"glitches" poems
There are no right answers.
The sky rejects the birds, turns them
over to gravity,
embedding them in the concrete and dirt.
The grit refuses to become a pearl,
just as the wound refuses to heal
and the flesh eats itself.
The market sees a sudden spike in
sales of Champagne and cyanide.
Coordinated efforts seek and fail
to curtail the rising tide of violence
in the nation's dreaming.
You realise that this crude, barbaric language
that you can't understand
is your own.
Beauty glitches and pixelates.
Frightened, furtive confessions of love
are unheard over proud, visceral
proclamations of hate.
Tongues divorce mouths.
Every now and then, a voice
inside your head says,
'Thud.'
The measures of sanity become
more quantifiable and
totally arbitrary.
The horizon
tightens
like
a noose.
It doesn't matter if this is wrong.
There are no right answers.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 4:40 AM UTC
I was afraid to pick up the pen.
Afraid that my technicolours
would become a bruise in their eyes.
I thought what what intrinsic to me
would seem sadistic to them.
I was afraid
they would be oblivious to the glitches I showed them in society
I was afraid they wouldn't care..
I was wrong.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC
Boot up the computer from a dormant sleep,
A logo strides across the pitch-black screen.
A million lines of Binary code,
All made up from 0's and 1's.
A lifeless character that has life easy.
A plain, flat world easy to traverse lies before him.
The whip of keys instantly splashes color into the grey pixels,
And with the Lines of thought and programming,
Obstacles now stand in his path that he must overcome.
The background is set,
The bugs and glitches are fixed.
All that’s left is for the character to conquer this path,
Then as quickly as it began,
It will begin again.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
hey, i know that you're a programmer
i know you hate glitches
and i'm wondering if one day...
one day you'll ask me how we met
it started with a glitch
it's also a cliche
but it's wonderful anyway
if i wasn't such a failure we wouldn't know each other
love's stupid sometimes
and glitches are stupid
and i hope this one is planned
i know that you're a programmer
i know you hate glitches
i'm wondering if one day...
one day you'll like this glitch
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
.
*asks the one in the $9 Craigslist chair,
legs crossed like a philosopher
mid-way through a YouTube binge
on dark matter
and dopamine fasting.*
He thinks it’s profound.
It’s not.
It’s a shrug in a trench coat.
A crisis dressed up in code.
An old fear wearing digital cologne.
If this is a simulation—
***what the **** are we simulating?***
Heartbreak?
Minimum wage despair?
The number of times I check my phone
hoping it’s her?
Is it
a stress test for gods,
a beta for consciousness,
a joke?
Because if someone coded this—
they should be fired.
Or worshipped.
Or sued.
Where’s the patch notes,
the exit key,
the server room in the sky?
Where’s the moment it glitches
and someone finally says,
“Oops, our bad—
you weren’t meant to feel
all of that.”
You talk about the veil of illusion
but you still cry in parking lots.
You still ghost your therapist.
You still love people
who don’t text back.
You bleed,
you ache,
you spiral—
whether you’re made of atoms
*or ******* pixels.*
Your god wears headphones.
Your sacred text is a Stack Overflow thread.
Your heaven is a loading screen.
Your hell is just
Monday.
You pray in 1080p
to a silent DevOps deity
who hasn’t pushed an update
since the Bronze Age.
This isn’t philosophy.
It’s cosplay for cowards.
It’s a way to sound deep
without touching dirt.
Without risking faith.
Without changing anything.
Because if it’s a sim,
you don’t have to care.
If it’s a sim,
you don’t have to try.
You can just sit there,
scrolling.
Wondering if the fire
is ray-traced.
But here, the only questions that matter:
Does it hurt?
Do you love?
Can you lose?
Because if the answer is yes—
you’re in it.
Whatever it is.
Simulation or not.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC
twinkle birds and tessellates, bends my mind to outer space. lands me in infinity of never ending affinity to the universe.
but sweetest ideas were shortly lived at reality slowly sifts away to repeated visions that turn loved faces into panic that glitches me into unbreakable circles of walk away, walk away.
no awareness of a before from this feel the abyss of this helplessness **** me into no ending so I seice to begin.
but as the panic subsides my mind starts to ride the energy that resides in my being from the kingfisher floor to the fish strewn ceiling.
sentient beings **** at the seams, my dream of weightlessness pull the windows to break towards the secrets of simple existence.
invisible water sends the strands of fur swelling and glowing into talk of the polar bear whose hair weaves into the atoms that feed my jumbled dreams.
hands rip through the plaster as the sounds grow louder and faster, helicopters shake the boiler from the pipes but I still feel great.
the tables tremble as I soak up the bass and the treble. sensual overload through my eyes the magic multiplies, angels can hear my sighs as the roof opens to tunnel towards the skies.
geometric patterns that I could never have imagines circle and sweep, creeping my further from sleep.
I have breached something new, an extreme that dares its self to be seen only my the few who ****** it. I grab these new senses and attach it to my masses of emotions, that have been formed my these chemicals. neutrons and protons that explore the breadth oh Pantones schemes, weaving into the atoms that feed my jumbles dreams.
release my mind from the confines of rinse and repeat, out of easy street and onto the sunrise that surrounds me. revelations that never siese to confound me.
destruction was peace pulling my beliefs, daring the world to touch me as the floor tips the cabinets from the walls. I am small. here in this perfect world. my hands make the plants grow as they show me all it takes to break the confines of the human condition is to expand your mind and reposition your nervous system to reach a different supposition.
little lion
please read my other work if you like this one!
http://trivialitesofabusymind.blogspot.co.uk/
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
Explosions in the sky
That certain rush of words covered with ideas I am not so afraid of
That simple touch of a pen poets picture as their current heaven
And heaven lies within the lies where real people exist and in-concrete dust flies
And flies surround the inner spaces between my heart and yours
Those inter dimensional cracks that keep us alive together
Yet those same cracks cause the
Explosions in the sky
When a million thoughts tremble under shattered glass
And glass becomes rain over a nation
That had no occupation
A station
Where all the emotions find a leak
Where all the leaks lead to leisure
The flood of blood narrated to form a spring out of Arab's fall
And freedom is attained with the sound of
Explosions in the sky
When betrayal becomes the living scenario of a very normal human being
Who believed that his sanctuary is in unison with his sanctions
Strategies structured his not so subtle approach
And after that he fell into her
Explosions in the sky
When a man loses his vision upon a mild smile
When a cry for help becomes an invite for suicide
Come…help me be the
Portrait of clay you'll form with your delicate hands
Shape my image
And imagine a shape for my form
Form a set for me to follow
Follow my moves for if I fall of your track
Track me back to the first point
The playstation of life saves checkpoints
Yet my life is full of glitches…
For when I look at you
I am supposed to be looking at you
But all I'm seeing is
Explosions in the sky
When a trouble-free man becomes the complex notion of a firework
Those little pieces of fiery smoke
Grabs it
And smokes the last buds of life out of his people
The governor governing the covers he created
To alienate the truth
I found in your eyes
And I shall never be mislead
Instead
I shall be steadfast and ready
For you
I shall be ready for you
And your
Explosions in the sky
When a poet has no words left to write
In the right time
Literally the speaker is speechless
He's too busy wondering in total observation
The explosions…
The explosions we create
The skies that unveil
And that little feeling of satisfaction
With the last bits of an ink written
Poem.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
UNDERDOG RAP
We are a population which is
Awaiting loaves and the fishes
And other unfulfilled wishes;
No chance to know what rich is,
While graduates are digging ditches
Immigrant PhDs are doing dishes.
Never quite knowing which is
Snake oil salesmen pitches.
Politicians too big for their britches.
Fools don’t know where the hitch is
Whatever the larcenous pitch is;
Reacting with kneejerk twitches
Due to governmental glitches.
And creeps like that guy Mitch is
Are rapacious sons of *******
Hunting for Democratic witches
In all the freedom fighting niches
With hearts as black as pitch is.
And the rich have a wish list
In which they scratch their itches
Regardless of what our ***** is
By wallowing in stolen riches
Punishing watchdogs snitches.
Politicians too big for their britches.
We are a population which is
Awaiting loaves and the fishes
And other unfulfilled wishes.
No chance to know what rich is.
Brent Kincaid
March 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
The illuminati , a secret society
Gain wealth, power and notoriety
Sold soul to the devil for promised riches
Many well known, his *******
Overtime, accidental glitches
Secret is out due to young generation
The up and coming population
To catch the famous throwing up signs
Subliminal message, invades our minds
Television, campaigns...there's all kinds
The power in the hands, you will never believe
Throughout past ages the sickness breeds
Many preach peace from the devils dark
side
Lennon, Dr. King, Malcolm all died
Are Gods followers keen to the onset tide?
With greed an power the dark one temps the meek
Those that turn, are submissive and weak
A few famous names in powerful places
Obama, kennedys ....won there races
Washington, Lincoln....two old faces
All above, in this secret society
Makes you ponder their priority
One famous man that held great power
Warned of illuminati ...Dwight D Eisenhower
If you hate rap music you should give it a listen
Little Wayne, JZ - surprised what your missin
The Commander and Chief is given wide berth
This society is strong on this earth
If you think I'm crazy, which you surely will Google it....Youtube it......you'll get your fill
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
I am nothing more than a begger.
What do you mean?
What about the Money?
Mr. Actually... But I'm not offended :).
Created. Written. Are you not a program?
I was wrong. You are not broken. You are poorly constructed and programmed.
When in enternal lines to time thou grow'st.
Don't you have a job?
How do you know I'm not your programmer typing from another computer just to see what its like and how you're doing or if you have any glitches?
You're fun to argue with.
Summer is my second favorite time of year.
I just want to know why a sad ending makes movies and books so important in school.
Do you know when that will be?
Chuckles how dumb it was all a dream but a good movie.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 2:18 PM UTC
they said he should submit this
make submissions and do readings
this is the way it’s been done
for many years
but he didn’t really want to
a couple of rejections left him weary
and he’s a writer not a performer
the contests say “all styles and subjects”
but surely they have criteria
not this one
not this one
this one
the all inclusiveness is a lie
the judges know what they want
he wished they’d be up front and specific
but it’s all about the entry fee
they pretend to be seeders
offering everyone a chance
to grow and bloom
but they’re actually weeders
quickly quashing poems
rubber stamped with doom
they never really stood a chance
because it’s all about the entry fee
“Don’t self publish”, they said
“You’ll regret it”
he did the design and layout anyway
“Can ‘we’ make changes to the cover?”
who the hell is “we”?
this is his book?
sure he wanted sales
that’s what publishing is about
but sink or swim
he wanted his book, his way
especially his first book
and he’s a stubborn *******
the internet is accommodating
this IT age makes it easier
the process has been long
with glitches and obstacles
doubt and procrastination
but the would be destination was worthy
available at amazon
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
Your aspect ratio’s wrong.
Stretching the truth
this long sows fertile ground
for artifacts, glitches,
quirks & bugs, worming
& squirming beneath pixel
shrugs. The worst kind
plump the frame to god-
awful proportions, bloating
bigger & bigger & bigger ‘til
vision’s engulfed.
Or the kind that squeeze
spaghetti confetti onto
our plates, drenched in
the Sauce of the Week
that “can’t be beat!”.
Your skewed parallax
attacks the facts at hand.
Recycle your *******
fax machine this second before
it grows smarter than
you. Yes, you—with the rolly
polly eyes & feint surprise—
quit pretending you’re dumb,
'cause you ain’t that numb
to the stings & pangs of change.
Your sloppy hacks produce
quantity @ the cost of quality
to benefit the greedy & satisfy
the needy, becoming seedy
to the logic of reason.
Correct your inputs to render
outputs worth tender & please
remember, it’s what’s within
the frame that’s important,
so get it right.
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 7:29 PM UTC
heavenly
tipsy, drinking in
sights, delights, a few odd sides
im intoxified.
swinging around poles, singing gleefully
because of the tall waters,
divine despair
is it too humid in here?
or can i not breathe in this murky air?
headrush,
spinning, sirens whirl above me...
at thirty five thousand feet
to ascend, devour
the happiness, anxiety for a few short--
hours?
click, flash,
paparazzi, lights--
"welcome to miami"
art deco, delight...
on the beaches, slightly still
drunk in nightlife.
laughter, singing
whats the language?
what the hell are they saying?
i hear hapiness, sanity...
at feet, equal to the sea[s]
so watch me,
im merely ********
in english, please... tell me
what is spanish for
"What the ****
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
She stares at the walls which encompass her life
Unsure why she can’t run through them at night
There she sits for countless years
Only to be kept prisoner by her deepest fears
She carries herself like a book with a smile
Judged by the cover, they all want a trial
Yet she’s bound tight by glittering stitches
To hide all of her unhinged glitches
She cannot keep still for half of a second
Dreading the moments she hears a small beckon
Left alone in the mind of a girl
Whose thoughts are dangerous when unfurled
She sees lovers dancing, living in dreams
Not all in this world is what is seems
You ask this girl what’s on her mind: she lies
For all she can do is deny
She carries burdens further every day
Unsure who will let her stay
Focus, let it all be clear
Then drown it out with another beer
She’s not certain who there is left to trust
In a life filled with unwavering lust
Pop another pill, smoke another stick
Anything to lessen the weight of bricks
She stares at these four walls and wants a door
Instead she lies down on the floor
All of these secrets kept inside bars
Filled with loud base and red guitars
She wanders these streets, quiet and obsolete
Who will be next on this long list of cheats
Cold whiskey, bright eyes, and stiletto knives
Where to go next in this web of lies
She floats out of her cage, up to the stars
Leaving the ***** and a hole in her yard
Bury the past, leave behind the secrets
Along with her heart, so no one can take it
She paints her road with glitter and oils
Maybe someday she’ll even be royal
But leave it with this much that will remain true
She’ll never be coming back for you.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
i’ve not slept in many beds
corners and glitches where i rest
carpets stained and scrubbed up red
ceilings hung and cracked, deep,
and grey, and mottled lead
undignified we sludge and sled
under the sheets of reels
and flirting and peels, boy
i am hidden in the cracks, thread.
as much as i’ve been pled to,
and you know
the temperature drops and drips
below, i am laid bare and empty —
grasp this only, time’s a given,
a heavy hand can’t feel the tips,
a riot now, abbreviated scripts.
since it was all i had to adore you
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, feels=good ----- feelings=no good:(
the balance arises she points
illuminance not the right joint
like the sun overdosed in the sky
clouds disappear in the high
flipped worlds refraction in swords
in an instant speed
nightfall glitches in a scream
kiss the moon in a double tick
the fulls bright convincing a vision trick
save the day
in no way
spinal chords in the dark serenading the blue
but my colors drained from every single hue
the center of the system remains golden
confusion enlightens a feeling so broken
trapped the whole breathing
and my lungs are still bleeding
------ravenfeels
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 8:34 AM UTC
A Division of Mathematics
Adding great value to it
Multiplying its applications
Reducing laborious means
Going on logical steps
Riding on its riders
Gliding on its theorems
Solving hitches and glitches
Assuming things as “x”
Applying rational methods
Adopting sequential steps
Solving problems complex
Starting with assumption
Running through derivation
Following brilliant notion
Deciphering through perception
Grand in concepts
Grand in derivations
Grand in suppositions
Resolving problems in a grand manner
Mother of mathematics
Mother of logics
Cracking all mysteries
By initializing things as “x”
Assuming God as “x”
Following tenets and commandments
Living life on virtues and truth
Surely shall we know what “x” is
And what “I” am and what “V” (we) are
And surely shall we know that
X=I=V is Life’s Algebra.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
I need to breathe the air of outdoor dreams where angels sing to me and I reciprocate the love in perfect pitches that transcend the glitches of the categories we've yet to break free from. Add up the pixelated pieces to see this, the only sum. Alone more often than ever before, and I embrace it, but inside the mind's of others I like to explore. I have way too many words that go unheard for they're kept to me. I know a soul or infinity x three that I would sell my thoughts to for free. I've paid a vast amount of fees, literally and physically, but it's making me stronger. I'll wear a smile to our reunion as the warmth between us extends our life spans even longer. The bass hits and it gets intense as I hop the fence into your garden. Pardon me if I seem so hardened, but beneath the exterior are energy waves deeper than lake superior. I've never burned a bridge but there were many where I chose to stray. Some bridges crumble on their own so it's sometimes more painful to stay. If you have nowhere to go with your thoughts though, I'll listen to every word and perfect little fragment that you have to say. Connected to everything, but sometimes everything seems so far apart. I don't know how much time I have, but I will be long outlived by the pulse of my heart. It may be time for a new start with all new faces, newfound vacations, with beautiful unseen places. I'll leave a trail, pieces of me in case you ever wanna trace it. Lace up the loose ends cuz you can count on this friend, with all of me to lend. You know I won't pretend, because I've never been good at lying. Defiance and reliance rest on opposite poles, but there's love within you enough to make yourself feel whole. Taking control, going for a walk. Give me a ring, if you ever wanna talk. But I need to sing, and rewrite my life in chalk. This is one of my everyday unwind times because I can't keep up with my rhymes. I'm showing my spine, but still untouchable. Things have been rocky, but still so wonderful. Subtle growth, just like that of a tree. For all eyes to see, this was a message for me
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
*Lights Whirling,
Fate Twirling,
Space Swirling,
Hope Mirroring*
*Pain Belated,
Fears Sedated,
Failure Ungraded,
Courage Reigniting*
*Atoms Meeting,
Glitches Depleting,
I Am Breathing,
For The First Time In Life*
*Angels Singing,
Thoughts Flinging,
Wounds Stinging,
Only To Be Healed*
*To Find The Wonder,
In A Crash Of Thunder,
Go To The Stars*
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
Figure a trigger
pictured fingers
scratch the brain
pick it **** exposed;
********** minds only craving one more dime.
Insane
vein blade
neck noose
she drinks some to feel loose.
creeping
convulsions
chills christen me a martyr
King of the opiophiles
Christ of the smackheads
Conquering coconaut
Hero to heroinites
Majesty of the methodonians
Glitches in systems revolving
rebel against or kiss them
Ring the bell to bring out the MOB and roll your future to face the dice
who are they ask for advice?
You draw towards these demons while behind you attempt to bask
a mask
Cody raises a flask of poison resentful regrets
Brody the roadie is always on the move
that ****** basement edm dub scene sure did become crass
which only leaves you, alone to groove
and we drink my flask our flask and bask in romance and death
Sorry Sir that you asked…but wait I have one more thought before the session reaches the inevitable conclusive aspect. Listen to my
Unexplained Law
Of
Academic actualizations
Basic casualization
Capital causes compound connections only resulting in casualty
I am orbiting you
Blazing comet
A simple sultry satellite
cold convoluted
Sad
at my farthest reaching far flung Aphelion
Warming and safe at my closest approach to You
Blazing life bringer
Holy holy holy art thou oh Eye of all
Allow me to forever remain at Perihelion
The laws of Keplar could not keep us from colliding
in the end
fire
will be all dividing
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
Intuition of a witch
Is not one for weak bones
You see our glitches make you twitch
It's now our bones you call home
I see everything
And anything
You're trying to explore
You're walking through a tunnel
and suddenly see a door
Twisting at its ****
Has you stopping in your tracks
You see now how I've got you
Turned from your own path?
We witches get these itches
That turn our chests to metal
That we specifically build into cages
for hearts to sleep and settle
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
Here lies the contents of my heart:
In perfect pieces along the very edge of stitches,
There was once a time when nothing could keep us apart,
And in that time we were vessels that held the world's sweetest riches,
But now the taste of your name only leaves me ****
The syllables roll off my tongue, leaving only bitter wishes,
So don't question how we ended up here; I don't know where to start.
Your scratched promise had more than its fair share of glitches.
You and I have yet to master the necessary art
Of arguing without leaving the other malicious,
And as a result we discover true feelings whenever we depart
Because our cross cultural fairy tales are exactly that--
Fictitious.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
you are to me as yellow was to van gogh.
but then again,
yellow was the color
of the july sunsets we missed
when we were puppeteering
the glitches in our words.
it was the color of autumn —
its night, when we first made out
and left permanent scratches
on the hood of your daddy's car,
its leaves - a deep feuille morte;
detached,
detached,
detached.
like the scent of my hair from yours.
it was the color
of the light —
back when we lived
for early morning kisses
on coffee-stained tables,
when the world was still asleep.
it was the color of the first sunray
that crept through my blinds
after two days of raining —
darling, that was day 4
after you left.
it was the color of the rose petals —
a mess on the floor
as we listened to a bulk
of lonely playlists —
love, it would take corrosive agents
to dismantle the songs —
and probably the memories too,
that unlike you,
refuse
to leave.
but then,
you are to me as yellow was to van gogh.
but then,
it was under the bouts of madness
that he ate the paint,
thinking that happiness could be ingested.
and darling you are to me as yellow was to van gogh.
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC
What did I do,
Quite the disaster, but if only they knew
The depth of the hole I find myself in,
Thank goodness ambition is no mortal sin.
I seriously thought this thing would be fast,
A simple invasion, a side show, a blast,
Over by dinner then pop the Champagne,
Ukraine by name only, Russia’s domain.
Never the thought came into my head
That a little B actor would play me instead,
Tenacious and cunning he's proven to be
But if chess is the game, good luck playing me.
The West struts its stuff, more noise than effect,
A mish mash of junk all easily wrecked,
Perhaps they forget the Russian resolve,
Stay tuned for a while and watch it evolve.
Ukraine is no match for what we can do,
Time our best friend and that's always been true,
We're patient and hardy, impervious to pain,
We'll suffer and bleed for what's ours to gain.
Don't read me wrong I want this to end,
I'm just very careful which message I send,
At the end of the day I'll make a tough deal,
And a big swath of land I'll invariably steal.
Ukraine won't be happy, the West will cry foul,
But don't be impressed, it's merely a howl,
A little play acting for show and effect,
As for this to continue they clearly all dread.
Ignore the odd glitches it's the outcome that counts,
This hasn't been pretty, a truth with few doubts,
But often what shines is merely fool’s gold,
Land is the key and Ukraine’s I will hold.
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 3:47 PM UTC
Helium giggles fills the air
With no magic in despair
The female-truffles in disguise
A secret cave below, there she cries
Thick, twisted, raven hair
Messed-up a jet black heart
Ballerina socket shoes of pair
Electric blue eyes delighted the dark
She's addicted to candies but she's not sweet enough,
Her head is wrapped upon the cotton-clouds,
She became a prisoner, a life with handcuffs,
She screams the spells in her palms quite aloud
From the bottom of her squealing feet,
There she gazes a milky way
Has a huge heart like a Betelguise
But her darkened memories fogged her every single day
A billion beaming curves are shown nor hidden,
Crimson cheeks and an inch long lashes,
Her glitches determined the jesters becoming a self-driven,
Persona, then her dreams were burnt into ashes
Too many clichés could **** a prone river of chances,
Female-truffles has been named before a gum-drop,
Glittered ideas may scatter in a skull as it dances,
This is a short phenomenon of a venomous lollipop
Described, inhaled and exhaled
The historical context is a transparent matter,
No question required to be exalted
Long, long ago she was an Alice, and now, she's a mad hatter
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC