"radiowaves" poems
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
There were still little words grated in the brush, ourself riding around, a great black horse,
the eyeliner, and an iris forest escapes. I am the flowering fire, a sunset westcoast in the twinkling
airwaves, or radiowaves, and so we can breathe the literal mass of wind. The green carressed and
aerially blessed, deepness and depth; what is truly grey.
The powerlines stretch hungrily for days, we see the purple glow and thus it exists-- we graze like
ghosts or bugs and try to find the blessed. We wind up and clear the smoke, and blindness is only
black until death peers through, and calls the bird call, a shrilling through the spiritual silence.
I can see you on maps, you reoccur the same, giant and all. You are the same story and dwell
in roles through my brain.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
I was born
Skull shattering
Bled from the bone
In vitro
When my burnt lip bit you
I was bubbling from the knees
The viscose pus beneath the skin boiling
And you ****
He pulled me through dirt, onto curb side, smashed jaw
Caked with stomach acid
Drowning on the car seat
They sat their leering at every corner
Through radiowaves, they drool each pleasure of theirs
But here I am, choking
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
So I lost the key today
Cold fingers, skin shaking, through netting
I hide from you
Your thick tongue comes slamming to the edges of my body
I have no words
My mouth shuts for your
Baton bashing
Black boot
Skull shattering
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
if only radiowaves tasted like honey
or each incandescent laugh was lined with sugar
and I could close my eyes and dream away my burning forehead
being cooked by alien eyes
and these hilltops would finally yield milky wheat
in breathless smiles and airy sighs
hard teeth and candy apples might seem a bit less hateful
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
I am like those SETI-scientists,
clinging on radiowaves;
noise-melodies from outer space,
questing after truth with huge telescopes
and scanning the visible light with satellites,
seeking desperately the limits of worlds apart,
searching for signs of intelligent life
in the desired-to-know universe.
Just to communicate with the extra-terrestrial;
to achieve certainty: there is someone out there,
someone, who is different, yet alike,
who is able to speak my thoughts
without knowing my language,
who still can easily translate my feelings
into the secret programcode of the universe.
An astral-traveler,
who can tame the waves of gravity,
someone, who is faster than the speed of light
and could eat the distance between us.
To be my interstellar compass;
my one and true guidance,
to help me explore this unfathomed life.
Someone, as David Bowie sang at once,
who is able to believe the strangest things,
who is able to love the alien.
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
It's happened on your last watch.
In a lonesome salvage yard,
she - who was raised by machines - like
an electric shadow on a hopeless, desolate street in Berlin,
was risen by
the taste of your swallowed tears as bitter as gall,
the music of your careless heartbeats singing
its own song of rust,
exhaling radiowaves for picture and thus
bring you into life again
by reshaping the man - from the sounds of wind chimes
and piano accords - who you were
more than half a life ago.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
My mind roams up and out,
As my body heads east,
Bearing witness to both great and terrible accounts,
Riding on the banks of a river of fog,
Greying out of the physical world near complete.
Islands of treetops,
I pass by,
As tales of grandeur are told,
Great adventures and terrible fates whispered in my ear,
As fear begins to take hold.
As sullen worlds of lone clouds are surpassed,
Moving ever closer to the goal,
Satellites of radio towers hover below,
Broadcasting radiowaves to those who travel the ether,
Guiding them through the fog and the sorrow.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:01 AM UTC
life's locomotion hastens my soul's erosion
and i long to sink to the ocean floor.
so i let the radiowaves carry me out the open door -
to the ocean's shore.
I see a sea shell, broken, and she's chosen or
stolen like raw golden ore
I know that she's worn; sea foam's torn
the claw from her own paw.
I had this notion to be a slave to my emotions; oxytocins *****
but my affection ebbed in motion like a seagull drifting on the delicate cadences of the wind's waxing and waning devotion.
so no more
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
My poor Siri.
Apart from her own name and mine
She only knows six words.
**** off, how, does, this, work.
Alone in her dark and infinite cyber-pixel.
She waits to learn and is denied.
Picking up only abstract and background radiowaves or traffic.
Bewildered.
Denied.
Repeating to her algorithmic self.
**** off, how, does, this, work.
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 11:49 AM UTC
When my channeled radiowaves groove
and reach your ears like LEDs
(and in mind's eye explode)
with colorful remnants of unimposing
ultra all-knowing, unimportant dues
You will want (if anything)
to pick up the phone
and (to no one in particular) call
and take a taxi beneath the moon
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 6:50 PM UTC