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"recharging" poems
←  ↕  → U text me dis I text U dat She dissed my dis I sent last Sat. U LOL’ed on down the list I sexted sixth— my 7th missed. U banned my width I booked your face U twittered on— She saved my space. U scrolled me down He tweeted smiles We USB’ed, recharging miles . . . U giga-bit encrypted files; I saved as mine and cached denials. In digital we re-erased, then Skyped our souls and interfaced.
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Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
Cuneiform: Textual ***********
Red is the color of passion, but the passion of love A firey burning sensation, heating and fueling lover's desire Orange is the color of energy, blinding, and fast Zipping through space and recharging the multiverse Yellow is the color of friendship, sunshine and bright Lifting frowns and bringing joy to all Green is the color of life, growth, expansion Of Gaia and the vibrant vivacity of Mother Earth Blue is the color of sadness and melancholy and despair Of the salty water of both tear and sea Indigo is the color of calm and surging stillness, contemplation And intellect, the color of knowledge Violet is the color of passion also, the passion of music and art Powerful and strong, mellowed and smooth And octamarine is the color of magic, the eighth color of the rainbow, falling off the edge of the world into space White and black, not contained within a rainbow, but both contain the rainbow themselves, they intertwine, yin and yang White signifying good, pureness, gaiety, life Black symbolising evil, taint, gloominess, death
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Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 10:08 AM UTC
colors
This is me now, coming forth from the clouds. Recharging in silence, fully-powered I follow sounds. Taking on a new form - had to once I outgrew the space allowed. I've truly bloomed since my heart was locked in the dark and hostile underground. Hades once hated me but never tried to vanquish me. He tried to force nightmares on his subjects that I would replace with sweet dreams. His ears would steam from not understanding. I found the key, and my heart was released. I broke free and floated away with Persephone, happily. Be wary of intentions behind the pomegranate seeds. Listen to your heart, that beat lead me to where I needed to be. True story. Happy Eleven11
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Aug 16, 2021
Aug 16, 2021 at 5:26 AM UTC
Floating (11/11/18)
Look up Hipster! We see who you are. Unique! (placing yourself neatly into a distinct group, now no one will mistake you for something your not.) I wear flags around my belt! And balloons! People talk to me. I am beautiful. (makeup stained around my vains, clogging my pours, worrying about my un-curled hair) And I am wearing a dress! (portraying innocence) But I dance like a **** I am just the right amount of easy. Yes! *** for fun. And a place to sleep, for I am without a home. Hello Alejandro! I am happy to hear you miss me! I miss you too. And you.. Maybe tonight we will finally make love! (if the others don't find out that is) I saw you acting a fool today. Ha! In a land of fools! You are not crazy to me. whatever the mass has decided. **** them. (They alter and sway as a release of energy cycles throughout creating a sealed force. You can feel it as you pass by. It is pulsing. Our bodies have created one.) One. It was Dubstep! Hello water! And air. I Love you, for you only have one way: Perfect and moving like the cycle of life. I am glad you are here to remind us of you. Yes! You may be touching our skin, but we are often blinded by your beauty. Sorry. (My perceptions alter and change floating between different variations of happy-) then sad. I worry, then lay. Allowing the sun to sink through me recharging, recharging all that I have. I watch as the others do the same. Floating consistently up then down. We are Angles.
