"malfunction" poems
You're the Wacky Wolf-man,
Tearing through our pages with a single huff.
Breathing life into us little piggies,
Blasting your way through the daily fluff.
You're the Word Wizard.
Leaving us in awe and in dribbles.
Waving your wand,
Conjuring magical and spellbinding scribbles.
You're the Living Legend,
Almost like a deity of some sort.
Garnering shiploads of admiration,
Through words of encouragement, banter and retort.
You're the Bad Boy Bard...
Never mincing your words.
Unconventional, you howl amidst the flocks...
You never did chirp like the birds...
You're the Minstrel Mobster,
Shooting your Tommy, never missing.
Flicking forward your fedora,
Strung lute ever smoking.
You're one Cool Cat.
Fending off haters with a bat.
Everyone just wants to be that.
Like a superhero whose symbol is a bat...
You're a Gem Generator.
Cogs and gears churning the jewels laid
Machine malfunction! My system's jammed!
Well I guess that's just it... Enough said!
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
A word
Nobody knows.
It's a mental thing.
"A sensation produced in one modality when a stimulus is applied to another modality, as when the hearing of a certain sound induces the visualization of a certain color."
A confusion of senses.
But I don't think I am confused.
I just see farther than anyone.
For me;
I see colors
And think sounds, tastes, textures.
I see objects
And think gender, personality, music.
All the letters
Have colors, smells, jobs in an office.
All the numbers
Have heights, voices, fashion senses.
I don't know why it is
But it is a malfunction in my brain.
I don't know how to explain it
But it is not very complicated.
Everything has a color
A personality
A food
A texture
A sound
A taste
A smell
Associated with it.
Because everything is deeper than they look.
Because I am confused?
Because I can see.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
the world is full of missing parts,
then so am i
the malfunction of my image can bloom
the good deeds may glitch and die
no broken hearts could open gates for others
only throbbing fissures are to be seen
secret doors and damaged keys
rotten sadistic teen
yet you came
and i've never seen a demon so sweet to me, how?
smooth puffs ****** into my head
making me crazy and sane,
trust ain't easy to gain,
but i'm coaxed by your vows
i liked myself before
then i like my halo better now
the idea of angel wings and a fiend's ***** is not a good blend
but a compatible path was created
with an adequate commitment to try
he said he wants to love the opposite
if that's the deal,
then so am i
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
My mental health is not a quirk. It is a malfunction.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
pastel monotone thoughts paint
an image of me in her mind
complete with shrinkwrap
and a bright smiley face sticker
her eager hand sweats the dealt moment
she awaits with impatience for
her daily christmas time package
her daily reprise of her happy moment
she remembers it with fondness
her pastel colours spread slowly
like an intellectual STD
a malfunction of the common man
she is a true modern miscreant
she wants a pretty girl lover
that comes complete with emo look a like
laptop gamer girl
attached the hip down to matchin **** selfies
a hundred smooth moves and cheat codes
she wants the complete package at the discount rate
shes a card carrying member of
some fan girl fandango
she calls me captain saveahoe
street nasty superhero with kung-fu grip
trailing through the dank alleys
in search of the legendary ultimate dumpster
the prize of every divers wet dreams
wandering all night with a few vampire hangers on
looking for a fashionable means to a glorious end
meanwhile the corner girl is waiting on me
thinking i'm just trying to find her a safe place to be
she is my safe place and i'm hers
the few of us that survive the moment
stroll on through the rain
to the dairy queen
to see and be seen
dont cha' hate that whole show up
to show off
she lives to die for it
but thats ok
cause i love her just the same
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
she saw things that made her malfunction
she broke down to words that should've made her function.
she tortured herself with plastered screenings
repeated feelings
not wanting to be of perceiving
she was in and out of it, saw the fault line, lingered a bit.
she then took it for what it was, saw what he was, realized he never was.
Next she then meddled with hard hit reality.
she understands to not give herself up, she gets the places it'll mess up, and all she wants to go is up.
