"restarts" poems
It comes without warning;
you can't choose whether
or not it happens to you.
It's a calling.
The act of someone needing you,
not someone else,
but you.
You are the hero they need
to save them,
before there's nothing left to save.
You stay up late trying to find ways to become this hero.
You and the caller talk as long as the caller wants.
While this might not be the ideal situation for the hero,
they do it anyways in order
to make sure the caller doesn't end.
The hero swoops in at every situation they can,
trying to convince the caller;
trying to say how much they're needed.
Many times,
they succeed.
The caller decides they want to see another day.
They want to stay strong.
That gives the hero relief,
and only pushes them to try harder.
But,
there always seems to be one final time
when the hero's too late.
This is the time where it's not only the caller's end,
but the hero's, too.
The hero hits zero;
the hero doesn't want to continue
when they know how they
could've prevented this.
And that's when the cycle restarts-
the only difference being the hero
is now the caller.
The new hero,
on the other hand,
unknowingly waits for the call;
the call that could save a hero's life.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
Electromagnetic Lust
They wander about, each connected device
Talking to other connected devices
Looking into each electronic soul
In which no secret can ever reside
They speak of batteries and images
Of apps, restarts, resets, and memory
Measured by quantity of something-bytes
Each in electrical love with itself
They wander about, each connected device
Wishing to be free of its human host
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC
Consumed by the diversity of one infinite reason to live
She's under the wave of a thousand pains, but the desire to breathe, it's
So much stronger than the need to no longer be, and then suddenly
All at once she's on fire, flying higher, one breathing, eclectic queen
Everything her eyes fall upon is healing, and becoming something
Her wings spread as her beliefs begin to mend, and the future once again becomes promising
This world is continuing to fall apart and she's growing through its heart
But the moment she blossoms will be the day our universe restarts
To continue to expand your horizon, you only have to be honest
Open and caring, loving and daring, let your passions fly and find solace
In the chaos of time and space, there is hidden poetry here and she hopes someday they will find wholeness.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Jump...
Jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Gets hit by car.............
Restarts...
For the hundredth time....
Jump...
Jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Jump, jump...
Falls in river..............
Restarts.....
For the hundredth and one time....
Changes character....
Chicken...
Frog...
Unihorse...
Alien...
Dark Lord...
Flea...
Celebrity...
Turtle...
Nothing wins...
I try...
Over and over and over again...
And I can never beat Crossy Road!
...
...
...
...
...
Restart...
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
If life was a game, I'd choose you to be my player two.
Fuse together like Super Sayens do.
Baby, life is an adventure.
I just need to right one by side.
We can be like Mario and Peach.
When troubles arise.
I'll always be there,never divide.
Life is a game baby, there's no restarts.
So lets say I do.
Till death do us apart.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
My life is different now.
Like it's a game that's been updated.
And I am the main character.
And I'm always low on stamina and health.
Countless restarts, as though I've messed up the level.
But time still goes on and the level changes.
The game is a mess with the only mission to beat being depression.
The NPC's are all non talk-able pixels.
There are random jump scares and flashes of horror and gore.
Hard problems and puzzles to beat, with out the right answer.
No matter how many times I hit save, my progress is still missing.
My story line is incomplete.
No explanation or the controls.
No main objective, rather than surviving.
There are no cheat codes or a guide to help me.
It's hopeless.
There is no quitting.
There is title screen or pausing.
There is no end.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
17
untold horrors
Innumerable errors
Front of no worries
Inside of painful flurries
Fighting down the guilt
The pain
The fear
The anger
The hate
Of actions
Of the past
Present
Full of resent
Never being good enough
For self standards
3 times
3 full restarts
3 times failed
Sadness
Not being able to be
What is needed
Knowing those laid to rest
Would be ashamed
And Enflamed
Being a self
That is despicable
Unreadable
Disagreeable
Unchanging
Lacking the will
To change
And fulfill
All that is wanted
Knowing that self
Is broken
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
Intellectual stimulation from a twisted mind
Bringing life to the insanity I tried to hide
Cracking whips to break the chains, feeling death drip from my veins
Pouring poison down the drain from infections inside
Chasing rumors through the sewers, lost in tunnels of depravity; God's the only viewer but this show's not quite reality
Gravity scraped knuckles with me all the way down
A brute stuck in a boot loop asking me to drown
These restarts after crashes turned my synapses to ashes
Now I can't feel the rats in my cyber cerebral casket
Dead in the head and strapped into my bed
I dug at my wrists until I saw red
The doctors applauded at everything the gauze did
It still couldnt stop it so on it bled
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 9:46 PM UTC
On darkening red sky languish low clouds as if, smeared into existence by artists knife,
golden edged against clear red sky that transitions, upward to darker cover, void of light.
Horizon formed by railway bank black, sprout twig and bough silhouettes of bush and tree
still in winters mode, bud form begins, reach, mingling with power lines gentle bow
in the the distance assemble birds seemingly in motion slow, fly seeking places known,
their favorite safest roosts, whilst crying silently, seagulls solicit the close estuarys call.
Serenely and unusually silently a train glides into view, slowing, prepares to halt
at the nearby serving station, clouds, now red edged emanate in windows of carriages long,
through moving frames the scene so pictured then - with the last carriage, gone.
The backdrops reds darken as the unseen sun sinks lower to adorn skies new
and so draws in the waiting night, escorting pinpoint stars, finally kissing the day adieu,
Laughably today, so called ‘happiness day,’ today, where tiny annoyances
grew into frustrated rage, conversation nettlesome, tension nerves to stressful result,
Mentally I accept the guilt for letting me, yes me - down, yes - it is my fault.
Still, a scene like this.... calms my reality within, even so, the self incriminating roundabout
slowly, restarts again the anger of - my - self created weaknesses and futility.
Thankfully this darkening sky creates a serene oneness in which retire I,
the placid evening, now early night, calmness returns connecting me with this aspect .
regardless of this view a day indifferent, tomorrow maybe be a better prospect.
Spring Equinox Evening Michael C Crowder 21st March 2019
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
I need to be the controller of the game.
I cannot let the game control me.
There are no restarts.
There are no second lives.
If love was the game we played,
I've already died.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
East or the west, Computer is Waste
Surrounded by mouse, Having no Taste
Operator is a fool, Is never ever Cool
Always in haste, Does Cut and Paste
Encounters error in memory, Shooks his Head
Filled with terror, Shakes his Neck
Restarts his computer, But in Vain
The computer Reports – 'Disk Boot Failure'
The operator restarts, again and again
But no more gains, only pain and pain
Hits the CPU with his Boots
But still the computer fails to Boot
Kicks the Monitor with his Boots
The Monitor Screen gets shattered
The operator gets an electric shock
Utters 'Good Bye World'
Long live the computer, In the Future
To send peoples to the lovely Heaven
Free of Cost – Free of Cost
By the way, If anyone finds himself in the Hell
Then just blame His Highness Great Charles Babbage
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 7:52 AM UTC
Is there such a thing as perfect?
If not why is it there?
What could be perfect today, suddenly flawed tomorrow
Looking up at the sky, what a perfect view
Now that it's raining I can't seem to see you
Clouds, little pillows of milky white
Paint the sky's canvas but restarts everyday
Perfect sometimes? No such thing as perfect they say
Like your first love and first time
Perfection seems so simple
Within reach, visual view
Is perfect a myth or even a plot?
To keep us going, to make us distraught?
Perfect is never perfect even in it's own sense...
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 10:43 AM UTC
They say things become alive
during the day
flours bloom
birds chirp
everyone's moving
sun's energy kisses our skins
but the night isn't completely dead.
It begins at dusk when the wolves come out
all the night critters
crawl out from under their clammy rocks
the crickets and coqui frogs chirp.
The roaches creep out
hiding in unexplored crevices.
Party people become alive
the creatures of the night are unleashed.
But not all is dark
the moon and stars light the sky
their energy producing a spectacular
light show.
As the sun replaces the moon
they cycle of becoming alive
restarts and all is reborn.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
where will you find yourself
when the moon asks you to take a rest
when bats flicker around you hair and tug at your braids
you'll remain outcasted from the faucets and radios outlining the nameless avenues you can't bring yourself to call home.
as the rotation restarts
where are you going to be
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
I have so many images
inside my head,
putting pencil to paper
and scraping the lead.
In case they disappear
got to write them down fast
before the idea fades
and the moment has passed.
When something appears
it is such a relief
so I grab it and run
just like a sneak thief.
When it's safely on paper,
It is finally wrote
then to another verse
my mind I can devote.
Then the process restarts
as I walk through my mind
searching all of my files,
hoping that I can find
that positive word,
that difficult phrase,
that momentous sentence
before my mind does erase.
So if you are like me and
your memory runs amok
then perhaps you should carry
a little note book.
Then you'll never forget
If you do get caught short
and you always will catch
That most elusive of thought
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
a mysterious clock
hanging in the sky
by day the sun takes over
and by night the moon is shy
she whispers very gently,
and the sun extends his ear
wishing that it will be a confession of love that he will hear
but the sun hears nothing
of the confession the moon had made,
as he is swiftly moving out of touch
and the darkness throws it's shade,
once again the moon is lonely
yet doesn't break all night
"out of reach you may be,"
she whispers
"but at least i can bask in your light..."
a tragic love
a pitiful fate,
as their hearts drift away,
the sun sees her empty eyes
still looking at him,
patiently,
wistfully,
painfully,
whimpering
and as the cycle restarts
of moments cut too short,
nights and days will pass
hoping,
longing,
yearning for each other
whilst creating a world of light and beauty
still repaid with a constant heartache,
a hand of love so bittersweet
even for the most worthy of beings
love is a torturous cycle
that the sun and his loving moon
are forever entangled in
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
i am
enough fire
all on my own
(just like you)
it's engraved
in our bones
remind me again
why we ever feel lost
when the stars up above
are where our paths
have crossed
_we are divine_
there is
no need to define
all our reasons behind
why the moon and its shine
make our heart beat
faster
there is
a reason i master
the look in your eyes
there is magic in how
i undress your
disguise
all this
love in your heart
fills with people whose parts
may be played by the souls
who once sparked your
first star
let them leave
how they are
cherishing
every
scar
just
keep
trusting
_the loving
is right where
you are_
you’re a
blending of “we”
you are all parts of me
we are everything we see:
all we hope, feel, and dream
there is no separation....
no matter the nation
collectively, together
we are one human
ration
my
thoughts
are not mine
but illusions of time
and when i start to rise
there’s a shift in your sight
as i reach to new heights
my movements align
in ways where your
limbic system is
sings out to
mine
we
are not lost
our bodies accost
our souls will be tossed
to the sky and it's loft
our eternity is now
every moment somehow
fills will perfectly sequenced
which, why's, and how’s
you deserve
Love right now
through all of the pain
you have let life allow
when dark is around
just feel for your might
hold your own heart
and avow to your
light
alone
is not lonely
you’re full how you are
realize how far you’ve bloomed
your falls formed who you are
your name’s in the stars
they can feel all your scars
these losses obtained
are not all you
are
you're
your own cosmic hue
you are perfectly subdued
with the cosmos for a heart
your Light fuels the moon
and it is flowing to me
to glow out of my heart
until it recycles
to you and
restarts
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
Yolo is the dummifed form of Capre Dieme
No offense but its for the dim minded. The not so bright. I need an acronym to tell me ** to live peopl.
You only live once
Ha! Duh you only live once cause you only got on life
To hold on to. There aint no restarts. No regeneration this aint no game.
Seize the day! Go ahead and explore that cave that seems endless and could swallow up like some big two headed monster
Go head and take the roller coaster ride. Look at square its false eyes and say yo you, think you is big and bad i can take you i aint scared.
Cause that's what Carpe Diem is all about
Seizing the day like there ain't no tommorow
Give all your love
Pay back what you borrowed
Hang with yo buds and have a few laughs
Do the things you want to do
as long you don't get handcuffed
Just go out and Carpe Diem!
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC
Each word is her insurance,
Each sentence, her investment
That adds to her ever-growing portfolio
Of failures and successes.
Her yes's and no's, her do's and don'ts
Make you doubt your comprehension
of her hypnotic conversation.
Every syllable that passes her lips
Is well chosen to suit her needs.
Every consonant a contract,
Every vowel a vow
She has every intention to keep.
At night when she lays her head to sleep
To ease her wary mind and weary heart,
She takes note of every promise, every deed,
Knowing every day, the count restarts.
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 4:52 PM UTC
a new morning huddled
over the small stove set on snow
cold-numbed fingers
fumbled with matches
to light it
coughs punched at a dust rag sky,
the dull rasps
embarrassed near neighbors might hear
how the weak
body heaves, wracks
they'd smell kerosene on hands and clothes
if they came too close
the bent over figure
counts ashes afloat, relics
of fresh disasters wrought high,
loosing tally at one in hope it was the last;
restarts the reckoning -
it might be a tempest this time
fire fed by collections of poems,
old histories of things with no purpose,
expired quickly in overnight darkness
cold, gray their corpses still lay
beyond brushed bricks of the hearth
even a grocery list,
its page neatly erased under flakes,
chases after vapors escaped an empty fuel can,
hunger replaced by craving to be warm again
inside, behind the door
they bow heads and say grace at the table
praying over slices of light from a window
intoning with cotton puff voices
still
God gives tomorrow to continue the counting
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 10:22 AM UTC
We meet, I obsess
I wait for a text, end up barraging them with more
I overthink myself into a crazy stupor
The cycle continues on.
I tell myself to stop
It's one more thing for me to think about
It's one more situation to waste my time
The cycle pauses, then restarts again.
Everyone knows about it because I tell them
I stop myself with metaphorical duct tape
I rip it off and tell everyone anyway
The cycle has no ending once it has begun.
This is the mistake I constantly make
I feel clingy, even though I probably am not
(But I am, so it is fruitless)
The cycle rotates in the backburner, a solid reminder.
It’s not a crush, it’s just a shortlived fascination
I declare my love, as I do for countless others
Masochism is apparently inbuilt
The cycle goes on, an infinite loop of repeated thoughts.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
the alternate of the next
remember,
close behind
the quavers are approaching
rest„„„
….into another bar
breve
until movement restarts
CACOPHONY!!!
minors gone awry
chasing melody helter-skelter
cycling
the 5th major just walked in
B prepared to
C how trouble is spelt
sharper than the relative
rescuing all but the
F A C E
flattened
formulas augment the coda
intervals feed nerves on queue
inverting modes and mood to suit
diminishing happiness, relishing
rules of progression
perfect ~ perfect
suspend 2
no, 4 from the blues
flood with syncopation
and forget everything I’ve said.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
3 minutes of pauses between each of the words
but I remembered the ending of the verbs
2 minutes of questions, maybe more
the pauses could effect my score
1 night left I'm in a better place
the practice showed me it's not a race
hands are shaking
heart is racing
the recording starts
there are no restarts
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
I get lost in my work.
Hungry again, I note.
The cycle restarts.
Better this time, I hope.
I find some good food,
Making sure to choose carefully,
And snag my water,
An essential, soon, you’ll see.
I avert my gaze—
I fear they’re all eyeing me—
And sit myself down
For a ritual eternity.
Many meals are Hell;
My body a warzone.
What you’ve learned to nurture so
Still hates you to the bone.
I accept this task I must master;
‘Twas not a choice I made.
It’ll stick with me for life;
‘Cause it’s one my genes gave.
The first taste is bliss,
But most bites bring pain quickly.
Size portions correctly;
So tired of feeling sickly.
Pain sears my throat,
So, I chew with vigor.
The swelling is fast;
I pray my water’s quicker.
The drink spells relief,
But every bite’s anxious,
Every swallow torment;
Each pause between captious.
Another meal unfinished; bitter defeat,
The peace remains unreachable.
I craved it so badly, and I was so close,
Now it looks repulsive; uneatable.
I check the scale once more,
So, skinny I remain;
Been mocked and critiqued
For weight, unable to gain.
I am Sisyphus ‘til sated,
The table is my hill,
Sustenance my stone,
And my mind is my will.
I get lost in my work.
Hungry again, I note.
The cycle restarts.
Better this time, I hope.
Jan 31, 2025
Jan 31, 2025 at 8:18 PM UTC