"inefficient" poems
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
nobody likes the full name.
the class is known simply as "Cell."
stephen king is just as lazy with his titles.
that fool fears blood.
i was listening to rain washing out the gutters
when our teacher called on me,
asking me to explain in my own words:
"How is molecular transportation so highly organized?"
i posited that organelles are not organized.
they are only civilized:
self-governed by apoptosis and a blueprint of proximal culture,
their manuals inefficient, but honed for cooperation through trial and error.
"I'm predisposed to disagree," he said with a tangible glee.
knowing we all adore his berating honesty.
his question stuck with me.
perhaps because i was working
for the office of sustainability
becoming regularly incapacitated
by the shame and exhaustion of preaching.
leading an uprising through the power of teaching.
i decided the only organized transportation
is an axial conduit to the electorate's war,
always social and hierarchal
because that's what culture is for.
at 19 i was loaded up with a sticky elixir
to be protected from being called a *****
i will never forget how I spotted lightly for three days
-stopped for one week-
and then for two straight months, it was a downpour.
we are only tearing apart the bitty ants
and there is still blood on our hands.
i believe blood looks best on our hands.
but we were taught to meticulously detach
and to prepare our matching bargains
beneath the atmosphere's volatile dance.
poison is in the body and the air
ready to be bottled and batched.
even when i find my friends
whole and happy in France,
my key stays clotted in the latch.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
They tried to replace
The teachers
With robots
And computer
Programs only
The human teacher
Had been deemed
Inefficient
And ineffective
They were replaced
By robots who
Had been downloaded
With all necessary information
Well what do you think
Now that your child
Is being taught
By a robot
These robots
Are not kind
Nor will they console
Your child if he fails
Some people are pulling
Their children out
Of public schools
Because they want them
To be home schooled
By human beings
Well, I have to say
I don't blame them
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
Tick. Tock. Two hundred down.
Pulp.
Swindled minds flock
so easily into their cages,
sealed vents pushing gas into their lungs.
Carpenter's masterpiece.
Hooks hanging from walls,
bloodied chains supporting old bones.
Rot.
Mirror image rooms kept secret, filled
with decay and trapped ghosts. The neon
sign flickering. 'Hotel'.
Pulling the moths in with its fire,
ready to burn them.
Tick. Tock. Twenty seven around.
Confession.
The drugs were inefficient -
they never slept forever.
I had to help them get there. I was born
with the devil in me
and he sings like a poet in the shadow of evil.
Gruesome.
I feel their blood on my hands and I enjoy it.
Tick. Tock. Nine were found.
Possession.
"Satan corrupted me, controlled me."
"Innocent."
"I am imprisoned within myself, I swear."
"He made me."
The lever is flipped, I fall.
My neck does not snap.
Instead, I struggle, the air being forced
from my body. Darkness comes
after the fond memory of a knife in my hand
and blood on the walls of my ****** castle.
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
A ship sustaining
A tiny crack or thick
Is destined to sink,
Awaits the same story
A pilferers-leached country!
All the grotesque
Faces of corruption—
Embezzlement,bribery,red-tape
Nepotism
Task procrastination
What is more inefficient
Resource utilization—
Must not go out of
A developing
Nation's radar,
Expected corruption to bar
In its bid to spur
The ship of development far!
Needs no less attention
Fighting the new faces of corruption
Such as post placement
By political affiliation
Divorced from talent,
Which should enjoy
A greater weight!//
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
You have now left an inefficient existence in the dust
To greatly savor a newborn energy
No longer looking at life with a dreary cast
You can see the truth with clarity
A vibrant glow has been gently summoned forth
Brightly illuminating the darkness
Boldly restoring resilient confidence to your waiting soul
Removing dark shadows from your countenance
Go forth and now sow the seeds for your life’s garden
Attentive, with painstaking care
Step back softly and smile with sweet satisfaction
As you, carefully watch them growing there
Continuously bathe your garden in the vibrant glow
Ushering new growth into the light
Then stand quietly still with the proudest adoration
Inhaling the beauty blooming in your sight
Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 7:14 PM UTC
He gives me a premature ventricular contraction –
Simply referring to inefficient blood circulation –
Causing my heart to skip a beat on every occasion.
Ever so often thereafter, he performs a cardiectomy –
In other words, a surgical removal of the heart – on me
Through which my precious heart is stolen by my Timmy.
I still experience dyspnea – difficulty in breathing –
And my breath is taken away by he who is my Spring,
My one and only significant other and my everything.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 7:58 AM UTC
From the time we are born,
we are flawed,
both through nurture and through nature are we damaged,
but there is something so beautiful,
so fatalistic about that,
and since we are inclined to failure,
the only way we can travel is forward.
Sometimes we move only a few steps at a time,
and more often than not,
we measure improvement by leaps and bounds,
both are progress,
both are important.
We like to think we are rational,
but statistically speaking,
we trust in our instinct more often than not,
even if it is beyond its depth,
we are not rational creatures,
striving for excess is not logical,
for time is money,
and survival is logical,
but we want more,
gathering approval is not efficient,
in many respects animals are much more optimal.
The thing that sets us apart,
the most important thing to note,
is love,
love is not logical,
love is not efficient,
but we value it anyway,
and so in the end,
we are not what we think we are,
we are not animals,
we are illogical,
we are inefficient,
and we are healing,
healing from the day we are born,
born with a frail disposition,
we are human,
and we are slowly mending.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
Constantly aware
of my
input
and output,
I am the most inefficient
worker bee.
Fur wet with honey,
I cling to the insides of
hives and lose
my wings,
unable to peel them back
away from one another.
A fortress much more a home
than a homicide,
rose thorns are hardly my sting,
so I weave in and out
of their buds and barbed wire.
I am not supposed to feel
a thing.
I die for my cause.
I am what I make.
I forage in the afternoon,
and then free my sting
from my skin
decidedly.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
convincing consumers that “v” is for vineyard
not *****
no quick or easy choices
gin, tonic and a dash of restraint
mom’s advice to quit got Tumblr started
we must get rid of inefficient economic sectors
learning to give one item at a time reviving the soviet tradition
Sharing the siege mentality
cheekily hopscotching across genres
tell me how this ends
prison time was dreadful, but he sure likes the video
pain can make them feel alive
in 1949
he imagined an age of robots
at 94, still charting memory’s depths
imagining a grim past that isn't his own
semi-invisible sources of strength
milewide tornado strikes Oklahoma
2 FBI hostage rescue agents die in training exercise in sea
a genre, old and Irish,is renewed
but wait
didn't yahoo try a deal like this before
How about slow play, drugs and Phrankenwoods
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
I sometimes imagine my hands on your
cool skin.
Hush, love, just let your warmth grow
from within.
Let your light seep out the corners of your
almond eyes.
I ache to hear the cacophony of your lovely,
begging sighs.
You make my laugh tumble like inefficient
lovers dancing.
As you writhe and swirl, my heartstrings are for your
fingers grasping.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
after every massacre
by some fanaticized pathological idiot
politicians call upon their citizens
to come together
and pray for the murdered and their families
this is absolutely appropriate
also absolutely inefficient
but it seems
that ever since 9/11
the nation only comes together
AFTER more of its members have been killed
I wish very much
that the nation
AND politicians
would come together
BEFORE the next massacre
and take appropriate action
to prevent such disasters
in the first place
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 5:14 PM UTC
☃ ∴ ☼
Al Bandura, Ph.D,
Drove to town so he could see
if society embraced
guided life-change (science-based).
As he floored it toward the town,
he struck an inefficient clown.
Doctor A. Bandura glowered:
“You’re not funny, nor empowered –
get self-aware”. Then, talking faster,
he offered attainable steps to mastery.
“You don’t seem too self-efficacious,”
Albert added, now loquacious.
Doctor Al set new objectives:
auto-efficient self-directives;
made that dead clown self-aware,
then auto-directed right out of there.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
Curling up next to an existence that is teetering on a tight rope
cheek to cheek and chest to chest with a tombstone that wants to show you how to ballroom dance
a blind date with your last breath
intimacy with death if you're brave enough to let it remove your clothes
it shakes you with an awakening jolt.
This is when everything should come to a slow motion slide show
of faces and revelations that have made you who you are
flashing before you like lightning in a rush for work
too blurry and inefficient to satisfy your last moments
like those snowflakes you'll miss savoring on the tip of your tongue
and everything else worth taking your time.
The seat belt tries to save itself tightly between your rib cage
it doesn't hesitate to invite death to your speed of light funeral.
Oxygen has given up at this point
choosing flight over fight
you are one millisecond overdue
there is no time to choke out your last word
or at least think your last thought
when one strong leap of faith
jerks you to the right of the one way road
leaving the 18-wheeled demon behind you
screeching to a spark inducing halt
tires hot for your blood
breathing fire to warm your deathbed
your body stills the world.
Slamming into the front seat
18 years as your airbag
did not hurt as badly
as wishing that lightning quick luck
would have struck out.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
lately i've been scared
worried the darkness will last
but i hope i'm wrong
i feel powerless
so backed into a corner
but i hope i'm wrong
i feel judging eyes
like i'm not just projecting
but i hope i'm wrong
i think i see it
they wince when my mouth opens
but i hope i'm wrong
i feel unwanted
it's unlucky to know me
but i hope i'm wrong
unhelpful and shamed
no one is glad i'm here, right?
i just hope i'm wrong
only by working—
my body, my only strength
my hands hold children
but my mind is too broken
prove to me i'm wrong
Inefficient love
Subpar communication
Almost good enough
Almost worth listening to
If you say nothing
You confirm it with silence
But if you argue
Please bring some more evidence
I'm trying to hope
That this self-talk's distorted
I'm sorry my pain
Is underreported
If nobody cared
Then surely I'd be alone
And not surrounded
By those who want to love me—
But I don't know how
To feel the love that they show.
I shrink back, I hide,
Because it hurts me sometimes.
These are all my thoughts
They feel so true in my mind.
But I really hope I'm wrong.
Jul 14, 2024
Jul 14, 2024 at 5:49 PM UTC
Our labyrinthine of language
simultaneously dividing - unifying.
Able of conjuring mellifluous daydreams
halcyon memories and dulcet tones.
Remarkably flexible in creative hands
yet inefficient, insignificant compared to touch.
Blooming equally as well in light and shade.
Every rose bush has it thorns.
Beware to remove them before offering a bouquet
as no one likes a *****
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
what's the equivalent of the English
slang...
and American version?
rhymes and... for the latter:
acronyms.
i hate American acronyms...
GOP... DNC...
government of power?
democratic national curriculum?
what the fuse?!
now... the Americans spewing
acronyms is worse than
English slang -
because there's a definite meaning
behind it...
i remember the time
when you'd pick up a dictionary,
at a time when people would wear
clothes that had the word, duffer,
printed on them...
duffer: a stupid and an inefficient
person...
ha... people used to wear
said clothes back in high-school
on non-uniform day...
mind you...
you can't exactly have a teen
fest fetish movie surrounding
high-school at the movies...
if, you go, to a catholic school...
and there's a uniform code...
everyone's uniform...
in uniform...
no one competes via
clothing, trends, etc.
that's the closest i came to joining
the army... then again...
i might not have went to a catholic
school...
i might have been under
the jurisdiction of Ignatius of Loyola...
cardinal manifesto
of the black pope:
i.e. Stendhal -
my favorite book in my teens:
and one of the few books...
that i read, being inspired
by a movie...
who was it... Rachel (kel kel Ra-ca-ca-kel)
Weisz and Ewan Mcgregor...
i still can't read anything
by J.R.R. Tolkien...
fun fact...
how can you tell the difference
between
a Hibernian and a Hearts
or a Rangers contra Celtic fan,
i.e. a protestant Pict from a catholic
Pict?
Mc'paddy
(that's catholic)
Mac'george
(that's protestant)...
Glasgow blue (protestant)
Glasgow green (catholic)
Edinburgh green (catholic)
Edinburgh claret (protestant);
savvy? good good.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
Patterns of insanity
Echoing the same skewed concept in your twisted perception
Becoming more plausible with every succession
Infinitely decaying your common sense
Until there is a speck left of you
Rendering you unstable and inefficient
The gravity of your grief; your inner disarray
Crushes those around and close to you
Leaving thee, secluded, fragile and vulnerable
All that's left is for someone to light the tinderbox
And the blaze shall come erupting out
Truly creating agony for those you desire
Infinitely scorching and traumatising them psychologically
Even worse, resulting you, to exhaust the last of your philosophy
The darkness has, beyond steadily seeped in
The conclusive ray of light, has undoubtedly vanished
For all eternity
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
you continue on the outermost experience of stimuli
consuming with poor digestion, your surrounding world
you continue on the premise of emotion and nothing more,
no analysis, no insight, you exist as a simpler species than
those who do analyze, are insightful and it is only negative because
you are inefficient and infectious in your inefficiency, less energy is
required to live as you do but you are not progressive, you do not offer
this human species anything but a vector for dna, an avenue to perpetuate;
and you are this way by choice -- you possess potential to have potential
but you do not engage and in consequence, you are ignorant and malignant
to our human species and perhaps I am a misanthrope or perhaps I am a
realist but you will only hinder the most capable of us unless you cease to
continue on the outermost experience of stimuli; you are inefficient with the
potential, a resounding potential, for efficiency and if only you would wake from
this superficial condition our species would gain advantage in survival but I
suppose it is irrational to wish for such things, as we are inherently flawed and
perhaps our concentrations should not be on perpetuating the human species
but rather giving rise to an organism more evolutionarily advanced -- more efficient;
more perfect.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 1:49 PM UTC
He gives me a premature ventricular contraction,
simply referring to inefficient blood circulation.
Causing my heart to skip a beat on every occasion.
Ever so often thereafter, he performs a cardiectomy –
In other words, a surgical removal of the heart, on me.
Through, which my precious heart is stolen by my Baby.
I still experience dyspnea – difficulty in breathing,
and my breath is taken away by he who is my Spring,
My one and only significant other and my everything.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
A gear that does not conform is a wrench in the works.
Remove the gear until it can be brainwashed, retrained, forced to mesh.
How to fix it?
How to force it?
The hammer?
Not a surgical tool, by any means, but this isn’t a surgical processus.
Accuracy requires thought.
The bludgeon is a much simpler tool.
A simpler weapon.
Certainly not as successful as perhaps another, but casualties are to be expected in such lock-step, industrial machinery.
It was the height of modernity a century ago -- but the world is changing, and the machine is grinding slowly into the primitive darkness of archaism.
The world is changing. Rearranging.
More and more gears are dropping from their cogs into the morass of the behemoth.
More and more are getting lost in nauseous darkness.
More and more gears.
More and more wrenches in an aging, beastly, anachronic and inefficient monstrosity.
Something’s gotta give.
May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
These Stairs. Stairs. Stairs. Stairs.
They keep getting longer,
and I keep dragging myself up them,
They form a spiral, but it's an inefficient shape.
It's constantly growing and shrinking.There is no end to the illusion. Illusions will never be as they seem.
I'll be pulling a heavier weight. I'm pulling a heavier weight I'm pulling myself. I'm pulling myself. I'm dragging my feet.
I'm exaggerating my movements. I'm exaggerating my words.
It's growing. Growing. Growing.
Like an infesting species to a house.
I'm crawling. I'm crawling. This is too much. This is too much. This is too long. This is too long. Too much. Too long. Too much. Too long.
These stacks of neverending words grow, and I tell myself to stop saying the biggest words that come to mind.
I tell myself to forget my pride. If I ever want to reach the top, I must.
They are so hard to decipher, but I can't stop climbing them, trying to conquer the enquizative knowledge of my insanity.
I keep stepping. Stepping. Stepping. Stepping.
I slowly drag my weight. Drag. Drag. Drag.
I slowly find myself climbing the words. Climb. Climb. Climb. Verb after verb. Trying to signal rhyme after rhyme. But, to my horror, when I reach the top.
There is nothing but a shadowed surface, filled with mistakes and tragedies. There is nothing but a reflection. Nothing but a small, skinny girl. And, to my horror, I realize,
IT IS ME.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
Sometimes the wind blows past my face.
And I ask myself "How come my dress won't fit me?"
Sometimes the bath water is cool.
And I ask myself "When will my job get easier?"
Sometimes I destroy old pictures.
And I ask myself "Will my brother be able to handle his responsibility?"
Sometimes lights scatter on my slender figure.
And I tell myself "I think I should draw now."
Sometimes people say things about being a happy person.
And I prepare myself "Work starts early tomorrow, I'll go earlier."
Sometimes I need to feel something.
And I state facts myself "That driver is a terrible driver, but I'm a good driver"
Sometimes the drugs i do make people ashamed to know me.
And I whisper to myself "Everyone around me is so stupid."
Sometimes people take advantage of my kind nature.
And I scream at myself "Ugh! Why is work so unbelievably inefficient."
Sometimes I remember I came from a broken home.
And my lungs burn with ash "But I'm trying to quit."
Sometimes I hide my darkest secrets of people who betrayed me.
And I wail at the ceiling "God this night is fun!"
Sometimes I dream about a life where I'm happy.
And I tell myself from the bottom of my heart "I'm happy to be who I am."
Sometimes I think about ending my life.
And I tell my friends "I need time and space to get better."
Sometimes I cry for no reason.
And my heart speaks to me "It'll pass."
Sometimes I remember my heart has been frozen for decade.
And I pridefully spout "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Sometimes my nightmares give me anxiety attacks.
And I think "I need a warm shower to relax."
But tomorrow, after the dreams I can't handle have passed.
I'll forget a few more sad thing I've had done to me and have done to others.
And I'll echo the words of others to show them how stupid they are.
My heart will remain frozen to keep the few things I like about myself. Forget, forget, forget the memories that caused me so much pain. It's my only choice. Love, hate, pain, all of it has to go.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes I think I'm broken.
And I have been broken many times.
And know he should have picked me.
Because I'm better.
Because I can control myself.
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 10:31 PM UTC
Escaping memories I ran
To the setting of beginnings
In search of new encounters
A rescuer, an owner, a gentle
Word. Penn station had evolved
In years with my emotions,
Beguiling decadence lost
To opulence decay.
Pink granite covered in grime,
Glass filtering sunbeams had
Now turned light into grey,
Eerie shadows reflecting
My vanishing intentions,
Dwindling strength,
Waning hope.
The mellifluous cadence
Of alphanumeric flapping metals
That used to sooth me with dreams
Of arrivals and departures
Had been silenced for evermore.
Solari boards swapped
For liquid-crystal displays,
Even people had changed
Flaunting grimaces of disdain,
As they whispered rumours
Of terminal demolishment
To the benefit of a sporting arena
They would call The Garden.
I empathised with the unfluted
Columns of the Roman colonnade,
For I too had been deemed
Obsolete and inefficient,
A wreck no one shall retrieve,
To be suppressed, a panacea
For a collective consciousness
That would rather not see,
Turning blind eyes to me,
To cost-effective identity
Annihilation,
While Bobby freed of me
Won the New York State
Championship
At Poughkeepsie.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 6:02 AM UTC
Adjusting to the sound of the rubber tires embracing the concrete, the can-do attitude of day to day living, and constant game of social tetris, leaves one exhumed; exhausted. Sometimes the ever present “now” is lost in all our countless plans and attempts at uprooting ourselves from what we have, to what we don’t have at the moment. It’s a never ending dance from one thing to another, and we always crave more. The way this world has evolved over the past century is indeed strange. Picture a tree that represents the dawn of homo erectus’ way of living growing for the last million or so years on this world. From the unified trunk stemmed many branches with twigs cascading other branches and leaves extending outward toward the sun. Every tree branch is a different philosophy and/or perception of life how that group had known. All these multitudes of how one should live his/her life standing out, yet working perfectly together with the others. There is no such idea that there is simply one correct answer to how you should live. This system of a very co-existent variety had worked for thousands, if not millions, of years. Yet, over the past century, most of these different branches and twigs and leaves have somehow just fallen off. Leaving just one conjoined branch(if you can call it that anymore) to soak up the nutrients it needs to survive. There is no more variance in how these stem outward. They all follow each other, doing the same as the one ahead of it. A very poor, inefficient strategy of keeping the whole alive. Thus leaving the entire tree malnourished of sunlight, soon it’s systems will shut down and eventually die. Too many people in this current world are all to ready to follow someone else’s idea about how they should live their life. In fact almost the entire population live this one, “right” construct. Infinitely stuck in an eternal circle of work, consume, work, consume, work, consume. Where is the humanity in this? Where is the forward propulsion of the human experience? Instead of letting our natural curiosity take form and grab hold to evolve our knowledge of the universe, we drown out it’s cries with television and shopping malls..
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC