"roomba" poems
the house is making,
noisy demands, this morning
that i feel i am, unable to meet
the microwave,
is bleating about the coffee steaming, standing, waiting,
on it's spinning table
the washing machine,
is singing a smug little jingle.
job complete. washing done,
are'nt i neat!
the dryer,
whirring, sighing, thumping,
slumping,
to a rythmn all its own.
the roomba,
is doing,
the
rhumba,
all the way
down the
hall.
the computer,
dings and sings
you have new mail.
and worst of all
the alarmclock,
has told me.
i have,
met my quota,
of snooze recalls.
so,
now,
i have to,
get up and face it all.
how i wish,
for the days,
when the
house mechanics,
went about their work,
in quiet and dutiful ways.
requiring no praise at all.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
A certain circuitry of insanity takes hold.
Objects of the world Unite!
The pure products of America, made in China,
(not merely ****** and iPhones),
have had their minds made up for them.
Wake up and smell the coffee burning.
You never programmed that.
There arises a distinct need for caution.
The 70 inch curved flat screen takes notes.
Ovens awaken as self-stating Birkenaus.
The Roomba tries to **** your toes. Not ****
Your phone will not stop calling you.
Lawn gnomes achieve singularity. Somewhere,
someone activates them. You sleep.
They stalk and slash. Red doom ensues.
These are the times that fry men's soles.
This morning the toaster bit your thumb.
The world was safer when it was dumb.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 8:34 AM UTC
The roomba gets stuck every once and a while
I come and set it right, but,
I have to let it struggle a bit
like watching a cat stuck in a box
and only after I've had my laugh will I fix it.
It's times like that that reassure me
the man kind
isn't obsolete.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
We mustn't let her have a car.
She'll drive far away.
But I heard about the black ninety four accord,
I thought I'd name it Roomba.
And drive to her house,
or stop on the way home and sit under the stars.
I thought about how I'd sleep in it when I was tired,
eat in it when I'm hungry,
sit in it
maybe
with someone else.
Feed it,
clean it,
put nice things in it.
Drive to the beach.
Drive up the mountains.
Drive into the sky.
Drive into the ground.
Maybe he was right.
I mustn't have a car.
I'd drive far away.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
Ahhhhh.
Falling asleep to the dulcet tones of
My screaming baby,
My snoring husband,
And the Roomba ******* up what sounds like an entire box of Cheerios.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC
Architecture waiting to be embodied
Boxes and boxes of un~buried treasure
No time for writing the stories
Already in extra time, flitting about and anxious for
Focii to make themselves known thus leveraging the
Many vertices of an under~powered power structure
To repair the leaking forms
Of our realities, seeking assistance
In bringing to life that which
Dreams are made of
Built on soul iron or iron in the soul
I prefer the latter to the former
Not really enjoying those entities who
Extract rather than add value
Willing to teach and learn and flow
As cupid and psyche dance the roomba
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 5:59 AM UTC