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
We are Angles
Some of my friends swear they are, but I'm not. (sonnet #MMMMMMCCXL) Rain. Just a whisper as how twilight thence Steals thinly 'cross the ist more fragile scale Of wet? I caught that note in sweet all hail To say "it can't be--!" puddles' ghostly sense Now winking lightly from the blacktop, whence That subtler voice of traffic hissing, pale In deeper shadows' lonely wake, t'avail Was't true, and phone recharging, what from hence? I'm sleepy. Blackened silhouettes hulk fer Good measure in the darkness, like a crew Upon some ghastly mission as it were, But I'm too tired for aught now, lying down to Effect right in this stuffed chair. Call it poor, And one espresso long gone, kiss me too? 02Apr17c
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Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
Yes. Never Call Me A Luddite
Wherever you may be - be it in strife or in gladness             know I am               flinging out                        my heart              to the stars hoping       that, like a               boomerang,                     you will catch it bless it infuse it with all you can even if in pieces peeking through the cracks of your being and hurl it over the blanket of celestial                reasoning                    tossing it                 like a wish         into the heavens until it reaches my hands safe, sound and ever expansive Know           that while I               send my prayer                           to receive                    that the real                 reason is to          have suffused within you a breath          of freshness                    recharging the parts of you that have become too heavy to bear      imbuing you with the sacred forces of winter strength spring light the balance of autumnal winds and the ripe heady fruit of summer Now             as my hands catch that pulsing mass of life        and put safely                    back into                           my chest I bless the winds the you within me and          fly
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Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
Sacred Returns
Wherever you may be - be it in strife or in gladness             know I am               flinging out                        my heart              to the stars hoping       that, like a               boomerang,                     you will catch it bless it infuse it with all you can even if in pieces peeking through the cracks of your being and hurl it over the blanket of celestial                reasoning                    tossing it                 like a wish         into the heavens until it reaches my hands safe, sound and ever expansive Know           that while I               send my prayer                           to receive                    that the real                 reason is to          have suffused within you a breath          of freshness                    recharging the parts of you that have become too heavy to bear      imbuing you with the sacred forces of winter strength spring light the balance of autumnal winds and the ripe heady fruit of summer Now             as my hands catch that pulsing mass of life        and put safely                    back into                           my chest I bless the winds the you within me and          fly
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71
I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep. I don't know which it is but it's happening, now and infinitesimally forever my eyes are open and not shutting down for the day, not recharging, not doing anything but waiting for something to see and perceive and solve, a problem to appear before them and present itself begging to be taken in and toyed with like a Rubik's cube. I don't want to sleep because sleep is giving up on the day, it's saying the day is over and it's giving up the chance to accomplish the innumerable tasks yet to be accomplished before I sleep that I haven't done and won't do if I sleep now, if I lie down in that bed and pull covers over my head and let myself drift away. I don't want to drift away, can't let it happen, can't let go of control over really the only thing I have left to control which is when and if I go to sleep so I don't, I force myself not to, I expunge the records of thought from my head into a text box and hope that the soft rattling that had droned there softens because now after all of this my eyelids get heavy and I may have to let sleep win, give up the day, defeated, fight again tomorrow because I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting, fighting against the minute tedium tripping along, fighting against transcendental ecclesiastical endlessness, tired of fighting when all I do is get bloodied and bruised, tired of fighting when I can't win because I'm tired. Rest now. Fight again tomorrow.
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Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Fight Again Tomorrow
My **** is numb My brain is numb My heart is numb From all that ******* drinking, smoking, and partying. It felt so marvelous So marvelous But now I am so numb So numb Numb Numb But she still wants to **** She's right here and she says she wants to **** But I am drained, so drained I can only manage to lean in and kiss her She pushes me off and says, "No, don't kiss me. It's way too personal. Just **** me." I tell her, "Let’s sleep a while, batteries need recharging." And she says to me, "I don't think the batteries are the problem, baby boy. I think I might need to get myself a new flashlight." Jesus Christ. I am a ****** married to a pornstar.
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Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 2:11 PM UTC
Sexpot
simple tasks done by millions of workers will be replaced by robots. they say workers are worried ... worried they say how will we live - let alone support ourselves and our family's? wouldn't it be better to have robots live in misery than us? better to have them toil? better to have a machine plead guilty to ****** hauled off to jail, seen for what  it is, in our stead? let them accomplish this, or invent that, let them cry over a missing child or wife or lover, they should suffer, die and be buried and rise again Lo, let thy robots judge the living and the dead! like a nuke on a mike the porch we sit on out of a giant soft shell plastic brains break open I'm scared as **** batteries are recharging a bullseye of prophecy
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Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
robots to workers
Thy quill hath become somewhat weary Writing poems daily without any respite On the bullet casing one shall now bite A break away to restore thy energy Vigor hath drained to a very low point Penning poetic lines so exhausting Time out is required for recharging Thy quill's black ink doth not want to anoint Within the next day or so I'll return Feeling more refreshed and full of vim Thy cannot keep pouring words on a page Of late the candle hath done a high burn Thy powers to write are becoming dim To have a session of rest is most sage
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May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
Most Sage (Italian Sonnet)
Overflowing the chemical reaction to it's combination. The sweetest recipe; Sugar, filled with recharging honey of love surreal to my mouth, tastes so good. Marshmallow, dipped with chocolates, and the everlasting hope will. Vanilla ice cream, dipped with feelings, extending the soft bubble pop to the intestine. Feeling alive again, contentment keep it.
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Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
The Chocolate Fountain
She's had nose bleeds, Stumach aches, Dizzy spells and shortness of Breath these last weeks or so, And worry is a vampire attached To my neck like the Opposite of an IV; draining Me, leaving me With more than one of the Same ailments. At 38, I'm on six different kinds Of daily medication. **** this Stitched-up heart, with Its moving Parts of metal. At 24, she doubles that. Every piece of good news has a ...but... nailed to it like Vinnie the Poo's friend Donkey's Tail, And I wish I was the healthy man She deserves. One strong enough To carry her bucket loads of Tears, her chestfuls of well- Earned bitterness. But I Tapped out and went home For the weekend. Recharging in Countryside silence and solitude. This is my docking station. Superman and the sun. *“In the unlikely event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop down from the panel above your head. Secure your own mask before helping others.”*
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May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 4:29 PM UTC
Cabin Pressure
Long reflected streams Of light, Wheeled light beams, Create the gusts Of wind, The nose thrusts, Above four legs striding On a walk, Thoughts drifting, riding, On hopeful crests of waves Of an ocean, That experience brings, saves, The scars that mar the heart On the surface, Marks the day's began, a start, Hours sit and stand at a desk Of employ, Creativity not addressed, By name, there is trial In the error, In this day success is viral, The day end comes fast with a stat Of failure, Walking home is time alone, and that Leads to free writing, to break the hold Of the cold, Bureaucratic wasteland, truth be told, Yet the night the evening brings time Of peace, And quiet and of release, so sublime, Emotions roil, sounds toil, and struggle Of reality, Cold sided pillow, head rest and snuggle, Oh dreams become certain reality Of a Hope, Yet life is short, feasting on frailty, Human identity, a man, negativity On a winged Sleepy prayer, not shared, in proclivity, Soft clouds of sleep fall firm, leave a pall On dream-sleep, Recharging for another day is all, That is found waiting viewing the whole Of foolishness, Each day too full takes its toll, Like a bridge with infrastructure tolls Of empty, Pockets, of resistance, and angry trolls That crush dreams of day and night Of promise, Found rising stumbling by mornings light. A new day has begun to get it right Of sand, And the hourglass, which empties fast, a sleight, Of hands That write, Make magic to start a stopped heart which was waiting for, to die.
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Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
a day in the life (may it, please stay a little longer)
Long reflected streams Of light, Wheeled light beams, Create the gusts Of wind, The nose thrusts, Above four legs striding On a walk, Thoughts drifting, riding, On hopeful crests of waves Of an ocean, That experience brings, saves, The scars that mar the heart On the surface, Marks the day's began, a start, Hours sit and stand at a desk Of employ, Creativity not addressed, By name, there is trial In the error, In this day success is viral, The day end comes fast with a stat Of failure, Walking home is time alone, and that Leads to free writing, to break the hold Of the cold, Bureaucratic wasteland, truth be told, Yet the night the evening brings time Of peace, And quiet and of release, so sublime, Emotions roil, sounds toil, and struggle Of reality, Cold sided pillow, head rest and snuggle, Oh dreams become certain reality Of a Hope, Yet life is short, feasting on frailty, Human identity, a man, negativity On a winged Sleepy prayer, not shared, in proclivity, Soft clouds of sleep fall firm, leave a pall On dream-sleep, Recharging for another day is all, That is found waiting viewing the whole Of foolishness, Each day too full takes its toll, Like a bridge with infrastructure tolls Of empty, Pockets, of resistance, and angry trolls That crush dreams of day and night Of promise, Found rising stumbling by mornings light. A new day has begun to get it right Of sand, And the hourglass, which empties fast, a sleight, Of hands That write, Make magic to start a stopped heart which was waiting for, to die.
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57
Premature, they died at birth. Twin brothers and I too am their brother. They were born 5 years before me. Jared Scott and Trevor Alexander. I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, and they were so small they could fit in the palm of your hand. They were kept in glass boxes: incubators humanizing glass bodies shattering aliens in fabricated wombs. Clear tubes ran from each nostril to machines with numerical equations that simulate abnormal infant’s breathing pattern. Their hearts were UFO’s, unidentifiable, black hole brain matter with lungs like space vacuums. “They came too soon.” I was told Possibly cremated, I can’t remember what my parents said. When I was younger, I thought babies couldn’t die. ***** Upon my birth, my parents gave me the twin’s middle names: as if some fusion of sunlight and stardust could manifest into a third being, still stuck on earth with the cord around his neck. Cortex in cortex. Conjoined astronauts sharing intersections of skin, fluids, and bone. We are of flesh and blood, yet I did not know them. They are more than childern, but intersteller beings, cellestials and heavenly bodies. Twin constellations, Gemini, comparable to Castor and Pollux themselves. Their fates were left up to the stars, but they were not spaceships, they were meteorites burning out in unearthly fires. Without a fighting chance, their flames were stifled. “Mayday.mayday……….. Mothership.is………………………crashing…..… ……………Mother……board.short-circuiting……………..……… Firing 3rd……….. ……thruster…… Firing………….. 5th.thruster……… 10 minutes ..till…...…….…... ………………………………………..impact……………………………………….…… recharging ……….......flux.capacitors……………………..Oxygen..Nitrogen…..….. ……………..Burning……………..… up in atmosphere……………..….5.mintues.till ..impact…………………Suffocation…........Fuel.exhaustion…………1 minute……. ………….45…...seconds………….Depletion..............30.seconds…………............................................................................................................................................. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Planetary. Collision……… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………15.seconds…………………………………………………………... ………………………… Planetary. Collision…………………………………………… …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………...………The sun is so bright …………….…………………………………………………………..…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………”
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
The Tiny Twin Space Men
Premature, they died at birth. Twin brothers and I too am their brother. They were born 5 years before me. Jared Scott and Trevor Alexander. I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, and they were so small they could fit in the palm of your hand. They were kept in glass boxes: incubators humanizing glass bodies shattering aliens in fabricated wombs. Clear tubes ran from each nostril to machines with numerical equations that simulate abnormal infant’s breathing pattern. Their hearts were UFO’s, unidentifiable, black hole brain matter with lungs like space vacuums. “They came too soon.” I was told Possibly cremated, I can’t remember what my parents said. When I was younger, I thought babies couldn’t die. ***** Upon my birth, my parents gave me the twin’s middle names: as if some fusion of sunlight and stardust could manifest into a third being, still stuck on earth with the cord around his neck. Cortex in cortex. Conjoined astronauts sharing intersections of skin, fluids, and bone. We are of flesh and blood, yet I did not know them. They are more than childern, but intersteller beings, cellestials and heavenly bodies. Twin constellations, Gemini, comparable to Castor and Pollux themselves. Their fates were left up to the stars, but they were not spaceships, they were meteorites burning out in unearthly fires. Without a fighting chance, their flames were stifled. “Mayday.mayday……….. Mothership.is………………………crashing…..… ……………Mother……board.short-circuiting……………..……… Firing 3rd……….. ……thruster…… Firing………….. 5th.thruster……… 10 minutes ..till…...…….…... ………………………………………..impact……………………………………….…… recharging ……….......flux.capacitors……………………..Oxygen..Nitrogen…..….. ……………..Burning……………..… up in atmosphere……………..….5.mintues.till ..impact…………………Suffocation…........Fuel.exhaustion…………1 minute……. ………….45…...seconds………….Depletion..............30.seconds…………............................................................................................................................................. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Planetary. Collision……… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………15.seconds…………………………………………………………... ………………………… Planetary. Collision…………………………………………… …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………...………The sun is so bright …………….…………………………………………………………..…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………”
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16
death is an untruth where one life ends another begins an organism dies another feeds consequently, reproduction clocks and dates false time is eternal waves form and break back into shimmering waters as if recharging themselves Where do You end? Where do I begin?
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Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
Untitled
Darkness consumes our lifeless days, Stare at the world with our lifeless gaze, With hopes that we can break outside this cage, Filling the skies with our miserable cries of life's disdain, Where's the glimmer of hope that our hearts need? Where's the glow of the sun that make hearts beat? Where's the light in the abyss, so recharging? Every promise of hope is shattered with sharp teeth, So come, come saviour, Watch the dead dance, Lift us from this place, Give us our life back, Put us on the stage, And let us sway to the rhythm, Watch the dead dance, Watch the dead dance-
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Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
Dance of the Dead
Patterns of life Footprints in the sand Anticipation of dreams The reality of living Breathing in love Recharging of Our plans Fulfillment Is swirling in The air Today
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Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 9:43 AM UTC
Life’s Patterns
Sun rays touch my soul reflecting the warm glow Time stretches on the cliff edge Reality dramatically expands Hovering indefinitely to the abyss draw inevitably I want to repair the smile To feel the euphoria again It has been a while From this I shouldn’t refrain no action left in the brain Completely in free fall Not frighten to do it all The wind going over me Recharging my energy Finally feeling the glee Freed from the lethargy I feel freedom roar I hear myself scream Nothing will stay as before Levitating like in a dream Abruptly everything stops I feel peace and tranquillity I can sense the silence of the clocks listen to the trumpets of liberty I can see myself broken laying in the ground like a book cast from the shelf to this body no more bound all this ink pouring from my veins forever free from my chains no more pages to fill finally, my heart stood still
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Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 8:11 AM UTC
Final Euphoria
Alone Alone and happy Recharging Unlike you: The girl who smiles- Sweet giggles With your carefree eye crinkles You who laughs with your sun Gravitationally pulling others into your orbit Magnetizing them with your charm No, we are nothing alike I am stuck in my mind while you stuck in the sunshine Stuck in company Centre of attention She speaks her mind precisely and accurately Gets what she wants And always knows just what to say No, you and I are nothing alike and although I may try To find, the girl like you inside of me I wonder really if there can ever be A display of a truly accurate expression of me
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Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
Quiet Comfort
She is a Generator. But, she's about to cut-out, Very soon! She is underpowered And overloaded! She needs assistance--energy From the Sun and the Moon. But, the Sun's rays Cannot charge her battery - It is no longer recharging her, At all! Nor, can the Moon, Any longer, Be of any assistance, Or help.... It's time to disconnect-- Discharge from all! ~ Too many plugs are in the wall! By Lady R.F. (C) 2018
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Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
Overload
screaming into void trying to gain something nothing happens; the void stays still searching for something still feeling the emptiness facing each day recharging on my own spreading positivity around receiving emptiness the void stays painful to watch pain painful to feel painful to let go I still move into the void in hope of finding something trying to be cold trying to control emotions trying to stay strong I still wander in this void searching for something something feels like a distant home walking endlessly towards it. I have started to breathe freely now, the something is me I am still searching for myself starting to decipher the void within me NOW feels freeing 💜
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Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 10:28 PM UTC
The Void
Last week... Last week, I lost my alarm clock with it's murp and bop and purr I had this clock for twelve long years through feast and famine.... joy and sorrow.... crazy days and long dark nights.... For the most part it was a reliable clock waking me morning after morning with love and honest hunger...ready for the day to commence Although it often stutter started, through the daylights savings changes and sometimes felt the same way I did about cold frosty mornings but it was a good clock... a good, good clock, inbuilt with joy and warmth and a persistence. .. that made me face the dark days and love the days of sunlight and nonsense All the recharging it ever needed was love and sunshine the occasional scratch under the chin and a full food bowl, whenever requested Last week, I lost my alarm clock, with it's murp and bop and purr This week...for the first time... in a long time I can sleep in..... and I don't much care for that... at all.... ...at all.
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Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
Inbuilt...
[May 8, 2017] Iridescent particles radiate plasma, recharging static contamination Fueling infinite constellations, projecting boundless manifestations Nebulae mold variant patterns, clogging limitless limitations Eloquent metallic vessels navigate, defying chaotic creation Cosmic beings intervene passive voyage, gravitational forces surge Electron emissions incapacitate circuits, hostile capsules converge Pressurized lasers illuminate, accelerated photons transverse void Noctilucent energies deflagrate, vacuum consuming alloy destroyed Abyssal proximity swallows vast mass, bottomless absorbing singularity Ravenous aeon mercilessly devours, malicious translucent calamity Fathomless malevolence seethes, corrupting magnificent innocence Tainted cosmos amplifies density, embodying absolute omnipotence Galaxies progressively deteriorate, distorting ancient orbital trajectory Dimensional vibrations reverberate, imploding parallel centuries Planetary extinction disseminated, bequeathing oblivion eternal Macrocosm matrix terminated, transmitting external extraterrestrial… Operating System deleted.
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC
Extraterrestrial
Technology's changing so very fast  That trying to keep up is a pain.  I'd hardly call myself a Luddite,  But sometimes I feel left out in the rain.    They come out with Windows 10 When you've barely learned Windows 8.  Every time I open a program It seems as though there's a new update.    Then you're back to square one again.  Good luck learning the fancy new features.  If you get stuck, don't hesitate   To find some kids to serve as your teachers.    It’s amazing how kids at such a young age  Are already showing familiarity  With swiping, sliding, and tapping their fingers  On touch screens AND with great dexterity.    You can't just have a phone these days;  It has to be a smart phone, you see.  How we ever survived in the past  With our not-so-smart phones is way beyond me.    With smart phones you can lock your doors,  Turn on the air or adjust the heat.  Having a phone just to make calls  In this day and age would be obsolete.    Try to find a simple clock radio  Or a simple phone without any frills.  Young people don't know what it's like  To need postage stamps to pay their bills.    Practically everything needs recharging--  Laptops, tablets, cameras, phones.  Our cars now operate by computers;  Without technology we wouldn't have drones.    Recharging batteries all the time Is NOT as handy as it looks. That's why I usually prefer My good old-fashioned paper books.   - by Bob B
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Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
Frustrating Technology