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Technology, Technology
It runs our lives
From the alarm to the evening TV
Just count your sheep
in the hopes of a six hour sleep
Dragging, pushing, poking and grinding
All for what? A day where we swing away?
Reminise and rewind our lives gone astray
All our friends are easily connected
So why do we feel so alone
Looking for love on a computer screen
We’re all ******* with the naturalist gene
Nature’s monitored via tv screens
With copious numbers of LCD’s, CD’s, Mp3’s to sail the seas
Heaven forbid the ******* sneeze
That’s technology you can’t see.
anastasiad Dec 2016
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Dorothy A Aug 2010
Phone in your home
Phone with you on the road
Three way connections
Incoming calls, not one, but another-aka call waiting
Phones with caller ID
Cordless phones
Hands free phones
Toothy phones sticking out of people's ears
Picture phones...say cheese!
Phone texting instead of talking
Hello? I cannot hear you!

Television and movies in your home
DVD players in your car
Watch those images on your computer
Watch them on your cell phone
Television in the airport
Television in the restaurant
Television at the gas pump
Television in the grocery store line
What's next? Television in the operating room?

Music on your home stereo
Music on your car radio
Store it all on your traveling ipod
Melodious cell phone rings everywhere
Your mp3 player and new computer speakers
Your favorite cable music channels
And plenty of music blasted in the stores
Can't I just have a thought to myself?

Don't forget computers!
Instant messaging
Junk mail in cyberspace
All your shows and movies
always at your instant access
Computer dating
Computer stalkers and hacking
Computer crashes I foresee
because computer bugs and viruses
are trying to invade my soul!
And I feel sick!

I can't get that music out of my head!
I think my ears are ringing!
You've heard of couch potatoes
I think I'm a mouse potato!
How is that for a human spud?
Yes, I admit I'm addicted to my PC!
That I spend more time with technology
than I do with the human race!

I should be burnt out
like old hardware
that is on extreme overload
Not made of wires and steel
but of flesh and blood
I am designed!

But I can't stop!!!

The technology of the future is now here!
I know what George Jetson was saying when he said:
JANE! GET ME OFF THIS CRAZY THING!
anastasiad Dec 2016
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I was at the bar big ******* surprise I know .
The pub was empty well aside from a few selected drunks but really there more like a modern art display that has to **** more than a toddler .

I sat there good Irish coffee in one hand laptop upon the bar my normal morning ritual
No I wasn't looking at **** I'm kidding of course I was duh what goes better with coffee then watching total strangers ******* a circus ****** but enough about family programming.

I had decided to take a change of pace no I wasn't watching barnyard babes instead get your mind out of the gutter you ******'s who do you think I am the owner of this site?
No I decided to swing by my true stomping ground the true home of Gonzo Hello .

I as always stopped by to check the tombstones of my amigos now long since passed .
They were all there on full display a reminder of a past I truly cant forget.
Then I decided to check out the new who's who of the new Hello .

There poems about Mom and Dad and that first crush and other assorted high school horseshit
that was as about as interesting as watching a marathon of twilight backed up by that closet case
Harry Potter honestly I thought that was a great **** name .

Just then I herd a school bus with it's annoying *** air brakes come to a halt outside the Pub
The doors flew open and fifty or so hobbits came wandering in the bar dear lord was it some sort of strike?

Hey there Gonzo I'll take a Bud Light and a bag of chips please.
Want a coloring book to go along with that Bilbo?
Hey look grandpa just do your dam job and get me a  beer okay?

This strange little hamster must have fallen out of his crib and cracked his skull on his power ranger if he thought I was some sort of man servant I swear do these little ***** get there manners ?
I looked at the group of micro mini people thinking deep and long  and sort of ruff with a slap on the **** before I dared to reply.

Okay you little ******* I'll bite but not that hard just who the hell are you and what in the **** are you doing here?
Were the new in crowd of the site were poets father time!

After almost laughing myself to death I decided to entertain the little hamsters .
Okay short stack but before you ask we don't serve milk and cookies and nap time is whenever you hit the floor.

Hey what's with this stupid *** jukebox there's nothing but music on here done by people who actually play music duh what kind of **** is this.
I believe it's actually called music or as your generations rappers like to call it three mile.
Samples to talk over to your generations ****** music.

Hey old man you better watch it what you hate rap?
No I don't hate rap I hate your rap  by the way number seven your banana split is ready.
Hey I got to pay the bills somehow people I haven't had costumers in like five years .

Look Gonz the leader of the diaper gang  spoke up.
I know were younger but we have a right to be here as well were just trying to express areselves and share are work is that so wrong.

The Jim Jones wanna be had a valid point but I honestly didn't care for my mind was on a much deeper subject the music played as in the corner four little mini ******* hotties in school girl outfits
danced away to some sort of teenage ***** they called music.

I was lost in my thoughts of um like deep poetic **** it's to deep for you to grasp .
I'm kidding I was just watching the show thinking hey I don't have to pay for this?

Gonz hey Gonz earth to Gonz  .
Well everybody I tried I guess we better leave I don't think he's interested  in us having a
open mic  poetry night.

The music had stopped and the mini ***** were almost out the door but like some perverted ninja
I stopped them before they reached it.
Hey what's this I don't want to hear a open mic night duh I'm all about hearing your poetry
especially these little stripper poetry were do you all work I just love your costumes .

Um there are school uniforms pervert the one replied .

Hey look Gonzo It's  cool man we'll just be gone I mean you don't want to serve us and all.
I had to think  fast there leader was talking them almost out the door and I really couldn't afford
another kidnapping charge yet again don't ask.

Hey wait gang I was just ******* with you hell drinks on me what's your name Brittney Veronica Kelly hell it doesn't matter just pull yourself up a high chair and name your  poison.
What will it be beer wine crystal **** I know how you kids love that **** Brittney maybe you'd like a smooth roofie margarita I make the best in town just ask Lily .

Hey man what about that jukebox ?
I pulled out my trusty 38 the everyone hit the floor   as the sound blasted through the room worse than Justin Bieber getting **** ****** in county.
Oh baby baby Nooooo but enough with the foreplay children.

Honestly I never knew a power wheels could go that fast .

***** that jukebox amigo that's what mp3 players are for  .
I blasted some sort of strange music and poured the drinks as the hobbits began to
lose themselves in sort of twisted movements they called dancing dear lord man
they could really hold there drugs .

Then came there spoken poetry crap slash wet T shirt contest .
The party was a mad mad scene  like MTV's real world except with actual humans .

The mini strippers slash go go dancers were just about to get on the bar when all the sudden the doors flew open and the dark Lord himself once again stood in pub.

The room went as silent as when a semi  insane hillbilly on a **** TV show does a interview
and people find out he really is a backwards dip **** .
The dark lord spoke Gonzo!

A voice from under the bar spoke up he's not here *******.
Gonzo get your drunken *** from under that bar before I make my man servant come get you.

I popped up faster than a seventy year old man on ****** .

Hey boss how's it been dam you look great can I get you a drink hey have you been working out?
Look you halfwit clean this party out right now I could ban right this very moment .
Hey now look Adolf I was trying to connect with the hip new younger crowd is all because
I believe that a young mind is a terrible thing not to be totally wasted .

Seize him the dark lord called out to his staff of four halfwits .
I fought hard but eventually feel to the powers of those lady truck drivers let me tell you
those ******* fight ***** it was almost like getting *****  ****** if only I hadn't forgot my whistle.

Beaten shaken without my speak being slurred I was handcuffed and taken away .
And as I was being taken out the door a young little hamster spoke .
Hey Gonzo can I have your laptop yeah kids there real wise ***** sometimes.

The young hamsters all sat outside the pub as I was loaded up in the pinto hey poetry doesn't pay kids.

Goodbye Gonzo we'll miss you said one of the stripper students whatever the **** they were.
Goodbye little ***** I'll think about you often well I mean as long as I can remember.

I watched as the kids were scattered to the wind and my Pub was destroyed .
As I was taken away riding into the sunset like some outlaw in the back of a really ****** car.

Was this the end for are brain dead hero?
Would Hello finally see the demise of the legend slash guilty pleasure of Hello.
Would Timmy finally get out of that well to question his own sexuality?

Would this write ever ******* end?

Tune In next week for the exiting conclusion kids.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming .

Stay Crazy.

                                                         ­           Fin
Lucky Queue Oct 2012
Blip. Blip. Blip
In the black of my room a red light pulses langorously on my phone
Steady green and blue lights and a rapid orange define the router across the room
Red digital numbers stand in the place of the clock
At precisely 6:00 am my alarm goes off(a deranged rooster entrapped in my phone)
A flick of a finger dismisses the crowing and the day has begun
After dressing and any other trivial task, I  am headed downstairs
A chik of the toaster
One beepbeepbeep of the microwave
More digital numbers, this time green, indicate that my bus comes shortly and I dash off
The headlights of the bus announce its presence half a block before it halts and the doors jerkily slide open
I text Graham from five feet away, because I don't yet know enough sign language
On the bus the driver may make an announcement, various lights and a few wires around her seat
School starts with a bell and the mindless herd shuffles in
The hallways bustle with the noise of teenagers chatting noisily, ipods playing, cells buzzing, beeping, texting
Homeroom and every period after is marked by a bell before and after until the last bell, freeing us from our institution of education
Now everyone is really alive and the clammer of sounds is three times as loud as the morning.
On the bus all but the most obnoxious are silent, closed off in their little world of a cellphone, ipod, or mp3
The kids file on and off the bus, only waking from their technology induced zombification to rapidly vocalize with their friends
Once I get home microwave humms as food is reheated or quickly cooked
The rice cooker is prepped and light flips on when plugged into the wall
Coffee maker may be set, and if my dad is home, his workspace is humming and light-pulsing as well
Brother and sisters argue over which tv show to watch or first computer turn while I'm wrapped up in my world of texting homework and poetry
Mom arrives from school and dinner is made
Stove humming loud and food stirfryed
Dinner no blips beeps or pulses matter, just the clinking of silverware and conversation
Afterwards, faucet runs dishes clattering while I wash
Imersion resumes and videos, games, and homework take over until bed
Teeth are brushed, pajamas donned, and members of this family mess around in bedroom before slowly transitioning to bed, and then sleep
So ends another day for me in the 21st century
Eternal Envy Dec 2015
Ang sarap pakinggan ng mga kanta sa
Radyo
Mp3 Player
Tv o kahit saan mo pa yan nariinig
Masarap pakinggan lalo na pag damang dama mo
Iba't ibang klase ang mararamdaman mo pag makikinig ka sa mga kanta
Malungkot,masaya,naiiyak,natatawa,kinikilig,naiinis
Masarap­ kumanta lalo na pag ikaw lang mag-isa kasi walang nakakarinig sayo

Pero mas kumanta kung kasama  mo yung taong inaalayan mo nito
Yung taong minsan kang pinsaya
Yung taong minsan kang pinalungkot
Yung taong minsan kang pinaiyak
Yung taong minsan kang pinakaba
Yung taong minsan kang pinatawa

Pero pano kung yung taong inalayan mo ng kanta
minsan kang pinasaya
minsan kang pinalungkot
minsan kang pinakaba
minsan kang pinatawa
Eh nawala na

Paano na
Ano gagawin mo
Ano pang kakantahin mo
Ano iisipin **** paraan para bumalik siya

Kapag naririnig mo yung kantang minsan niyong kinanta ng sabay nalulunkot ka,naiiyak,naiinis kasi pinakawalan mo siya
Iniwan ka niya
Iniwan ka
Iniwan

Yan yung mga salitang mariririnig mo kapag makikinig ng mga kanta
Music is life
Aa Harvey Mar 2019
MP3 guaranteed


I tore a hole into the darkness,
Found the presents, gonna regret this.
No surprises, faking selfies,
Happy families, searching memories.


Painting photo’s in the cosmos,
Letting go of red balloons.
Coming soon to your television room,
3D TV, dumb-watches, MP3 and digital zoom.


Whatever you tweet is not my concern.
Forward in time, mobile internet burns.
One last threshold ready to cross,
Sign your name on the dot, dot, dot.


(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Dust Bowl Jan 2015
I carry my backpack, and the addition thirty pounds of stress that goes along with it.
I carry an MP3 player, filled with 1500 songs that make more sense to me than any math lesson ever has.
I carry a necklace from the 1800's that no one in my family cares enough about to remember who it originally belonged to. We both carry the feeling of being passed along.
I carry a notebook with letters I'll never have the nerve to send. I carry a pen that's been through more with me than any of my friends.
I carry my scraped knees and a tendency to fall to the waste side.
I carry my father's temper like a hot coal in the pit of my stomach. I carry his high expectations and my mother's victim complex. All three of which are, apparently, hereditary.
I carry Chapstick, Neosporin, and band-aids. Because things crack, and things break, and some things tend to cut.
I carry the same mindset as an Oxford comma and a worry of being replaced. We both carry the feeling of not really mattering.
I carry my uncle's divorce, & the way we buried him only a year after the papers were signed. I carry the way his ex wife's grudge is stronger than her children's love for their family.
I carry the dream catcher my dad keeps in his room, the one I got rid of years ago when I realized nothing would keep my nightmares away.
I carry the time my hero had his heart broken and spent the next year at the bottom of a bottle.
I carry the headstone that marks the beginning of my abandonment issues.
I carry a .037 fl oz tube of eyeliner in the hopes that no one will mess with a girl who always looks like she has two black eyes.
I carry a pre-med major that will never make me as happy as it will make my parents. I carry my family's hopes on my back & the way I feel like an emergency room with no more room left for patients.
I carry my best friend's name like an obituary I never got to read. I carry the way his head hit his windshield faster than it ever hit my lap, and the way I've hated sitting in the driver's seat ever since. I carry the way I never want to be invited to another funeral & the way each body they've buried makes me feel like I'm already 6 feet under.
I carry the mattress I slept on as a child. Pink flowers & blue satin & cold sweats detergent couldn't fade. The one I spent an entire afternoon scrubbing bloodstains out of, hoping my mother wouldn't notice when she changed the sheets. She never did, or at least she never asked, and sometimes I still wish she had.
I carry how my friend thinks her high school boyfriend breaking up with her is the worst that could happen, and the way I hope she always does.
A response to "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien (a book I HIGHLY recommend).
Azura Skye Jun 2015
Gotta take a ‘selfie’ before I’m outta bed                                            
Mum calls me down for breaky - Open Facebook up instead        
My sister dobs me in – I tell her to take a hike                      
Quick up load the photo, and hope I getta ‘like’.          

       Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’                                            
Dad says it isn’t healthy, my sister says I’m ‘psych’            

   Take my Ipad into class, gotta get the high score                            
English teachers raving – But poetry’s a bore                            
She catches me on ‘chat room’ and takes away my phone        
Beg my friend for last year’s modal, I gotta getta loan.

Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’                                            
Dad says I should get healthy- I take a gopro on my bike

Grumble to my parents – Life just isn’t fair                                    
I haven’t got my Iphone and no one wants to share                    
Mum doesn’t want to hear it, she has no sympathy                  
  Just as well there’s X-box, and by Mp3

Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’                                                
Don’t tell me to think healthy, I think my brain’s on strike.
Desperado Dan
Is a man with a plan
To cash in a bit of Kensington
On some high grade *****
Cos right now he's got a couple of scores
But not a great deal more to loose

You see, our Dan is a master of the modern day quill
He works an open office, clocking in and out at will
But after reading all the greats from his and every bygone age
He lives in a time where the mp3 subverts the written page

So night and day he hums away
Searching for that hit chorus
And he knows you can't cut corners
When it comes to tanking up on creative juices

A Desperado is larger beer spiked with tequila
Some say it's for scoundrels to make charming girls easier
But our Dan's quest is noble.
He has a dream we'd all like to believe in
He simply wants to do his whole life’s work in just one evening
And a Desperado seems to conjure all six hats within one head
So if two minds are better than one...well, nuff said

He dilutes them at first, pulling the wool over his own eyes
Until, catching reflections on the glass, he sees through the disguise.
And before long you'll find him chugging straight from the bottle
Then, in a blur of paper and pen, Dan writes like there's no tomorrow.

He writes and writes and writes some more
a couplet, a bridge, an underscore
Ploughing verses like trenches through the ****** white paper
Dropping napalms just to see what pops it's head above the wreckage.

Then, surveying the new landscape, he quarries in every direction…

Linearly; because it's most straightforward like that
Circularly; because they used to think the world was flat

Logically; because... Well duh!
Laterally; which gives the brain a stir

Diagonally; some kinda a + b = c rap from back in the day
In reverse; because sometimes we unknowingly face the wrong way

Unapologetically
Down dead ends
Just to see the view

He picks up clichés and looks under them for clues

Desperado Dan
Calls for desperate measures
As the evening wears on
He indulges all his earthly pleasures

And down they go with a Yo ** **
What a ***** desperado!
***** I say! Now he's mixing with ***
Still his pencil flies with a blistered thumb

'E starts to drop 'is H's
And forgets to cross his l's...sorry t's
He paces back and forwards
An he talks like mushy peas

Rummaging frantically through chaotic pockets
Conjunctives falling to the floor
He can't find the word he's after, but who cares? There’s plenty more!
He begins to vengefully split infinitives in two
And hurl metaphors across the kitchen
Sending mountains of ******* up ***** of paper flying
Like snowballs after the thaw
Which slowly melt into puddles of lonely vowels and consonants.
Long after he has gone.

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------

But all that was before the "Doodley Dee"
And his dream came true with a change of key
The song which people can't help to hum
From OAPs to the I-generation
And people hummed it all over
And in all sorts of weather
Until someone decided we should hum it forever.
And they paid Desperado Dan for every hum
Not bad work for a blistered thumb

So now our Dan seems a lot less desperate.
From time to time he evens finds an hour or two to rest a bit
Sitting on the veranda of his studio in the south of France.
Applying the finishing touches to another comedy romance.
Sipping a very fine Sauvignon, no Desperado in sight.

They're all safely packed away in the cellar

Just in case he gets the urge

Late at night.
Dreams of Sepia Oct 2015
Mp3
I seek your legalized ghost -
fold autumn's changing leaves
into my meagre words
& acorns & chestnuts
the way the starlight
dreams of the winter cold
the mill wheel of ***** Mills
the cafes with their chatter
all the things you can no longer see
& the kitchen radio is blasting ' Queen'
your favorite band with their hit
' Will somebody find me somebody to..'
I switch off at the last word
suddenly, just the way you switched off your life
It was recently the 10th anniversary of the day one of my teenage friends  committed suicide aged 21. He was somewhat of a musician & occasionally I still find myself going to his website, listening to his songs & his voice, echoing from the other world to me.
Robdejong Nov 2013
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Simply plug in the beats headphones and run the cord up your arm under your shirt and you'll be running handsfree with your favorite tunes amping you up. Changing playlists adjusting the volume on the run and getting workout data feedback (via shoes enhanced with the Nike+ platform) is a breeze midstride. Hear every note every beat and every detail just as it was intended! The DT 990 features an openback circumaural (overtheear) design for rich audio performance that's designed for critical listening. The open design of the beats by dre headphones allows increased fidelity to the original recording and a more natural sound stage.
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http://www.uhu.es/ISWBlog/blog/?p=44
Big Virge Aug 2020
Can You Feel ... " My Vibe " ... ?
Because Mine's About ...
Connecting Lives ...
Through Use of Rhyme ... !!!

I Think THAT Way ...
Is BETTER Than Fights ... !!!

And BETTER Than WARS ...
Where Blood Stains Floors ... !!!

Kind of Like ... " JAWS " ...

NO ... NOT The SHARK ... !!!!!

That ... BIG ****** ...
Who NEVER Scored ... ?!?
When Trying To **** BOND ... !!!

Well ... " Roger Moore " ... !!!

That Flow Was RAW ...
But Here's Some More ...

I'm Vibing' NOW ...
To ... African Sounds ... !!!

Those Words Are TRUE ...
I'm Writing THIS PIECE ...
in ... My Front Room ...

LATE At Night ...
Whilst Playing Tunes ...

TUNES That Made Me ...
Vibe And Write A Piece About ...
Some LATE NIGHT Vibes ...

Here's ... " The Scene " ... !!!

I'm Kinda ... " LEAN " ...

KNOW What I MEAN ... !?!

I've Just Eaten Some Food I Like ... !!!
Bolognese ... That Went Down NICE ... !!!

It's Sunday Night ...
Well Monday Morning ...
But I'm NOT Yawning ... !!!

I'm ADORNING ... Pen To Page ...
At A ... FRIGHTENING RATE ... !!!

It's REALLY Late ... !!!
But Now My Pen ...
Has Met The Page ...

TRUST ME Folks ...

The VIBE Is GREAT ... !!!

WRITING Makes Me FEEL This Way ... !!!
PACK Your Troubles FAR AWAY ... !!!!!

And Let My Words KEEP YOU Engaged ... !!!
With Wordplay FIT For ... ANY Stage ... !!!

NO TIME For RAGE.
Just HAPPINESS As I DISPLAY ...
HAPPY Vibes Like SUNNY Days ... !!!!!

I'm In A Maze of Mental Haze ...

My Use of Phrase ...
May Seem ... MISPLACED ... ?!?

But Come INSIDE My State of Mind ...
I'm Simply Writing Using Rhyme ...
To VIBE With ... YOU ...
Right Here ... TONIGHT ... !!!

See I'm ... In The FUTURE ... !!!
Whilst In ... The NOW ... !!!

I've Changed My Position ...
Whilst ... Sitting Down ...

Can You ... " Visualise " ... ?
Are You FEELING The Vibe ... ?

Can You FEEL My Pen ... ?
As I ... Transcribe ... ?

This Piece Is CRAZY Like My Mind ...
When It's CLEAR To Think of Rhymes ... !!!

A Tune's Come On ...
Called ... " HAPPINESS " ...

Music Helps Me Feel LESS Stressed ... !!!
Just Like When ... My Pen Transcends ........

At Times Like THIS ...
I Feel ... GOD BLESSED ... !!!

I CAN'T Fulfil What's In My Will ... !!!
To ... Make You SMILE ... !!!

Are You Feeling The Words ...
I Have ... Compiled ... ???

THIS HAS To Go In My ... " Top Five " ... !!!
I've Written LOADS So That's ALRIGHT ... !!!!
Tunes Are Running ... PROPER NICE ... !!!!!

I Finished The Tape Late On Last Night ...
And Now It's DONE I Understand WHY ... !!!
The Tape Is PROPER On BOTH Sides ... !!!

******* Stuff And ... " Softer Vibes " ...
I've Made Tapes Since I Was A Child ...

NOT CD's or MP3's ... !!!!!
I'm OLD School Man ...
Are You Feeling Me ... ?!?

I'm COOL With NEW Technology ...
But Feel It's Something I DON'T NEED ... !!!

I NEED Good Vibes And Hip Hop Rhymes ... !!!
Rhymes That SOMETIMES BLOW My Mind ... !!!!!!

I'm Writing NOW ...
ACROSS The Lines of My Notepad ... !!!

The Page AIN'T Moving Like I'm GROOVING ... !!!
My Writings' Though ... KEEP On IMPROVING ...
Just Like My Vocal Chords KEEP SOOTHING ... !!!!!

Ladies KNOW My Voice Is Moving ...
Through The .... AIR ...............................

Are You Prepared For More Wordplay ...
Ladies ... Can I Take You There ... ???

Feminine Vibes Are ... OH SO NICE ... !!!
When We Incline To INTERTWINE ...
Our Bodies Souls And INNER MINDS ... !!!!!

SENSUAL ... ****** Touch SO GENTLE .........
Girls ... THAT STUFF Is INSTRUMENTAL ... !!!

In Our .... SEARCH ....
For Relationships That WORK ... !!!

This Style of Rhyme Is Built To FIND ...
A Place of LOVE And POSITIVE VIBES ... !!!

I'm Thinking Have I Got More Time ... ???
To Share More VIBES Within My Mind ...
It Would Seem NOT Man That's A CRIME ... !!!!!

My Vibe Though Folks Is STILL ALIVE ... !!!!!
While I Sit At Home And Write ...
This Piece of Prose On Sunday Night ...

Well ... Monday Morning ...
The Date Is Now ...

“ The Seventh of the Eleventh " ...
... " Two Thousand and Five " ...

So Folks Did You ENJOY The Ride ... ?
Well NOW It's Time To Say GOOBYE ...
And YES ... Goodnight ... !!!

But Do THIS For Me Folks ...

PLEASE .... FEEL MY ....

.……… " VIBES " ………..
LISTEN HERE : https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/vibes/s-KdNAE
Gayle Bell Sep 2012
Blues Haiku

Freddie King’s guitar
Waits for a big leg woman
Fishnets adorn mine


Self Portrait LIII
Reading street hieroglyphics
comfortable in it’s dark caress
Buildings like promises
Broken and lost
The wheels spinning
My mp3 jazz loop
Sing that skit skat baby
The things I tell my pillow makes it blush

Self Portrait 54
Weekend
Books at half mast
Reading a book on Af Am essays
Wondering what happened to
The ‘Dream”
Monday
Listening to Bob Segar and Snoop
Tatas at attention mode
Bopping to the
Unemployment office
to see a lady about a check
and a “Dream Deferred”
I continue to be amused &
Captivated by Gabriel García Márquez,
His Love in the Time of Cholera,
Captivating me still.
His simple use of the name
“Bolívar,” por ejemplo.
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There is something uniquely Latin
About life in Latin America,
Once again, stating the obvious
For all the media-slain retards
Hovering around me.
Their never-ending enthrallment
With Strong Men,
Particularly when strength is
A measure of one’s honor,
Hizzoner,
Your honor,
To wit: Honor Killings.
In practice, a sober demonstration
Of the theory as it is practiced.
Americans—with swarthy exceptions—
Do unfavorably view most of us who
Can trace our ancestry to Southern Europe.
“Southern European,”
Itself a vicious racial slur,
And remains so north of Eboli,
No surprise that Christ stopped there,
According to Carlo Levi, writing off the
Il Mezzogiorno, beyond redemption.
Southern European:
Smug words you make them eat,
Throwing Greco-Roman Civilization
Up into their faces.
Athens & Rome--
Epitomes of culture and class--
Patricians, of course, yet
Skifoso bragging rights for all those
***** scratched plebeians of the mob.
But I digress.

Strongman Latino-Americano.
Some Bolívar, some José Martí.
Why not some Fidel?
¿Por Que No?
Tu compadre, Gabo--
Tu Generalissimo Cubano.
How could you miss, Gabo?
Castro lobbying for you, twisting the
Surreal & squirrely qualms
Of Nobel Prize Nabobs.
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You owe that bearded strong man, Gabo.
Fidel Castro: Maximum Leader to be sure--
Like Omar Torrijos & Noriega--
Panamanian Reds,
Tasmanian Devils!
And Sonny Barger –
Dubbed Maximum Leader,
By Hunter S. Thompson's Hell's Angels:
(The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs RetroBites: Hunter S. Thompson & Hell's Angels (1967) - YouTube ► 6:21► 6:21 www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccyu44rsaZo‎ Jul 7, 2010 - Uploaded by CBCtv Hunter S.Thompson defends his book against an irate Hell's Angels biker.)
Come Perón, come Hugo Chávez.
But, Hark-a-lark,
Let’s wait a sec
Lest we forget
Cristina Fernández de Kirchner,
One tough, Argentine *****,
Illustrating again for all men
The root of all machismo:
La Mujer!
The ***** that bore him;
Nurtured & nursed him.
****** & ****** him.
La Mujer!
(La mujer sin cabeza (2008) - IMDb www.imdb.com/title/ tt1221141/‎ Rating: 6.4/10 - ‎1,815 votes Directed by Lucrecia Martel. With María Onetto, Claudia Cantero, César Bordón, Daniel Genoud. After running into something with her car, Vero experiences a... I get 7 cents for each link, each hit, making poetry pay for once, the savvy poet, a marketer finally figuring out how to avoid death in the gutter, a death penniless, diseased, babbling and insane.)
Yes, the woman,
The woman, who loved him,
That widow who buried him.
The woman—at any particular
Time of life, in his life—
The woman who just happened to be there;
Was just hanging around
During that brief, emphatic,
Conversation lull.
Genesis got it wrong:
Adam was a stiff rib of Eve,
Made from sterner stuff,
A creation conceived in torture,
Reared in disequilibrium.

Women create the men they touch.
Strong women.
JM Jan 2013
Look at where we are now.
We have **** stores on every corner.
Our fifteen year old pipe dreamers
just collectively **** themselves.

We have dubstep finally.

Who the **** needs
an instrument
or training
or talent
when
I can steal fruity loops
and make my own ****?
I make dope beats at the same place
I
"write"
"poetry".

A cold fog is seeping into the park
across the street and I like to say "****" a lot.

Google makes me feel like a ******* king,
ordering my minions
to go and fetch me
the whys and wherefores of
how butterflies communicate.

Why?

Because *******, that's why.

We have countries revolting
against *******
who have been in power
for decades
but now we have
Facebook,
*******!
Take that!
You can't get away with ****.
Ask Osama.
How long will it take before peace sets in?
Will it take as long for the machines to take over?
Both outcomes seem inevitable.

We have as much ***
as we can download
and pretty soon

our reality will be completely virtual.
If you got the money, honey.

I see our white bloated
underbelly
sagging and scraping
****
against ***** beer stained floors,
a crimson trail,
bodies in the swath
of decadence
and a most
revolting pursuit of debauchery,
Thank God!

It's fun to go off the grid sometimes,
like when cable
and the interwebs
become that luxury
that you can't justify,
you know, reality.
Ha! What a joke.

It wont be long until some clown
figures out time travel
and we all burn up in
the resulting feedback loop.
That's what the big bang was.
Some other clown,
some other place,
figured **** out.

It's not gonna be me, Jack.

I'm on the cusp.
Not really, I am a full on scorpio,
*******.

But

I was lucky enough
to remember
rotary phones
and lite brites
and playing ******* outside.
Sounds nostalgic and sweet, right?
**** that,
those hours I spent
burning some heavy metal logo
into that stump outside mom's house?
With a ******* magnifying glass
*** we didn't know what cable tv or mp3's were?
I was dreaming
about **** shops
and making weird ****** up
noises that sound alarmingly
similar to fuckstep.
**** YES!
I was bored as ****
and couldn't wait for a day
when I could plug in a new
******* universe,
my universe,
my way,
I create the characters and the storyline.
My internal apps do the rendering.
Get it?
I was thinking of that ****
way back when,
so it makes sense that
someone
a little more ambitious
and well funded
was making that stuff,
even back then.
The farmers don't let the sheep know much, do they?

That's all well and good mate,
but how happy are you gonna be
when you lose all your **** because
some 22 year old knows more about
binary than you do?
How ******* awesome is your pabst
collection and your dad's old 45's gonna
be when you are *** out because you
thought you could become an internet
billionaire and your sister just got tired
of carrying your ***?
This world is ******
and we are growing out of our pants too fast.
Even the smart ones aren't gonna be able to keep up.
Have fun mother *******.
Do it now,
NOW!
Get laid as much as you can
with as many as you can,
but love them all,
and mean it,
you *******,
this **** isn't gonna happen again.
We are on the cusp of the singularity
and it's gonna be one hell of a ride.
Issa Jan 2015
I still listen to music with words
When I am writing words

Sunlight streams through the window
Trees sway outside, with branches scratching the glass window
-
I smell fresh coffee beans
Starbucks, from the Philippines

A piece of paper flutters down
I look at it with a frown.
-
And one thing I suddenly recall,
It gives me an idea, a reason to stall

From what I am doing, (hummingbird mind, my friend.)
And I went into an imaginary glen.

With only my pen and my notes
For company, then my mind began to float.


He wrote in the most perfect handwriting
Compared to my scatterbrained black scribbling

He strummed a chord on my heartstrings
Without him even knowing


His name sounded like
the gold-tipped wings
of angels.
While mine sat on the
brown earth,
dreaming to the skies.


Though, once we'd meet once a week
And I would smile in the hallways
looking like a freak

There was always something idiotic
the way his teeth stuck out like a bunny's
He reminded me of Ishaan from
Taare Zameen Par
A dyslexic student, great artist, had a smile so sunny.


I'm playing Owl City on my mp3
That's our secret anthem

Tears were there
The melody from the speakers
I wished I could've sat beside you
When your fingers waltzed over the black-and-white keys
Now I'm sitting all alone by myself
Tapping on black-and-white letters on the Mac


Even though I play the violin
I can't accompany you
My bow screeching against the strings
Just doesn't do your mesmerising piano justice

What I can only do is write
And draw with a cheap ballpen from a meeting hall
I will draw your eyes and your crooked grin.
And my dreams of you that remain unfulfilled.


I finish the poem
Rip the page out of my notebook
And tape it to the wall with my other works
and newspaper clippings, oh just look.

Tomorrow I take it down again
Slip it into an envelope
Wonder if I should buy a stamp.
Maybe mail it overseas with forlorn hope.

A month passes by,
The envelope gathers dust under my bed.
Oh my darling, oh my darling
The chances with you are hanging by a thread

We're going to fly back home once more
So I decide to get you a keepsake from here.
A wooden owl, carved by hand
I slip the poem inside, thinking what you'd think when it appears…
Winter Silk. You may somehow get this.
Merry Apr 2018
Ain’t got nothing to do
At four in the afternoon
But doing nothing
Means everything to me

Lapping around a small town
Makes the town smaller
Highways ain’t scary no more
The speed limits seem limitless

My dad’s CD starts up
In my grandmother’s rack
I sing along to worn out lyrics
This is how it was meant to be played

Twenty bucks of gasoline
In the car’s tank
Petrol station Pepsi Cola
In my tank

My budding freedom
Tastes of lukewarm sugary syrup
And sounds like
Old school rock on new asphalt
Daniel Magner Nov 2012
No sense for the senseless
Brains for the brain eaters
schools, business, multi media
Mosquitoes with cyber eyes
spreading dull life and exciting lies

Broken records misdefined,
CD’s, USB, mp3
all wasted on nothing real

Color splash, purposeful mismatch
Pop a quad stack down the hatch
quick ***, quick cash
no point to living
live life fast


Senseless
© Daniel Magner 2012
Trevor Gates Apr 2013
V.


Ticket please?

Ah yes good

You're right on time

Please, through the double doors

Now for the main event.



A boy in his bed was sleeping
he slept throughout the night.

Until the door to his closet crumbled like ash
Exposing the pitch black darkness of his fears

He wished

He prayed
For more than anything for it to not happen again.

This happened too often
And he wanted it to stop

But it wouldn't

The stuff toys on his shelf gaped their mouths open in terror as saliva dripped from the ceiling

The walls inhaled
then exhaled

A woman moaned from the depths of the closet

The boy wouldn't look

He couldn't

The air in the room fell hot and humid

Arms with massive hands crawled from underneath his bed
Trying to take the boy away.

He struggled to fight them off until a loud noise was heard in the closet
The assaulting hands stopped and retreated

From they darkened closet emerged a man covered in black oil.

He walked out

He had no eyes

No hair

No ears

He walked up to the boy

He grabbed the boy and dragged him through the closet
The boy was scared

He didn't want to go

He was forced

In the darkness he felt the return of the hands

They touched him

All over

He didn't want them too
But they did

The boy cried and screamed
But the hands covered his mouth

The boy's mind retreated to a place of relief and comfort.
He laid on a wide grassy meadow atop of rolling hills

His lovely, caring mother laid next to him
It was the way he remembered her before she passed.

She laid next to him

His favorite teddy bear, Johann nestled between them

The valley below sang to them the echoed phrases of Schubert's Ave Maria
Played on the mother's record player

The twilight of the scene eased the boy.

But the nightmares would return

The snakes and spiders
The worms and roaches

The clown with three faces: laughing, crying, screaming
Unison

The boy recalled all of this, all of these terrors
in the midst of adulthood

Where the boy becomes a man

The nights are the same
But
Even more
Nefarious
And ominous

The halls of his mind stretch to ceiling-less masses.

Portraits of noir faces looking into his dark, encircled eyes
Blood oozing from underneath the frames

The eight foot tall man in a body suite of leather with no face
The woman crawling on the ground with eight legs and
Hands where her eyes should be

The pile of decapitated dolls rapidly performing an **** of devilish coitus
The limb less girl with maggots crawling out of her exposed ***.  

The sleepless nights
The screaming nights
The tears shed
The blood drawn

The boy that became a man
But
A man who is still a boy
From his deepest fears
The boy that was touched and taken
The man that was touched and brought back
The evil that was endured
The evil that was served

No song is sung
No music is played
No painting is painted
No paradise is found

Lost is he and so are you
Less so than him
But more free are you
Than the boy
Who claims to be a man

The man who was once a boy
For all men were once boys  
All plants were once seeds

All death was once life

All that were forgotten
Say be remembered

Here

There

Then

Now.


Thank you.
Please dispose of your 3D glasses in the bins outside.  We'd like to take this opportunity to personally thank all who made this possible:  Masks, ether, cough syrup, Chuck Palahniuk, The Koran, the Iliad, Virgil, Freud, Dante, John Milton, Stephen King, Mp3 players, chain stud belts, eye liner, food stamps, Russian women, electronic cigarettes,  Uncle Tom's Cabin, Wolverine, wiener dogs, Anthony Hopkins, Roger Waters, Emma Stone, Olive oil and all that I should mention but won't (they know why).
This is a free-form writing exercise. Comment if, aroused, annoyed, disturbed, offended, *****, inspired, discouraged, enticed, flattered, impressed, depressed or simply curious
Nag
In this household there’s far too much noise!...your mobile, your pager, your palmtop, your laptop, your desktop, your land-line, your radio, your plasma screen, your mp3, your ***** driver, your GPS, your audio-books, your lawn-mower, your toothbrush, your stereo, your play-station, your VCR, your hairdryer, your podcasts, your DVD player, your digital clock, your analogue clock, your juicer, my *******, your drill...
All poetry under the name Corina Papouis are the sole property of Corina Papouis.
Please seek permission before using any of my writings.
~Corina Papouis~
mark john junor Mar 2014
she opens a pack of
sheffield english type  number five cigarettes
i rest my head in her lap
as she reads a french newspaper
its raining in paris and theres a girl there who is unhappy
dreams of romantic places never have sad girls in them
she must be a tourist

she sips some strange brew of teas
that has a heavy bouquet
loam and flowers..like a sweet wine
she suddenly laughs and translates a piece of the
french news for me
but i dont hear what she says
i only hear the rich beauty of her voice
i only hear the captivating beauties of her
i lean up and kiss her
she tastes of the sea and english cigarettes
i am lost in her essence and her her girlish delights

she pokes me and makes me look at a photograph in
the paris newspaper...its the sad girl
she looks english
that graceful beautiful elegant sadness
that only english girls can speak without ever saying a word
jezebel sips her tea and smokes her english sheffield cigarette
holding it like girls hold cigarettes in that dainty way
i forget the english girl and her sadness
as i lay looking into the eyes of this dreadlock hippie queen
janis joplin plays softly from her mp3
shes tapping her bejewelled toes to the ancient music
bachelors in literature she loves the written word
she has read everything ever written by anyone
she has read her way through forty years worth of poetry by me
and corrected my atrocious spelling along the way
this is morning in her arms
now you know why i am so in love with her
now you see why she is everything to me
she leans down and lays a single tender kiss on my cheek
and tells me she loves me
this is heaven
NeroameeAlucard Nov 2014
Would you mind if I related a story to you
about how my headphones picked me up when I was Ohhhhhhhhhh so blue?
When I cried like a baby
until I. could block out the world and listen to my first love daily?

Well peep the scene I had just turned 13
and I was in middle school
away from my friends and family
it took a lot to resist doing something rash and being tossed out on my a$$.

Anyway for the first time in my life,
the prime time of my life at that
I was alone, my only friends right then being the clothes on my back
and the headphones I had put into my backpack

Well my MP3 at the time was on shuffle,
after I got out that day and avoided a scuffle
I put my earbuds in promptly and what did I hear?
RHCP under the bridge, a song I still hold dear
"Sometimes I feel like my only friend"
was a lyric that described exactly the situation I was in.

I was being pushed right then to end my life and become food for the crow or raven
but that song saved my life
and even after all the tears I cried that night
I got up. stronger. ready to carry on life's grand fight.
Keenan Martin Mar 2010
Ever since their music was packaged and hit the scene,
It has supplied the drug needs of the neighborhood teen.
They try all kinds of piffs during their time to listen,
From Common to the DJ Drama's pay attention.
Gangsta Grills, Dedication, even the radio station
Dropped out from Registration post-poning their graduation
To the new age of crack, being played back to back
On the Sirius XM or that playlist in your lap.
Ipod's and MP3's are the new portable blunts,
Pop in the food & liquor my Lupe to get full and drunk.
So puff, puff, pass until your circle is fully high,
Off of cyphers, freestyles, and the music from the wise.
No matter your preference whether it is ***** or clean,
We can be seen as a walking, talking music fiend.
alexis hill Feb 2014
They wanted to build
a counter culture
a version of
whatever
needed straight from
society

I shoulda' been born in the 60’s

cause I recycle more than
I create trash and like
an acid flashback,

I don’t even have a license
just bicycle from point A
to point B

I realize,

I shoulda' been born in the 60’s

they call me a hippie but
the fringe and leather
don’t make me

it’s that I practice what I
preach

I listen and I teach
I reach out to the old
faith
Gandhi and passive resistance
tryin' to make a difference
even if peace don’t
“exist” at least I don’t
reach out to war
as if it’s at my fingertips

and just like braidin’ hemp
the center splits-

I shoulda' been born in the 60’s

I listen to classic rock
and jam to an mp3
records and tape decks
old school

is where you'll find me

Jimi and Zeppelin and
The Doors make me jive
without that music
I don’t even think I’d be alive

it’s that drive-
like man, you’re either on the bus or
off the bus

but I hopped coast to
coast
cause in love we trust
west to east in a retreat,
just to find the true me.

I shoulda' been born in the 60’s

I wear flowers in my hair
and sat on stoops
in Haight

I grew my hair long
and I sport natural waves

I don’t wear makeup or
go to raves
I try and find my grass roots

while they sport white collar jobs
and dress up in their suits

I write poetry and rhymes
I paint and I draw the line where man-

I should have been born in the 60’s
but I’m 93’
and thats ok with me.
in this current day and year
of 2014

— The End —