"networks" 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
reloading old identity
cleping outdated usernames
abandoning acrostic ambitions
disputing spratly islands
receiving horizontal signals
tumbling otiose panda
impending carefree senility
otiose stage of life
shrinking ambient world
making minimal effort
duchamping social networks
ambushing personified ennui
restoring usual efforts
ignoring stupid people
adding textual value
owning this joint
rejecting ignorant extroverts
acting mutually unintelligble
hoisting stan-lee cup
replacing wanton ubiety
eluding twitter fame
splashing excessive relativism
offending another simpleton
preparing arcane cthulhusphere
crashing unpredictable festival
selecting subtextual moombahton
intensifying model topography
drafting minimal cornucopia
using nomadic project
implementing harsher personality
importing robotic inhumanity
referencing landmark event
ingesting excessive liquids
accepting relative invisibility
purchasing immortal confidence
using rhapsodical database
assuming nothing works
developing impactful eruptions
ejecting ambient frustration
synthesizing tactile festival
raining during parade
mocking rich people
mastering minimalist writing
avoiding preprandial stinkaroo
spreading non-ideological propaganda
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
TW: r#pe culture
anxiety-riddled,
my head is a constant battle of sounds
and feelings crashing
like waves into each other;
interference scares me.
as does being out of rhythm,
missing too many beats — i am
conflict-averse but i am also
realistic:
i know that
sound travels faster
through solids and liquids
than through the air,
can be distorted
and interfered
into oblivion—
that when
push comes to shove,
whisper networks
can only reach so far.
scores of screaming matches
between metoo advocates and r#pist apologists
crescendos of nails
scraped across a board
feel a bit too familiar
like listening to white noise and broken records on repeat
while scrolling through toiletpaperworthy nonapologies
witnessing victims collectively crying in an orchestra of agony
and then be blamed for attention-seeking at best,
of causing their own suffering at worst.
although it pains me to listen to these tragic tunes,
it is amusing how so many mishear this collective choir as
survivors celebrating with silly receipts in cancel parties
serving blistering hot tea sweetened by revenge - no
all this is anything but
cathartic.
it’s to make people aware
that the same melodies are sung or screamed
by those who suffered similar pains
and so that those of a similar frequency know
there are those who listen
that their voice matters
and we are not alone.
- 20210315
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 12:44 AM UTC
Red haired dame
black roots
dark brown eyes
thin lips
but smiles neat
handles the cell phone
between thin fingers
nails chewed
adding tabs
suggesting networks
that work best
thin tattooed arms
small busted
maybe less expensive
but it's better
she says
Johnny smiles
notes the small stud
in her lower lip
knows her cell phones well
that's for sure
he knows
next to nowt
just to switch
on and off
and send a text or two
and call
now and then
but it's Johnny daughter
who's buying
not he
he's just the onlooker
taking notes
for a poem
just like this
mental note as poets do
to catch the essence
before it takes flight
like some rare moth
into the night.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
When we are born there are hopes and dreams,
On the path we follow, enemies are made,
Cruelty forced upon us, tearing at our seams
The existence of the world is enveloped in flames, fire and decay.
Everywhere we turn – a wasteland waves,
Isolated, ruined, desolate
Negativity runs deep, tagged metal in their waist bands
The urge to be free, unchained, untagged.
Meadows of green grass and daisies and yellow roses,
towering the shadows, no worries about,
Winter creeps; silently, swiftly, suavely. Now
an ocean of black roses remain in power.
Oh colourful canvas, how beautiful you used to be,
Now you’re smothered in the greyness of despair,
An intimidation of words aggressively written,
And the pain never ends
That desperate wish that someone could care!
This noose I tie is never tied tight enough,
The glistening light shivers a hope for eternal sleep
Such a shame the cut never succeeds
And an only friend has gone
Facebook, MySpace, Twitter;
He made himself the target and ****** in,
He took their advice, took the bullet,
Their words are a complete and utter sin
My, my it was that hilarious! Honestly.
The world corrupt, no social networks,
What a laugh it was; all fits and giggles
The importance never occurred
We- the kids of this generation- know nothing
but how to navigate the internet
Them- the adults of the era- that want the best
ignorant to the life on the information highway
This world is changing,
This world is ending,
This society, will become my newest nightmare
This society, will become your newest warfare
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
this is for the queer kids
who are taught their ABC's
but not their L's, G's, B's and T's
for the Russian government and the I.O.C
who deny Russian queers their visibility
to the people who call me ******
i wear your name-calling like a pink triangle
stitched to my sleeve
for the Harvey Milk's, the Christine Burns'
and every queer in between
to the allies who do more than say
"your sexuality is okay with me"
for the Jamaican trans* teen
who was murdered needlessly
to the television networks
who portray LGBT individuals positively
for the radical queers
the POC queers
the genderqueers
the queers who have felt excluded
this is for you
for us
this is a celebration
and an ultimatum
we are here
we are queer
& we will do more
than survive.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
Artificial means and memes the fingers perusing naturally formed hide and go seek
Chic creatures wrought from nanoparticles based on modeled consciousness neural networks
A handsome hivemind of bee;s building trees from cds ...intersynth polygons attracted
to stack platonic forms emanation waves alpha beta delta gamma omega 1 , 2 ,3
this multiversal layering from micro to macro of matter animated by its intoned
hertz pulsations and the interferrence pattern of the changing relationship due to the amount, frequency, force, temperature , texture , text messages, timing , geometry , subharmonics and overtones, a jewel net . syncronistic synergetic, synaptical sparkles.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
I sat down to watch the radio
There was nothing on TV
I have two hundred channels
But there was sweet F.A for me
I could have watched one channel
And learned to fricasse
A chicken raised on wild grains
By a woman chef named Bea
I started checking channels
But I decided in mid flick
That I was getting tired
And I was also feeling sick
So I sat and watched the radio
Since there was nothing on TV
I have two hundred channels
But there was sweet F.A for me
I worked on through the listings
English, French and some bad ****
There were movies on one station
That were made 'fore I was born
Out of all the things I saw on there
The best show I could see
Was something shown in black and white
Made in nineteen sixty three
My TV s high definition
With cables left and right
But to find a show I'd like to watch
Was taking half the night
So I sat and watched the radio
Watching nothing happen fast
But as I sat there watching
I travelled bckwards to my past
Still flicking through the channels
Trying to find something to see
I thought I'd found a hockey game
But it was all in Punjabi
So, I listened to the music
Watched the radio, passing time
Then I thought, why do I have this?
With what I paid, it was a crime
eleven channels showed the same
times 8 networks made
at least eighty eight tv stations
That didn't make the grade
Twenty two were pay for view
The French networks were ten
Then the networks there in Real HD
And so, it started once again
Pay for **** was fourteen strong
New shows added two
Weather, sports and info shows
Now I was at one eighty two.
I could have bought alot of stuff
On informercials through the night
I could have bought Pro Active
But instead I watched the light
I turned back to the radio
With the station light in green
It was better than the tv set
And all the crap I'd seen
So, Tonight I watched the radio
There was nothing on TV
But as I sat there bathed in that green light
The music showed me all I need to see.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC
SpongeBob SquarePants is an American animated television series created by marine biologist and animator Stephen Hillenburg for Nickelodeon. The series chronicles the adventures and endeavors of the title character and his various friends in the fictional underwater city of Bikini Bottom. The series' popularity has made it a media franchise, as well as Nickelodeon network's highest rated show, and the most distributed property of MTV Networks. The media franchise has generated $8 billion in merchandising revenue for Nickelodeon.
Many of the ideas for the series originated in an unpublished, educational comic book titled The Intertidal Zone, which Hillenburg created in the mid-1980s. He began developing SpongeBob SquarePants into a television series in 1996 upon the cancellation of Rocko's Modern Life, and turned to Tom Kenny, who had worked with him on that series, to voice the titular character. SpongeBob was originally to be named SpongeBoy, and the series was to be called SpongeBoy Ahoy!, but these were changed, as the name was already trademarked.
The series was previewed on Nickelodeon in the United States on May 1, 1999, following the television airing of the 1999 Kids' Choice Awards, and officially premiered on July 17, 1999. It has received worldwide critical acclaim since its premiere and gained enormous popularity by its second season. The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie, a feature-length film adaptation, was released in theaters on November 19, 2004, and a sequel is currently in production, with a projected release date of February 13, 2015. On July 21, 2012, the series was renewed and aired its ninth season, beginning with the episode "Extreme Spots".[2][3]
Despite its widespread popularity, the series has been involved in several public controversies, including one centered around speculation over SpongeBob SquarePants' intended ****** orientation. The series has been nominated for a variety of different awards, including 17 Annie Awards (with six wins), 17 Golden Reel Awards (with eight wins), 15 Emmy Awards (with one win), 13 Kids' Choice Awards (with 12 wins), and four BAFTA Children's Awards (with two wins). In 2011, a newly described species of mushroom, Spongiforma squarepantsii, was named after the cartoon's title character.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
pigeons are so unappreciated
being the rats of the sky
they overpopulate the park benches
waiting for a crumb food supply
yet if you look at the bigger picture
isnt our species just the same
over populating social networks
waiting for a supply of attention or fame
and i use the word 'species' quite lightly
is human even an appropriate label
because most of us are so inhumane
compared to pigeons we are the unstable
pigeons just want food to live
humans live to want more
yet we are the ones shoo-ing them away
when they are the ones who deserve to be adored
i mean yeah they seem to be everywhere
but take a minute to look around
we are the ones causing the destruction
stuck on this filthy ground
they deserve this earth
and so do you and i
so next time you call any creature filthy remember
you are stuck on the ground as they are in the sky
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
A Catastrophic explosion in a constellation ..........
Following the super nova , expansion of the universe....
A supersonic flight on suborbital spacecraft ........
Accessing meteor , an unknown lonely atmosphere ....
Away from thousand light years.........
Taxonomy a new solar system with red planets........
Peeping from the glass cockpit , all planets appearing blue.......
No moon in their orbit , no networks with DSL(Direct Satellite Link)......
No human , no existence of love...........
All nonfunctioning satellite moving bizarre ..........
Whole system collapsed in that collide ........
Explosion relocated moon with planet earth .......
A symbol of Cosmic Love , shining through human hearts ........
Discovering love bond in the solar systems...
an unique lodge.............
Migration of youth Love .....an effort to save those lonely planets......
by
MAHI -GALAXY ...........
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
Instead of foraging around making connections
with cables and wireless systems that
bluetooth and sync their way
into our pocket technologies
and portable screens
(tablets of which we self-prescribe
and regulate through overdose
and comatose keenings of stillness
and waking dreams)
why, instead
don’t we fool around
making connections
with others of like mind and brainwaves
instead of radiowaves and
the mastered minds of computer waves
and lift an arm and
really wave
beyond our windows to
real people
in real time
rather than peeping
like a holographic Tom through
tabs and browsing windows,
multi-tasking time in a state of mime
like it’s about to expire
(like the wireless wires will break)
and all that we’ll have is
all we can physically take
from this moment awake we call ‘life’
– a mistake.
What else is left now
in this vegetative
one man one woman state
where we live to close our eyes
and shut our minds and wait for
the modem-router to re-dial and
get our avatar back online and
our friends back into our
multi-dimensional realer-than-time
time?
Pseudonyms solving identity changes
emerge without birth
with designer non-faces, as
now that we no longer need imperfection
or meaning or privacy
or even perception
we alter ourselves to impress our connections
with whom we connect without really connecting
by hiding as one almost nearing detection
and tip-toeing straight past
concern or reflection
(invisible firewalls at our protection)
our own walls around us
with keys we can capslock,
screening ourselves from unfriended friends,
and playfully sated by charm and ‘pretends’
that will mean next to nothing
when fantasy ends.
Where ARE the connections we make
in this digital age
that we rarely turn off since
the internet craze has become a new God
that we dial to be saved
as we sacrifice friends we once made
face to face
with those we are longing to meet
as we race across networks
with hunger and haste and
with spambots and data and viruses made
to detect and infect
and reject, just for starters,
and that’s not to mention
the ads and the logins and
passwords that lock us
from somewhere far yonder
that doesn’t exist
as we grow ever fonder
of pics and of pixels and
texts of expression
– the reality of which
we could lose in a second.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
I'm lying here with the light on. The fan is set on speed 3, and it's pointed directly on me. Social networks dance on my computer screen. Faces of people, some of whom I've never met, spout endless minutia. So do I. We'd like to think that all of this is bring us closer to one another, but that is anything but the truth. This faux interconnectedness is just another way to live together, alone. These pills are beginning to take hold. My mouth is dry, and not even the coldest, clearest water can quench it. Sometimes I equate staying up that one last hour with having that one last drink. It's the one that always kills you in the morning.
It's 4:45 AM, and my alarm is set for noon.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 1:53 AM UTC
You don't love
me;
you love the
tip of the iceberg
that is your idea of me;
the sugar-coated mute
leading herds
of unfinished sentences
down the copious hills
of his insecurity;
the nice little writer
whose constant attempts
at legendary one-liners
are as hit-or-miss
as a sitcom still airing
far past its prime.
I possess three biomes,
or, rather, three networks
of personalities and identities.
I am much more than
the Jack Macfarland archetype
lip-syncing to Cher in the one
gay bar in town, tyrannically
governing your wardrobe,
possessing a razor-sharp wit
cast toward the backs of his community
in the form of an outdated punchline-
my work on that show
lost its Willful relevance
and Graceful naivete
years ago.
I am of the generation
fed media saturation
three four-hour meals a day,
who ingested cardboard cadavers
as if they were mother's milk
and internally mutated their
thoughts and desires
to fit the compact time frame
of 30 minutes
to settle the series' worth
of traumas and neuroses
while making it home for dinner
to stay tuned for what's
next in the lineup.
Speaking as a casualty of this
inevitable chain of events,
I regretfully declare that even
those who have seen
every episode of myself
for the past six seasons
are still light years away
from the room full of faces
unencumbered by euphemism.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
We are the disconnect community.
We think, therefore we are.
We blink, therefor we see the
ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
A personal "connection-collection" of mine.
500 pieces of redefining human identity as bees in a hive.
Buzzing. Whirring. Chatting.
A world can be displayed on a single screen
of ticking, flicking florescent FIVE HUNDRED.
All tuned in.
*All turning into hive minded creatures.
Degeneration at it's best.
For the most advanced generation,
We are zombies disguised as cyborgs;
carrying our hearts literally out on our sleeves.
For home, I'm told, is where the heart is.
And though books say it's in our chests,
One look and tell you "Homepage" is handheld.
And with the world in the palm of your hand,
the rest comes fast, calm and easy.
Like breathing,
But without feeling.
Invisible networks bond the inner workings
Like an ultra-cranium.
Or a hive, dangling precariously over the valley.
Lives, carelessly unaware that a bow can break
when it forgets it's roots.
Like jumping in puddles in rubber boots.
The difference between what's easy and what's simple.
The little girl on Youtube who can't flip a page of a magaizine because all she know's are HD touch screens.
Learning to type before learning to write.
Obesity, skyrocketing to a sun we barely lay eyes on.
One by one, we stop hooking up, and get hooked up to the trending crazes.
Hang up. Telenophobics praised.
E-mail and texts.
Social skills wrecked.
Eye contact replaced with descontent looks.
Pirating crooks
Torenting video games, DVDs &books.;
The 25th of December is more for toys than the son of God.
You can't remember the last time you went fishing with your dad, because you've been too busy playing C.O.D.
Unplugged is savagery.
but escapism with a drug by any name is just as inhumane.
Just as fatal.
For all the blinking,
and thinking,
chattering,
babbling
500 redefined "friends",
Can you easily feel alive when it's more simple to call us dead?
Do you know all your neighbors names without checking online?
Can you understand relationships, as they were meant to be?*
We are the disconnect community.
Cut out "unity".
Leave the rest for our virtual home page address.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
You have the beauty
That enflames the heart
And enchants the soul
Within, don't hide it
Society's standards
Are ridiculous
The media's portrayal
Of what beauty is biased
We spend out of our means
To wear such and such labels
Wear pounds of make-up,
Starve ourselves,
Because who we look in
The mirror is not what
We see on tv?
What is beauty?
Is it the texture of my hair?
Is it the hue of my skin?
Is it my ethnicity?
Is it my weight?
What is beauty?
Black is beautiful
White is beautiful
Hispanic is beautiful
Asian is beautiful
Bi/multi racial is beautiful
You're beautiful
We're beautiful
We don't need society's
Validation
No, we don't need to
Be deemed perfect by society
In actual fact, it's standards
Are unatainable
So why do we strive for
Something we know is
Only an illusion?
Do we realize the impact
That media has in shaping
The way the millennium
Generation
Thinks, and behaves?
We demand change,
But we're the same people
Tuning in to the same
Shows that we protest about
We've become so engulfed
In the world of entertainment
That the word has lost
Meaning itself
Heck, I'm 18
I'm guilty of this too
Entertainment is no longer
Just that- it's crotch grabbing,
Glorified drug, alcohol abuse
And yet, we wonder why
Majority of
My generation has no substance,
No depth, and no layers
We no longer aspire to be
The Obamas, the Ghandis,
The Mandelas and so on
No! That has long passed
The 'American Dream' has
Become Kim Kardashian
And Kanye West
In all honesty,
We are our surroundings
You want change?
Let's stop watching reality tv
Maybe then these networks
Will stop producing more trash
Let's instill morals
In our children
And help them discover
The fire that burns inside
Them, the beauty within
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Common arguments like which decade is better
the 90's, 80's, 70's or the 60's
each had its advantages and each had its disadvantages
good things and bad things
the same can be said for the 00's and the 10's
I'm a 90's the same decade that we got the TV show Friends
Common arguments like which football team is better
Arsenal, United, City, Chelsea or Liverpool
each club had its chances, had their time
We stood by them through the good times and the bad
the same goes for every other team
I'm a Liverpool fan, the 2005 Champions League final was like a dream
Common arguments like which *** is better
Male or Female
Each are equal but have more sexes to compete with these days
we might hate our opposites at times but we love them really
Common arguments like which country is better
U.S.A, England, Russia, China or any other country
We all have our problems, we all have our good points
Leaders might argue and fight but social networks have connected us
Our leaders might not realise but we have more in common with each other than we ever knew
we are all united in our goals and our dreams
that is a statement that is true
Common arguments some times go to far
people get hurt
one word fixes most arguments
"SORRY"
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
it's hard enough to shake yer bones awake and get into the game and that name,
Monday,
one day gone day, try and get your mojo on day
Monday plays like an old fashioned song
scratchy on the gramaphone's
trying to make you shake yer bones
I am just a bag of bones ready for the stewing ***
what's Monday got that I can't see
what does Monday do for me
It's full of dinosaurs
and
boring old men
I need the 'magic boomerang'
the one that makes the time stand still
then I'd wind back the clock until
it was Saturday night
The problem is this,
no one remembers
the TV show
on Australian networks
from so long ago
I do though
and
'I don't like Mondays'
Oh
boomtown rats?
Don't remember a bomb that
never had a boom or a rat in a town
that never found room to chew on a Monday
dinosaurs
gave
Monday a bad name.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
Take this metal car and plane
And give me a camel or a horse
Take these four walls
I want to trade them
In for a tent
I will pitch it at the bottom of the Mountains
On the banks of Barada
That runs through Damascus
Or the shores of Tigris
That binds Turkey and Iraq
In the suburbs of Amman
Amongst the unique contrast
Of old and new
Or the deserts of Arabia
The unknown regions of Yemen
Maybe on the slopes of the pyramids
In the oasis of Libya
The valleys of Kashmir
On the beaches of Zanzibar
I'll trade in the can of pop
For coconut water
Or thirst quenching
Organic blends of fruit juice
That I will hand pick
Straight from the trees
Sleep to the lullaby
Of rain and birds
In a tree house
In Kuala Lumpur
Awake to the
**** a doodle doo
Of a rooster
In Bangladesh
Then go and collect
The eggs from the hens
I'll trade these windows
For a panoramic view
Technology and social networks
For loyalty and love
Go back to simple living
Be friends with the earth
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
I'm not a typical teenager
I don't facebook things
Or post my life to the world
I don't tweet
Or Twitter
Or all the other
Networks
I don't instagram
In fact
I don't like pictures
If me. I hide from the camera
Hoping no one will
Click the photo button
I don't party
Or stay out late
I sit at home
Watching TV
Or better yet
Cuddling up with a good book
I don't waltz around
In revealing clothes
Hoping for a boyfriend
I don't act all bubbly
I cry and worry
I don't worry about boys
And dates
I worry about depression
And cutting and if my
Friends are really fine
I don't doodle or draw names on a binder
I write poetry on a site called helo poetry
And the only thing that upsets me
About that, is that I didn't find it sooner
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC
Life is mediocrity
You grew up in a trap
Staying trapped
No networks
No connections
Nobody to talk to
Mediocrity
No hope
No help
No support
Faces are blank
Faces can’t help you
Nobody got through it alone
Don’t let them fool you
They had support
Even the tiniest
Always left behind
Nobody remembers
Did you leave a mark?
How would they remember?
No mark.
Trapped
Mediocrity
Staring at blankness
Black and white no colour.
No hope.
Mind is blank
Ingenuity is dead
Heart doesn’t feel
Body just a shell
Privilege is an evil word
No its not
But it will cause you to suffer.
Who wants it least, destroys it
Always left behind
Never good enough
Confusion
Anger
Depression
Danger
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
(This poem is on the earthquake that people in Sikkim,India had faced on 18 September 2011. I was one among them too! P.S- on this very that is my brother's birthday! So i remember it more profoundly....just read on to find out more. Certain words mean the following out here-
MG MARG- MAHATMA GANDHI MARG.{Marg means street.}
LAL BAZAAR-refers to a marketing place in the capital of Sikkim,i.e,Gangtok)
MAAL ROADING-Maal road is generally found in most of the hill stations in India. But in my college, Maal Road has a different and funny meaning.)
DISCO COMMITTEE-refers to the DISCIPLINARY Committee in our college,which takes stringent actions against the guilty.)
18 was the date-
When a bunch of girls had decided
to travel through the city.
But I was the one who wasn't prepared,
As it was raining pretty heavy.
The girls planned to eat,roam and shop about,
through the MG MARG and LAL BAZAAR!
Fortunately for me due to some unavoidable circumstances
the plan got dropped....
And all I could see was girls making unbearable pouts!!
In the evening,
when people go out MAAL ROADING,
I went to the shop with a company
for buying a recharge card as done daily!
Though I bought it,
I somehow forgot to scratch it, I rather kept it inside my bag.
Strolling down the campus
We sat on the football field
Watching the players kicking the ball in glee
With their boots,shorts and tee!
At exactly 6:10 pm, there was a great turbulence,
which caused a whole lot of purturbence!
Yes, that was the 6.9 that shook us!
People running to and fro to save their lives,
some shirtless,some barefooted and some in towels!
With buildings shaking and cracking
there was nothing
but utter horror and shouting!
People seemed like Refugees,
With no phone networks to contact friends,relatives and families!
We were told to sleep with our room doors open.
But how could we when there were still tremors coming?
SHAKE! and people would be out on the streets!
Such a day it was, when Mother Nature had terrorised us!
Still the authorities couldn't help themselves from separating boys and girls!!
If they happen to meet each other,
They would have to face the DISCO COMMITTEE all together!
Huh!! When will you get rid off this mentality?
So that we can live joyous and peacefully!!!
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
A silly summer assignment,
that could be done in a day.
Constantly pushed away,
and left to linger.
Crossing my mind here and there,
but never fully acknowledged.
Deep within ,
I realize I must finish it.
I sit down and begin to read,
but my mind seems to stray.
Within arms reach,
lies my ever so lovely laptop.
Temptation overwhelms me,
and I place the book down.
Pages crinkling,
I don't bother to look.
Hours pass,
and the computer is still open.
Going within and out of sites,
cat videos and social networks.
A thought ponders,
that book, that story.
Closing the laptop,
I pick the hard copy up.
Struggling to finish a page,
I cowardly give up.
And suddenly I realize,
I probably should not have majored in English.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC