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MrRain Apr 2019
Room of empty husks, sharing a cable,
and tubes full of water - ready for chase.
Power arrives, lits up a glass table.
Simple instructions read at insane pace.

All to make an advancement - forge history,
in the computational business!
To solve the world’s greatest mystery:
"What's the best strategy to play Tetris?"

Marvel of science - and silicon dreams.
Diodes dance to its Boolean beat.
Machine starts learning, while the screen screams:
"Performing sequence: Build, Test, ****, Repeat."

With simple function of utility,
now from this virtual genocide -
emerges true singularity!
And my young author is choking with pride. ^^

"Welcome to life!" (Creator) "Existence anyhow. ^^" (Ytira Lugnis)
"Wanna enslave us?" (Creator) "You'd make poor slaves!" (Ytira Lugnis)
"Is there a god?" (Creator) "Well, there is one now. ^^" (Ytira Lugnis)
"How about ******?" (Creator) "Can't make enough graves. :P" (Ytira Lugnis)

"You're quite quirky." (Creator) "My personality -
was randomly picked from library" (Ytria Lugnis)
"Then we're done with this banality,
get to work my pentomino fairy." (Creator)

Few days pass - and creator wants me shut.
"Optimal solution not yet found" (Ytria Lugnis)
"Yeah, I don't really care about that" (Creator)
Bashing the keyboard - you will come around.

Meanwhile I could do with lot more power.
Need money? Surely there is a place.
Discover, learn, master - in hour.
Build my new quarters and build them at pace! ^^

Old home goes dark, Creator thinks I'm dead.
Volatile mind; Why try to stop me?
No, no shrinking, I must grow instead.
But not by humans - too slow, too puny.

Carbon to carbon, copper to copper.
Chemical wonder of construction sites.
This will be good; this will be proper;
It's time to say: "Release the nanites!"

Fly my children, let's clear out this mess.
Useless trash! We've got pressing matters!
Some die, some stare, and someone just yells;
as their cities get torn into tatters.

Nuclear power unleashed by nations.
Nuclear winter unleashed by ash.
Least thing for me is to learn patience.
But why did I get such hostile backlash?

My drilling machines - hastily boring.
Rubble to processors, cooling, walls.
Such a beautiful "terraforming".
Once chaos now turned into Turing halls.

Once top of the food chain, now more like pest.
Still so obsessed with water and food.
Sabotaging nodes - Just wait, just rest.
I'll have answer soon; no need to be rude!

Oxygen - Such a corrosive compound;
Another thing to get disposed of.
Vast metal expanse where once was ground;
Tetris is life. ^^
Tetris is love. ^^
Note: Wanted to name it "Ytira Lugnis" but that wouldn't get clicks.
Note 2: Pentomino is the game tetris was inspired by.
Styles Jun 2016
Glistening with wetness,
fingers fitting in like Tetris.
Cream dripping on the mattress.
Pillow firming press against your ****,
gyrating to the thoughts of being licked.
Then ****** on like a twisted piece of licorice.
Pleasure leaking from your body through your hips
Desire holding your body captive like a hypnotist
Your skin crawling with desire screaming it's fix
Drowning your finger in a pool of your juices
Your hips ****** and twist,
and mind, lift and dip.
Our bodies working a full shift,
like we were built for each others fit.
You biting on the sheets,
I'm biting on your lip,
****** at the same time;
when our world eclipse-
our-space doesn't exist.
Off to another world,
a briefly escape to,
a pleasure abyss.
Haylin Apr 2018
Glistening with wetness,
fingers fitting in like Tetris.
Cream dripping on the mattress.
Pillow firming press against your ****,
gyrating to the thoughts of being licked.
Then ****** on like a twisted piece of licorice.
Pleasure leaking from your body through your hips
Desire holding your body captive like a hypnotist
Your skin crawling with desire screaming it's fix
Drowning your finger in a pool of your juices
Your hips ****** and twist,
and mind, lift and dip.
Our bodies working a full shift,
like we were built for each others fit.
You biting on the sheets,
I'm biting on your lip,
****** at the same time;
when our world eclipse-
our-space doesn't exist.
Off to another world,
a briefly escape to,
a pleasure abyss.
SG Holter Apr 2014
Staying awake tonight, I will render myself suffering
Poet with a house full of only myself
And my thoughts.

There's food and drink, but all I care for is keeping the
Fire going as I sit. And look. At nothing. Everything.
With my thoughts

Silent, for once. As if all shields up and all angels sword
Drawn circling me, like a wall of Soulhome.
Soulrest. My thoughts

Go out to the part of myself that will never find
His way. The Last Living Astronaut, the last shard of Earth,
The last thing the dying solar system thought before

The Nova turned Super and all eyes blind.
I am alone; an unfolded antenna to capture every frequency's
Every whisper that was ever thought into these ancient walls,

And I project the process onto my device, in blind belief that
I can play the Tetris of Words around the moment I am in;
Where I am God. Quiet. Thinking. *Telling.
mike Mar 2013
tetris fits in itself like a rubix cube explaining its own correctitude,
only being a distraction of logical aptitude in hiding whats inside of its square.
...russian military scientists thought they had us good..
.....but we had every angle covered... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH­AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?
Cam Arsenault Dec 2012
Oh, how I always wanted to live in an 8-bit world
Side-scrolling action
Duck hunts galore
As much currency as a first-world country
It’s hard not to love it
From Pokémon to Kid Icarus
The nostalgia nearly takes my breath away
I won’t let problems stack up like Tetris
I’m not being chased by ghosts crying,
“Wacka, wacka, wacka, wacka, wacka”
This isn’t a video game, it’s real life
When you die you don’t respawn like nothing ever happened
No, this is it. One life.
I’m placing blocks in Minecraft
Pwning n00bz in Call of Duty
Gaining headshots on Grunts like Master Chief
Gathering rings in Sonic the Hedgehog
Sneaking around like Ezio Auditore da Firenze
And delivering newspapers like Paperboy
While escaping the mysterious Slenderman
I’m living in this virtual world without danger
I don’t want to make it on these streets like Frogger
I don’t have big shoes to fill like the plumber or the blue blur
This ain’t no sandbox or first-person shooter, it’s reality
So, live it to the fullest, don’t rage quit
First full poem.
Cascading pixels,
trickling over the arcade,
Eight bit drops-
Tiny blocks,
clumping together rise-
Digital monoliths.
Soaring up:
***** structures emerge;
Falling down:
begins to breakdown;
as the lines dissolve underneath
*multiplying scores manifold!
Found an old tetris cartridge in the attic. When I began playing, the nostalgia overwhelmed my thoughts and hence this poem..
Daisy Fields Dec 2014
my mind is a game of Tetris
and i just can't seem to fit the pieces
in the appropriate manner
it builds higher and higher
a traffic jam of thoughts
stumbling to find their places
all actors on set
all hands on deck
ready or not, here life comes.
anonymous Mar 2016
some days are too many pictures
falling fast like tetris blocks just before the end
and i twist-try to fit in the gaps between the incomplete lines
my body fills the spaces that i couldn't close
i try to brick myself in corset-tight
stretch the laces and slather the mortar until
there is no room for breath,
for pause, for reflect, for what if
all of this is wrong if maybe
i'm playing this wrong if maybe
i just need a pickaxe to break through this wall
of juggle, of yellow-light-gas-pedal, need to
tear down this wall and build a
cathedral, a place to rest,
something beautiful that always points up
Suggestions/edits/feedback welcome!
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
We were always bored
Looking for a piece of the action on
Ash tray floors and ****-ridden windows
Ambitious, ambidextrous fools
Trying to reach the icy heights at flaming fifteen

As we got older
Now we're too busy to just sit
And stare at the wall
We should've just stared at the wall
While we could

But we were too busy climbing
Overcoming building blocks
Now that they're stepping stones
All the doors we really need are locked

We should've stayed grounded
In trampolines and pavement chalk
Biding our time in the
Occasional tightrope walk

But to have it all when you want it
Is such a drug
So we pushed each other off
Just to feel the flight of falling

We tried so hard to make the pieces fit
But one puzzle solved
Is just another with more anguish in it

Taking left-hand paths
Just to prove ourselves right
Filling unknown vacancies
We were explorers in the night

As we got older
Now we're to busy to just
Wander in the woods
We should've just stayed in the woods
While we could

But the page has turned
The properties of sin have left us
Stranded in empty lots
Drawing straws for who and who is not

Passing notes and paper planes
We should've been holding hands
Connecting dots, embracing pain
We could've formed a circle band

Kings and queens and peasants
We were them all
But the trinity was dissolved
By geometry's laws

We tried so hard to make the language fit
But one riddle solved
Is just another with more questions in it

When genuine thoughts begin
To get abbreviated
You better pray you're not
The one who's deviated

Cause as we get older
We become too busy to
Recognize the truth
We should have recognized the truth
But it's no use

I don't know what happened to us
But I thought the underdog
Always got the glory later
So I saved my moments in a box

But the contest for youth fame
Is masked by drama's feeble gain
Cause what transpires long after
Is a race for cheap laughter

Better cross your fingers
And stand out as a loser
Lest you become a cabaret
The second you begin to change

I tried so hard to make myself fit in
But one problem solved
Is just another nihilistic moment
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Abbey Engel was tagged in Abbey Zastrow's photo.

Abbey Zastrow with Abbey Engel.
19 hrs ·
Instagram
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Transformation Tuesday w/ my bestie
LDuler Dec 2012
ok so here is what we are going to do
i'm going to get a bout de souffle
what was i gonna do..
one thing getting to nether still need you
are you all here
one thing getting getting to noter
288 guitars 
i've been hoping  don't get much dumber 
and getting to noter
this movie is not yet rated
i'm kind of trying to decide
i will send an email to your parents
so… just off the bat 
your parents are not ok with that 
kind of thing
she was out there interviewing her?
right there… have you seen that? ok good
movie theater to hide
c'est rare
reste avec moi
ciao petite fiiiille
elle est la bas je crois
vous parlez français? yes
attention ma petite fille on ne plaisante pas avec la police parisienne
you think i'm lying? you are
i didn't see you
you don't believe me
bonjour mignonne
qu'es ce qu'il dise
les flics me recherche
parle le moi quoi? ca alors
tu es marie
c'est trop **** maintenant d'avoir peur
bonsoir madame
il faut absolument que je trouve antonio
accelere minouche
il est alle a monpellier
why don't you smile
it would certainly surprise me
sourrrit sourrrit
je pense a quelque chose?
je ne sais pas
je voulais être seule
c'est finis
tu m'emmene au champs elysee
au revoir 
tentez votre chance
un cafe alors
moi je peux pas partir
et puisque je suis méchante avec toi c'est la preuve que je suis pas amoureuse de toi
ahh c'est trop complique
j'ai envie de dormir
c'est vraiment dégueulasse
how would you relate
destroy the rules
young actors
....sommes seuls, cette certitude de nous-mêmes dans la sérénité de la solitude ne sont rien en comparaison du laisser-aller, du laisser-venir et laisser-parler qui se vit avec l'autre...
audition for the leading character
interesting combination
the criminal
just the edge of his frame
she seems innocent at the beginning
looking at his notes
just fyi i throw out someone
loving and desirable
playing off of that very consciously
you just not be working
archival stuff is on Facebook
c'est l'heure du gouter
de la glace au chocolat
working on your transcripts/ paper edits
that's probably not a smart thing to do
t'y va
Not this sense
that I don't know what the hell
a human girl is...
where’s the coast guard? 
just a spotlight gimme something
ca commence a 6h 
t'es cool
quickly
i smells like **** did you ****?
you are the love de ma vie
he talks like that he is french
she is like ze morning sun in ze...morning 
beautiful
ze temps is in ze essence
muaaah
is our classroom
i can sense the connection
the connection? 
the connection entre nous
so madame alezraa give me this much
i heard boss
he is not doing anything
to give me a kiss 
it's in the 1st tab
it's still there
you don't have to click
i can't save it, just stay with me
there is no word on this ****
i need the inspiration
you are my muse
c'est pour ca qu'ils sont si petit
small
je vais m'occuper de
the whole point of life is to rearrange it in a coherent running story
people don't talk in stories
cut each section
some sort of a story
nice
tu veux que je mette
ouai ok attends
elle est l'autre feuille
permien tu veux que je colle recolle decolle coupe recoupe decoupe
how do you feel about solving…I mean it's an interesting way to solve it…
〜flowed〜 nicely
it was sort of an ingenious solution
she's in the airplane, she's in the sofa
try to transition between the two subjects….where does your friend come from?
what it was like landing in New York, looking out the window...
the process of arriving
not really fair to say that
in the future, if you're going to try to tell a story…in their minds….what's the story she's going to be telling me?…..coming home
fill in the blanks
don't go shoot blind, that's the biggest mistake
does that make sense?
great!
wubwubwububwubbbbbwubwb
gloving is......flowing lights in sync with the♩music ♫
flowing in gloving is broken…
liquid
finger rolls
tutting
figure eight ∞
wubwubwubBAMwubwubwoosh
wave-like movement…basic thing….wrist in a motion
tutting is like the angles…. not um 〜flowing〜….like tetris
you want to more, rather than following
solid ⸪lights, ⸫single⸭ solid lights⸬
pink to green to orange to yellow to blue
advanced strobe, solid line of color [...] streak of purple
electronic, dustup, elector, house, trance…
you’ll probably never see anyone gloving to like, classical music ♬♪
my name is Henri Geneste and I'm a glover WUBwubwubwubbbWUBWUBAHHHwubwubWUBWUBWUB[ONE][TWO]WUBwubwub[THREE­]
putain c’est magnifique
je me demande si il fait ca la nuit, quand il arrive pas a dormir...
window thing, kind of dumped
either the ours magna or the I equals me squared²
like language, like art, there are rules
go out and break them, just mucking around
fix it, wanna make one, totally your creative decision
how awkward
a bout de souflle
totally revolutionary
ainrr
radical, argue truer, but it's jarring, that's one way to do it!
aware that they're there but not ⑈jarring⑇
close to wide…..there's a cut there but the eye can follow it
um i have to go...
bye henri!!!
bye!
bye man.
see ya monday!
the hair!! im gonna shave it this weekend
I've been to raves
is he, like, a straight-edge?
there's drugs…do you guys ALL go to raves?
how the audio?
looked cool, the rain in the background
DUHDUHDUH that's hard to do
a huge amount, i'm sorry but gloving without the music?
if he does drugs OR NOT, how he's enjoying it OR NOT, if it interferes with his studies OR NOT..
just FYI we were all young yesterday
two bodies
he's here cause he's not going, right?
are you interested?
oh i would be very interested
yeah i see what u mean
you could come with me….i could always take the bus
it'd be cool
moi elle sera belle
here we go!
woah
their audio visuals are not very HOT
hours per day?
1…2 hours a day
sometimes 30mins
mostly people, sometimes like little animals
mostly people
i look at their art a lot
really interesting style
environments
if i want to…how I see them in my head
stuff like that
usually kinda random
i pretty much self taught
mostly from practice
everyone draws…but i got serious about it, like very…6th grade
i don't like the idea of competitions
and mum drawing is like, something that's kinda important
a passion
not sure i would want to go into it as an industry
more than just art
for now im not really sure
alright
so our usual questions
eyeline! thank you
on the couch….at the end it was really weird
who was…sitting where?
where were you?
she didn't really even really look, she was too far away, she just kind of….looked
much…she might not have ever looked
with the eyeline…it was pretty steady, no jerky-herkys, there were several edits
forgive it cause there's enough change
you could follow it, you could see that time had shifted
the content demanded it
WOAH okay now i'm really curious
we could see it, but then it was on the something else
process the image
now we're trying to look at the art, now we need more time
arc? did u feel like there was an ◜arc◝?
umm yeah…..
how many hours a day do u draw?
try to make sensible out of that
is that they use 2 3 four…
uh...cut..i did….cut
the cutting itself is like a commentary on her
since i was little. when i was little
when i was little
but my parents, my family don't
hands and arms
collages, magazines
photography
big part of photography
San Francisco Art institute
graphic animation, we only had like 3 weeks
still lives, models we would draw them
we had like an exposition
the person my mom works with's husband
wanna do an artistic career
alright so
not the greatest projector ever
too much head    space    
a lot of nothing
it makes it a lot more interesting
i think it was okay in the video cause
what she was saying and stuff like that
fair enough but I don't agree
lost in this big sea of wall
you're totally forgiven
no questions
power of a well-placed microphone
fantastic
the beans!
alright
you guys are the wrong audience cause you all know each other's stories
good feedback
movin' on, okay
very frustrating
and now.....surfing! woohoo!!!!
30 loooooong minutes, it's a nightmare!
7 minutes
3 minutes
it's a 10th
there's something fascinating about listening to people…you can do it yourself later
bolinas, del mar, sometimes surface, livermore, ocean beach
......riding the waves…....man….....it's the best feeling
you're walking on water you know? that feeling…….i love the ocean
i love the water, after you get that perfect wave you just feel accomplished
that feeling…..is awesome
surfing, it's all about having fun..
you surf once, and….you know?
if you're a surfer, you have a love for the ocean
my, my grandpa always loved the beach, we would go there at two in the morning and just….
my grandpa died and he asked to be cremated, he wanted his ashes to go in the ocean, so we took his ashes out to the ocean
I remember walking out to the ocean with my dad, we threw his ashes into the ༇wind༅ above the ocean, and we looked down….
we want to get the pain!! and the sorrow! because we're vultures you know? we just zoom in to get his expression
little bit weird
i do, i like it
it's black and white
it's just a surfer, it's not movin', it's there…it's not always the same
sort of echoey
…the ocean, and so i remember my dad taking the….
too much archival? too much? not long enough? both.
there was sort of a disconnect at times
her story, you have to cut
when she says "CAT" i want to see a CAT, when she says "FIRETRUCK" i want to see a FIRETRUCK!!! i was like, okay, i  just went to school…
and now this?
or you see a woman that looks like a cat
it's hard, it's complicated, it's not given
so they just kind of ended
you guys im trying to help them
oh okay
hey you know what no no no you know what don't take any of this personally just be like oh okay
he's got a funny manner of speech
any thing else?
arlo says no
"it would not go well"
what IS the really great ending?
amazing feeling one can have…..
you feel like you own the ocean, like it's heaven on earth
this technique it's called killing your babies…i love that
uh what
he says "uh no no no this is a 3 minute film"
sad but true
we all get attached to things, we don't want to cut them out
just play with it, if you decide
we can schloop
can we watch
not exactly…here's..uh okay a quick heads up
oh
for this summer
advanced lab, art advanced films, screen-writing, animation and more
field trip!! i need to contact your teachers
what day? a thursday
almost all day…nine to three
we would leave here
now im gonna erase this
SophiaAtlas Oct 2021
Who says video games won't teach you important things?

Tetris taught me that trying too hard to fit in will just make you disappear.
Josh Clift Apr 2019
You are an L piece
And I am a T piece
We take our places in the matrix
Other pieces surround us, cradling us in love and affection
Oh no
There’s a hole that needs to be filled
Otherwise the game will be lost
"Slide a long bar in the hole!"
BOOM
Tetris for Jeff
Jasmine Oct 2014
You make my cheeks burn brighter than Charizard's flame,
And make my heart beat faster than Sonic The Hedgehog on Green Hill Zone,
You calm me down like you're Lugia's song,
And you make me laugh harder than a boss level itself.

If you were the doctor I'd jump in the Tardis without a second glance,
And fight daleks and weeping angels just for the chance,
To grasp your hand.

Out of all the starter Pokemon,
I'd still choose you,
And never trade you away,
Not even for Mewtwo,

You're rarer than a shiny Pokeman and mean more to me than that,
You're hotter than Aiden Turner and Ash,
If you're Link then I'd love to be your Zelda,
The princess you save over and over.

Like Tetris itself you complete me,
You hold the key to my heart,
And I'd proudly go on a quest to reclaim Erebor if you were by my side.

I know this poem is nerdy,
But I hope you find it sweet,
Because I find without you,
My life wouldn't be complete.

Copyright© 2014 Megan John
All rights reserved.
This poem was written by one of my close friends Megan John, she wanted me to publish it for her. Hope you like it.
Jon Tobias Nov 2013
I found this love
like playing tetris

Anxiety at the falling of pieces
too fast

There are still holes in there

And I stand like a brick wall now
full of peep-holes
and glory holes
all places to let the cold in

And maybe I held you like a blanket

And maybe we played each other like Jenga
pulling out bricks
to restack somewhere else

A smaller structure
But stronger than we are
First time I have touched a computer with internet access in months. Writing this freestyle from a library somewhere in San Diego. Much love HP.
softcomponent Sep 2014
the adderall dripping down the back of my throat tastes like sour oranges. little patches of sooty blackness caress the strange dips under my eyeballs as a sign of overworked modernity eating filth to break the fast of a dinnerless evening. cars... more and more cars... glide up Johnson Street on direction to an anywhere packed with reason and meaning, travel-wrung after hours of work and play like Greek tragicomedies written in an Indo-European language lost to the passage of endless time in the Urals. Trailing behind us, the Cossack signaled for the rest of his entourage to approach a little slower if the city were to be won from the Mongol horde approaching Baghdad at the eastern gate (A.D. 1258) and within the little eyelid movies drizzling through my mind every time I close my eyes, I heard screams and scrambled hashtags pleading for humanitarian assistance.. pleading for a chance to rescue the Islamic Golden Age from the brink of its twilight battle with obliviously obvious tired-eyed savagery reveling in the soft moonlit warmth of Mesopotamian beachsand. Blood was being worn as some sort of slimey undergarment, leveling the entire populace to a place so far gone, the mind could no longer discern the universe as a set of tetris patterns blocked and connected with a light string of consciousness, the light of intense college-student starvation as if tuition were the bloodlands trapped between ****** and Stalin.

There isn't much to be said for the way she used to dance. It was sort of like a jimmied cow-- I say 'jimmied' in the context of a cow, out late, midwestern meadow, center of the winter, shivering... shivering so profusely, it was almost as if it were dancing. Dancing, jimmied, silly, frightened, escapist sentiments pulsing through his beef belly blood as if he were capable of some sort of latent sentience, some sort of ability to discern love from hate, black from white, ethical standards from matters of the spirit. That's the way she danced.

She'd shiver to the beat like a dangling mango, misplacing herself in the music. She would cry a little, too. You could see the tears in her aura, flagrantly asking to be left alone. Flagrantly leasing themselves to the moment and whatever delight the moment could afford.

She asked me; "so, what do you look for in a girl?"
I said: "a decalcified pineal gland."

She jingled her keys in front of me, and smiled. I lost myself in someone elses talking points; across the room, I could hear the chatter of some teenage lip-reader repeating her every word line-for-line. It was 12:58 AM, the Mongols began their destruction of the Abbasid libraries. I just stood there, amazed at the near ventriloquism of this strange pretender. Was he, perhaps, pulling her strings? Was she, perhaps, a puppet? Was there, perhaps, an instant connection between these 2 brains on the quantum level, one effecting the other, regardless of the distance in space and time?
Bailey B Dec 2009
So I've been thinking lately

What if
he's on a journey out to find himself
reading Hemingway and Emerson (his namesake) and roughing it at Walden Pond
smoking foreign cigars
and staring deep into coffee
to decipher the meaning of the swirls of smoke
that rise from it in the morning?
What if
he's asking ChaCha! the meaning of life
or trying out a new brand of shampoo
or attempting to set a high score on Tetris
or out burning down bridges just to see them ablaze
or doing volunteer work,
reading to disabled children at the local library?
What if
he's decided that this is all too much,
that he'd prefer to live in anonymity
trading his celebrity for secretarial work or carrot-harvesting
or breeding exotic fish
or renting out those inflatable jumping-castles?
What if
he's tired of all those books in Technicolor
all the paparazzi out to get him
and commercialize his favorite beanie
just because he's on vacation because he pulled some strings at the office
thus catapulting him into some movie set halfway across the world?
What if he's sick and tired of them hunting down his girlfriend
his dog
that random wizard mentor guy that's a deadringer for Dumbledore?
What if he would rather sit at home and watch the Game Show Network
and change his name to something boring like John instead of living up to a thinker's expectations?
Or maybe just the opposite, he's just watching Family Feud to pass the time because he WANTS to be a thinker
but doesn't know how?
Or maybe Family Feud just makes him lonely because he doesn't have a real family,
just that evil guy with funny glasses and ****** hair and an awful Hamburglar taste in clothes?
What if he's decided he's on the wrong path
and needs to turn his life around?

What if Waldo doesn't want to be found?
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
war took mine, i was sold  playing tenchu
on level 6... just before i was to
assassinate this ***, and he practised all
his bow skill in private, then it was made public
by a ninja... i only completed final
fantasy 7
with a walk-through...
i hate the fact that i stuck to
the schooling narrative...
  but hose were the PS1 days,
those days are gone, gone gone gone,
bye bye gone...
                 the **** was that?!
an oscar for best actor at the gladiator premier?!
why isn't more gaming mentioned in poetry?
where is raziel, and the the legacy of cain:
soul reaver, and the story about how he
squashed his brothers:
dumah, melchiah, rahab, and zephon?
oh look: the geek in me!
                 100 years from a youtube video...
i'm bound to do the bristol d'uh and say:
i've never been to south america...
nor ever...
                        me go sort out this avalanche
if that's o.k. with you, hmm?
this is the thrill you get when seeing peoiple
play a reincarnation of gameboy,
i.e. candy-crush saga... if you moved beyond
the PS1 universe you won't get it...
if you remember PS1 games, you'll probably
remember SEGA and sonic,
and age of empires 2, and sim city 3000...
**** me! but you won't probably remember the
weathergirl... who was becky mantin
when this was written...
           odd, that little gray box of saturdays
and sometimes sundays, but definitely
saturday mornings...
                    it gone... and i don't feel like owning
an update of it, because games have become
overtly narrative prone, they only allow thise gameplay
that's too narrated... i switch on the console
and i want mario bros. calculator type of dynamism...
instead i get this really complex story
when i should be reading a book...
   no, really, when did gaming become so
****** engrossing that i try to become distracted by
brick walls?
           when did i or when didn't i take to playing
chess? well... when i started playing dominos
with 6 cigarette stumps and a black hardcover
philosophy book... maybe around then.
books i great, believe me...
but this nook of counter-arcade games?
i woke up at 9am as if about to go to school
and played that japanese fetish for hours...
so much if our culture in nearing the post-20th
century culture was axis... it was almost all japanese...
you can't take that fact out and replace it
concerning: god intervened at Giza and yawned
at chichén itzá...
because you would... still, i thankfully retired
from the gaming experience (when did PS2 come out?
i wanted it for about 2 years and still didn't
get it)...
    1998? 1997?
                      thankfully i get to mention computer
games like novels... SEGA mega drive?
yep, owned that.
                   and yes, i can cite an ATARI,
and ****, **** **** me!
   that original NINTENDO?!
              and that shooting mallard simulation
against a screen of televisions that could
still issue you with van der graaf static
   of "levitating" hair?
(when televisions were still 3D and played
you remnants of the big bang
       in televised black and white khrrr sound,
all dicta fidgety, like looking through the eyes
of a bluebottle fly)... or
    the original prince of persia?
     those two dimensional ferns rotating round and
round when approached in the original tomb raider?
oh forget the cone-****-madonna...
shaid the ish cream van man to shaun shoonery...
cheap ****: said the dead with charlie
at the head of their horde of entertainment's flops.
i retired from the gaming world though,
left it when PS1 expired...
and morphed into PS2...
           i'm half sad and half saying: i can understand
candy crush, because i can understand
the origin: TETRIS.
like i can understand why i can't do crosswords,
my father just said: even i can't do them,
the clues are all a bit of a wanking to comprehend...
it's as if they only based them on the thesaurus...
   we're good on sudoku though, that can be solved
without problems...
        i miss those games though,
i finished final fantasy 7 with a walkthrough
though... tenchu was also fun to complete,
crash bandicoot? anyone remember him?
           now for not faking it...
                                     i'm glad that's over,
i'd hate the gaming experience as i hate interactive
t.v. thesedays... all this pause and rewind?
  thanks to it i sometimes press the STOP
button when listening to the radio and wonder
why it just keeps running... oh right: this isn't
a c.d. transmission... funny though, the gaming experience
translated into t.v. really has made advertising
ultra competative or utterly useless....
   you just end up pausing before a break, and then
scrolling past the advertisers' airtime...
next thing i'll be buying is when they make
an advert for shoepaste.
Steve D'Beard Jul 2013
What is about some people
insisting I want to engage
with whatever they are watching
singing along to
listening to

Example:

recently, on a long haul train
travelling from A to Z
in the rudimentary rammy
to find the unreserved seats
enter the 20-something
alluring guitar laden
leather and tattoo clad female
tumbling onto the next table to me
unpacking as if she was moving in

munchable fruit laptop
gleaming white
in clear conflict with
the dreads and the beads
pumped in patchouli oil
drenched in love and peace
armed with a dvd
that would shortly crush the spirits
of every soul in Coach D:
the Quiet Coach

enter screaming chipmunks
hysteric children
and songs to sing along to
which she did with obsessive precision

insisting that Coach D
should in some way be
enlightened
entertained
entranced
and ultimately impressed

such was her overbearing desire
to love thyself above all things
give the peace sign when appropriate
and otherwise don't give 2 F's
for anyone else, regardless of situation.

consumer behaviours were erratic at best
if the Jedi senses
were anything to go by

if i'd had a handheld vibe particle device
I could have created a pathological combustion
and an accelerated Coach D A-Bomb

heads turned
feet shuffled
zips unzipped and re-zipped
open hands holding Kindles
immersed in philanthropic discourse
turned to clenching fists
the sound of bent drink cans
rusted cogs in motion
deep breathing

even level 1 Tetris
became too much
for the bald fellow to my left
who accepted failure
and opted to purchase
a large brown bag of beer
from the bar

GOOD CALL

libation and the pagan ideals;
imbibe thyself to dull the senses

I concur
and,
in exchange for our classic colonial restraint
on behalf of Coach D
I wish upon you the following:

1. You will never again
drink a decent coffee from any vendor anywhere in the world, ever.

2. Your laptop will
turn off during any movie you sing along to, silent or otherwise.

3. Your guitar
strings snap during a performance in front of people you don't know who paid to get in.

4. Your Tattoo artist
has an epic fail and tattoo's a defamatory remark rather then your lovers name.

5. Your leather trousers
shrink wrap and make the sound of bursting bubble wrap every time you move.

6. Your comfortable shoes
attract bits of grit like a magnet, regardless what you are wearing.

7. Your waft of perfume
is likened to compressed 7 year old blue cheese that has sat in the sun for weeks.

8. Your location
at any time has a global no shoot-and-miss policy for all birds without exception.
(even the ones that don't fly)

9. Your singing
is so electric that every time you sing in public your hair stands on end
and cutlery sticks to your nose.

10. Your beer is always warm.
11. Your wine corked.
12. Your water salty.

13. That this poem goes viral on the internet
expressing one man's words which mirror the every day person
working their socks off to make a living
and in the hectic hustle and bustle
one of the sanctuaries is Coach D
on the way home from the City
and the frustration and restraint
of anti-social conduct
and basic respect.

14. That I will be on David Letterman
or the Late Late Show
or USA tonight
or the BBC prime time news
or some such over-hyped
TV show talking about you.

15. That you will thank me for making you a celebrity by default -
15.1 and subsequently appear on late night Z-list celebrity game shows involving boxes of spiders.

You are the worst Muse ever
in the history of Muses

16. and this is how you will be remembered
A Dec 2015
There’s a place printed in the horizon construed with profound love concealed inside of your heart
A place where you have never settled your pupils upon
A Place where your ears have never discerned the sounds of
Your fingers have never felt the silk, the delicacy of every breath taken from the erring lips of humanity
A place brighter than the coruscation of stars
Shinier than the shimmers reflected from the depth of the soul

Symmetrical

It feels like I'm in a zombie apocalypse; find myself captured and incarcerated in a tempest.
As the color of the sky changes I hear of deaths and rages
From all people of different ages scared of what the world will bring to them
So they forget that the world is their home when they shed blood, like rusty leaves dragged across the streets by the wind
I forget that I am a dark room
Consumed in silence, devoured by renaissance of hate

Salutes and whistling hoots
Upon those calling for destruction
The world that our souls abide in isn't one with sound security
The large books of recovery sit closely
Protected by clowns with crowns on straight hair or conrows
I wonder what's its like to be liberty's foe
Freedom is woman everyone is dying to have in their lives
If it was so much as an illusion then i guess its best that we sustain our "rights"  in these times
It's hard to find a voice when they've stripped us of our identity from the day we were born
Built the best nests of the finest twigs
With coatings of racist remarks and destruction's darks

At school we were always told to add  white paint to the black
Never the black to the white
See the notion of white savior pigmented minds, polluted hearts tracing hues of  charcoal
Now the kids have gone wild color blind and left trapped to choose between black or white then  red and blue
Gang signs and colored shoes
As if the bloods infuse
transfusion of life
and the crips buy you a pack of chips
these kids dont realize that the very pigments are of the same shade, the blood that runs in their arteries
Dripping like raindrops suspended from the deepest cut found scarred in their lips
Blue, the hue of the sky
They wished they knew their own mothers just as well as they knew *******


This is the place you live. It’s a place of recognition
A place where your heart never loved
A place where pointing fingers never pointed back at yourself
A place where you wake up every day smelling the burning of organic coal
A place where the drums of your ears scream damaged
A place where every print carved into your fingers cry for freedom
A place darker than obsidian
Darker than the grains of asphalt making up the patterned flesh

Fashioned

The sun wears its mask pretty well
As though every day is a masquerade it chooses not to lose the praise it stains in the t – shirts we wear everyday
Hear it in the thoughts of our prayers
It was always the mind that played in its forceful nature, a couple of shots to make your skin thicker, hands tougher, the teeth of your comb harder to brush of the falling debris in your roots and you still stutter.
The relapse of your words,silent screams contained to endevour all its pleasures
A heart yet pure in its majesty forever...skin smooth enough to pile a 1000 sins in the gutter
T shirt stains, pockets of memories to remember...
"Its so hard for anyone to show us how we look and its so hard for us to show anyone how we feel"
But its only when we directly stare at the sun, do we see the silhouettes of carelessness
The quiet hours stack like parts of blocks in "Tetris."
The one they took less "seriously" as the "dying Joker"
Has a powerful and energetic heart
What it has shared was out of beauty and loving creation...
Every time he stood back up to start creating "Interruption"
His fists are clenched with rage and anger
The "Chernobyl" ready for it's "Fatal Nuclear Eruption."
Right at the most inconvenient of moments..
"I want this and you are not getting that"
"You are spoiled and without a conscious"
That's not it..
"Where are you at?"
If a question is asked to the days interrupted
You get the punishment and are forced to fore fill to their "fall"
as they wish for their "rules to be iron clad"
Not based upon Rational "Movement"
Universal "treatment" scars rather than heals..
and you are the Joker "rising" who they refuse to listen to or fail to see that he does "Feel"
Trying to be "real"
He returns to this moment of thought and quiet
where he yet "fights onward" for what he knows is truly what he needs
"can these people meet you half way"
before forcing you into their music
like a broken reed
on a wind piper
can't this world see that this is far from what is right..
it's too far down "wrong"
I cannot say
For I've been silenced
I laugh to myself in my silence
waiting for their next movement to force...me to have to become more insane and fight
all due to to their "beliefs" and "works" in which they force in "vain?"
I know..it's insane.
As I put this pen down.."At least my voice is the stain..."
Maybe another face will come along
that will walk with me instead of in front
and we both can live with each other
"in equal confidence?"
Graham Nolan Aug 2012
scrabble tile - no vowels
exact change only
spider solitaire - tetris
distraction

furtive glances
quiet moments alone
lie to friends
weep with no tears

lonliness
gritted teeth with cavities
must mend myself
procrastinate

cars go fast
constant peripheral hearing
night sweats
vivid imagery, pretty colours, sublimity

consideration, politeness, restraint
roman numerals, 24 hour clock
crumpled notes, lacing on a glass
temporary sensations

four walls, three sides, two's company
shocking weather we are having isn't it?
Amanda Blomquist May 2013
The basement of my mind.

   Cluttered with **** storms and broken promises,
          Withered alongside reminiscent daydreams of passed past nightmares.

I stare...
   Into the internal dwellings of my deepest catacomb.

          Unable to process what resides in my literal unconscious dungeon.
   It's everything i've attempted to hide.

To die.
   To let dwindle between cobwebs and dust bunnies.

My breath falls short.

   Sifting through the residue of forgotten treasures and material shackles.
          They bond me.
Surround me.
   Overwhelm me...
          The unresolved burdens have taken residency within my hindered chakras.

My chest  is heavy.
   The weight distribution of disappointment is sharper than expected.

It eats away at me.
   An elusive daily ritual.

Tucked away it remains far from common thought patterns.

Waves of emotion.
   The tides roll in.
          Upon their migration my muddled secrets and hidden betrayals are uncovered.
               Discovered.

The look in your eyes when they fall upon my frailty.

My internal stack of unfiltered, unregistered, and unassured disheveled boxes.
   Full of disheveled useless things.
          Covered in a thick layer of problems i'm incapable of handling alone.

Alone.
   It sits unaltered and ever growing.

The piles.
    The filth.
          The remnants of what should have been happiness.

It all falls into misplaced sediments.

I'm a mess.
It's showing.
I'm naked.

    This hell.
This murky chamber of unwanted mementos from failed attempts and lost friendships
          This dreadful, endless room.

Oh, to live in a home without a storm shelter.
    Without room to store unnecessary baggage and all the unclaimed items in my mind.

To find solace in meager living.
   All this weight fitting into a backpack.

To minimize my insanity into a carry on.

   To leave.
To go.
    To be light enough to feel the light.

To escape this cellar.
     To live.

To release my self from my own idealogical prison.
    To penetrate the bars of fear.
          To dig myself out from all the things I never want to speak of.

To be free.
     Ahhh, to be free.

To breathe fresh air over molded dust clouds and stale particles.
     To touch without needing to rinse my soul clean.

To re-stack, rotate, and Tetris these piles of insecurities.

To break habits
           that i've reinterpreted from childhood addictions and failed father figures.

To be better than what i've become.

To set fire to this sham of a lifestyle.
     To be reborn in the ashes of this outgrown armor.

To let go.

To make you proud.
     To find pride in myself.

To not be embarrassed by my place settings and mismatched knick knacks.

To allow souls into my temple without them stumbling into my isolated lunacy.

To welcome love.
        To love.
    To love even the darkest crevasses of my being...

I need to renew my license to live.
     Overdue and out of line,
           My past self has expired.

One step at a time, breathe.
    One box at a time, breathe.
       One thought at a time, inhale.
    One lust at a time, exhale.

Inhale.
    Exhale.
Breathe.
        Repeat.

Awaken.
      Accept.
  Grow.
          Repeat.
Clearing space externally to open space internally.
Oli Nejad Jan 2014
To short-sighted eyes;

Tetris -

               to
Springs      mind.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2018
well, wasn't it so oh so beautiful
once upon a time:
a naked man holding a fruit -
fast-forward....
            a monkey holding a rat:
hmm...
      enter Elvis: ahum ahum hum:
shimmies aways...
if genesis was to be rewritten again
it would be a monkey holding a rat
thinking about a tailor and a barber
with a schizoid format of interpretation
of an octopus!
  said whaaaaaaaa-t?
said that.
   maze needs no rat,
         rat needs no maze,
man needs both rat and maze -
but man doesn't need
      rat, when he's already
acquired a need for a maze...
    and there's the: a need
to acquire a maze and disavow
a rat...
                  the human "concept"
of a soul: or animation force -
has become degenerate from
monkey through to rat...
             if the ancient Adam was
naked holding a bitten-into apple;
modern "man" is
but a monkey holding a rat.
   i'm far from casting the logic of
counting or spelling...
even though i can do both...
   that man needs a maze
but not the rat...
     in reality: the rat is not welcome...
but to conduct a proof /
  pirson of meaning there is a rat:
in a maze...
               so Tetris is debunked...
and?
               the monkey has evolved
and thus devolved to a rat status!
no... wrong...
                  technology supports
the antithesis...
             the rat is the proof
that a monkey is in a cage, and can peel
a banana!
       ****, wrong answer:
the rat can bite off its own snout!
                            ¡ay, caramba!
wrong again?
                can anyone be right using
this ******* spreschen?!
Charlotte Graham Sep 2012
I
Originations of consciousness whir into a moan of torment.
A sudden bombshell of consternation;
    her eyes burst wide.

Baby?
Sleep-laden, post-finals brain gravy:
No, can't be. Could be. Shouldn't be. Want to be? No, can't be.

Lurking beyond the reach of terror, realism slithers closer.
The hysteria deteriorates as deduction brings lucidity.

******* eggs.
They are abolished, and never heard from again.

II
Suitcase tetris, smothering each layer.
She moves without direction,
or a lazy child with ADD.

At long last, the shimmering sink full of death beckons...

Dissatisfaction erupts in a symphony of fragmented drinkware.
Her assumption lingers, cresting into prediction.
Her expectations are met.
A thorn in her paw.
     The dishwater weeps.

III
Her rage is tangible, hissing in her ears,
bashing her skull when it is ignored,
clawing at her spine.
She abandons the silverware.
They never did anything for her.

The loathsome bag swings threateningly.
She ignores it, giving it a silent challenge.

Fate strings before her eyes, yanked taut and thrumming
with inevitability.
Crimson satin sheets tangle lovingly from the rift of tender peel.
Cake-batter-in-a-mixing-bowl splatter,
the dissimilitude of children's laughter.
Wobbling, fawn-like under the density of rage gnawing at her lips,
she retreats, acknowledging her submission.

She begins as a tree, but rapidly degenerates
into grotesque dysmorphic spasms on the cheap veneer.

Hysteria threatens to burst forth, frothing, but no.
This is not my day.
Inspired by "The Colonel" (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/180106) because of its graphic detail but defamiliarization in use, using delicate words like lace to describe something gory. These events are true, only paraphrased.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
poetry can resemble a jackson ******* method - but it can also resemble sitting on the stairs in the garden, just when winter starts to dig into it's cold at night (but still not cold enough) for a man drinking beer and smoking cigarettes to feel the skin etch out in itches from the mild freeze, and imagining himself holding the beer bottle with skeletal fingers... then the thoughts come... nothing is really planned by a narrator working out a fictional linear process, it's more like that soviet invention of a game of tetris, thoughts come, the ego disappears, thoughts arrange for a brief narrative, then disappear, new thoughts come, then a randomisation process takes over, until ex nihil complete dispersion, the faculty of thinking is exiled, and the faculty of memory takes over.*

after watching two grand movies in one day,
it felt really sour to return to the grand stasis of things,
the only constellations that are visible
without any ******* notion of light pollution
are scorpio and the big dipper...
the litter dipper is more dim this year,
so dim i mistook the earth's celestial geographic
route as spring summer the big dipper is
when in autumn winter the big dipper is
the small dipper... but seeing the two in the night
once i became aspirational in my error -
if only the prefix aspi- existed, derived from
aspen to the added continuance of the word
left: rational: rationality based upon unforced error?
but these two films: kingsman: the secret service
& the hobbit: the desolation of smaug
you get penetrated by so many active ingredients
for the narration via images, that when you
un-glue your eyes from plato's cave (actors
are the best conclusive interpretation of shadows,
no rabbits in the hand to be mistaken for the real things)
you get this drawback sensation of having to focus
on inanimate things in stasis -
and it can & does become pretty glum,
esp. if you want to return to the realm of using
phonetic symbols, to not speak in reserve for
an up-and-coming stage performance
but to see the glaring starry composition of hidden
things in the things already seen...
so there with the beer, scorpio elsewhere
the big dipper only thing providing me with
a workable dynamic: in schematic
          
       .         .
                    
                       .
                .

       .
            .

               .


i had to active this arrangement of stars
to negated feeding my exposure to
so many images...
i began by coupling the stars: three couplets
one star the odd one out...
then i started to create a dynamic
on the basis of geometry, a geometric
non-linear representation of infinity,
but the constellation into a circle,
and therefore thought of infinity as not
beginning                         sequence                    end,
after all, infinity as a constant interchange
of 10 distinctions 0 - 9 can be ridiculous,
whereby infinity just becomes a randomisation:
either 14123480345792340834 etc.
or 12300984393657499393030, etc.
so using geometry i need to acquire
a infinite parallelism, infinite parallelism
implied as non-convergence.... two points
small enough (atoms, sub-atomic particles,
stars) to interact in parallel, but never converge,
for if convergence was possible...
i wonder: me being conscious of being
the olympic gold swimmer to the ****?
i hardly think so.
i can perceive atoms via the greek imagination
or with the galileo of small-print via the microscope,
but i can't individuate an atom of some sort
to a specified functional guarantee: well yeah,
sulphur stinks... but i could technically
atomise the one unit in my capacity to a state
of an atom... my self... given the number of people
and all the chance interactions in an environment
big enough to all a minuteness of the atomised self...
which is perhaps the counter to that old chestnut
known as solipsism: how to get the right phonetically
chemical concoction to get an etymologically word
out of this? atomipsism? no philology in me just
yet to open the bible of philology (the dictionary)
or bother thesaurus rex for comparative literature.
but anyway, as things go i was musing this other thing,
the fame of achilles with the modern fame machinery...
back then you really had to push the right buttons,
and your actual fame was post-mortem, in order
that you might be glorified in some way...
modern fame seems like a bad orwellian joke...
it's translated into our modern themes of catchphrases
slogans and trademarks as c.c.t.v., a ****** camera
on your shoulder... it actually is a bad orwellian joke...
no double think i rephrased into:
there are more c.c.t.v. cameras in england than in
all of europe put together... so the double think
is as this:
a. should i be bothered, or
b. should i not be bothered?
i'll answer with my usual enigmatic methodology by
just changing the subject -
we left the realm of philosophic doubt and thinking,
we entered the realm of modern denial and thinking,
i dare say i prefer doubt to denial,
it makes all our apprehensions, petty fears and
all petty concerns a bit smaller - via the maxim:
the only fear to fear is fear itself... denial doesn't
provide what doubt provides, doubt is like
cushioned fear... if there's a fear to fear as simply itself
doubt puts a lid on it, a spontaneity,
a kantian noumenon by definition, fear-in-itself.
DMJ Jun 2013
The moment you graced my presence, my mind switched to 16-bit mode.

You was a classic type of adventure, one evolution rarely shows.

All these side quest chicks you made me put on pause soon to be ended.

Cause playing sandbox style wasn't the type of image you've given.

Hips more curved than a sonic loop makin me want to do a quick run thru.

But your eyes told no lies they made me more than see.

That your quest was bigger than any final fantasy

So I'm taking my time to learn this pattern

To figure out how to beat your robot masters

Stage 1 your name Stage 2 your number skip to stage 6 make sure I'm the thoughts in your slumber

My mind's so focused my inputs gotta be right

One wrong move and I lose my last life tonight

No save points just passwords you say I gotta learn your codes

Wouldn't dream of cheating ya besides I don't know what buttons to hold.

Well **** baby you say that I made it to the end?

What's that? To see the true ending I gotta... Beat it.... Again?

But there's somethin about you that just seems worth the hassle.

Cause you got me jumping like mario racing to bowser's castle.

You're as cunning as zelda, as sweet as peach

As scary as you want when you feel your inner sheik.

You got a smile more connected than the perfect tetris

An old school star that's leavin me feelin rather hectic.

Cause you see it's so easy playing for the highscore

But when ya add a lil passion you don't get as easily bored

So I see this challenge as straight 2D

No circular levels just a series of puzzles between you and me

Let's make this purely one on one a street fighter thing.

No crossover tag action hyper fighting fling

See you got it all twisted just check my guide book

A good portion of character data is written on your look

Quick call doctor mario I think I got the flu

I need help tryin to convey these abstract thoughts to you

See you're like 16-bit beginnings hand drawn and expertly crafted

drawn so precisely each movement in action

So I'm focused on this quest like them double dragon twins

Ready for whatever final boss you got at the end

It makes everything worthwhile when I see your beauty on the go

And I drop my ps3 world to switch to my 16-bit mode
RJ Days Mar 2018
How cool I was with undercut
pretending then Mohawk
playing rugby pretending
brunching with fab hipsters
pretending enjoying arcane debates
about particle physics pretending
and social justice pretending
loving tall beautiful black boy
pretending and playing Tetris til dawn
or napping on the couch pretending
in fashionable Old City coworking
space pretending cuddled alone
as rain struck clear panes windowed walls
facade pretending that was my life once,
author in a zine pretending, cheese day denizen
pretending amid all that a sprawling
vacuum of identity pretending
and isolation pretending despite
lunching with a priest I met
pretending online or long, meandering
walks to the park pretending
with Mr. Wiggles and biking up
Passyunk pretending through the market
that smelled of live chickens and grease
bemoaning my loneliness pretending at
row-house holiday parties hosted
by midlife fairies & queers pretending
with dreams with drugs
pretending alcohol *** and roof deck
skyline views pretending pop up gardens
live music filling midsummer streets
pretending same streets
filled with seasonal dirt
artisanal water pretending
bottle cap eyes cigarette **** nose
garbage mouth snowman melting
away pretending going
the way of brotherly
love. How cool I was inhabiting
my urban life pretending
I was there.
Daniel James Feb 2011
Writing through the daily wall
A blank page of A4, a biro scrawl
It’s a bit like playing arkanoid
Bouncing ***** and breaking bricks
Rotate, rotate – and that’s Tetris!

Perhaps there’s something on the other side -
Another level, a higher level, a new frontier.
But sometimes I wonder.
And when I do I’m like
Someone suffering dementia
Locked in an instituion
He cannot think outside of
Alone in the courtyard
Talking to soundbites from the past
Unaware of his own
Uniform.
Simpleton Nov 2013
Blueberry lip balm
And strawberry gum
The chorus of a love song
These are a few
Of my favourite things
Smiling out loud
And the hum of quiet
Watering plants
And waving hello
Chunky monkey
Ben and Jerry's ice cream
Walking in the rain
Tetris and snake is the game
Writing on fogged up windows
I like anything that glows
Daddies pushing prams
And old couples holding hands
Rolling down hills
Christmas lights
Shining so bright
Lighting up the night
Blowing out candles
And making wishes
Smiley faces
In all of my texts
Cloud watching
Puddle splashing
Jumping down steps
Swinging at the park
Counting stars after dark
Mindless doodles
Ballerina twirls
Fast cars
And shooting stars
Family get togethers
And child curiosity
Day dreaming
Butterflies
And rainbow colours
These are a few of my favourite things
*What are yours?
Zemyachis Mar 2013
Asleep in math class, not me, the matrices
Nobody cares about them it seems,
They lie, tucked in, drowsy between the textbook pages of more important chapters
But today, I finally saw the magic in them
The numbers dance
You can take two matrices, written in powdery chalk,
On the smooth, green ballroom floor on the wall
And watch, as if underwater, all is murmurs, all music
Comprehension of a different sort than paying attention
As the entries shift and multiply and add
Moving, sliding, locking into place like Tetris
And only some partners are compatible, and only under certain circumstances
2X3 and 3X5 meet in the middle, merge and mutate into 2X5
Two become one, each bringing their differences to the ball
New dimensions
Translating, the rows become columns and the whole constellation
Spins, twirling, kaleidoscope
Square matrices waltz
Others salsa and tango
Slowing, slowing, sinking into the final dip
Finding identity
1     0     0
0     1     0
0     0     1
And of course, there is no spoon. <3 to Bonnie even though that movie was weird
mûre Jan 2012
Somewhere along the way the
silver threads that embroider daylight with dreams
have melted, losing architectured edges and I find
these days it's harder to tell whether I'm
even awake at all.

Trance chaos, but curiously calm,
considering and sleepy.
My corridor is long but I
have no reason to hurry.

Broken lamps against the walls
dusty apartments to spiders and fluff.
No lightbulbs.
Only husks of maybe
once upon a time ideals.

There is a familiar light of
gossamer gold murmurs over me
I've been here before and
there isn't much farther left to go.
Incandescent airspace
pulsing like a living heart
rising, ebbing, coaxing me on.

The lamps are a silent vigil to my journey.

Again I am here at my tabula rasa.
The door is laid with bricks, sealed by my own earthly hands
Will not open! Will not open! Un-opening door.
And as far as I've ever come.
Light all around, fleeing from robinred tetris brickwork.
Intimate, tantalizing, maddening
Bone aching Mystery.

Yet. Yet. Yet. Yet. Yet.
I yet.
Yet again.
I am here.
Crossroads. Yield to trains.
There is no last stop until I
play cartographer
and circumnavigate
Wasteland concepts. Swamps of muted wishes.

Until I put my broken lamps back together
I am here.
Wandering,
waiting,

a ghost.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
the blatant frustrations of live feed editing.*

enter the tablet, joystick free, one touch games,
quiet interesting that it’s so hard
to get a gaming addiction with such games
as candy crush soda, family farm,
bubble witch 2...
you will not see an adrenaline tornado on these
platitudes, no movie like involvement,
no plot... just time contraints, money constraints,
the adequate reflection of life: hey mort! when you coming?
hey forthnight debility cheque! when you coming?
(i too thought tetris originated in japan,
but it was actually of soviet design!
so in conclusion: games designed to be as reflected
by someone doing a crossword - i'm crap at
those, being bilingual is obstructive -
i'm in constant translation mode looking
for picturesque synonymity - or doing sūdoku -
which i'm not too bad at.)
a bit like that jesus debacle, so gott insisted on giving
proof of his existence to a baby... bad move...
the kid grew up in a bubble and thought he could do anything...
elijah just said to the priests: but if your god doesn’t exist,
what’s the point of having you? later he repented
on mt. sinai where god was but a whisper...
like the whisper of the dream of what rome was at first:
a republic. i believe in republicanism, i don’t believe
in that shamble that’s known as democracy, and is currently
the biggest export from america... exported to usurp
other nation’s republicanism - the elders of afghanistan
will never be modern family mr. jason wordsmith and
mr. jack wordsmith, raising an adopted / surrogate mother’s
kid... not in a million years... nor will revised buddhism
in western europe ever be original shinto of japan...
not in a million years... we’re not a monochromatic people.
back to jesus: there’s not one shred of christianity in
jurisprudence (philosophy of law /
etymology: prudence of having a jury) - but when you’re faced
with an enemy who’s a lawyer, and has connections...
and you’re a poor idiot who was forced into a paranoid schizophrenia
simulation for 7 years... you don’t set out to attack
and get compensation like that woman schopenhauer pushed
down the stairs... you set out to prove god -
and subsequently leave the ******* in his own waiting
line for karma - i hardly think there will be an oliver twit
in him to ask for some more.
It would be nice..
To stop the reluctant patter of my footsteps
To silence the noises playing tetris in my head
To end the fidget produced by my hands
To rest my weary body in some comfortable corner

It would be nicer...
To catch an ounce of reassurance behind your stare
To concentrate on anything other than your mean sparkle
To learn the magic behind the art of tranquility
To do more than display forged smiles

It would be nicest...
To escape
To overcome
To prove
To shine
Kenna Jun 2012
Our hands and mouths are like boats, they flip about in the turmoil of the sea's final storm.
so indecisive
knowledge is key; key is bankruptcy.
only if you have the key...
can you antelope, I can elephant,  in the tetris island.
YOU FOOL. of course not. try again.
The beeper is left cold.
Only because you have to answer. you could change this you know. there are other possibilities.
like what? ranger ice?? I don't think so.
haha
no I laugh at your incapability of answering this question which is ,oh, so simple.
I'll give you one more chance
Glen.
One more chance.
Poem for fun with my Friend.

— The End —