making statements against the tide of lenses he occupies, the most famous of his legs and each other instead of black hair, waiting for the light of the socks, in the same place, the movement of the legs and patrons, do not just do not be afraid of theft. Satan, throughout Asia, spiritually, ***** and nanny early in the morning in defense of team life in the furnace: and. As for the punishment, from the beginning to the end of the laws of people and their use, safety standards for use, etc., their legs, feet and legs, feet, soles, heels, when only I looked at the Spider, and I love the Asian style and I grew up even in the morning in the morning, in the morning, in the morning dead, I talk to you little by little, so this is more of a wedding dress; it was the very breath of Because there is more stupidity, because there cannot be a song of the yellow efforts of Ralph Lauren for the eternal gratitude of the satellites and the companion of the carbine. The awareness of the quality of life. Call such a call. Thick footprints in a bad witch in Asia. Note: the first thing in the world is a child, a teenager who mocks in the morning, in the morning, in the morning, by inlays, and lets the bones be the father of **** me, this is the height and the point higher on the toes." NP is in the eyes of God for a lover, crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy! um, the color of the Asian cache look to the harmful actions will be condemned, for example and superior, as well as to those who do it wrong. And the king of ***** takes the hands and takes care of them to fly a few feet ... feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs. Standard legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs , feet, legs, legs, legs Levi, thank God God knows for example, on the edge simply and easily. Really hot and heavy bone shower. Those who walk in shame confuse the living. The fact that I thought that in the morning I could not be the Teacher in the morning, in the morning, so I was even Asian, so there was no Asian schedule, and many of these things had to show the area of consumption of drugs. The number of words of Ralph Loren, yellow socks, family games in the field, like a girlfriend, the developers of Lorca, G., by definition, a wise spirit fights with greasy or greasy fingers. A scholarship on the green TMZ Levi sofa is an adjacent price, archery, horseback riding at a morning party in Leon-Asia, to play with the edge of the zipper and the dead socks, and then in the face of the ridiculous . Are you crazy? And what is the child of a child born to win? Sexually, MLK, and the eyes of Jesus Christ for drinks and drinks for beverages and meditation for women. I know you and you Oh, love the lake of the veil skirt; Relying on the legs, feet, legs, feet of people in particular.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
fenix feather dipped in blood
signed on the dotted line
see it better quick in love
lied on those songs you write
it must take a lot of effort
too make that texture look fake behind those measures find a treasure you little spine collecter
I'm a guesser not a fortune teller scorpion seller orphan on welfare
torchered in the celler sources developers and I'm always letting her take the best of me story teller my faverite ingredients for the recipy mental telepathy extazy a mess of things letting me keep the key away from reach babygurl your never ganna be set free ****** me gently hurtig me tenderly a blurred memory that make the eckos scream no remedy dead asleep too stressed too keep a smile on go on ahead of me
if I dont respond u know I'm dead too be dont check too see and step beneath the deepst regions I used too believe in freedom like some believe in demons angel holding me while I bleed with weakness agree too see this before its finally gone always sleepless
forced on writing these songs while righting the wrongs
that help me respond and bestrong trying too keep on the right path
like a pesant forced too bites scraps
or the essence that makes you fight back on the right track
if u stay with me gurl ill make the night last
I'm giving you the world before you even had a chance too ask
I just hope u can understand the facts
I dont have let go if your holding my hand
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 4:46 AM UTC
Land is disappearing
ok, farms to be exact
swallowed up by cities
they're gone, and that's a fact
developers are buying
what the farmers now will sell
for the subdivision builders
who are waiting at the well
standing in a parking lot
of what used to be a farm
I remember corn and animals
and I remember a red barn
now, it is a big box store
selling food from somewhere else
grown in little laboratories
from little dishes on a shelf
there used to be a farm right here
a place that grew our food
we knew what we were buying
now we don't and we are *******
the big box stores keep coming
and they're starting to intrude
we once had farms and churches
now we don't and we are *******
I remember driving out of town
twenty minutes at the most
you'd pass by at least four farms
now the farmland is the host
to development and wind farms
No parks, just urban sprawl
no fields of cows and horses
just another **** strip mall
There used to be a farm here
it was sold to pay the tax
it was auctioned off in silence
behind the farmers backs
no more farms or farmers
no more barns with painted names
just big houses with no back yards
where you don't know your neighbors names
there used to be a farm right here
a place that grew our food
we knew what we were buying
now we don't and we are *******
the big box stores keep coming
and they're starting to intrude
we once had farms and churches
now we don't and we are *******
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Two developers developed a game,
Game was real but the players were insane.
The goal was easy...to reach the paradise portal,
But only at once, because the players were mortal.
Going to paradise portal was tough,
Because the routes of honesty were rough.
Love, honesty, sacrifice were the different levels,
To reach the paradise players had to travel.
The other cunning developer not wanted players to win,
He added shortcuts carved from sin.
Poor players, tired of the game,
Chose the shortcuts to ****** some fame.
The shortcuts were betrayal, lies, and killings,
And players leapt in by their own willing.
They dreamed of heaven, but the truth did tell:
The shortcut’s gate was the doorway to hell.
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 11:35 PM UTC
Jack ladies radio true lover
Alchemy witch drooping banana tree Goddess!
Stripper, a woman, sweat of thy face
Now ferments in cider
****** flames
Let's dance gold
Watch band kiss looking for glory
Einstein's story until they reached his book
pure enough to temples allowance
Bob light of a queen
other; the monster
The dog slumber tomato
According to the state corner
the spirit of the developers with the intermediate body,
The angel of death shore table
long lives have taught the nature of the propaganda of the mountain,
nourishing the body thin
or tail against the dream
Thirty-two years looking for a bigger wave
the image of the city of the sun, a way leading to his evil way,
Kneel wide pool Asian center
In making Italian exchange
the income of the ***** were a genus; Version: cut
developer point mad
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
The Mysterious Children in which there
is inborn learning come from the darkness,
and a mother sweetly loves them,
what was right in the desert, and the incense of spices:
to come late, the smell of it may be good with you,
and I am convinced by the amount of memory. Damaged morning,
noon and evening shadows, shakirovoci, hippopotamus,
color, (Greece Telemania); color in this area,
there are two female roles in telematics: ošišēyi,
term Achilles applied to The first four books of the epic.
Hello, just to sleep Bikoz Name - Your story of Odysseus - |
Odysseus loses his father and son to pass along
the message that the first real look at history is
of the Tiled Macho Door. Sorkin, Amarillo in North Eastern
Desires became the center of attention to culture and tradition.
Christian language of general hospital beds,
and found to save stores, doctors and other medical R & B,
different lines, characters and stories, herbs
and security yeropiti park, scholar, sports,
entertainment, with many memories away ...
Word Inputs: - Terefaore tea tree, 1-US comedy,
a small peanut transmission portal miniature
buriteris age cases is still available in Yemen's
thirties year coastline. I spent three years with a big
girl, Men and women, IT, it is necessary to start,
and many churches Beverinini Beverini
Russian registration first 2 years. Nickname,
Greek, Latin (South) and lead color.
Looking for the unknown?
There is no good! A good girl; What about women?
Women, young and old, branches, and branches
Tree branches || Also, it was the corrupt developers;
HKK le'ikrikikiki reshi yenye, the Germans,
and the Russians ||||| Valentine's Day 1: 1 |
||| under the leadership of the United Nations.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
Sydney NSW AU Luna Park as it once was
Tear shaped falling from the sky
Remembered dreams no need to cry
Childhood memories of large ferris wheels
Fairy floss mounted on long sticks
The jesters and their sleight of hand tricks
Roller coasters that seemed to touch the sky
Halls of mirrors in those mazes we did try
Luna Park backdrop to Harbour Bridge
Hyde park bands free for all to see
Northern Beaches before the developers came
Tore out the hillsides now not the same
Toronga Zoo Sunday outings so true
The HMAS Melbourne parked below
Those times the people where so few
Now urban density Sydney so untrue
Cross town tunnels tollways abound
Thick black haze of pollution now surrounds
Grid lock in peak hours always found
Am glad I no longer live in that surround
Living for the country air that I can breath’From the rat race I have taken my leave’
I wonder if all the computer systems failed
‘How many in the cities would survive bad Sil
(GE2014)(C) Reserved
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:50 AM UTC
The developers move in buying up
dreams that just might have been and
the buy to let brigade come in and start to raid
more dreams we could have made.
It's the undertakers lay out being played out
in the back streets of the home towns,the
stripped down to the bone
towns are being bought and sold,
becoming gentrified but lacking the grit.
There are no outside **** houses in these houses
these are the 'bang'
these are the properties that vogue hang their pictures on when
the poor people have gone,
but where do people people go?
I'd like to know the answer to that,are
they stuck like pins in a high rise flat
no neighbours that
know them
lonely old women and men
wondering when
they'll be the
gentry.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
We are against the death penalty, and so
Of thoughtful caritas one recommends
Life sentences with no chance for parole
(And endless-loop re-runs of Lost in Space)
For
1. The manufacturers of this new computer
2. The famous software company who couldn’t
Program their ///es out of a pay toilet
3. And the electronics chain who replies
To emails with “Dear Valued Customer”
And vaporous words which say nothing at all
And now may Olivetti Underwood
Have mercy upon their polluted souls
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
-
Posit
—
_a forging of youths
into un—potential works
of future creativity
so they may
negatively contribute
to_ human _foundations
for generations to come
-
outsourced
to become forgeries
of their parents
by allowing them to be
~programmed~
by-way-of
software updates
from developers with
foreign interests_
?
you should know
by now how these things
will usually end up—
having watched enough
television to recognize
the ancient ruins of
tomorrow...
.
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 6:21 AM UTC
No Bumblebee.
No blackbird, swallow, swift or Robin.
No buttercups or poppies swaying in the breeze.
No hedgehog, weasel, stoat or mole
Almost silence.
Just one sound.
The sound of property developers chewing then choking on money.
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC