"tvs" poems
I hear the electricity fade
The room is lit with the TVs black haze
My body in your arms is no game
But now I'm all you want to play
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
Large and wide
Deep and Cool
Filled with the purest water inside
It was our village's hallmark pool..
Stone lined walls on all sides
WIth steps going down to the water
And stones for washing clothes
Which also doubled for scrubbing our feet..
Live with fish and water snakes
Who were friends with us kids,
Frogs who would sing chorus during the rains
and ferns green and bright on the walls.
With overhanging trees on the banks
We came running and dived into the water
somersaulted and torpedoed
and swam in all fashions and styles...
Swimming and diving from the banks
We played "catch me if you can"
from the time we are back from schools
Till it is dark and when calls come from our homes.
With swollen finger tips
and red eyes, but
After the long swim and bath
Having dinner right away and
slipping into a good night's sleep...
Days where there were no TVs to watch
Days where there no homeworks to be done
Days where what mattered most were friends
Days which take us to the sweet childhood..
Gone is the pride of our village
there are no kids who play in the water
For there is no water in the pond
except for a few months during the rains
Kids are no longer kids
They have TV to watch
Phone and computers to play
Virtual friends to play with
Lucky we were
to have such beautiful childhoods
Such memorable friendships
Such adventurous rainy seasons
....
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
Something about her
the way she sips her beer
as if it’s tea, and she’s in a kimono
peering out into a storm
as the wind rattles the ***
and snakes through the silk
she undulates, sliding her finger
over the rim, then sips
I know the real storm
broods inside her frail frame
but she says little. mostly listens
and it drives me utterly insane
she should scream or bang on walls
she should throw ashtrays into tvs
but instead, she simply nods
her glazed eyes as still as pearls
She’s like a cherry blossom descending
towards the muddy trail below
she will be trampled by hooves
of merchants and thieves
and I am the charcoal cloud, aching
as I feel her falling farther from me…
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
baby boomers' education was creative
back then everyone was so imaginative
considering the economy was inactive
our perspective isn't the perceptive.
we were made from the earth's clay
from our mother's conception day
into the world we millennials came
treated by parents like we are so lame.
our technology is more advanced
millennials are so very benevolent
i guess it is such a bad expectation
s/o to my ***** Richard Dawkins.
they say back then we called friends
we say today we text friends
they say gas was worth 35¢ a gallon
we say gas is worth $3.35¢ a gallon.
they say we had black and white tvs
we say ****** we got colored tvs
but there is a paradigm masterpiece
it just makes you stand to your feet.
considering our generation escapades
theirs created the existence of AIDS
now we millennials are not to blame
that is what made their time so lame.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Walk
Down cracked sidewalks but forget where and why the going started.
Lost in the chaos of moving feet whose unity lies in their organic flow,
Perspectives shift to some new truth: experiencing its constant displacement.
Here
As bodies carry me forward, they rush to the rhythm of those who desire our desires:
I smile and laugh at voices screaming out from billboards and TVs
“What you need is need itself! Don’t look within, but to ME!”
Drift
Down the street and pause at the window’s reflection.
Behind the still face staring back lies the world’s movement:
With purpose distorted by its realization, the present bursts forth out of nothing:
Pushing
Onward from some inconceivable lack,
Towards a resolution that will not resolve.
Here I close my eyes.
Here there is the silence between thought and its realization:
In which the meaninglessness of boundaries can be discerned.
Here I find myself fall away into everything.
Here I find only Love.
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 4:44 PM UTC
Fanatics fixed their eyes upon
The screen to cheer their team
The mood there in the air was tense
Tricolor seemed out of steam
The clock was counting down
The time was drawing nigh
Doomed to lose and head on home
Bid Russia their goodbye
An errant shot deflected out
Gave them one last chance
To score a goal and prance about
Show off their famous dance
From the corner, the ball soared in
A hero rose above
Mina smacked it with his head
And won his country's love
England shocked to see the win
Snatched right from their grasp
Colombia delirious
Successful at last gasp
And thus the game was sent along
Into the overtime
Two periods were played to nil
Two teams full in their prime
Penalties would now decide
Which team would advance
The locals glued to their tvs
The nation in a trance
Falcao scores! Kane as well!
