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"trackers" poems
what is this mind that was given to me that is able to see things i print on screen with my digital zip drive of a brain that is stuck inside a laptop main frame, ******* server uploading and crashing sending pings and things to hackers who perform doss attacks and web cracks and serial cracks while eating cereal going over javascript material program landslide juno got bit by emails and other technical software jargin computer guy got the blue screen of death corruption on the web the spider metacrawling and setting it on angelfire i google the facebook twitter and hot wire my car on the trader the wall street journal and the white house, **** sites and white owls, getting arrested and being hired by the government, the money's spent, criminal punishment, in cells locked up no breakfast but lunch under the crack of a door inside ur naked *** on irc chat, the warez rat, pirates on bays and whispers from kittens, brown paper packages exploding a smidgeon, binary, metamorphosis, code program gold, warning anti virus and spywares, baghdad to china, spy on private, eyes on cameras, cell phones like trackers, global position mappers, predator drones, video games, nfl madden, mad men, and happy wal marts, hacking wal mart, with social engineers, traveling the silk road with a cloak ip address revoked
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May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
The Silk Engineer
Today was grocery day. I didn't want frozen pizzas or chips. I wasn't looking for juices or dips. All I was looking for were crackers, And crackers Is what I got. Three boxes of Wheat thins. The family sized Cheeze itz game me grins. Tons and tons of triscuit crackers. Gliding across the stores bar code trackers. But best of all was my glorious box of Chicken in a Biskit.
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Crackers
I taste like rolled cigarettes and chocolate. My fingertips are torched a bittersweet burnt that comes from a night of music and thought-plagued action. Oil and acne plot my hairline as I stare through the orange of the streetlamps to the stars barely visible above, tapping my feet to the tune weaving in-and-out of our arms and toes as we cool on the autumned stoop. Black putouts mark the sidewalk where we wish to tread like animal trackers, hunting the next place for us to eat, to belong, nomads of the land without true bearings. Clear sight of the skymap eludes our grasp, with our hands reaching out against the never-ending heavens, searching for real, and its contrast against real. And then it hits me: What a ******* fraud I am. So much so, that I become vehemently sick to my stomach. I ***** the remains of our **** on the concrete table, and watch as the deer circle us to applaud our next musical movement as we dance to their ancient hove-stomped rhythm.
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Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
Hunting Sidewalks
Don't look at me Stare straight ahead The camera sees And hears what's said Fear 'Little' Brother' In the phone for when Everything's discovered You turned you in Bots with your social Your facebooked look And alexiacon vocals Read you like a book It was you but only you Who fed 'Big Data' bots Letting trackers through Accessing all you got Surveillance in any hand A.I. genies in all reflections Takes itself from every man Knowing every direction Losing a piece of me Is losing a piece of you If you come close you see You're a chess piece too
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Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 10:22 AM UTC
“Look Away”
I asked him                     the old one how to t-r-a-c-k and trap find       fine                l    i    n    e    s                                       in fresh dirt                                                           s   i   f   t    through the carrion                                                           they did not devour                                                                                             s   m   e   l   l    the droppings                                                                                             to know even more                                                                                             of their sacred work even with his eyes closed                                           he knew                                                          but did not say                                                          that I am among                                                          the lazy learned                                                           who did not see                                                                                     the p-r-i-n-t-s                                                                                     I leave,                                                                                     and the ones I read                                                                                     are also                                                                                     t-r-a-c-k-s                                                                                                that may lead                                                                                                                to traps
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Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
trackers
I asked him                     the old one how to t-r-a-c-k and trap find       fine                l    i    n    e    s                                       in fresh dirt                                                           s   i   f   t    through the carrion                                                           they did not devour                                                                                             s   m   e   l   l    the droppings                                                                                             to know even more                                                                                             of their sacred work even with his eyes closed                                           he knew                                                          but did not say                                                          that I am among                                                          the lazy learned                                                           who did not see                                                                                     the p-r-i-n-t-s                                                                                     I leave,                                                                                     and the ones I read                                                                                     are also                                                                                     t-r-a-c-k-s                                                                                                that may lead                                                                                                                to traps
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Lawrence Hall [email protected] https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com Moo. Herd Immunity. Moo. "I don't know what herd immunity is, but when you add that to the people who have acquired immunity, it looks like it could be very close to herd immunity.” -Texas Governor Greg Abbott, as quoted by the Washington Post via The Houston Chronicle Moo. Herd immunity. Moo. Simple math. Moo. Very close. Moo. Vigilant. Moo. Proactive. Moo. Efficacy. Moo. Calculation. Moo. Dashboards. Moo. Trackers. Moo. Asymptomatic. Moo. 70% Moo. 80%. Moo. Fourth surge. Moo. Waves. Moo. Gaps. Moo. Pockets. Moo. Complications. Moo. Misunderstandings. Moo. Factors. Moo. Threshold. Moo. Duration Moo. Emerging. Probable. Moo. Data. Moo. Equation. Moo. Very close. Moo. Died. “I don’t know what herd immunity is…” Moo.
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Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 9:18 AM UTC
Moo. Herd Immunity. Moo.
Sat her castle, cold and dark Upon the jagged hill Surrounded by the deepest wood Where seemed the time stood still There in the wood a cottege sat Of neat and propper trim None should dare to enter there The wood belonged to him Both existed in a solitude and lived within their ways He locked himself away each night She did the same each day She had been of noble birth A Barroness title to her name Yet a brief encounter late one night Her blood it left to taint He'd been a hunter most all his life and held a trackers skill But he was bitten late one night of the wolf he thought he'd killed An age has passed since that time and each lived on their own Far away from mortal eyes Carrying their curse alone Til the night she walked the wood Farther than she'd ever been And came upon the cottege door and carefully stepped in A thunderous roar, it launched at her poised to the attack She bared her fangs and glared at it As the chains had held it back The Vampress and The Wolf's eyes met that night both glowing green and red What could have been destruction both Something magical happened instread The moon now hid behind the clouds and showed his human form A flame ignited in her cold dead heart Her body began to warm Seeing clear her beauty held His rage did quickly melt His heart beat fast, His mind consumed by these new emotions felt And now the castle, nor the wood seemed as dark nor cold As the Vampress and the Wolf had eachother to hold Share!
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
The Vampiress & The Wolf
One morning after interrogations and permitted rest, a training day warning: Objects look bigger than they appear. Gunshot was fired again. Along with flair and sentiments in fancy frames. She was told to stand-up again and He was told to run for his life as far as he can. He was shot dead after a few feet. She was let go only to allow trackers to find the others. Facing seducing blades and machines in lines of neon relief, we bury in a hurry forsaken selves. She shakes cold under someone's embrace, wonders about how staying together may also be just another lie. Sharpening blades tonight, Oberon and the Moon covers a skeleton. By sunrise, the towers are unmanned, chasing and hide-and-seeks. A survival meeting that never existed. A radio singing while someone works and eats.
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
RAID
A wolf can hear a cloud pass overhead, Can smell the men with poison, guns and psalms. A sacrifice of lamb will save his daughter, His sons, his wife. A hart will do as well, Or rodents though it takes a large amount. The last Connecticut wolf was shot dead In 1837, the rest forced West, with other natives.  The Custer wolf, A renegade, learned the trapper's conjure, Survived ten years despite the bounty set- Five hundred dollars, a king's ransom then, Enough to draw the famous trackers west. No place for a spirit that howls, or speaks In tongues, and that is what I do, as well As I know how, untethered to a school Of thought, for thinking isn't what it takes To make the sounds that scare a full grown man.
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Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
Renegade
Key in the four digit code, you have entered the... loading bay. we're here somewhere on the map looking for a way out. The grid number is part of the four digit code the key's on the road the road's on the map key the coordinates in and that'll be that. but It's hard to do when you're looking through black glass. and me as cracked as I could be can see what corrupts me and I am the key to the skeleton in the cupboard.
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Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
Trackers