"proponent" poems - Hello Poetry

You Sir, Are An Electrician! **technocrat — noun a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.** This city boy was expert at Turning the lights on, Unlocking the front door, Putting new batteries in flashlights, And calling the handyman to "Please come upstairs" When the degree of diving difficulty was a Positive number. Also, Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR, Triggering alarms, Killing car batteries, Making laptops question Human sanity, Tearing up when reading, "Some Assembly Required!" Raised in a city of experts, He was unskilled in things electric, Becoming apoplectic, When a device had an On/off switch that ignored him. Somewhat famous he was, For engaging the inanimate, In a verbal dialectic, Which included words highly phonetic, But unsuitable for children's ears. She was raised in rural pastures, Corn fields used for hide n' go seek, Riding goats after school Just for fun, Familiar with innards of Deus ex machina, a/k/a Minor engine repairs, and Doing what he called, Making reparations. IOS7, heaven. Cabling laptop to external devices, Icing on the cake, Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker, Did not require calling an 800 number. She never read an instruction sheet Without pleasurable laughing at Japanese English. He was unashamed of his skilled Unskilled characteristics, For such is the way of the world In the human kingdom, Some of us two handed, some of us, bi-standers. But upon occasion, He would bemoan his fate, Decry his inability to survive On a post-apocalyptic Earth, Like the people on tv and movies. Periodically he would grow morose, Listless, at his inability to adapt to a Point Oh world. Uncomprehending Icons and symbols whose meaning Were wholly unintuitive, He secretly ashamed of his need for technological ****** She would sense his frustration, Wipe away his inner condensation, Climbing into his lap, Whispering the following: **You sir, are an electrician of words, a verbal technocrat,** Plumber of the depths where Few fear to tread, explorer of the head, Restorer of human paintings unmatched, Without your ilk, this world would be unbearable, Your heart's warming silk Comforts bodies and souls, Speaking from experience personal. Then, she flicked his On/Off switch, On.

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Oct 31, 2013

Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

You Sir, Are An Electrician!

You Sir, Are An Electrician! **technocrat — noun a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.** This city boy was expert at Turning the lights on, Unlocking the front door, Putting new batteries in flashlights, And calling the handyman to "Please come upstairs" When the degree of diving difficulty was a Positive number. Also, Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR, Triggering alarms, Killing car batteries, Making laptops question Human sanity, Tearing up when reading, "Some Assembly Required!" Raised in a city of experts, He was unskilled in things electric, Becoming apoplectic, When a device had an On/off switch that ignored him. Somewhat famous he was, For engaging the inanimate, In a verbal dialectic, Which included words highly phonetic, But unsuitable for children's ears. She was raised in rural pastures, Corn fields used for hide n' go seek, Riding goats after school Just for fun, Familiar with innards of Deus ex machina, a/k/a Minor engine repairs, and Doing what he called, Making reparations. IOS7, heaven. Cabling laptop to external devices, Icing on the cake, Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker, Did not require calling an 800 number. She never read an instruction sheet Without pleasurable laughing at Japanese English. He was unashamed of his skilled Unskilled characteristics, For such is the way of the world In the human kingdom, Some of us two handed, some of us, bi-standers. But upon occasion, He would bemoan his fate, Decry his inability to survive On a post-apocalyptic Earth, Like the people on tv and movies. Periodically he would grow morose, Listless, at his inability to adapt to a Point Oh world. Uncomprehending Icons and symbols whose meaning Were wholly unintuitive, He secretly ashamed of his need for technological ****** She would sense his frustration, Wipe away his inner condensation, Climbing into his lap, Whispering the following: **You sir, are an electrician of words, a verbal technocrat,** Plumber of the depths where Few fear to tread, explorer of the head, Restorer of human paintings unmatched, Without your ilk, this world would be unbearable, Your heart's warming silk Comforts bodies and souls, Speaking from experience personal. Then, she flicked his On/Off switch, On.