So time dwells, she wants to be over it, she wants nothing of it, only to be everything above it.
she does not self harm anymore, because she is of no harm, she is just charm.
he's made her realize that.
he's accompanied her to that.
so she thanks him for that.
she will not whither, she is winter, with personality of a spitter
she is summer with hints of glimmer
she is now full of no more sorrow, no bitterness, or self wallow
she is content, she is fluorescent.
she is better than ever yet.
the muggy cloud has gone and surpassed
therefore leaving everything in the past.
so she says,
see you later,
thanks for the class,
hope everything works out for you in your middle pass,
just remember to not let the next one pass and remember to not be an ***
with that being said with wise words from this *** that you can kiss.
hahaha so see you in the free world, and maybe then can we pass, hit a space migration for our integrations.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
Take me away-
Distract me from this place.
Stress has overtaken me
My life has forsaken me.
I have just realized,
After all that I've done,
I've become like them.
A mindless robot
With sociopathic tendencies.
I'm begining to malfunction.
Help me,
Take me away.
Fix me.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
Being deaf is ecstasy,
You may think it quaint,
But I do not fight destiny.
A man who knows his place,
In the scheme of things,
Sits back to watch,
The struggles,
In fruitless tiles,
Of the quilt laid in fate.
To see and not be deceived,
By the lies of other’s words,
To judge solely on action,
And never on what you heard.
To never be afraid,
Of that ever beating roar,
The ticking Heart,
A sign of life,
That I could care less,
For.
To be deaf is agony.
I dread it every morning.
To be judges so completely.
By one little malfunction.
I walk to school alone,
And even surrounded by friends,
I am but an unknown…
To never hear the birds chirping,
Or the beautiful octaves,
Of singers from near and far.
Or to hear my sweet lovers whispers,
Deep inside my ear.
To not know the pain of a radio on high,
Or to be able to live my life, completely devoid,
Of an inaudible sigh.
But, by now you’ll probably have tuned this out,
And that’s something with which I can empathize
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 9:41 PM UTC
The cold distance between two hearts,
Once beating simultaneously, in unison -
A small disconnection,
A simple malfunction,
Unforeseen miscommunication amidst unvanquished certainty -
Muzzled, tightened grip,
Cloaking an angst shell of a body,
Harvesting repressed emotions,
Alluring a passive tongue -
Releasing an outpour of an outcry in an outburst,
Retribution -
Freedom released from with-in,
Healing of a contorted soul...
Commence.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
when you are twenty something and haven't
grown out of what your family called “baby
fat” don't worry, because you are still loved
by your body. everyday it wakes you up and
nourishes you, and when it fails to do that, it's
only a malfunction, a button hit wrong. when
you get shamed into wearing a one piece by
your friends in eighth grade, don't panic, because
that swimsuit is killer and everyone you are
with is working it. when your friends talk about
skinny shaming since they have never experienced
fat shaming, listen. when you see fat shaming,
talk about it. when your mother starts shopping
in the plus size area for you, don't feel ashamed.
your body is meant for what it is meant to do.
when you have a panic attack in the dressing
room of the local american eagle for not fitting
into size sixes, calm yourself down, no one will
ever see that size. black it out with a sharpie, cut
it out with scissors, let the tag fly. when you
get ****** into pro-ana sites, shut off your phone.
when you are on your knees with two fingers in
your mouth, close the toilet. when you use ice
cubes as a snack, eat something else. don't
let your brain become a calculator before it’s
too late. when you come into school the next
day, your friends complaining about a not flat
stomach, tell them that the sack needed to hold
parts of your body is not flat for a reason. when
they complain about size four jeans, show them
how you wear eights like a badge of honor, like
your lipstick or your hair. show your stretch marks
as tattoos, show your cellulite as gold, your hips
as the gates to your mansion, and your thighs are
thunder thighs, let them boom down and let them
be free.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
Big old jade earring hung from that haunted necklace, swinging from this and that and the other way where and if that sky upstairs let go of the thing I wanted you to be but a break in the system, no a malfunction in that suction of a love that you tried to forget about but feel those typing keys on the fingers that break knees and the heels up and up with the ***** a lingerin' and thats sounding like a new pounding, the one upstairs with the translucent roof ghostly and guess i got a new boot thats fixing itself to elate another prisoner upstate where the worries are always about the women.
Yeah, that women with the diamond ring with her children by her side thinking about the monastery she never visited a big time act act act in a dress that helped her enough and forgot about the rest. But we all move on quick to detest times test with the burritos that she never ate because of the figure she imposed that she got from her transistor radio and the yearly subscriptions of the ghostly ghost that haunted her in the moat around the castle of stairs up ripunzel with dragons a aflame listening to the same wishy washer story of old uncle Maury and the twenty ten twelve salute to the mastery of the fiction of listening, another riddle in the twiddle beneath the sheets that were once painted gold but her husband done left her and she's moving to seattle to start up some new cattle spreading the seed of 1910 where time stands still with his drink in his hand because the guy has got to get around to something with all that talent, with all that anger with all that impulse that proves itself time and time again it will never be enough for a salvation sanitation with the twisty fro's of yearly ye and ye bouts of fights she twisted in that shout that she knew, she knew she swears, what it was all about.
May 6, 2011
May 6, 2011 at 10:10 PM UTC
Your toothbrush still has the paste on it
The plate shattered in fragments of you
The glass still has your lip stain on
This bed I'm sleeping in still smells of you
Lying to myself that you'll comeback
Leaving him and crying and knocking on the door begging to come in
But hey, who am I kidding..
*Put the car in reverse as you slipped into neutral
A gear must've rusted; I trust the machine busted
because things became mechanical, to be truthful
Major malfunction--our junction ceased to be lusted
by my soul's circuits and tired wires proved to be liars
I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was wrong
My cogs, guts and screws became loose in the mire
of our muddled love, where I did no belong*
What worth is living when everything ran rampant silhouettes of you
Running through these polaroids on the wall
I did get out, but it's you everywhere I go
You have etched this fire in my heart
When it burns when we're in love
And when it burns my soul
To ashes remnants of you
Trying my best to get out
I knew you were trouble from the start
But my heart's like a glass thirsts for that lust
Now broken brittled into pieces
Fragments no longer could be fitted
*Puzzle pieces and Polaroids for the incinerator
A conflagration consuming our condition
where you fail to see what I fail to do
I may be coldly pieced together, but I'm no traitor*
***My love was just another raggedy rendition,
But your eyes are the demons haunting you***
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
for a split second,
the TV screen turned red,
followed by a shrill beep.
it was a small glitch,
too small to be noticeable,
so the television stayed.
the longer she watched it,
the more often it turned red,
the longer the high-pitched beep.
but she could never predict
when the glitch would happen,
and she waited for it to be normal.
eventually, she adjusted
to a perpetually red screen
and an irritating, shrill hum
until her friend came in,
asking why the screen was red
and where the noise was coming from.
she brushed it off,
claiming it was a glitch.
the screen stayed that way,
and the hum persisted.
her eyes slowly became weary,
and her ears started ringing.
her friend took her away.
her eyes and ears got a break,
and she saw a different screen,
one of many colors, showing life
in its beautiful and tragic moments.
she heard vivid, rich, musical voices.
she went back to her television,
exhausted, trying in vain to fix it,
but it would not change,
no matter how hard she tried.
questions bloomed in her mind
until it suddenly dawned on her.
this was never a glitch.
it was a complete malfunction.
her heart and head were pounding
as she held an antenna to her chest.
it weighed her arms down,
but she threw it across the room.
it crashed into the television,
and the screen went black.
the hum stopped, and all was quiet
except for her loud breathing.
she wept as relief washed over her
and she lay down, content at last.
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 12:09 AM UTC
I could feel the steel when you grit your teeth.
Robotic limbs pull me into tangled wires
that I wrapped myself in for comfort.
Believing that you were capable of love
was my biggest malfunction.
And I prayed to a mechanical universe
for some sign of your emotion.
Maybe I am the one
with a few screws loose.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC
Someone’s world jumped
onto a cold set of tracks
at Jamaica station
early last week.
Someone’s world jumped
into the universe next door,
leaving us all for
being too human.
At the time,
I was trapped at Penn Station.
A pain spread
about my stomach
like a pen pressed against
a sheet of looseleaf.
MTA officials made announcements,
calling it a mechanical malfunction.
9 to 5 businessmen in
deep black suits with bluetooth headsets
groaned and bargained
for passage home,
ready to ride
through a stranger's graveyard.
Little kids ran through shops,
fingers sticky with frozen yogurt
and popcorn- surprise treats
used as pacifiers.
I sat in a well known coffee shop
pondering life and death.
The word suicide didn’t hurt
like it used to, but I felt
connected to this stranger.
I thought about
that person’s lover,
that person’s sister,
that person’s mother,
that person’s friend.
I thought about how
all of their galaxies stirred and switched gears.
A planet of theirs- tremendous or trifling in their own imagination-
collapsed and changed the course of everything.
I wondered if their galaxy halted and
each star and planet mourned or
if their galaxy smoothed over the craters
and dodged all the meteors and
didn’t even blink.
My galaxy shifted and
clouds laid thick.
Stars dimmed their lights in harmony.
A few years ago
or even a few months ago,
I would’ve cried
and thought
about following this
stranger to train station heaven.
But now,
I thought about
my sister’s galaxy,
my mother’s galaxy,
my best friend’s galaxy.
Now,
I felt sadness
but I also felt love.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Temptations have left me forsaken
but my will was only shaken
shortly leaving some mistaken
that I would falter to the poison of my generation
I seek salvation
In a place built upon degradation
I pick at the foundation
Wishing for a system malfunction
The gears have given me an allergen
The pushed solution cut with acetaminophen
To numb the blind into oblivion
A wise man seems much like an alien
Corruption rises as the population lays down
Praising kings without a crown
Pasting plastic smiles over the town
This massive break from reality has really paid off
The fruits we'll never see and rich we'll never be
No matter how much cash you receive
Consider your soul far out of reach
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 5:48 PM UTC
An Imaginary Meeting
In the Forest of Forgetting
Another Excuse to Get High
Her Tongue Is Like a Jellyfish
Organical Mechanical
Nocturnal Experimental
Technology out of Control
A Night Like No one else Has Seen
-
Rebellion in Module Seven
Tabernacle of Illusion
Significant Deviation
The Catacomb Simulation
Psychedelic Liberation
Psychedelic Generation
Human Race Is in Extinction
Neurosynaptic Malfunction
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 2:54 PM UTC
I
Fanciful and then the first notice of
suspended mouth corners,
fleeing gravity with invisible strings,
sloppily synchronize in giggles.
II
A glance at the shore horizon,
widening into chasm,
Erebus leaking
ominously—
oh but the raft
is far too small!
oh and flimsy!
surely the shadows
will ravage
the branches
and pull this
neurotically
euphoric contraption
below.
III
glazed malfunction
blurred and hazed
for lack of clarity
billowing surges
mold as magnets inandout
and in andoutandinandout again
fades in before
melting again to
disjointed gestures
in a multicolored backdrop
IV
Skeletal architectures
return from a hysterical
awareness of ****** intricacy—
And discussion is,
of course,
forever precluded
for fear of relapse
and embarrassment.
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 1:55 PM UTC
10 Years of Discretion
9 Months of Persecution
8 Semesters of Imitation
7 Weeks of Affliction
6 Days of Temptation
5 Hours of drug Consumption
4 Minutes of thought Malfunction
3 Moments of Desperation
2 Seconds until Eradication
1 Life of Lacrimation
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
My Life is a Scratched CD (OR Blue Collar Lament- The Little Napper Remix)
Lines taken from poems by JM Romig (Ursa Somniculosa/CD Skipping Down Route 11) and Ryan Kinney (Blue Collar Lament)
It's long drive on this highway
The window creeks
- its jagged way down
I breathe in the new air for the first time in months
the CD starts skip-skip words
Hopping over - lines
Reminding me
Of finite fuel
repeat-
finite time
With work looming just hours away
repeat-
Death, just decades away
I spend most of my week
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
on repeat
in a semi-conscience trance
watching multi-million dollar machines work
repeat
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
is a constellation of dirt, chipped paint
and cobwebs
forming the shape
of a bear
lounging in a hammock
skip
They are more alive than I am.
Monday at 3 PM I click off my brain,
switch on automatic,
repeat
automatic
skip
- the countdown:-T-minus 40 hours.
Each minute that ticks by
in the dull monotony slowly steals my sanity,
bit by bit
Each minute closer to Friday
slower and slower,
until on Friday they seem to tick
backwards--
skip
I have coworkers
who insist that it's a monkey,
trapped in a net
Each day blurs into the other
making them indistinguishable.
Repeat-
My finite time
Monday,
the entirety of the previous week
on repeat-
T-minus 40 hours.
skip
they are wrong.
It's clearly a bear
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat-
Death - just decades away.
The dictator they put in charge of the asylum
barks out commands on cue,
just to remind everyone that they own you.
skip
The desperation for dollars
are the shackles that keep me here.
I often welcome sleepwalking:
I think of Emerson
On repeat-
Skip-
I think I feel like his transparent eyeball
repeat-
His eyeball-
I begin to understand
I begin to feel like I'm one with everything
skip-
everyone is love
repeat
love
every-Everyone is me
and you
skip-skip
-the impending coma
In the few instances the machines malfunction
I curse being awakened.
At least as a zombie, I don't feel
my mind rotting
repeat
the rotting constellation of dirt,
chipped paint and cobwebs:
Ursa Somniculosa
No matter where I am on the floor,
I can see him hanging there in his hammock
on the weekends I love life.
I shed the identity the uniform has forced upon me
and my true self emerges--
repeat
my finite fuel
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat
the desperation for dollars
I truly only live two days a week
repeat
my finite time
I'm dying the other five
skip-skip
I think of Ursa Somniculosa -
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
enjoying his perpetual vacation
maybe sipping on a nice tall beer
soaking up the sun -
NOT being a trapped monkey
like all of us down here
on repeat
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
If morning was
too brief to trim
those pine tree prickles
off of your lower limbs, it's okay.
Step 1: ***** hose.
After a mirror's
glance, you will be tempted to panic.
Step 2: Stay calm. Peel
the dead animal
off the side of your cheek.
Let the hairbrush
paste the fly-aways
into a hot, greased bun.
How easy it is
to experience a wardrobe malfunction.
Remember to keep it simple.
Step 3: Slip on
that black pencil skirt,
the polyester one--not
the leather.
No one needs to know
that you were up late
watching sitcom reruns. Remove
the screaming purple rings.
Step 4: make-up. Base
is your friend.
You are now prepared.
Smear on
your finest ruby red
lips, and tuck in
your leopard-print
bra strap.
Step 5: Strut your
stuff. Retail has never seen
such class.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
A nocturnal ******** I have found out
is testament to a brain strain
not a main vein malfunction.
Not a lack of virility, vitality is ingrained.
I found out watching late
night TV, potency for
potency, they said ,scientifically
is not a wee thing, but
can be bought and will last for days
if you buy this Androzine.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
Take secrets
Sprint out the door
Burglar alarm malfunction
Wrong turn at a junction
Machetes cut a new path
Do the math
It isn't that hard
To draw the right card
I throw in rhymes
So maybe you'll listen sometimes.
All these things happened
I try to piece them together
To answer: why can't I find a single feather?
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC