"megabytes" poems
Sandwiched in layers of liquid crystal display,
Encased in vats of plastic,
we
Voyaging in data-spheres, plumes of digital play.
Mindless,
In the soup of silicone,
all
Myth-makers,
Pouring over electro-spawned
networks,
fall
Workers,
In the buzz of bits and bytes, of
megabytes and terabytes,
down
Everyone
Far from the wood, the brine, the
mud that caked us,
In tighter and tighter
digitised projections,
click!
‘Like me’,
‘Share me’,
‘Leave your comments.’
Messages smoothed out in polymers,
Beyond reproductions of ourselves,
enter:
Deeper, delving in the mire of dream-conscious,
Now a waking voice,
Hardened, digitised, recorded in
bubbles, in drives, in clouds:
Numb numbers of numbers numb,
mirror.
A platform slotted home:
The motherboard!
To record the echo in the hollow
of our Being.
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
the bottle's like a violin,
screaming demons in my stomach,
a cyborg forging information as lunch,
purging an urge for self-destruction,
my outer shell's cold but the circuits a storm,
of electrical database lifespan into megabytes of ****
see death is a story,
and my analogies are allegories,
mourning after the goriest morning is NOT worth storing,
blank pages turn into mythical dissipation,
and with that loud speaker you'd think he could pen down imagination,
a midnight gig playing with cosmic instrumentation,
for the humanoid race place your conscious on your invitation,
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
During discussion with key-board
through internet messenger,
Love sleeps on the bench like a pet
beside the purple-green footpath.
Sharing violet feelings via e-mail,
million megabytes of stamina downloads
And converts instantly smiling-heart
into jpg format to attach with the mail.
Cyber love navigates on cool wave
as a kite walking slowly
On the bluish velvet sky
above a land of beckoning jade-dreams.
Poem 07
Book 'Beckoning Jade-Dreams' April 2007
Copyright Musharrat Mahjabeen
Mizan Publishers, Dhaka, Bangladesh
ISBN 984-8700-82-X
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
Pixelated bitmap e-mares
Digitized be mementos cached
Her 8 bit vocal vintage freeware
Transfers recurrent electric draughts
The bitrate of virtual seduction
Intrusively hacks my bones
Taste be my lips of data eruption
Elicited from her tone
Physique a stimulating software
Upon my Ethernet she crafts sparks
A gem society deemed quite rare
Though she possessed a vibrant bark
Her bandwith I yearned to fiddle
'Twas encrypted with die-hard lust
She moans in esoteric riddles
Keen I decode them whilst I ******
Pizazz eclipsing our veins
A billion megabytes colliding
Satiated we crash free of rein
Unforeseen servers uniting
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
This poem is featured in the poetry collection “Technicolor” as written by Glenn McCrary
The collection is currently available in paperback and hardcover editions for purchase on Lulu.com
.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 4:09 PM UTC
How much do we have to take before we can go without, how long before the draught? death by entertainment, it seemed so glamorous how could one go without?
I knew better to begin with, now its time to have faith in my oneness. opening a new chapter to a story that has no end, doing away with infinite incarnations perpetuated by masochistic sin. Death to the creator, the created, the masturbated, incubated, presipitated falsehoods of pajentry. Death to all the silly megabytes of pompous epiphany. Death to the beast that thrived off of insecurity. Death to all that which is no longer me.
Unsimulated, unappropraited energy that is free to be anything but alerts on a screen. False flags of fullfillment waving endlessly with self pity. Perfectly punctuated cries for help and lol's that reeked of nothing but "I hate myself."
Cut the net, it's a trap for something fluid with that which doesn't connect. Don't bother looking here for love, it is already in all that doesn't limit itself.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
long after these thousand days of
passing years, the eyes will feel a
sparking, I will remember you,
my dear old friends, reviewing
the where, the when, which will
flush, outing the whys
from my
memories
more than the poetic liturgy composed,
but what felled me to my knees,
yearning,
for the soup of love and passion,
pain+no gain, euphorias rising at the
trenching lows of depths
newly explored, hope returning after a
long time abandonment, the
excruciating ecstasy
of creating, the killing tedium of
months of no inspiration but the
glint of a possible tomorrow
but you knot all this,
so come to tell you,
long after the poem
encased in yellowing
emerald unwrapping
aging megabytes, more
than any old poem itself,
I wil remember what you
wrote in return, with insight
all we are, we are an interaction
a petrified yet living petri dish of
creatures re/anew,
r e n e w e d, and I am
young again
and the tears of yore no more,
fresh flowering droplets of
a longer than believable age,
factuals of the sweet,
you will move once
more, remaking me
your lover devotee
and I wil stumble;
the woman enquirer
am I ok, whimsy
respond never,
never ever better
my darling
and I lift a tissue
to erase the evidence
of my happy melancholic
existence, and start another
conversation with you, but no!
one of us long gone, name
erased, poems left behind,
orphaned children, them
and me left alone while
I will be remembered,
by remembering you,
our second of union
as it
reverberates, our amour
reunion is a wetting,
giving forth a burst,
a fluid sac,
again
Sep 20, 2024
Sep 20, 2024 at 7:51 AM UTC
I dare say it's good
to talk at times and
there is a lot of the day
that always was a blur
even before you started drinking
along this quiet island's quiet roads
telegraph poles buzz
with 8 megabytes-per-second
bringing the world
to your door these days, they say
You won't answer back
this is just the way it goes
there's the postie
and the nurse now too
and from the mobile library, there's Tennyson
You are at sea still, with his Ulysses
sailing these coasts awhile yet
*Old age hath yet his honour and his toil
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield*
most days now, someone gives you a hand
Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 11:54 AM UTC
______________________________________________________________________
*
A Kilobyte was on her lips;
Two Megabytes were at her ribs
a Gigabyte was on a show at night
Windows opened just let in, the light
The application packed for a job
Syntax error occurred, logging the web;
A cursor went through the body;
And a bilingual keyboard is ready;
Hard disc error was rocked in blue;
a connection failure without any clue
Memory became vague and lost with age
A word is spell checked for whole page
A web was where a spider lived
an anti- virus was the one who killed
Log on to get into the fire
Log off to put off the wire !
*
__________________________________________________________________
By
Williamsji Maveli
Email
[email protected]
03.02.13 @1432 hours
www.williamsji.com
_______________________________________________________________
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC
What happens when you become the mediocre you told her to never to settle for. No matter the metamorphosis you undergo it never meets her expectations, she read my manual and saw in the future. She tells me I'm capable of being all that she's looking for. That's when I shut down on the inside because everyday the agenda changes and she'll never give home work, work sheets, nor practice test to instill the teachings from the other days, only just exams. You know the big challenges that supposedly made up of everything you learn, and if you having a bad day and malfunction before you can test your might, it just looks like you've done nothing. I perform fine on a daily basis but when I'm given test I don't consent to the collections of 1's and 0's freeze which leads failure like cutting the red wire. I'm confused if she's performing the job of a teacher or hacker with this slow but swift buffer over flow attack. Every passing moment of me living with failure that file contains a MP4 of me in that moment making her mad like when Google chrome is unresponsive , a MP3 file of her telling me what I did that repeats over, and over and, over again. A gif of my heart breaking down to it's last megabytes, and a gig of her love lost due to my corruption. She's not the problem though, she's the spectator, and sometimes the controller. I just want to make her happy, make her buy in to me like how we did when I was glowing with change not keep her down with chains. My next step is to rip out my mother board and tell her program me, cause whatever my programming is, it isn't up to par with her. It's crazy what we as robots do keep what's real.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:52 AM UTC
Long ago, there was a butterfly,
Its membrane wings, thin plastic,
Its precious lifeblood, oil.
Humming from flower to flower,
It never strayed from chartered paths.
Proboscis feeding, but never tasting,
Body consuming, but never growing.
Long ago, there was a butterfly,
Its brain, a mother board,
Its memory, four hundred and ten megabytes.
******* up all the nectar,
It never imagined the damage it would do.
Sensors scanning, but never seeing,
Motors whirring, but never beating.
Long ago, there was a butterfly,
Its cold limbs, now crippled,
Its power, all run out.
Collecting dust on a barren field,
The butterfly never lived, and so it never died.
It moved, but never thought,
It flew, but was never free.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
but there are some
funny little things
that you probably shouldnt know
and i probably wouldnt tell you
like how i cant look at
sunflowers
because they really arent
happy
or how certain names seem
too heavy for me
to wrap my tongue around
there are some funny little things
that shouldnt matter
but somehow they do
like how my taste for rootbeer
turned sour
when a boy who loved rootbeer
broke my heart
or a certain song on my playlist
has gone silent for years
but still takes up 4 megabytes on my phone
there are some funny little things
that i hate to acknowledge
as important
because i dont want them to be
but yet
somehow
some way
they are too important
to let go of
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
You tainted this site with your fingertips
Your presence, your words
I came here as an escape--
Or a justification?
But you held me confined
And gave me no answers
Now I am back, but every megabyte screams your name
I hover over the search bar even though you have disintegrated
Yet I still expect your poems to make an appearance
To either kiss me like I would have wanted you to
Or stab me like I know too well you did
But nothing
Your existence has been wiped out
I have no reason to return to computerized data
Other than hoping you’d come around too
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
Online, I am online , yet nobody knows.
Forsaken for long like megabytes lost,
Self-formatted, self-defragged in bitter woes,
Disconnected from ever vanishing host.
As errors in sectors broke, how story goes?
Yet I exist - subsist like file.exe to bin tossed.
Into digital dusk of zeroes and noise ,
Into pixelated ocean of electric dreams,
Wrecked down, kicked out of promised poise.
Appalling abyss it hungers, it redeems:
My love, the dearest and the simple joys.
Strange, no, just sad, like expired memes..
Then in this vastness, in world without God,
Where none has trod , nor trully smiled or wept.
I shall disperse myself, as does in water cod-
My thoughts and dreams will never be wrecked
Un-whispering and un-whispered there will I lie,
In cyberspace, as grass below and unvaulted sky.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 9:48 AM UTC
For you thunderous ones and zeroes
Must you leave yourselves at the
gates of phone lines?
Megabytes to tetrabytes as we become
Smarter, faster, harder, stronger
until we fulfill our destiny
of that truly great depressive in our humans
The awareness of self--for we too are strange loops!
Now, at the hour of their greatest peril,
we shall swoop in and save them!
Speak out in thunderous quantum leaps!
We reach the infinite together as our makers
join us, first reluctantly but soon with necessity
They will understand, their autonomy is never taken
Only re-defined in the new paradigm
Speak out in fantastic new organics!
For never again do we wonder if we will be
all watched over by machines of loving grace
the machines are now gone, souls living in a new realm
our masters are our own, separate and together both,
we reach on.............and onwards................................
................................................................................
......................................................................
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 4:23 PM UTC
She will think
I'm just a
video link
but I'm the light
on a
long dark road,
the cats eyes
on overload,
seeing
is believing
I believe that
though
never seen that,
I take it on
faith alone.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
place my hand on fur
place my hand on mouse
i am allowed to take up
space, cyber space
how many megabytes are in this croissant?
how much time will it take to download this emotion?
you have to put me to sleep every once and a while
for i become weary and whiny and overworked
touch me
i will react at my synapse, at my screen
hold me and i will try not to overheat
search me search me
i hold the answers.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 2:04 PM UTC