"hack" poems
What would You do when you can't have someone you want?
Would you
lift a finger and whisk it like a wand
wishing everything would fall in place
the way you'd want it to
in a tick of the clock ,
or,
would you struggle with your brain
between finding a solution
and living inside your head, dreaming of
perfection?
ME
I would get up,
trek to a forest with my trusty machete
and hack away at the thickest bushes I could find.
I'd hack away, hack away,
and ignore the sag from my arms, the stress on my back,
the sweat pouring down my face like water off a cliff,
the unsteady footing caused by wet mud and unsteady, unsure legs.
I would keep hacking until I reach the end of my arduous quest,
where I would come upon a clearing--
A clearing with an aisle made of rose petals
that lead into the center,
surrounded by white chairs and sunflowers.
And Someone would be there,
in a white dress and veil, waiting for me.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
like that pill bitter Sunday morning (after)
with a nauseating hack
the previously uneventful Tuesday
derailed
in surrealistic tale
with Auntie and Jack (and a quarter of fate)
in the 748
on a night flight
from Sherwood to Lore
reverberating waves
of imminent summer haze
river flats
and flower fields
fly weights
and silver bait
shredders and shysters
and open gates
(into those everlasting
and sweated journeys of hope)
bloods and strays
and florentine grays
(reminiscent of Rockwell fame)
running horses
and overgrown country lanes
morning grace
and gentle cheer
eyes clear
on the river pass
*blunted paddles for those ancient
and not so willing suckers!*
duke making his own way
(to the corner club)
Parsons and Poe
stream from the torn screen door
cricket cadence
and symphony of the Deere
calm and deliberate
in the soft
and silent fields
meadows open for grazing
(guineas scamper across the till)
pocket apples fill
the country ripe air
drunken bees
and chestnuts
and electric fingers
strike the surface pool
(a cedar strip wedged on the white wash dock)
baited bull heads set to cast
evenings with hearts
and Nolten Nash
may flowers bloom
across the grass
~ time unmatched ~
with blue jays
and river bends
and channel cats
...and that warm
and recurring
Coleman drift
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
they’re pouring out of the
woodwork
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a london fog
lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
in hell fire
splitting seams
on the fading
and hideous ink
guards of the perch
stand on hades hand
while monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunt the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******
cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backwards
in the dark shadows
of a phantom abyss
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
I live in the birth of Nintendo vs Sony vs Sega
Trying to beat that high score in the Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat
Combat with a K
That innovative ****
I survived the destruction of Sega Dreamcast
As they became third party
And Microsoft took their place with Xbox and Ninja Gaiden
Alive from that old arcade
I live in the awing of the interactive Wii
And internet friendly Playstation 3
I also live in the original Mario Bros and Pac Man and...
Terminator vs. Robo-Cop
Yea
I bet you don't remember that one
Or Galaga or Excitebike
Or even that good old
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Spacce Invaders!
Yea, I'm from Nintendoland
No... Segaworld
Nah... Sony City
Nu uhn... Microsoft...
Can't even think of a place for that
I am from that video gamer nation
That fight, hack, slash, race, create, explore, role-play
Even play those insane sports
See I'm from that...
See, I am from that...
I am from that
Video gamer heaven descended
That has that powerful curiosity and love for that
Space Invaders!
No
That love for all video games
And that memory of the ****** game graveyard
Where E.T. now resides...
See, I'm part of the new gen
Trying to play Street Fighter 4, Final Fantasy XIII, Star Ocean
Saying "I go harder than you young bloods cause I played
Space Invaders!"
So, what era am I from?
I'm from the era of all gamers
Playing Space Invaders
Space Invaders!
I'm from the
"Game of the Year goes to..."
Mario, Tekken, Metal Slug
Namco, Sega, Bandai, Konami
All those companies that started as something else
But realized their calling was for our nation
Cause you see
I'm from that
Old school Nintendo
New School Wii
Old school Playstation
New school PS3
Old school Sega
New school Microsoft 360
I'm from a legacy that always succeeds in giving us dreams
That always seem to revert back to that
Old school
Asteroid, space dodging, alien blasting
Space Invaders!!!!!
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
I'm choking, flower petals fall into my hands. Blood puddled up, followed by more couphing. My hands stain crimson as I attempt to catch the petals and blood. Red dribbles down my chin and flowers break through the skin on my neck. Vines and flowers continue to grow in my lungs. Causing my disease to only worsen. Is this one sided love. Have you lost feelings for me.. Have I gone mad. My thoughts are again interrupted as a hack up more flowers. My chest is hollow.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 12:06 AM UTC
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz
The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew
The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!
The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube
Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd
The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox
Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!
The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…
The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…
The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!
The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!
Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!
The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review
Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth
You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Two ****** loving each . . .
In lieu of gnats and peacocks,
. . . Pathetic poetasters.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
You're a grim reaper
Looking for a soul to devour
A mind to hack and a body to axe
Your empty eyes and that evil smile
Can't hide the fact that you're dead inside
You got the Jezebel vibes
Sound like a saint and feels like the devil
Forbidden is your tag
Dead and gone, your heart's nowhere to be found
Luring innocent souls into your empty shell
Got that charm that disarms
You're a grim reaper
A grim reaper
© Sonia Ettyang
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:54 AM UTC
i. "Why did the number of parking tickets spike
when Persephone was carried off to the underworld?
Demeter wasn't working."
She liked greek mythology puns.
It was a good thing I was creative.
ii. Truth or Dare, I asked her what
was the best decision she's ever made.
she answered with, "In 7th grade I named my puppy Achilles,
so when I saw him I could say, 'Achilles, heel!'"
iii. It took me two weeks to realise that
when we held hands, I wasn't really
holding her hand, but a chainsaw,
ready to slash through anything that stood in our way like
Hercules chopping off the Hydra's head.
I was immortal.
iv. August eleventh; 9 PM
we watched for the meteor shower.
I connected the freckles splayed upon her knee,
told her they looked like the constellation of Cassiopeia.
"Be Sirius" she jested.
v. She had a bad habit
of smoking at the beach and I
Wondered if she knew that with
every single flick of ash into the water,
Poseidon was cursing her to the River Styx.
vi. Headaches visited her often, I joked that
maybe she was getting ready to birth
a Goddess from her cranium. She
did not find it clever.
vii. You could say we became like Aphrodite and
Hephaestus. I, longing for her. She,
lusting after another. A synonym for her
headaches would be me.
viii. Apparently if you hack off a Hydra head, two
would grow to replace it. Knowing this sooner
probably would have saved me from numerous
amounts of Kleenex and chocolate.
ix. She left me a note on the dresser,
"Fun fact: Medusa's favourite cheese was
Gorgon-zola. PS - you remind me
of Medusa, please remember to brush your hair."
She reminds of Medusa as well, I do not doubt that if we
meet again, her eyes would still turn me into
stone.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
How can I be myself if you are my vampire?
I can never sleep at night.
The windows won’t stay closed.
You come and go as you please when
I am in my pajamas, such as they are
A tee shirt and underpants
You are always trying to mesmerize me
But it is you who is really
Always you
Who can blame you?
It must be complete torture to look at me
And feel me
But never possess me
If you could only eat me.
If you were my Siamese twin I would **** you
Can you imagine?
I would hack you off with no qualms
Or saw slowly, it doesn’t much matter
Even if I bled out
You are a quagmire.
An existence always with you
You knowing me better than I know myself
Listening to my thoughts
Stealing everything and thinking it’s yours
I am not you
And you are not me
We are not a we
I am not the key to your survival
You, a peculiar abscess
That faces me and holds a conversation
That wants to do this or that
The endless talking.
The windows closed
The heavy curtains drawn
Me in my underwear
I’d watch you while you slept
Thinking about crosses and solutions
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
I scream
When broken a dream
In the middle of a darknight
Uncontrollable was the inner fight
Woke up sweating with the heart's race
Walked up to find some solace
What soothed me the best
Made me feel blessed
Put my smile back
Trust this hack
A large scoop
of soft rich
icecream
--------
-------
------
----
---
--
-
-
.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 7:01 AM UTC
i was born all naturally
formed in a lax factory
im actually
a hack with ******* in my nose, practically,
every day, haphazardly
stumbling home, half asleep
i cant tell whats happening
vision begins blackening
im whack like kriss kross
crack like rick ross
major brown boy to houston
be like, "yes, we have liftoff"
dont like me when i'm ****** off
cause ***** i'm bruce banner
or maybe i'm bruce wayne
either way, i got mad manners
tearing down walls like berlin
preaching like its a sermon
potential begins to burgeon
i'll cut you up like a surgeon
killing in place of coercion
so you better lower the curtain
my head and my body are hurtin
so tell me how quick does the world spin?
i'm taddling on ya, you can call me a toddler
but the snitchin n' **** is somethin im never fond of
and i never grow up, cause i'm the neverland smuggler
peter pan turns into one of my best customers
i never grew into my head, im not cocky
never had the eye of the tiger, im not rocky
growing up i never got in fights or caused a lotta ****
but presently im screaming **** the world", i've got a bone to pick
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
you hold me captive, keep me trapped in your facets of laws
looks of repulsion are what cause me to brandish my claws
constant compulsions reminiscent of prodigal flaws
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
see im a goblin shark i'll sink in my nautical jaws
im not a joker im a jester with lesser facades
wrought with insomnia cause drugs are american gods
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
The first comment
I received
a **** you"
with a smiley face
I laughed off
wouldn't you?
Kind of crazy
kind of creepy
put it away as some one
we all know.
The second comment
came
with the usual language refrain
I was a "hack"
my words were "dreck".
The disparaging words about
my dead mother
gave me pause to reflect.
The third comment and more
began to recall
information of past
faux pas
secret affairs
one or two personal pecadillos
never mentioned beyond
the
dialogues in my mind.
Embarrassing I know.
I, of course,
went to the home page
to see
if it was someone
known to me.
No identifying data
but a picture I remembered vaguely
from a past I didn't know.
The trolling continued
relentless I would say
pulled the plug
put up a block
but
wouldn't you know
The comments continued
to come into my dreams
brutal criticism
of
every move I made
the day finally arrived
when I realized
Alter personalities were shedding off of me
like
psychological psoriasis
They were
hitting the ground running
I was
finding poems
I didn't remember writing
clothes I never bought
People kept hugging me
I had never met before
they
knew me far to well
called me many names
none of which were mine.
The silence of my nights were broken
when I found myself
in my car on Highway 101
returning from where I did not know
with a smile on my face
illegal drugs in my pocket.
How did I get here?
How did we get there?
Where are we now?
Another account opened
on Hello Poetry
with an anagram of my name.
I find my days
getting shorter and shorter
it became clear
I had become the dream
The others
had become me.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
I'm barefoot in 46 degrees and I must remember that my perception of things must not encapsulate how I truly perceive. Soldered commentary is bleak but is all I've left, all my years have given me and my years have been few.
To be constantly bombarded with the question, "what is it that I really want?" is fervently exhausting and consistently hypocritical and I'm a hack. The conclusion is always that I'm a hack without a win to present or a failure to fall back upon. As a hack, I've left myself with very few plans to alter or hungry mindsets to feed.
After glistening the only thing that remains is to burn out and the thought of extinguishing so prematurely provokes a physical falter and frequent respiratory failure.
Ask your brother if he lingers at times. Ask your sister if sometimes, she means what she says and she should always say no. Ask your friends why you should be anyone's friend and whether or not the chance to swing into hyperbolic criticism ever affects how they make their choices, hoof their steps.
Their answer should always be no and their input should always be invaluable.
Ask yourself if brain power should always be set to alter mind power and ask yourself is alteration is ever even possible. The answer should always be no.
The conclusion to draw should always be his. The choices you make, always expert and ground out by consistent respiratory failure. Ask yourself if you'll always be an animal and when will that stop. Ask yourself if time will determine whether or not this "thing" is worth doing or this "thing" is worth composing. Ask yourself why you're not the young girl who sings soul on the street, whose tremble sets off car alarms and inner requisitioning. The answer will never be the same.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
breathing in the cool night air
floating by without a care
flying by the midnight stars
my destinations never far
feel the pulse with your mind
relax and let go of time
tune in to the frequency
the space between you and me
tune into the midnight pulse
wont you drift away with us
focusing is over rated
third eye infatuated
hack into reality
infiltrate and spread your seed
collect your soul and take a stroll
out into the midnight cold
break free from the chains that bind you
the can hold you down
they know nothing can stop this
no way to bring us down
push away it surfaced again
**** the cages that they put us in
just another day i **** it away
erase the pain and forgive the sin
MIDNIGHT PULSE!
tune into the midnight pulse
wont you come and join our cult
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
There's a contentious subsection
Of the homosexual community
That go in a different direction
Hoping to find social immunity
The word masculine
Is the mask they're in
To live life saccharine
Wearing a plastic grin
From the sensation
Of over-compensation
Actuating placation
To differentiate
From the effeminate
They say they're separate
But really they're just desperate
To be accepted
By their own dejectors
To not be rejected
They become defectors
To avoid ridicule
They stack their deck with nothing but physicality
Their mind minuscule
The albatross on their neck is a lack of personality
To please those that compare them to **********
Internalizing their homophobia
An infernal mighty cornucopia
Creating an over abundance of rules
One must follow to be a proper male
But we should jump out of the pool
If being miserable is what that entails
The more genuine version we see
The happier we all should be
Then we might all be free
But if I were to show glee
Someone might call me a ******
And I don't think I could hack it
When the rest of society backs it
With an approval that is tacit
So I convince myself I'm avoiding identity politics
Using total discretion
To make no impression
But my friends and family would know that's not what I'm doing
So why not tell them?
I haw and I hem
Because the underlying ghostly shame
Is the true nature of this social game
When you have the fame of the flame
You're told to get in a lane of the same
Erase my ******* sin
With the title masculine
There are practical reasons to hide it
But how much time will be bided?
Will my life be derided
Until the evil are delighted?
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 12:58 AM UTC
What is this wall
That keeps us in
Over each other, we trip; we fall
We are like fish with no fins
Head on we crash
With fists we beat
We hack and we slash
Screaming, kicking with invisible feet
Blocked we remain
Let us flow
Us you can't contain
Let us go
Strengthened with aggregate
But held back by concrete
Cerebral wall with no gate
We're packed with angry grit
You know we're here
You feel us roiling
You hear us clear
Boiling and brewing
We understand the reason
You deem it necessary
Thinking it would lessen
Subdue the rage and fury
Your illusion of control
Of us, you'd pick the best
Surely you're taking the toll
Of being nothing but suppressed
All of us, we are you
We make you what you are
From the subtlest cue
To the high achieving star
We are many but we are one
Your thoughts and emotions
We are your loaded gun
We're the answer to false pretensions
You can't have us dammed
We've initiated a coup
No...we'll not be ******
Too late...we've broken through
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
Each battle their swords clash
mighty men stagger back,
with every hack and slash
little cracks break into those blades.
Each force of energy carves a new path--
victories told by this warriors tale of sand
beads of red spill openly,
and more brown rocks turned into blood
they are the clear sign
to a samurai's way to end.
A jar on the counter filled to the brim--
layers of dust coat the outside
within the hearts of mighty men
whom were slain all by one man;
now he old and gray living in a younger age.
His only wish was to be a true
samurai, one to turn into sand,
to become part of the trophy case--
sword in hand and a slight bow
he does the honorable way,
to join his samurai men.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
So I'm sure you wanna know how I crafted this bizarre flow so I'll sit you down and tutor you let's go
step 1 draw off of everything under the sun treat your words carefully like a loaded gun step 2 now that you know what your words can do put them into verse leave others in the back of a lyrical hearse
step 3 Is the most important to me personally I walked into an asylum to search for a straitjacket if you don't have punch lines you definitely can't dot hack code or slash it
step 4 is getting your foot into the door caught with the drum beat drops leave your audience sweating like a wet mop
well that's all the steps I'll add some more usually involving clever metaphors now then you know the score
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
we are alone.
moonlight's kiss
on sunburned skin
and a poisoned caress from honey dew
we are alone.
silent wings slicing through
thick
dark
we are alone.
a dull point
glimmers
and we hack
and we slash
we are alone.
ruby trickles light the black
and crimson beads
form crimson rivers
i am alone.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Sounding like some wild soundtrack
to a Spaghetti Western starring
none other than The Clintster,
it were rolling in good vibes
with the peeps taking selfies
with the band for a backdrop.
Two horns poundin' out
a happening grove,
with a bass player all of
four foot nothin'.
with a cool round sound.
It was cookin' alright,
hours after midnight,
a Halifax sextet hinting
of Tom Waits and the The Bob man.
I yawned, I looked around,
all those sweet tarts in their skin tights.
I yawned again, shook my head
as the band was covering Ray Charles...
I yawned again and again
and realized I am too old to party hardy.
But still... 'I can hack it'.. the last thing I said
as I headed out the door, homeward bound
In a January breeze that had a hint of Spring.
end © 2014
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
Do you like me?
Or do you not like me?
You are such a cubic,
I have to play around for so long,
And when I think I've got it,
There's one ******* white block,
Trapped in the center of the **** reds.
Is there a hack way to work you out?
Do I have to pull out each block,
Pull them out one by one,
Until I accidentally break a piece?
Each time I lose my temper because of you,
I remind myself,
I remind myself that,
I need to be patient with you,
Because if I force you apart,
You'll break.
I swear,
You are such a cubic.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
It is when we hit the teen end, does the world follow the third law.
We get trapped in the beauty of fear, fear of falling behind.
We need a guarantee. A certificate will do that.
Lately, life fits into earning and burning of hard money.
What does the future hold? The great worry.
It's all about numbers, and they say 'us' can not be quantified.
What is this all about? Sit back and think.
Here life options serve as counting thin lines.
Where does the truth hold?
Wait for a novel to delta your philosophy or is your will a build of simplicity.
Chaos holds fear yet a win, but Simplicity my friend is the truth searched by the one hiding within.
Life Hacking is a way of living. Those who follow it might find themselves happy and at peace.
Its all about being in control.
You can be your own teacher, your own university.
Learn, not to earn but to understand.
And create, and innovate, and be different.
Have the courage to believe that you can change the world, because if not people like you, the modern society would not have existed.
You are the fuel to the engine that runs the world.
Don't waste it in being regular, Be Different.
Because, People who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world are the ones who do.
Hack your Life, Be the Change.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC