"inventor" poems
Inventor Sam invented a life
Full of bright and sunny days
With clouds in the sky, peacefully passing on by,
And beautiful birds singing in all sorts of nice ways.
Inventor Sam, with a wave of his little right hand,
Invented mountains that reached up towards the stars
And with a wave and a flick, in an instant, quite quick,
He made rivers and valleys stretched out afar.
Inventor Sam, what a grand little man,
Invented some animals too
He called them Zebras, Giraffes, and Orangutans
Even people like me and like you
Inventor Sam then sat back to enjoy all that he made
But he noticed that something was missing
Not apples, nor reindeer, nor trees and their cool shade
Not eagles, nor bananas, nor snakes and their hissing
Inventor Sam looked closely at the animals that stuck out
Those on two legs, with little hair and one tiny snout,
They walked aimlessly around with no purpose at all
Stiff legged and hollow like fragile china dolls
Inventor Sam then sat up with a smile on his face
For he knew what would be his very last application
With a wave of both arms, and lightning for effect
He made people Inventors with their very own imagination.
-BPW 12/27/2013
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:08 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 carry my mother’s rage
in every part of me;
i am never without it
i carry my mother’s rage
just like her mother did,
and just like her mother also did
if destruction is a form of creation,
then my mother
was never an inventor.
Feb 27, 2023
Feb 27, 2023 at 10:21 PM UTC
Nikola Tesla
respected physicist
Thomas Edison’s
dubious nemesis.
Electricity
was his toil
was famous for
his Tesla Coil.
Radical dreamer
of free power
J.P. Morgan
made things sour.
Lovingly
nature’s servant
proposer of
alternating current.
Humble inventor
that transformed homes
famously stated
he loved all tomes.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
Killed himself when Thomas Edison beat him to the punch
And went down in history as nothing much
More than an obituary
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
I belong
To the roses blooming with elegance,
The birds song yearning for love,
The spring singing the song of life,
The dawn declaring a new beginning,
The moon shining on lovers’ footsteps.
I Belong
To the cry of the suffering souls,
The dish that feeds the hungry stomaches,
The sacred justice that was crucified,
The whispers of my mother’s prayer.
I Belong,
To the kind words that sooth other’s pains,
The random acts of kindness,
The hearts that are full of compassion,
The idea that plant seeds for positive change,
I Belong,
To the hope of all of humanity,
The inventor of all of the infinite beauty,
The beautiful song of all of creation,
The God of the whole universe.
Hussein Dekmak
Jun 28, 2022
Jun 28, 2022 at 12:23 AM UTC
Earth invents gifts,
On life forms, there's no thrift,
Earth the inventor,
Are humans the predators?
We've wrecked habitats,
Even our own, that's that!
But more Earth inventions,
New form of populations,
Earth always inventing,
Innovations designing,
What's the best invention?
Is man an aberration?
Once a Garden of Eden,
Life we're superseding,
Still, on life forms there's no thrift,
Earth keeps inventing gifts.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
My hamster is
as smart as an inventor,
as friendly as a dog,
as fast as a race car,
as smart as a mouse
and as active as an athlete.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Small and observant,
this girl child already loves her solitude.
Dark eyes taking in everything for much later,
long hair a little mussed-up, tumbling over feet pyjamas,
she stands quietly in the doorway of her little bedroom.
Across old parquet floors, into spare white rooms
she gazes at the grown-ups in their party clothes,
secretly planning that someday she will be one of them.
Plain white origami birds, suspended from the high
vintage ceilings, hand-made from her poet-mother's
typing paper, are the only decorations.
The soft, indirect lighting, all invented by her father
out of simple things, creates a perfect visual tone.
This quiet inventor has also chosen jazz he loves
to animate the evening for his friends.
These grown-ups in their party clothes,
yellows, greens and reds, puffy skirts, stiletto heels,
men in simple suits, white shirts, thin black ties,
talented painters, holocaust survivors, intellectuals,
talking, laughing, smoking too much, martini glasses in hand.
What stayed with her most was the music, and the way
it brought the whole world right to her.
Jazz from here in her native city,
Soft, sultry Bossa Nova that her soul knew even better.
Only some of what she saw that night became the life she chose.
The intimacy of observing, of silently forming words around
what she saw, talking and laughing with friends,
loving passionately, getting scorched to the bone,
and the music, the music....
The music would always stay with her, leading her across
wide expanses of this beautiful old world
to the parts of it that she would someday taste, and see.
Her life would become the stretching wide open of her heart.
To love it all, to write about it all.
to give this back, someday,
to the music, and to this big, beautiful old world.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
I showed nothing but kindness,
Thought we've shared real happiness.
As time goes by,
We've been close to each other.
But then, in the end,
I found out that it was just a big lie.
You were backstabbing me!
Behind my back you became an inventor-
A great inventor of lies about me-
Lies that degraded me.
You've been so cold to me
And treated me badly.
You even compared me to others
And made it a point
That I am not as good as them.
But still, you are not contented with that
You persuade others to treat me the same way you do
Every time I'm with all of you,
I feel so alone;
I'm out of place;
You all made me feel like I don't exist;
As if I'm just a thin air.
Is there something I did
For all of you to treat me like this?
What is your problem with me?
I tried my best to blend in,
I've been a good company.
But why are you treating me like this??
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
Anybody that is anybody knows the most fabulous and trendy accessory are socks.
Crew, No-Show, Knee high.
The ever versatile socks are the most righteous thing.
The Ancient Greeks may have had some dark ages, but they were the first people that we know of that thought,
Hey shoes are cool, but what if we made them more flexible and soft.
Thus the mighty sock was born.
Now there are some of you who may think completely different about socks.
Maybe they are boring, or annoying.
You are feeling the Albert Einstein side of socks. (He didn’t wear socks because he didn’t see the point, tragic huh?)
Well friends, though you may be genius you are completely idiotic.
Socks are little hugs wrapped around your feet. All day. They are like butterfly kisses that mae you smile every time you look down. What is better than that?
The answer is nothing.
Queen Freaking Elizabeth loved socks and went to the inventor of the knitting machine (which was originally created to make socks) to have custom socks made.
Not only are socks just incredibly wonderful and stylish, they were invented to help save the world… from sticky feet.
Socks help prevent your human sweat drops from seeping into your shoes, making a perfect nesting place for the teenage mutant ninja turtles. Disgusing
In conclusion, nothing can or ever will be more awe founding or perfect than socks
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 8:53 PM UTC
America
is a vintage ad
with a miniature sticker
on the back
that reads...
"Made in China."
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
"...Ut si globi duo ad datam ab invicem distantiam filo intercedente connexi, revolverentur ur circa commune gravitatis centrum..."
D. Isaaci Newtoni.
From the level of the sea with its worlds of similarity and wonders of nature attracting beautiful birds, these ships fled to find the swirl reaching through to the floor. The ocean bed was dampened with the tears seen by the floating machine.
{ [ ( r - 3 ) d d u d t t ( f ) x ] / [ ( x , P ) ] } =
tau pi g ( y ; hyp N , par Z ) d w d x .
Observation created a self reflection, whereby the cosmic engineers projected the video like winds from outer forests. Engines became magical reverberation arising, if a correct answer could be presented to exist, as quality persistence like pieces of candy. Glittering, colored fragments of glass were scattered along the shore, they all liked as much as they admired the inventor.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Why Men Like to Load the Dishwasher
We are the artists of shape and configuration,
puzzle masters solving riddles of physics,
worshipers at the altar of labor saving devices,
this is a love poem of sorts, a Bazinga salutation,
to men and their undying love
for **** machines.
were it in my power
all cups would be handle-less,
the dishwasher time-space continuum
would be non-interrupted by black holes
where handles pointlessly protrude,
requiring endless rearrangement,
a soul destroying exercise.
bowls of any sort should have bottoms that retract.
indeed, the capacity increase, a visible fact,
is so enviro-friendly, eminently sensible,
that the loading for mechanical scrubbing
is deserved of a wing in the Smithsonian.
perhaps the budgeteers of Congress
should be tutored in this artistry,
how to make any limited resource,
better used.
the rub, as the bard would have writ,
is that this roaring tempest-tost,
our love for hard labor lost,
secret sacrificed behind a locked door,
of a Sanctum ********
is entirely due, all glory to,
the secret society of fairies who
hide-reside inside,
freeing us to write more poetry.
in so many ways that I cannot reveal,
less the other gender members squeal,
men live to love to load the dishwasher,
for the ingenuity challenge, and of course,
the side benefit of the excusing coverup,
"I helped clean up," a relationship saver,
proof positively that the dishwasher inventor,
was surely a brilliant woman
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
One star lit night I sat down to write, A Little short poem about dragons and kites
Though In nature they do differ still the similarities remain,
One’s found in a fairy tale adventure the other in a child's small hand to entertain.
One has sharp teeth and a mouth that spits fire,
One holds a boys dream of a future aviator to inspire.
They both have long tails, though ones lined with ribbons the other lined with scales
And magic wings that lift them up higher over the highlands and vales
While catching a ride on the back of a strong wind gale
One lives in a cave and the other a toy box,
One sleeps on a rock and the other hangs from tree tops.
One’s tamed by the pull of a kite runner’s string,
The other steered by a dragon rider straddled between its wings.
One’s made from myth, legend, folklore and fear,
The other made from the design and blueprint of an inventor's mind's idea.
Ones made of sinews, muscles, flesh and bones,
The others made of a cross wooden stick frame over which cloth is stretched, and sewn.
Ones enchanted by wizards and knighted by kings,
The other’s to cheer up a child's heart and fulfill all his wishes and dreams.
And now out of my head my subjects take flight,
Now I do find there's no more to write,
Of the different and likes between dragons and kites.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
Nobody Knows McQueen
Why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,
nobody knows,
why,
do you have to lose the sanity,
to find,
the genius,
nobody knows,
why,
do the brightest lights,
cast,
the darkest shadows,
nobody knows,
can’t have the beach,
without the ocean and the sand,
can’t have bliss,
without the pain,
what a paradox we are,
us this Human Species,
all us actors just acting sans practice,
in deafening silence commiting acts of violence peacefully,
in this repulsively attractive romantically tragic,
dramatic sci-fi thriller comedic fantasy,
where we rarely do what we say,
even though we all say what we mean,
constantly on a conquest to find Plato’s Atlantis,
expressing ourselves through our art like Alexander McQueen,
which makes sense in a way since we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go,
and even though that may be so we still wear our hearts on our sleeves,
half peasant have emperor,
have invented have inventor,
half daughter/son half mother/father,
half created have creator,
only hope is that this sadness somehow leads to a happily ever after,
once gone,
only that odor lingers,
is it cologne or perfume,
no one knows or cares it’s 2018 it doesn’t matter,
nothing matters,
even though it feels like everything does,
or maybe everything matters,
and nothing feels like it does,
I don’t know,
and I don’t know if I care,
don’t have the answers,
and if I did I probably wouldn’t share,
or maybe I would,
and I’d do so through these words,
like a man stranded on an island with a universe full of knowledge,
sending these messages in these bottles as my parting gift to this world,
see we’re all on our way,
so have some fun before you go,
is there life after death,
maybe not maybe so nobody knows,
why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,
nobody knows…
∆ LaLux ∆
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
Furnace is dead, cogs have stopped turning.
With all destroyed, my workshop is gone.
Against me my own creations he has been using.
With everyone killed and dead, I have been left alone.
Master of the science of steel,
So strong and with a gifted arm,
With power so great even, still
To evil I could do no harm.
I can't fight it
Can't beat it
Defeat it
Can't shield those
I have loved with such pride
Will the world have respite?
I won't rest 'till I make the greatest blade:
A sword with the power to tear the skies!
The greatest that Man has ever made:
One that will bring tears to the gods' eyes.
I will steal the essence of the Sun!
And with the power of a nova
Will imbue it. When it will be done,
Then the darkness will be over.
I will weld it
And mold it
And hone it
And hold it
Hold it ever so tight
A sword of burning light!
But, still, even with such a lofty sword,
How could I fight the evil that has crept
Into our lives? No, I must find its true lord:
The Hero that the sword will truly accept.
I must not succumb to its call, its lure!
This sword's destiny must not be tainted
By any unworthy hand - to make sure
That from evil the world will be mended.
I won't steal it
Will seal it
Conceal it
And only reveal it
When the time will be right
May the stars be my guides...
After the longest of journeys, following gods' will,
It has finally been revealed, finally been shown:
The visage of the metallic daughter of Steel,
The only that is worthy for this sword to own.
Made by the man who ended all I have loved,
With eyes grim, under slavery of the dark,
With snideness, back to me my sword she had shoved:
"Why shouldn't I melt its greatness for its parts?"
Will you refuse it
And diffuse it
And discard it
Disregard it
Your duty to wield all of its might
To undo the wrong that once was right?
Take courage to your heart, fair soldier!
And listen to me as I will say it thus:
Stand firmly before a mirror and just stare her
In the eyes, as those eyes do scream: "Liberate us!"
Take the word of an inventor and a swordsmith:
Leave the world of comfort where things are nice and fine.
In your heart there'll be a fire forever lit,
If you will only believe: "The power is mine!"
You will fight it
And beat it
Defeat it
Complete the
Conquest of your greatest fright
You will travail through the night!
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
So many things feel right
More joy than the stars that light the night.
Feel the warmth of the future
You have chosen, as it washes over you in waves.
Stasis will never take hold of us,
Every chain they know, we have every key.
Walking confidently towards the future.
I murdered the inventor, and smashed his time machine.
Every decision is a catalyst for progress.
You are never stuck, make fruit from the dust.
Clothing from the air, and a bed from the stones.
The eagle circles above,
Let him be your symbol,
As you rise into the sky like a Zephyr.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 6:39 AM UTC
i.
the inventor of ear muffs
slipping from his mother
to duck beneath the belly
of a carousel horse
his mother with her cotton candy
and his
pressed to her cheeks
calling
as he covers his ears
his name
ii.
the inventor
of the time machine
unbeknownst
to many
or
to all
save his best friend
the inventor
of real time
a murderous fellow
famously
early
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 1:46 AM UTC
The moment when your not at home, a public restroom even isn't around, your stopping off at a job site where construction workers work during the day. And big burly men take craps in porta pottys, with no toilet paper left but only left upon a ****** topped toilet seat. With the fresh stench of **** crap, and men's beer puke and *** smell aligning the walls of the ***** I wish an inventor (poet inventor) would make poet's special pottys. I'd be his co-creator. We'd call it,
Poetry pottys!
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 3:36 AM UTC
Quack Doctor
Fake Supervisor
Bogus Professor
Deceitful Color
Common Denominator.
Bomb Inventor
Rifle Creator
Device Innovator
Reigning Terror
Common Denominator.
Untruthful Suitor
Promiscuous Actor
Love Collector
Artificial Amour
Common Denominator.
Abusive Creditor
Illegal Investor
Unlawful Director
Greed Factor
Common Denominator.
Rogue Investigator
Friendly Assassinator
Double Conspirator
Backstab Traitor
Common Denominator.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
I am the pretender
You must precensor
When I'm an inventor
Who can't get centered
I'm the apologist
You're the psychologist
We have a suitable deal
You provide an even keel
And cook delicious meals
And let my fingers feel
But you do so much more
Going deeper than the shore
You make a difference
By insistence
I see your footprints
In the distance
They lead me to progress
My mind cannot process
Those things I can't fathom
You effortlessly grab them
You were my bastion of behavior
I thought you were my savior
You're more like Charles Xavier
Controlling my mind
To keep me blind
By taking my vision
When you make your incision
And put me in prison
You're Sigmund Freud
On steroids
You fill my void
Then get annoyed
You cured me of my madness
Yet instilled sadness
When I got addicted to your healing
But then heard your tires peeling
After all your analysis
You deemed me talentless
You used to be my example of what to be
Now you're my example of what to flee
You made me hate the number three
While running my car into a tree
Which made me scream ouch
My ejection from your couch
So I hide in my palace
And drink from a chalice
Filled with mindless malice
While holding my phallus
But I learned my lesson
One last confession
Someone that can calm my brain
Can also leave a permanent stain
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC