"engineer" poems
They brought them
from the hollar
to the barge
to the field ~
into the wallows
in prayer
skinny little pinkers
cropped by ivory gates
buzzed with hot wire
hooked on bug worm
whistling dixie
around scrummers
and **** pen
peckers squawk
down eden lane
(nipping at jean lint
and fraystring)
deep in the hollows
a mad crow
(with steady tap)
the snouts high
on grunters
and squealers
stomping past
the feather pack
folded fingers
on the gatekeeper
(an engineer by
trade they'd say)
pigtails and
slack line
down the dusty lane
a snap of the jawbone
and lawn chairs settle
(facing north)
the bold script
and chimes
uneasy
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
In your vision you are the only thing with bloodshot eyes.
You always wear a robe
that speaks seven languages... and a bank of fog is at your feet
nipping at your naked heel.
In your vision you remember how your arms feel in sunshine.
It is intense.
Your can-opener is hissing an etude
that alludes to wise men...
who bathe in miracles
and roam the world,
untarnished in Poverty.
Your can-opener whispers in hush tones
about barbarians at the gate. And they say
' they've come for the Linen ! '
You are not deceived.
In your vision you are the only thing that can backward engineer
a Universe.
On your way back to the homeland of your algebra
you hesitate. “ you may have left your keys in your Other Robe...”
The Robe that hallucinates constantly~ Carrying on about
' The dire consequences of leaving terrycloth alone with the keys '
and, afflicted with Prophesy Tourettes
the piteous tide of doom ' sayeth the robe '
you must suffer.
In your vision, you are the only one
looking for the keys.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 5:09 PM UTC
I'm a relationship engineer
Building engines to persevere
Through the loneliness I fear
That makes me panic
And seek out a mechanic
That tinkers
With my blinkers
But doesn't fix a thing
When I'm left with a sting
From what's defined as a fling
My pistons pumping
The way I'm *******
When I find a rocket scientist
That formulates the highest bliss
In his carefully calculated kiss
But I start to viciously *****
When our problems are subatomic
Because every decision
Creates nuclear fission
Which causes decay
And explosions of energy
His thoughts he relays
He sees me as the enemy
So I find a Christian
To pump my pistons
He has the morals of God
Which I figure can't be flawed
Though they may seem odd
But he doesn't love me
He feels he's above me
He acts like a martyr
Which makes me fall harder
But I'm left alone on the cross
He has forsaken me
He thinks I'm made of frost
He has mistaken me
I feel alone
In the brimstone
Of his dial tone
I found loneliness
In their phoniness
My engine needs trust
Otherwise it develops rust
But when everyone tries to act cool
Pain becomes my alternative fuel
Love once seemed like a jewel
Until my blood made a pool
I tried to get repairs
To find that nobody cares
I learned that science
Was of no reliance
And the pious life
Brought riot strife
So I find nowhere to turn
While my engine burns
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
You are the practicality that keeps me grounded;
I am the spontaneity that drags you along.
You are the reason to my irrationality;
I am the tumult to your calm.
You are the answer to my questions;
I am the words to your quiet deeds.
You are the engineer I cherish;
I am the bookworm you esteem.
You are the chef I rate as top;
I am the baker you adore.
You are the handyman I can count on;
I am the seamstress you prefer.
They say opposites attract, and it seems that might be true.
Like two pieces from the puzzles we both love,
We fit together seamlessly.
To be cliche, you complete me,
But in ways I never knew weren't whole.
Apr 3, 2011
Apr 3, 2011 at 8:34 PM UTC
Calamitous collapse of structure forged
With steel and concrete built for time,
Since Roman times a formula endured
With engineers additional design.
Why, then, did this structure fail,
Did mortar crack, did reinforcing strong,
Shear and plummet in an instants time
To crush and doom this bridges song.
In teeming rain a silence hung
Where watchers gaped in stunned awe,
A magnitude of devastation lay
Pulverized in valley floor.
Astonishing this expanse of space
Where seconds past, huge edifice,
Imbued with its’ charge of lives
Unknowingly to meet abyss.
Innocence has lost its’ life
Blame resounds around the room
Someone shall pay the price
For negligence in causing doom.
Truth be told it’s shared by all
For Italy has lagged behind
Cost cutting infrastructures’ purse
Because of economic bind.
Time to reassess the plan
Time to weep and bury dead,
Clear the rubble from the land
Rebuild well then forge ahead.
Blame not the engineer
Nor the man who drew design,
Blame not the hardhat
Who poured the concrete in the line.
Reassign the budget spend
To infrastructure, pay its share
For sentiment is running hot
To axe the fool who pares the fare.
M.
Storeman
Civil Infrastructure
Hamilton, NEW ZEALAND
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
what is this mind that was given to me that is able to see things i print on screen with my digital zip drive of a brain that is stuck inside a laptop main frame, ******* server uploading and crashing sending pings and things to hackers who perform doss attacks and web cracks and serial cracks while eating cereal going over javascript material program landslide juno got bit by emails and other technical software jargin computer guy got the blue screen of death corruption on the web the spider metacrawling and setting it on angelfire i google the facebook twitter and hot wire my car on the trader the wall street journal and the white house, **** sites and white owls, getting arrested and being hired by the government, the money's spent, criminal punishment, in cells locked up no breakfast but lunch under the crack of a door inside ur naked *** on irc chat, the warez rat, pirates on bays and whispers from kittens, brown paper packages exploding a smidgeon, binary, metamorphosis, code program gold, warning anti virus and spywares, baghdad to china, spy on private, eyes on cameras, cell phones like trackers, global position mappers, predator drones, video games, nfl madden, mad men, and happy wal marts, hacking wal mart, with social engineers, traveling the silk road with a cloak ip address revoked
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
The man at the bar
He is a young ****
He's got years on his slate
Double my own
A bottle of scotch
He swishes away
The British way
Born in London
Now a Southerner
Touring the country
With his Wife,
Elene
Not missing a thing
Quite the engineer
Laughing away
With each glass
The bartender brings
Flapping his yap
At the pretty young miss
Residing at the bar
Enjoying her dinner
No longer feeling a part
From the crowd
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 8:58 PM UTC
Engineer's thinking
Arrives at the drawing
Makes design from drawing
Design When comes to field
It joins humanity
Engineer's from here
Preferences begin.
Engineer a true secular
Its purpose is relative to humanity
Irrespective of America or Iran
Measure is the same everywhere
This is his religion & faith.
Engineer's passion
Earth, Sky and Sea
Made the possibilities
Everywhere was he
Realities to him
Can not hide for a moment
That's where he becomes
A machine only
Involved in consciousness
Efficiency becomes everything
Eating, drinking, living
There is no avoiding them
Mountains,plains, sea
Becomes his home
Vegetarian, non-vegetarian
Same for him
Engineer is complete global
Where he finds interesting work
Becomes a citizen there.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 6:02 AM UTC
She sees herself as a machine,
Something that can be fixed
By a brilliant engineer, as herself
She's aware that she needs help
Yet she refuses every offer she gets
Cause she believes the broken ones
Can be fixed by brilliant engineers, like her
A day came when she doesn’t know herself no more,
So she tried to know herself once more
And rebuilt it like she used to rebuild a broken machine
Yes, she was slowly destroying herself
Like a mechanic engineer destroying
A broken machine
To know what’s wrong with it
Drugs for her brain
Toxic pills for her liver
Cigarettes for her lungs
Blades for her skin
She finally knew what’s wrong with her
And tried to fix herself once more
But none of her attempts worked
Instead, her attempts destroyed herself even more
She came to a realisation
That humans are no machines
Once broken, no one can fix them,
Not even themselves
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
I nearly fell out of my comfortable chair
when I heard some sexologist declare:
“The scent of licorice in the air
makes men and women want to pair.
Far more effective than cologne,
Use licorice or you’ll sleep alone.”
Some say Chocolate gets you “Honey”-
I say try some “Good and Plenty”
Remember Charlie? he was an engineer
He didn’t drink coffee and abstained from beer
“Charlie had an engine and he sure had fun
He used “Good and Plenty” candy
cause it made his “train” run”
For all I know, this tale is baloney
Licorice may leave you ***** and lonely.
But if you are lonely and feeling forlorn,
candy’s much cheaper than rhinoceros horn.
Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
For a while, I ride my life.
I reflect on my thoughts.
I wander into a different world.
I chase stars.
For a while, I own the dream.
I feel the warmth of the Sun.
I meander on the roads.
I feel the spell.
For a while, I chart my destiny.
I engineer my journey.
I flaunder with joy.
I race the winds.
For a while, I live.
On my wheels.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
Why not engineer all the mistakes away?
We could evolve into machines.
Then there wouldn't be cells
To proliferate
Uncontrollably.
There wouldn't be thoughts
Only wires.
I wouldn't end up at your door.
I wouldn't care
About the valleys,
Mountain ranges,
That your white cotton shirt stretches over.
We could be ones and zeroes-
A code for no heartbreak.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Would you judge me?
Do y'know i wont judge you?
Can I be anything I want to be?
Or are there rules I have to conform to?
Spaceman cowboy hippie gangster stoner rockstar chef painter poet
playwright carpenter inventor scientist mathematician author actor
gardener tailor sailor musician comedian doctor pilot barista volunteer
partyplanner spiritualist director engineer psychologist beautician
Please do forgive me but there's more.
I'm greedy, I know, I want it all.
Immense experiences galore.
Money to me means null.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
*I look me in the eye
Then look around me
I instantaneously heave
A loud silent sigh of relief
It’s a heartwarming realization
That mine insecurities
Are a mere drop in the ocean
in the expanse dichotomy of
inconveniencing cicumstance
That most people willingly or unwillingly
Find themselves in
A silent inward prayer is all
That I hurriedly mumble
To He the perfect engineer
of life itself.*
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
Dear diary,
I just can't explain the amount of thoughts that I have daily!,
that continuous mind charter that I have daily....!
I'm filled with thoughts, every minute, and every second of my life.
My mind just keeps switching from one thought to another,
& The amount of day dreaming....
well!!!
you know my silly screaming ??!!!
Sometimes, they are really funny!
And they keep making me smile,
so that I keep glowing!
But some thoughts...,,,
They are really too dark,
That ,when I confront them,
it breaks my heart apart!!
I'm like a confused soul,
who's in search of meaning of life...
Who's in search of peace ,
Who's in search of shine!
But the moment I start thinking,
ugh!!!My head starts cracking!!
I just can't concentrate on one particular thing !
Today, if I feel like being a doctor,
Tomorrow I might think of being an engineer,
& If today I feel like being an accountant,
Tomorrow I might feel like,
" I just need an Oscar...!"
An Oscar for what??
I don't know ...!!!
It's sounds too cool and looks good to show !
Will I work for that award?...
honestly, I don't know !
I'm so lazy,
I don't even get up to "shoo" a crow !
But hey!...there's one amazing part about me,
Guess what ?
"Anyone can come and speak to me."
Being an overthinker,
has also opened up my mind,
I don't form immediate opinions,
till I get a clear sight !
I really don't know this journey of thoughts well??!!!
Will it ever be stable ?
Will it ever end ?
But ...If it ends,
I'll die for sure,
But hey!,
I'm sure there is some way to cure!
Which way?
Hey !...I don't know again !
Is that way gonna be simple
or another amazing pain!
But hey hey hey!!! I don't know why did I write this ?!
Was I trying to find a solution
or was encouraging my thoughts already in a continuous motion?!
But hey!,
it's ok if you're an overthinker,
Try to be amazing my friend,
even if nothing is clear!
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 5:28 AM UTC
Our lives are a Jenga masterpiece,
a collage of self-interpreted
debauchery that we have been
told is the work of R.F.
Is it necessary to destroy ourselves
for the things that we desire?
Why do I have to be symbolic
of an Irish dome of the rock?
(have you ever touched the rock?)
(has anyone?)
I am tarot prophetic in my
loathing of our distorted level.
I am chronic mime gestures
on the West Banks of the Jordan.
We are rouge lipstick
smeared across blue collars
and twisted pretzels lounging
citrus grove clean and sad.
I am just a man.
We are just people.
The buildings are just Lego's we have
crushed and spent combating azure tides
to stand ourselves straight against that
last wall...
but I love you still,
despite.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man.
Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Fear too is an epidemic, it stretches out like
An incubation period for a kind of doom
Population control, whispered a silent elite
Who engineer our wallets, our GMO food, our futures
Ebola was a convenient way, of making us fear
Who we once were again, black as a Nigerian
We died alone in deathbeds, isolated plastic containers
For who we once were, our organs giving out
Infection was a spider hand, MSM gave us
False positives, but could the main-stream-media
Be trusted any longer? Wasn’t this just a matter
Of time, an algorithm set loose upon the billions?
Fear is that place, where people go in adversity
It’s hypnotic like an audience at a concert
It’s contagious how the will for self-preservation can spread
Fight of flee, but where to run, out of the cities?
The new normal is a kind of paranoia
While we watch the situation very closely
Every hour there is underground news about
Another case in another country, Ebola isn’t
Your grandmother that only likes good climates
She’s an engineered hypothesis of how mobility
Causes any true pandemic to become a flamboyant outbreak
The comet that signals black plagues has been seen
Fear too is a weapon, when you can’t stop the world
Because it’s too costly to do so, and you can’t
Tell the world not to fly because we’re too free
We left Africa a long time ago, but who among us
Would stand 20 meters from their open graves?
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
---
Will somebody please
Slow down the train
It's going through hills
And rough terrain
I tried to be the engineer
But that didn't work
This much is clear
I can't run, I can't roam
I can't DO LIFE ON MY OWN.
I'm on a ride that I can't bear
Filled with loneliness... despair
Not knowing how, which way to turn
I will go the way I've learned.
I won't harbor hatred in my heart
I know my love and I must part
But I don't think of him as bad
We've broken up, and that is sad
But I want my family
here on this site
Know that lately
I haven't been right...
My mind is distraught
And overwrought
I can hardly follow
My train of thought
Please forgive me
I'm slipping my gears
I'm haunted by fears
Have counted years
I'm sure sorry this affects you
It seems like I'm untrue
I want all poets here on HP
To very kindly PRAY FOR ME.
SEND GOOD THOUGHTS
In your own way.
I will also be in prayer
For I have now met The Engineer
SoulSURVIVOR
5/4/2015
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
title: not god, but his clock, will gnaw at us: that we are mortal, and agitated by a libido to continue, as to why the immortals find us so cosmic, for the worth of not exacting a better joke prescribed to other genus archetypes... whether the atheists believe in a blind-watchmaker is beside the point... the actual conjuring of the ultimate engineered thing will undo us... only the gods could have engineered time... space? they can't fathom space, the gods could only engineer time, but they couldn't engineer space: the cliche, think outside the box? even the gods know nought concerning this; and if there is only one god... he has been lodged into a letter: θ - a 1 inside a 0; the being already confined... even gods have limits beyond the stressor of supposed immortality... they can't engineer space... all they can engineer, is a transcendence of time... only mortals, men, can engineer the concept of space... hence nations, hence borders, hence differences, hence the concept of magnetism and repulsion... if gods engineered time, then men engineered space... as now, and forever, will remain so, the quest for a cosmic joke / clue.
it won't be the blind-watchmaker
who eats us up,
the the clock itself -
it will devour us,
it will gnaw our flesh toward
the bone,
and then with out bones
play an instrument
to glorify its procession down
the aisles of our endeavours
to express civility...
was there any to begin with?
our temporal anxiety, being mortals,
equates itself
with the spatial anxiety of the immortals
(gods).
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
i give them my executables and
ask them to reverse engineer me
to look into my code for reasons
reasons that i'm not just broken
not just slow
not just bad
if these letters
on this line
mean
that i am programmed to worry
then it is not my fault
not my fault that
i have wasted years
years of my life in fear
it's just a bug
looping too many times
using too many clock cycles
my code may be broken, but
if it is broken
then i am not
maybe, just maybe
i am a good processor
given bad code.
not my fault.
no one could blame me.
it would mean
i do what i am told to
perfectly
quickly
efficiently.
but
what i am told to do is
buggy
unoptimized
inefficient
my programmers are lazy -
not me.
when i find
a function in my code
that never works
and they say
"that code is fine"
then why?
why does it never run?
something must be wrong with me after all
me, myself, the processor
i don't do what i am told
but no, no, no
i don't want that
i can't be broken, overheating, dusty
segfaulting
bluescreening
panicking
no!
the code must be wrong
it must be
so i look again and again and again
i lose myself in my code
i click and click and click
2x more and 2x more and 2x more
COMT and DRD4 and ANKK1
rs53576 and rs7794745 and rs1858830
lower risk and normal risk and higher risk
of the same thing
in me at once
conflicting
overwriting each other
there is no code to add risk objects
and no one knows
whether
they make a group or a ring or a field
or just
something
useless.
like dividing by zero.
you can...
but it's useless in the real world.
just like me.
i look for more code
for more functions
for more comments
more more more
give me more
take my rights
make me open source
as long as i can see me too.
602,000 lines are not enough
not when i run millions
stick your wires in my veins
take the code from my blood
decompile it
untangle it
i need to see it all
i need to know
that i am a good little processor
even if i am doomed to
forever
run BASIC and
a million GOTO statements
and ugly ugly spaghetti code
i am still good.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
Sometimes they spring up full-blown and disappear as quickly as they came,
phantom slivers of churning mind-scape.
I missed the mist but it found me anyway in the plain regret of mature introspection.
Astigmatisms of bygone days are twenty-twenty today.
But no mind, there's no self-incrimination.
The organic twist of living being, evolving gets made.
And we cannot twist around, and reach into the back-seat to change the past and make the road ahead engineer well.
It's best to live and let decision birth itself into this passing moment fabric-ed as life itself.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 3:25 PM UTC
Renaissance Man
mathematician, painter and poet
a genius of an engineer
I wish I could have met the man
or even better if he were here
I would follow him everywhere
absorbing as much as I could
trying to collect his brilliance in a jar
you know most surely I would
his curiosity and imagination
equaled by few mortals ever known
his feats of undeniable skills
his seeds of desire forever grown
the anatomical research he started
unequaled technological ingenuity
the beautiful Mona Lisa's face
the Last Supper reflects his ASSIDUITY
the creator of simple bobbin winder
the theory of plate tectonics
solar power and hydrodynamics too
his thoughts on moving robotics
yes he was a marvelous genius
his love of life will live on forever
sharing his unending reaching mind
we can marvel at this man together
Gomer LePoet ....
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
i.
An engineer of amour
Artificer of fine craft;
Abundant in moral class.
ii.
Alongside her
Astral hierarchy;
Tis, she's mine monarchy.
iii.
Fain, I taketh her cape
Made of foreign swathe;
Mixed with Filipino grape's.
iv.
Not slave's
Unrestricted with eachother;
Messenger's to thy planet, created under the milky way's feather.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
Raneem is a girl who studies civil engineering To be or not to be ... She was born only to be , so To be not is not hers ............................... She is gifted , wonderful ,and lovely Anytime,anywhere ,and everywhere ....................... Civil engineering is her pretty hope Simply because she will be tomorrow's civil engineer .................. Although life is a little difficult ,but Her pretty patience pushes her To be only .... _______________________________________________________________
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC