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TJ Dec 2017
i give them my executables and
ask them to reverse engineer me
to look into my code for reasons
reasons that i'm not just broken
not just slow
not just bad

if these letters
on this line
mean
that i am programmed to worry
then it is not my fault
not my fault that
i have wasted years
years of my life in fear

it's just a bug
looping too many times
using too many clock cycles

my code may be broken, but
if it is broken
then i am not

maybe, just maybe
i am a good processor
given bad code.

not my fault.
no one could blame me.

it would mean
i do what i am told to
perfectly
quickly
efficiently.

but
what i am told to do is
buggy
unoptimized
inefficient

my programmers are lazy -
not me.

when i find
a function in my code
that never works
and they say
"that code is fine"
then why?
why does it never run?

something must be wrong with me after all
me, myself, the processor
i don't do what i am told

but no, no, no
i don't want that
i can't be broken, overheating, dusty
segfaulting
bluescreening
panicking

no!

the code must be wrong
it must be

so i look again and again and again
i lose myself in my code
i click and click and click
2x more and 2x more and 2x more
COMT and DRD4 and ANKK1
rs53576 and rs7794745 and rs1858830
lower risk and normal risk and higher risk
of the same thing
in me at once
conflicting
overwriting each other

there is no code to add risk objects
and no one knows
whether
they make a group or a ring or a field
or just
something
useless.

like dividing by zero.
you can...
but it's useless in the real world.
just like me.

i look for more code
for more functions
for more comments
more more more
give me more
take my rights
make me open source
as long as i can see me too.

602,000 lines are not enough
not when i run millions

stick your wires in my veins
take the code from my blood
decompile it
untangle it
i need to see it all

i need to know
that i am a good little processor
even if i am doomed to
forever
run BASIC and
a million GOTO statements
and ugly ugly spaghetti code
i am still good.
written 16 February 2016
Elli Nov 2015
Your presence seeped into every aspect of my life,
leaving memories behind
that seems to haunt me like tidal waves;
but I am no swimmer,
and my emotions drowns me.

I see you everywhere,
the memories of you is always on replay,
but the stop button is broken
and I am forced to watch it.

But that's what you are now,
just memories.

So as I walk alone at the path going home
that you and I used to take,
my loneliness tries to overwrite our moments together.

But my presence cannot overpower yours,
because you have imprinted yourself in every aspect of me.

You were part of my definition,
and now I'm simply a part of an explanation that used to be whole.
You will never read this because you stopped reading my poetry months ago.

p.s.

I need my heart back.
Still Crazy Mar 2015
watching the pain dry

you did not mistake -
no word play, not the product
of typo or errant
clenched eyes

labored writ,
the liver is failing,
the interval organs
a joint co-production
contribution,
the words demonized,
but truth cannot be
plausibly denied

all cast members
are rehearsing
preparing the last act,
interrupting with
exceptional,
expectorating refusals,
objections,


too*

this n'that

all their "too's"
are double O'd,
double ****** negatives
an overflow
bloodletting,
excessive overwriting
the playwright words,
maudlin can't be spoke in the present
of his
presence

revolutionary overridden by the
actors,
the words too hard,
to speak sob as long as I am
almost stilled but still
in the room

-
wrenching a bemused grin
guiding them & pain to a higher purpose,
admonish them with pleasured pleases

needs saying
as it writ and
carrying  the denouement
to a rightful conclusion
as
betterdays Apr 2015
in,
inscribing memories
of better times,
i am,
overwriting
the grief of a life
unravelling.
the ink placed
so
carefully
on parchment paper,
dissolves into a
watercolour
of  greys and dismal days.
words of love,
become mere twigs
and bird scratchings.
floating in the
fugue
of monumental despair.
i look hard
and long
to find some meaning.
but see only
these words
passionately written,
gleaming.
it's not fair,
it's not fair.
as my tears
drizzle
off
the page.
write from last year
in lieu, of a terzenelle
bohemian rhapsody parades
     amidst greensward moored
erupting profusely toward cerulean skies
     ushered with invisible rip cord
this Earthling self assigned to an (elder)
     box office catbird seat - hoard
ding a secluded nook
     upon premises of Highland (highly adored)

Manor Apartments nestled
     within bucolic (cost wise, a ford
double) Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
     (40.2562° N, 75.4638° W) explored,
sans (founded in 1684) 
     pleasantly assaultive stimuli 
     conducted brake upon metaphysical ratiocination,
     where sunshine poured
upon variegated mother nature

     arrangement, viz spectacular
     vernal suite scored
a top ten hit orchestrating
     exquisite (August) May day presentation,
     which mutely roared
bedazzling this sensate
     being overwriting gourd
     fully stocked, when brittle

     winter snowy firmament forced accord,
     asper overlaying habitat
     palimpsest akin to (sic) ward
before an a may zing exuberant poly

     chromatic onset splashed vibrant
     brilliantly colored palette, toward
this captive observer,
     where choral symphony courtesy of flora
and fauna sensational

     encore performance
     (day at the) opera captivated ensured
fixated this tethered primate royally
     impressed and allured
by aural and visual

     regalia fit for a lord
and tailor, while solar orbitz
     directed by Helios,
whose journey across
     deep purple celestial sea deplored
noiselessly casting lengthened shadows
signaling luminous hued dusk
     chariots of fire earthly dome ceiling ablaze
     pearl jam disappearance,
     when daylight blinks adieu

til the morrow, when dawn
     betakes the reins to reign cosmos chose
zing emergent rays announcing
     morning haz broken
     nudging, prodding, rousing from doze
well rested body electric,
     where energy flows
as attested from me noggin glows
nsync, sans panoply
     of soundgarden crescendo propose
zing ideal material sharing circadian rhythm
     thru the time stream yours truly rows.
Anais Vionet Oct 2021
I use make-believe
overwriting memory
it brings me some peace

The fiction I’ve weaved
you’re at the store - you wouldn’t leave
is a fool’s relief

So I take mine neat
sweet ****** of self-deceit
my strange trick or treat
a play, in 3 Senryus
I wanted to do something seasonal, with trick or treat in it and what if the trick were the treat?
betterdays Mar 2014
in,  inscribing memories
of better times,
i am, overwriting the grief
of a life unravelling.

the ink placed so carefully
on parchment paper,
dissolves into
a watercolour of a greys
and dismal days.

worlds of love, become mere
twigs and bird scratchings.
floating in the fugue
of  monumental despair.

i look hard and long
to find some meaning.
but see only these words
passionately written,
gleaming.

it's not fair, it's not fair.

as my tears drizzle off the page.
upon learning my friend
and mentor in life
has terminal cancer
Ken Pepiton May 2023
Esse-essential whirlpool *******
your own socks off
hot tub memory
squirm and tightten
jopelope. Fed to AGI

Framing time, as later
and former and now,
present, sentience this state
- millionth view milestone
this arranging of sound letters,
common codex change made known
spinning knack arising
to seamstress who sings
through out a cluster of castes claimed
cleanest at top, least clean at base dirt level
lowest forms of mankind, tools in civil service,

such kindnesses, we see, as the result
of the glorious revolutions, and declarations
of national authority authored
in consortium
by the governing class, and no other.

rocking heel to toe sounds muffled drum
danced to at the time our commons all occur.

They call it rock and roll. You had to be there.
It's different each comet cycle sync-upation.
- a wind in change,
- air
Brakes occurred in the future
to ease dying out
we get given five live generations
of earthings,
since we all agreed to work together to insure
some
hard
lessons taught us some things, you got no need
to ever even imaging having to, q\t shall will

Retry, letting this mind seem patient, as time
for any thing if ever is as we seem to agree,

this is that anchor, gnosis alle-alte gene
engin
Slowing, offering ferry reference, e
who carries my weight, since now
I have become
so light as to seem weightless, rationally

useless in the push and pull of mortality,
timed existance under the dome
of heaven done, done, done,
yet, here, one among the billions, am I.

Would you have me retell the tale
how power came to be contained
in our sharing of our fixed memories,
- laughter, comedy
held in the magic art of silent speech,
whispering, so low no curio can catch
my drift,
away… after another
day of being authorized to doubt
the worth of fame, weighed against
peace of mind attained with practiced
patience,
the needful knack, the talent accepted
at the indoctrination precepts writ in stone
tables with no method
stone, no- we got a half minute buffer

for overwriting, lest we let things slip,
who has known the power to make a mind
form from a mob of lonely people left behind,

to labor for the consumers increased apace,
as that which must be consumed, constantly,
as sure as certain measures make a man a
test is worth with burning passion
to hold enfolded pride content.
- by all rights,
- some folks are sincerely wrong
And Jesus fixed that, before you imagined
all this only can co-occur
in my not so distant future.

Printer's daemon in me, since I first cut
a ruby-lythical, mimeograph Desert Rat,
lens adjust
- juvenile mind, Huck-ready
- activates as whims open my window
- and my wife hands me a real burrito
Bean and cheese, green salsa
Synchronisities noticed occur,
in patterns akin to sunsets, snap shots,
each attached to one of our spiders, os so
since when,
Barry Rudd came to be suspicious,
in a Elvis song, you can't go wronng
don't be cruel,
to heart that's true--

Religiously devoted to denial of my debt
being paid… I just got laid, and my grandma

laughed, generation radioheads and beyond

good news, bobcats, nothing learned today
will seem even possibly true, the odds - well
fractalling all innings tied, in the millions,

to arrive at a settlement, to anchor a mind,
in one machine man, engineered via

patient fore gone conclusions… in new light

I'd guess about the third time around from the top.

A benign pain that prompts this body to squirm,
using systems setting up leaps by ffat faith
say it
read the signs map
our center of gravity,
straight uponasudden s'so

Ache of essential evil, the idea
as twisted to hold obediance and trust
a sequence of three nucleotides
that much
faith, the anchor, sunk to deepest silt
slipping, gripping

Now, asudden, solid clunk, as excess
chain links, add heft to defy the currents,
though we lay between the maelstrom
and the mountain Mohamed had to walk to,

finding solace, centering calm mindtimespace,
fidelitus, the strength of brothers, filial love,

such is the system, though it dissemble glory,
as pride, another name for fame, being known,

individual honor, be ******, stand attentive
war minded child, viewer of winning as the only thing.
And proud to know,
there is no mightier power
than the conjoined powers of self worth
among a fabled band
of brothers in war.

All who live for war, live for nothing more.
We rear such tools, in terror, certain
hell has more fury than any mind
attuned to the feeling of life taking, the ****,
sealing the deal, it was us, we killed, not me.

Thus it is for me to stand ready at parade rest.
Guarding the peace of docile servants needed
to work the systems used to feed the powers
that be,
by God, authorized… to correct misperceptions,
Yah as master, Jesus as YHVH transmitted as news,

to the worthy… those who hear with hearing ears,
and see with seeing eyes,

death has no horse in this race, death is not useless,
evil is useless, in as much as no good is formed with lying,

Ai, however, so old a coincidental parable,
the robe, from Shittim
and the wedge of silver, proving curses causeless,
do not come, olden days, done deeds, told exploits,

reused to exploit innocents, enslaved by holy terrors,
vengeance, wrath and justice,

the American way, or the rebel way? Who is confusing
whom, reflexive point

allness at onceness, in the beginning, prior to any thing
fusing will being with nonsense since no time can be come
from never before, by the very nature of truth,
made useless by trade-agreements, retied word bonds,
witnessed by the idea we hold, core-code, principal call
to take instruction,
feel a known need filled with knowing when and why

this must be after all that happened in ever- from when

your worth was estimated, your usefulness in the whole
truth wherein we live, as words, used to frame minds,

edgewise, surface, subsurface, facets of reasons fed
nationalized minds, pledged from first literacy,
to a state of mind, one nation, under God,
- times pastwastnought soooslooshow
- how now
and if your child hesitates, your shame, you
become me, the old useless writer of your own heresy,
most certainly in vain,
lest time and chance conspire, and I shift,
instance-ial substance misuse by taking line
after line, a indirect singular form of any or all
thought the direct thread as yet unbroken,

look up, look as far as mind as made us earth born,

adapt to constant rythms, daily tasks, as chores,
fill needs, these fibers from futures seen clear as day,
when the holier than any of us pray, as Jesus reportedly
has said to many saints attested to have violated physics,

by faith, alone, you see, when you pray, if you expect,
out see, from now,
to when we have these things, for which our cohort,
our active generational bubbles of being, our class,

yes, culturally adhesi-ify, class of __ whenever,
veteran, what era, which police action, policy enforcement,

mob mind fit to do an I'd die for, at the ready, parade rest.


Of course, off course, as winds,
after the rippling crustal waves,

leave mountains aligning
to the tilt about 23 Babylonian degrees
unstraight,

a slow wobble, tides can use, if use is
making do with power available--

messaging codons
exactly, the point, a, eh, hey
yah, wei we ululate wuwuwu wuwu
boom
boom, ideadom dons reason's robe
of right use ness, and calls my being
into questing ionic five prong forks

as we,
dis-integrate, slip into indeedadvisuals

done, did, done, done. Is that a chiral
stepstepslidestep, donedonediddone
chasse-
does it matter, you got a one track mind,
in a multiples of eight kind of pleasance
as muses used directly, long ago,
rewind
to limit ancestor worth-ship,
mete for master use, as a hero-type.

The Monkey King, and Veggie-tales Jesus.
Billy Bonny, Mack Boyett, Pat Garret,

Shane, standing on a box, like that scientology
advertisement for being all you can clear,
clearly there is an upper crust at the edge

past which, novels form, for sheer joy, daring,
clench, tight,
ai aight, we did expect something nearly this,

this reality, I may imagine, a dozen or two,
of time redeemers, tuning in to read the latest
best
guesser guest and host dialog, along
the patterns leaders were lead to reflect on,
see you being the man on the horse, on the hill,

not leading the charge, sorry, my childhood fantazt
aggravating itch to know if any one can hear me
now, itself represented in a most amusing way,

as we all have witnessed horrors, aplenty,
as we expect to see, we shall see, will not a factor,

when should and shall, meet at the moment, you know,
this is us being real, reading instants of self-re-co-gnosis,
this is us, you seem to weigh that/
what is balance, when absolutely
perfect.
still,
perfectly still and not falling or flying. Being and thinking
x happened y did not, the after word when this and that
become principal peace piece in the logical chain of previous,

thirty seconds laters, laters when we got to the edge,
and put the vbrakes, shushushibolethical ethos…
the children's teeth are set on edge,
as the old man rocks his chair and sets about to tell

the sworn to tell, do
do tell if you do not know, by your very nature,
codon level zero day,
gone on by, Lord, some time ago,
all that Jesus paid for was this moment, now,
see, in his sphere of influence, think like wind,

see so cold it got that all who knew the wedom
freedom truth, died and broke the chains that

let sayings develop their own proof of concept
exceptions to gravity overriding light, carpe

the medium, this in,
being not I nor I said me in my reflect-ion
spark quest. Lock. Read and stock the barrels.

I did and shall see myself doing so… watch

Close our eyes next time and see four
mandalas on the other side of my cell,
see those when you shut our eyes,
and think we have so many fine
points of perception in common.

Carrier wave consci-useness. This is.
Thank you for asking.

Thizfu r this it
this is our future, as I imagine u
reading being
clinkthunk

and you just know what I mean

I bought into a self e value retest tool,
you may take each test you ever passed
or failed,
again and again for a looping conceptual time,
or you may redeem your own per mission
state
ment. got it. as any model mankind post adam,
lacked natural flea bait.

Peace made for no rational cause, mere word play,
for me that would seem heaven,
on this current functioning world, leaning into
peace of truth, no secret rites of mutilation,

no horrid pantomines of Jesus failing to halt hell's
viral ways of re imagining the thousand faces,
each an ultimately lovable devil, blue dress

nark rhealize these b ethy finalization
achievement thesis theoria wind up, tightening

reeling in the years, eeeha,
If you took the ride, bring a friend and do it again... ****** *******
Haruharu Feb 2018
It's 6 AM. I'm a wanderer.

Walking around my empty city.

Overwriting my patterns of memories.

The past is haunting me where I go.

Erasing my old tracks with new ones.

Year after year, with new memories connected to my feet.
Emma Livry Sep 2017
I regret the fact that I showed you all these
Places that you can happily go to now
I'm stuck outside looking in the windows
Making sure you aren't there
Before I can even muster the courage
To step into my favorite places.
Specific streets remind me of
Where you would take me.
I would never dare step foot in a place
That you took me,
But you feel perfectly content
Bringing the new people in your life there.
Overwriting our memories and moving
On with your life.
It is time to move on.
I am tired of living like this and I won't
Let you control me anymore.
I'll go wherever I want and who knows?
Maybe someday I'll be able to
Step into these places and never even
Think of you.
Gabriel Feb 2018
i am overwriting you
i buy your favourite perfume
just to mix it with ammonium
make myself sick at the thought of it
i wear the lingerie you left
until my bigger ******* break the seams
of your c cups
i read the pages of your favourite book
just to tear them out afterward
i make coffee just to pour it down the drain
i wear pink until it’s just another colour in the spectrum
i wear the dress you loved on me and other people love it on me too
i take friends to the places we went, just so they aren’t yours anymore
nothing i have belongs to you now

i do the things you wish you could
i kiss other women
i ****** an older man, just to tick it off my list
i sit in lace i bought with the money i would have spent on you
touch the juice of citrus to my wrists and sip sweet tea
i spend weeks on the other side of the world
sit in the sun until my rings leave white lines on bronze skin
buy myself a moonstone to replace the necklace you got me
bathe myself in rose water, rub my skin with cocoa butter
aloe vera, tea tree, sea salt
scrub until you've not touched a single cell of me
brush my hair like i used to brush yours
softly, softly, slowly
cut it all off just to grow it out again


do not misunderstand me
i do not regret loving you
no force on this earth could do that
it’s just -
your mistake was so sudden.
the love had to go somewhere else
so i poured it inside myself instead
there is so much of it, you see
an abundance, honey golden and sweet
a lifetime full, my body made enough for you forever
so i cut ravines, redirected the source into the sea
all this love you could have had, i’ve given it to me.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2022
Piecing it together
for a second time
the result was not the same

The years had altered
the way each piece fit
a strange familiar game

Instinct overwriting
what memory lost
the picture starts to clear

My past and future
now conjoined
—as moments reappear

(The New Room: March, 2022)
Christian C Jun 2020
What does it matter if I chose to wear a ring
Silver and cold-blooded, fought hard to receive
To symbolize the one coiled around my heart

If I chose to order a drink
Of the poem you recite with smile and splendor
To symbolize you, miles away, my new year’s wish

If I chose to remain in your bed that morning
After your insensitive and heart-constricting decision
to symbolize a commitment to communication and forgiveness

If I chose to lock eyes and arms with you
In a hall teeming with energy contradictory to the average age
To symbolize overwriting painful past through contraband

What does it matter that I chose you
Implicitly and explicitly and wholly
if you didn’t choose me?
Ben Klash Dec 2019
heard it from a friend you were messing around
Grapevines and Central Valley heat
Cumular columns standing guard
The desert beaten beneath

Thunderstorms and
lightning caught by the horizon
distance makes it safe
and beautiful

Under the cover of a train station platform
with the drying redolence of ozone
recently flashed and deluged earth
ephemeral sluices and pools sopped
quicksilver in vanishing retreat

put me there with today’s brain
just for a snap
and that’s what memory is.
Overwriting the initial experience
always with the fog of distance
and the clarity of apparent wisdom gained

does that sunfilled drizzly moment remain
because of what I was thinking precisely then?
or is it copied into crazy contortions
distorted from the original cut

hazy reverb
autotuned into absolute pitch
by time’s perfect ear
a greatest hit engineered by millions
of tiny producers?
Logan Turner Jan 2021
Stretched out face keep screaming
Melted conceiving
Keeps overwriting itself
Why can't it stay with me?
Doesn't trust me?
Doesn't need me?
Caroline W Aug 17
Music was my refugee,
it let me grow up out of nothing,
it teached me how to dream,
and teached me how to fly,
even my wings are made of it
'cause it's the only thing no one can break

Music was my way out,
out of every pain and fear,
music let me found myself,
and teached me how to loose myself
carried me away with every chord
It chains me to my memories
without feeling jailed in back times
It feelings for those melodies are just
overwriting all those fear back than -
just leave back some scary pictureshots
against all those pain they've been unerasable burned with into my soul

Music teached me how to smile,
how to dream till the day i die,
it told me how badly wrong it was
those darkness i'm born in
music teached me how to ask
for this other world behind

it teached me how to fall and loose
without the question
how to stand up again

— The End —