Cuadrado, Rashford too!
Muriel then strikes one home
Tricolor up three to two!
Ospina blocks the next one
Hypes up the frenzied crowd
But Uribe hits the crossbar
And the silence echoes loud
Trippier knots it up again
We're down to final shots
Bacca fails to get his through
Past Pickford's valiant swat
Fate rests upon this final kick
Well placed with perfect spin
Just past Ospina's outstreched hands
Dier seals the win
The cafeteros reel from shock
No sign of jubilation
But still the crowd, crushed in defeat
Show their appreciation
Colombia eliminated
We give them all a hand
And though their World Cup here is done
I'm now their biggest fan
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
I was moving out
Parked my bike down the street
With a cart hinged on the bolt beneath the rusty pole
connected to my seat.
The yard was steep, and the stairs leading down
the front
Vanished each car-
go carrying trip
of dictionaries and travel guides that
could have been lumped together in boxes
separately tossed into the neon
green
synthetic fiber
rain-proof buggy
Connected to my seat.
I ran across the lawn, one last time
Buckling the watch I found from high school
remembering it’s broken and not caring
then I saw men wearing polos beneath
Greek symbols beneath a doorway
and held my breath as they stared at me.
This vacant lot held something which I carried back
to find
my bike was gone, replaced
by a life-sized depiction of a bike saying
“no bikes--” A girl inside, explaining where I could find mine
I walked down the grey spiral of handicapped access ramps
surrounded by aquariums or tvs
which comprised the store's interior.
The last ramp faced an exit and went straight past
refrigerators next to vending machines
In the alley behind this office supply store were two old men
Roasting my bike on a chain beside the others
Disconnected, hung
its tires lying on the ground beside their feet
and the carriage slung aside like a bloodied gazelle's neck.
“What the ****
A woman got into my face “don’t use that word”
***** a perfectly good word, after all, it’s how we
got here”
One man smiled.
He felt bad.
They helped me put the bike together and I walked it back to my house.
I saw my car down the street.
I thought about the long trip to the interstate and wondered why I’d
rode my bike
Then I went back up the stairs of the blue sided hill,
to see the roommate I hated
and thought about stealing his SNES and stereo
but took only my one possession
and walked past rotting turkey bacon in a plastic pouch
on the top of a table
beside some legos
and left.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
There is a city inside my body
With cars making their way through my veins
People are on rush like they’re insane
My organs make up the industries
And the people are the workers
They work twenty-four/seven, tirelessly
Waiting for the food
Which they make into goods
And supply to all the smaller towns
But in my body,
The day never comes
So they’re accustomed to night-time
And all the routes and all the buildings,
And all the cars with their honking
Even lampposts and payphones
All the houses’ windows
Maybe even TVs and radios
Together, they make their own city lights
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
They gave us the sun to explore this earth, the moon to go back home ... For in your dreams is another reality, and one you rarely see... Lucidly at least... Your dream self has explored. Has suffered. Has laughed. Has felt the fear of not being able to run as real as you feel me pinch you. How can that not mean something? How can I wake up every single morning, and not take a second to appreciate the opportunity to go back home, but wake up here...
They had to make these experiences feel real. They had to make us believe that being "awake" was as good as it got. They can't make money off you if you live in your dreams...so they refuse to let you sleep...
Wake up! They scream. With their TVs and electro beats. With their Budweiser and whiskey. With there horsepower and responsibilities. With there everything.
Fall asleep. In DMT. find the path they don't want you to see, find the boy that needs to breathe, find the answer and use the key, because we have the power to accomplish EVERYthing. SCREAM. "LEAVE ME BE!"
Stay out of my bank account, stay off of my streets, take your big brother, and give me back trees....
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
our lives are fraught with numbers
so many fractions of a second faster in a race
most wins on record best jury votes
highest flight deepest dive most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees and more displaced
tens of thousands honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
or the stock exchange
votes in elections or for beauty queens
polls tweets virtual friends & followers
likes on the social media on hellopoetry
we have been taught to measure our status
our importance and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices
even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear
0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past and very little present
our hands on smart phones homes TVs
pushing a button makes things move
swishing a screen displays the world
over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
of customers for businesses
of voters for the politicians
of workers for the corporations
of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become
and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth
all of which do expect their individuality
be honored and their dignity respected
numbers don’t honor individuality
they simply count the units
items or people are for them the same
it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
Another dark day in this dismal old place
Snow clouds were moving in fast
The sky was so dark, and the wind had a chill
This was a storm that was sure gonna last
At Cy's, The Old Pawn Shop was empty except
For Cy and the stores old dog Gruff
The storm was en route and Cy figured that this
Was a good time to go through the stuff
Years of memories, years of tall tales
They were all on the shelves in this store
There was all sorts of jewellery, tvs and clothes
And in the back was at least 40 years more
The door opened sharp and the bell startled Cy
He was checking the watches and clocks
A young man came in, dressed all in black
Cy said "push hard or the **** thing don't lock"
The young man was tall, about six two I'd say
Cy had never seen him before in his life
He'd said "Sir, I've an offer, you can take or can leave"
"And it's the best one you've had all your life"
Cy looked at the man, intrigued though he was
He said "Sit, and I'll put on some tea"
He went to the door, checked the oncoming storm
And then he put the sign up..."BE BACK AT 3"
They sat and they talked, and they laughed as the wind
Blew the snow up against the front door
Cy pulled out some books, went and made some more tea
Then the man left and left Cy in the store.
Later that night, under cover of darkness
The man came on back with a truck
Cy opened up, and with Gruff by his side
They watched as the man quickly loaded the truck
Two days had passed, and the whole town was white
The storm closed the town for a day
The streets were a mess and the schools were all closed
And the kids had the day off to play
On the third day, the town, woke up almost as one
With people phoning up Cy's by the score
For as they all left for work, there all wrapped up in brown
Was a box, sitting by their front doors
Jim, was the first, opened his box outside
Saw the watch that he pawned with Old Cy
Gianni, and Mike, and others as well
Received items they'd pawned by and by
In total you see, almost 200 folks
Opened boxes paid off that dark night
Christmas was early for folks in the town
Given by a young man, who'd done right
Cy gave the names of the people he knew
Even though it was against the Pawn shop man's creed
He'd loaned out the money in interest free loans
To these folks that he knew were in need
About five thirty that day, the young man returned
Cy and old Gruff were waiting inside
They spoke how his stunt was a universal success
And at this, they both laughed till they cried
The man rose from his seat, shook Cy by the hand
Cy asked "Why did you come here?"
The man answered "I'm here after my Mum"
"Her names Mary, and I heard she serves beer"
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 7:41 PM UTC
I'm
drowning
in light,
In blinding light:
Lights on cars; and buildings;
and lit up trees lining lit up streets;
Houses with sills all lined in gold
And diamond; silver glitter glued onto mould;
Street lamps; and laser pointers; and
Towers; neon lights dotted with flowers
Of plastic sun; hoardings and billboards,
With bright teeth and skin and red words
Everywhere you turn,
Telling you what you want
And never knew you wanted;
Shop windows; chandeliers;
Presents for that time of year;
Cell phone pylons with twinkling,
Bright lights on top, like Christmas trees;
Christmas trees, with stars and angels
Speckled, Frosted,
Dusted on the tops;
Disgusting glare on sunglasses,
And a smiting gaze along the arms;
Bridges and fountains with gold poured on;
Platinum bands in every size, laying all forlorn;
Bedside lamps; and taxis; and taxi stands;
Every window, but the ones
Being jumped off of;
TVs and refrigerators, opened
Thoughtlessly at night;
Screens shooting onto impassive glass
That used to be faces;
Cameras, going off in quick succession,
Quicker than you can keep up;
I'm drowning.
We are taught desire, in light,
We learn to read in light
and scarlet letters of fluorescence
We are blind,
Now that the road is paved for us,
To the light that was before.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
Your generation is defined by definitions.
'This generation', this new-fangled bunch of hooligans
Cut out and put in the oven,
Lives pre-formed, based on premonitions,
Put into the system and cranked out
Made up of numbers and tests that really define who you are.
'This generation' that you have given a set of rules
A set of molds to fit into
To pour their lives out and 'better the world'
Shaped with your all-knowing tools
Scissors that cut funding to the parts that maybe,
Perhaps, might make them an individual.
Because here, no, here we don't have room for individuality
But we sure have room for this assembly
Your freedom of religion, speech, and freedom to assemble
No room for that, for fear of immorality
We don't have time for originals, we don't have time for strays
I'm sorry that you've got ideas, Generation Y
But this is the generation of time constraints.
We've got technology to innovate, an ozone to fit
Communities to build and lives put at risk
But that's not as important as what's in the now
No, not as important as these tucks and nips
We've got to put you under the needle
Even after we swore, 'first do no harm',
But this isn't going to hurt, I swear
Well, maybe not on the outside.
Look here, Y, you'd be better off compliant
To fix our computers and drive our trucks
To turn off your TVs and just trust us
To read the chapter and finish the assignment
Because to us, you all learn the same,
To us you are still just a number
Even if you think you're out when you graduate.
So what, you graduated the system,
And it's done it's work on you
Have your daddy pick the college and your mama pick the sheets
Pack your bags, you're ready for the big world
And that's exactly what we made you think.
Generation Y, you are fitting into the molds we gave you
We tried to crank you out in groups of 300
And we did
You were never allowed to be original
And you weren't.
Generation Y, this cookie-cutter, uniform
'Glued to technology', uninterested
Group of 'stupid' teenagers
You were forced to unify
And forced into corrals, thereby,
Forced into lives we've blessed you with.
I swear, by my very intelligence
That we're good by you, good by the world
In evaluating what we need
Where we need people
Hopefully creating a society less-gnarled
Generation Y, you may hate the population
But you are the population
And you are what we told you to be.
Your lives were pre-formed from day one,
So, please,
Sit down, shut up, finish your definitions,
And stop asking why.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
So grand I always imagined it,
a city beyond the grasp of realism.
Famous in it's own glory
An entity that survives in the hearts of its citizens.
Stories told by those who's hearts it has claimed
are presented in the notes of our music
the pages of our literature
and screens of our TVs.
They plant a craving in our souls for that which we will never find;
the bar is raised higher than any part of this world could reach.
It was supposed to be breathtaking -- it was supposed to make you cry out with glee and wonder.
Excitement so rooted in a determined fist that no restraints could hold it.
But it wasn't that,
in fact, it was the opposite.
So human it seems wrong
unnatural
underwhelming.
Broadway is just another street
Times Square isn't bright enough
The Statue of Liberty is too small.
And it shouldn't be
that
this city,
the city of all cities,
is
underwhelming.
**We can't blame the city,
it's been in our hearts from the first moment we discovered the world.
I realize that we could never see the city's glory the way it's portrayed
until we've learned to love the city from the inside out
until we experience the soul of the culture
the people
the music
the colours
the art that is New York.
Then Broadway will never be just another street
Times Square will be brighter than our most colourful dreams
and the Statue of Liberty could never be
small.
So now I leave you, New York,
with the promise of a new perspective, philosophy, and appreciation
of what you mean to your people.**
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
A creation from big corporations
Living to buy till the day you die
Looking for the best deals, seems like a steal
But its a trap, a well hidden trap
LED TVs you don't need
Black watch you've already got
Smart phones the same as you own
Subconsciously told where to go, what to get,
we forget what is really important.
The friends and family, strong relationships,
And fellowships that make us fortunate.
Spend time on those we still got
Because that can't be bought,
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
I walk a tight rope through life
As I seek to find my true self
But I am sure this was not the plan
As I am far to frightened to look down
Although I really need to find my feet
Insecure legs are shaking
Jelly knees are wobbling
Pterodactlys, flying reptiles
Many headed monsters
circle the sky's above
As I fight with the world's
media and societies influences
So I close my eyes
Turn TVs off and
Throw my papers away
As I seek the center of me
The outside frizzles
While my soul sizzles
With a silent voice it speaks
As the worlds forces crumble
Butter on hot crumpets
My heart starts melting
As the physical is dissolving
And I stand still just balancing
Untouched by the world
As I find a harmony
In a sweet simplicity
As I fall within the bounds
Of a renewed innocence
I feel myself shinning
In a white heat
I find myself connecting
And on the tight rope
To true self
I see a future
Far and wide stretching
In a heart that is vibrating
In the realms of true self
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
we're all standing on the edge of reality,
millimeters from the precarious cliff of horrible,
beautiful truth.
the glow of our iPhones, tablets, flat screen TVs, etc
illuminating our placid faces.
ignorance is bliss, they say.
wake up!
wake up,
and turn off your alarm,
and flip on the news;
start your coffee brewer.
we depend on the technology.
we live in the the technology.
we live in a computer.
you are not real
and neither am i
but we aren't dead either.
if we can think,
we can exist,
right?
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
dish soap soaked rags ripening my skin
as my hands dry out and ache for moisture
an ache for love pruning my skin
as my heart drys out and aches for moisture
I remember waking up to screaming
to loud tvs and sometimes old hip hop playing on our sound system
the lightened heavy twang of country from my old radio being smothered
I could hear you cussing and throwing dishes in the sink
I could hear your heavy sighs and your angry tone under your breath
and I remember waking ***** up to feel comfortable again
I remember crawling in her bed because she was the only place I was safe
and I remember when you threw the gasoline in his eyes
when we were locked out of the house
I remember coming home to an empty house, scared and tired
and screaming at ***** because I needed to take it out on someone
because god forbid me from taking it out on you
and now you want to be my friend
because you can't be a mother
and ***** is off in her new life and we stick together
under the heated lamp of the pressure you still put on both of us
and the other afternoon I woke up again to you slamming a door
and throwing your bags around
and huffing and shouting to yourself
but this time you thought you were alone
maybe that's where you're safest
alone
but now you'll take it all out on her
your mania will worsen through the years
I'll leave, I've left
and you blame me for your misery
but you hide it some days
so I leave you alone
because that's where you're safest
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 12:04 AM UTC
Not too long ago but the wisdom still alluded me
And not be Frank, I was never one for the Ocean and sand.
So the salt in my lungs, your gaze into my eyes was new to me.
Scared but not enough to tell you, I took your hand.
(The waves felt good on my coarse skin.)
No TVs there, it was Remote.
The locals wagered on a pair of dice.
Coladas with two cubes a pair of ice.
I was living in, and you are my Paradise.
Everything I wanted and more, but still not willing to sacrifice
(I rebel, I rebel)
All that was asked was reciprocation.
She said” Boy just say my name, that’s all I want”
“ Show me joules. Life, Love, and Dedication.”
Told her “ stop trippin” She said ”why you front?”
(Time Passed)
All that was asked was reciprocation.
But society’s serpent wouldn’t let me. ( Boys aren’t supposed to feel)
Eve’s whisper led me to condemnation. ( No room for my pride)
Wiped the Salt water from my eyes “Just don’t forget me.” ( she apathetically pointed at the door)
The rain fell
… I’ll never forget raindrops I felt, that night I plead with you
Same raindrops I felt that first night that I kissed you.
And I cannot lie and say that I don’t miss you.
…That I don’t miss my paradise.
But – sometimes stories don’t end the way you want’m to right?
(Lost Happiness, Lingering Pain)
I miss you
Right hand to god, Left hand holding the remains of my heart.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:43 PM UTC
I once dated a ******
And I loaned him money.
I laughed out loud in church.
Well! I found it all so funny.
I bought a used Chevy van
Without the proper paperwork.
I tried to get my money back
And the guy called ME a ****
A friend told me I could buy ****
From a guy on the edge of Watts.
Eleven o’clock at night on his porch
Me, a stranger, waiting. Stupid ****
Once I knew another guy, not well.
He wanted some dope from me.
I agreed to sell it, then realized
The fellow worked for the FCC.
I let a gal move in with me
A hippie from Haight Ashbury.
She drank my ***** ate my food
Then stole all she could carry.
It was just the kind of thing,
The sixties games we played.
Free love, open heart and then
After all that, I didn’t get laid.
A guy was selling hot TVs
From my place of employ.
A fool and money, you know
Is all about a gullible boy.
And, since the crook was a gal
I fell for it, because naturally,
A nice lady would never, ever
Try to swindle the sweet young me.
A guy was plunking his guitar
With a sign that said he was blind.
I gave him my last buck and
Figured I was just being kind.
At five o’clock, he got up to go
And I thanked my lucky star
That I was not blind like he was
Then I saw him drive away in his car.
Doing stupid things does not mean
That a person it a certifiable idiot.
It can mean that we trust too much
Or that we’re greedy and don’t admit it.
We see a chance to get a profit
Or even to do something nice
Then get stupid, do what we know
Is contrary to all good advice.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
Something about her
the way she sips her beer
as if it’s tea, and she’s in a kimono
peering out into a storm
as the wind rattles the ***
and snakes through the silk
she undulates, sliding her finger
over the rim, then sips
I know the real storm
broods inside her frail frame
but she says little. mostly listens
and it drives me utterly insane
she should scream or bang on walls
she should throw ashtrays into tvs
but instead, she simply nods
her glazed eyes as still as pearls
She’s like a cherry blossom descending
towards the muddy trail below
she will be trampled by hooves
of merchants and thieves
and I am the charcoal cloud, aching
as I feel her falling farther from me…
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC
So visual
Men
We sit them in front of TVs
Where barbie doll lookalikes
Singsong stereotypes
In search of the perfect man and family to cater to
The little girls watching think this to be fulfillment
I change to the news
And fake **** read the newest disaster
With a splash of celeb gossip after
Girls look to mirrors with shame
And I pray to love a blind man
Turn to politics
Where we find women
Like four leaf clovers
To pick out and scrutinize
Dehumanize
Objectify
She must've shown too much leg again
Because there's nothing of her words on the tabloids
Now young girls will only know power in their bodies
Wearing stolen ******* and a stolen smile
Stripping off her self respect with her dress
I live in a patriarchal society
That plays down feminism like a government scandal
I am oppressed
I am repressed
But this is not a woman problem
This is not a feminist problem
This is a societal problem
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
if the world was ending in 7 days -
nobody else knows it
but there's nothing anyone can do to stop it
how do you want to spend your last week on earth?
*** Who is this?
sorry [sadface emoji]
...
I'd go looting.
break into stores, steal TVs, printers,
whatev I can get my hands on
why?
i mean, what's the point?
The **** of it.
Never been looting before
You?
nope, never been looting.
I meant, what would you do with your last week?
i dunno
that's why i'm taking suggestions
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC