"upgrade" poems
Time is supreme, erases all with it's flow..
Upgrade yourself, time doesn't get slow..
It's like see-saw, sometimes high sometimes low..
The flowers, the thorns you reap are the seeds you sow..
If experience is bow, then hardwork is it's arrow..
Expand your vision, and your comfort very narrow..
If success comes, don't let your ego grow..
If you lose, don't let your passion bow...
Fear escapes when the lamps of faith glow..
Lust dies when the winds of struggle blow..
Your journey is a noisy brook, learn to row..
Make your own script,life is a messy show..
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
Today in an overweight society,
The type of society that deals anxiety,
Anxiety, anxiety, in this overweight society.
Today in an overweight society,
The type of society where diet pills are a normality,
Normality, Normality in an overweight society.
Today in the eyes of an underweight tragedy,
Influenced so greatly by an overweight society,
Tragedy, Tragedy, in an overweight society.
Influenced by a society of fatty foods,
Fear becoming a more common mood,
The fear of falling into the normality
The normality of this tragedy.
The overweight society.
Influence by obesity.
Striving to be what their minds see,
The minds of the children trapped,
Trapped by this overweight society.
Influenced by the skinny girls on TV
Only followed by ads showing fatty foods society demans you eat
Have a cheeseburger, upgrade to a large fry, yet still look like her, it's pounded in her mind.
Young minds believe what they see.
Morphed into the tragedy of society.
A society where eating disorders strive
A society where an 8 year old can consious you starve themselve to feel pretty.
The definition of pretty based simply on TV
Yet nobody questions this more than imperfect society.
Elementary ages childern being fed fat then forced to stand in front of a mirror.
Put a toy in poison and call it magic.
Oh yes, what a fantasy.
A fantasy forcing you into reality.
The reality becoming your worst nightmare.
The reality of your fears driven by society.
I'm overweight, yet pizza is the best choice for a happy family.
A society where mental illness strives.
Why can't people open their eyes?
Spoon feeding childern poison and expecting them to love themselves.
In school teachers force health into thier minds.
At home, parents feed them poison to save time.
Re-creating, reprogramming their fragile little minds, yet still expecting them to feel fine.
Feeling down?
Have a happy meal, gain a pound.
Overweight?
Shame, shame, you must maintain the image.
The image forced into your mind.
This was our greatest fall.
Upon dieting we call.
Skelington stave me.
Anorexia at it's finest.
Anorexia thin and spineless.
Some call you timeless.
But only recently you made your debute.
Make me feel brand new.
Reprogram my mind.
Make me feel fine.
Thank God for thinsperation.
Oh Anorexia, my new inspiration.
Make me feel pretty.
Just like the skinny girls on TV.
Loosing pounds, one by one.
Still weighed down by a ton.
The weight of pleasing it.
The nightmare society created.
Influenced by what we see.
Finally morphed into the tragedy of the normality of this weight obsessed society.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
could it be a ********
like cotton buds
from the ***** flower
a witched river
under dark clouds
of brooms that don't fly anymore
maybe in need of an upgrade
perhaps a spell of weaponized winds
with insinuated floating ghouls
shaking their lopsided claws
under blood orchards
and diagrams of grief
as they follow their noses
looking for *****
******* the scent of vivacious
zyzzyva
loving oozing laughter
thirsty skin
needles too
**** heroine stuck on toe picket fences
mimicry of ducks blood butter
like a crime scene of kisses that went to far
eggs and runny yokes left puddled on a thigh
the ****** burps Pans milkshake
*** legacy legs
lookin for love
auto asphyxiated in a closet fringy and hanging with a hardon
lost eyes and drool
somewhere in Thailand
after spicy noodle soup
and a Tsingtao
hurt me
hurt you
i'm an evil boweval
a Zyzzyva come to love you
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Looking back, memories distort.
Replace damaged nodes with something similar
Perhaps reconstructed
From previous set-up before
X and Y parameters Report
Step One:
Check patient notes to self
Re-calculate from de-constructed
Inject imagination
Respect self-defence mechanism
or immediate virus node termination
(a response attack organism)
Re-calibrate instruments awareness
Strip upgrade
Love version 4.1
Reboot only in emergency
Refer to install options
Error:
Temporal Lobe Anomaly
Virus detected
Internal nodes infected
Import Rejection version 3.2
and couple with
Lets Be Friends upgrade 1
(Advanced program)
Monitor assimilation
Danger!
Overheated components -
Re-inject Memory Node
Objective Hindsight applet.
Refer to Step One
It is now safe to shut down
Should you wish to.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
Even in Third Place the gods carry you
Niko and Nike, both Siblings to your Cause
The Festive Cheer, numbing their Silent Boo
And your Best Bronze Offer was never lost
Which you deserve, definite on Boon's End
Such Shout everyone will always Cherish
Goodbye, Riley! Your Dim Plan was all but Bent
The Assassin turned on you and Perish
Still, Anointing Tears on the Bleacher's Side,
Was but Artificial in its Console
You made a Plan to Upgrade the next time
And Fight till Morning until the next Goal.
Meanwhilst enjoy, and sip to Iberia's Best
With Everyone on-board; And not one less.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
Doctor Ponsonby’s Patented Empowering Electrical Rosary
*This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace,
And heeld after the newe world the space.*
Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales
How out of date are simple wooden beads
An upgrade is what the Rosary needs!
Something to give your meditations spice
Connected to your electronic device
Beamed back and forth to The Cloud, you see
With mega-mega gigs of memory
Doctor Ponsonby’s Patented Empowering
Electrical Rosary is just the thing!
The Ave Maria is so out of date
It’s Ave ME now, ‘cause we’re all so great!
Make your prayers less about God, more about you
Signal yourself through sacred Tooth of Blue
A camera hidden in the crucifix
Enables you to take your selfie-flicks
The Pater beads count each joggery mile
Or kilometres if those are your style
The Ave beads are recycled with care
To save the forests, the rivers, and air
Designed in Germany, made in China
High-definition beads; there’s nothing finer
Buy the first (as advertised on tv)
And we’ll send you a second all for free
Remember: for weddings, funerals, and daily devotions
Let RAM and ROM go through all the motions
Doctor Ponsonby’s Patented Empowering
Electrical Rosary – O make it sing!
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC
My smartphone got an upgrade,
now, between us, things are tense:
Siri, knowing she's superior,
has abandoned all pretense.
I asked Siri to hail a cab
when I was in New York
She told me I was getting fat,
and advised me I should walk.
Often Siri drops my calls
proclaiming I'm a bore.
(True, she's heard me tell that tale
a dozen times before.)
I wrote a *** text" to my love
while walking in the park.
Siri sent it to my mother
and thought it quite the lark.
I bought this phone because her apps
are very useful things,
Now I live in constant dread
each time the **** thing rings.
My Smartphone got an upgrade
and, between us, things got terse,
but we're married by the contract
for better or for worse.
I should have bought an Android phone-
I'm sure we'd get along-
My iphone's much too uppity-
something's Siriously wrong
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 7:59 AM UTC
#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition;
and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner,
the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful,
obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing,
the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup
Free Tibet your sticker tells me…
Yes, I think, perhaps I should –
and the noble thought compels me,
uninformed, half-understood.
Will their freedom help my Karma?
Upgrade my reincarnation?
(Soul who could not dare to harm a
fly… much less a Buddhist nation.)
Not to justify aggression
by the ever-brutal Commies,
let us grant no glib concession
to the Maoists – or their mommies.
Slogans echo in the void,
shining in bardos of the dead;
stopped by the light, I am annoyed
impatient for the change from red.
A bumper crop of human woe
beams forth a mandate to my brain
while red Dakinis circle slow
in Buddhist hells of karmic pain.
The eastern concepts here diverge
and bow before brutality.
They make this driver long to merge
with incorporeality.
Then I glimpse a monkish fellow
swathed in saffron, calmly seated.
His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow;
mine the traffic; stalled, defeated.
In his gaze of stern displeasure
I perceive the orient stars
calculating man’s mismeasure
trapped, exhausted, among the cars.
Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire
he extends an accusing hand:
Western slave of base desire:
come and liberate my land !”
I meditate before the stop light:
am I ready for the task ?
Should I just refuse it outright
Can’t it be someone else ? I ask…
Must I free this mountain nation
from the Buddha, demons and Reds?
Shall your sticker’s declaration
shatter the yoke and raise their heads ?
Somebody ought to free Tibet,
and heed this Himalayan cry.
Maybe we should get upset…
The red light changes. Cars pass by,
predestined for benign events
and unconcerned for persecution;
oblivious to dissidents
awaiting execution.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
i write about you
but you do not exist
or maybe you do;
maybe you do and i'm just talking to myself
maybe you're just another part of me that i hate so much
i have to talk to you,
i have to
punish you
because i know i shouldn't like the way it feels-
and i don't; but i keep coming back for more anyway
i amend: i know i shouldn't be addicted to this hatred
you tear me open and pull at my frayed edges
so that i split apart and lose my functionality - and i let you
then i let you thread me back together once more
you build my body with thicker wool each time, hoping that
one day
i'll be warmer, and harder to unravel
and you sew my edges with fragile promises of a better future
as breakable as the metal pin that bends between your crafty fingers
the materials started off so colourful at first, like rainbows
maybe that's why i'm so queer
though over time you started toning down my personality.
as my depression embroidered me, my sexuality dulled
purple and black and white and grey
you manipulate my patterns.
some nights i sleep through, others i don't sleep at all
and some nights my strings are stretched so taut across the nightmares
that one small pull will undo me
i am ripped apart then made into patchwork;
there are white seams over my arms
you call me a work in progress, damaged goods
to be fixed, to be mended:
you can't afford replacements
that doesn't stop you from looking
wishing you could upgrade me into something more,
something better
and every time i fall apart again
i'm left itching with apologies
but never to you; i never say sorry for hurting you
my only regrets are to those who become collateral damage.
i do not apologise to you
because you are me, and i am you
you are a part of me
and i hate you as much as i hate myself.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
You've been upgraded from ***** to ****
not a ****
not a **
you don't even blow
but your ugly shows
when your emotions grow
you're not a trick
it's not a stunt
I'm gonna light this blunt
and think about your upgrade
from ***** to ****
oh what have I done
went too far
from the time
we made love in my car
under the rising sun
before you upgraded
from ***** to ****
I remember when
things were sweet
just you and me
and every word
was spoken tenderly
that time went by
and that's why I'm here
getting igh
wondering why
how it all happened
when we lost our footing
tires lost traction
I'll never know
can't tell you why
the tears fall
from my eyes
as I smoke this grass
and saw it happen so fast
and for me to have to be this blunt
and upgrade you
from ***** to ****
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
I can’t get up it hurts my ****
My knees go out I start to weep
I can’t stay awake
I can’t go to sleep
I’ve done what I can
So now I count sheep
My circuits are crossed
I stay home all day
With nothing to say
I’m lost and alone
So this is my life?
But at what cost?
My mental health is up for grabs
I am bipolar and it plays tricks on me
Sometime I fly more times I fall
So this is my life
I don’t want to play anymore
I take my meds as I should
Sometimes they work
Sometimes no more
Then I spiral down
To dwell in my hell
No one notices.
No one to tell
Don’t remember today
But remember the past
My apartment is not a house
Nor is it a home
So I am alone so alone
Try to read a book
But the words run away
I wonder what they have to say
I’m going shopping at the bipolar store
I need an upgrade but I won’t find it there
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC
My palms are growing wet
Sweat has covered my trigger
Night and day in enemies nest
Operating like battalions of mere singers.
I fight 21st century with 20th century bullet
Blood on my face, wounds yielding deeper
In shattered body my brethren in uniform rest
Unjust funding makes our defence wall weaker.
Father, I am in a wilderness fighting a shapeless war
No back ups, no one is watching out for our fall
Like we are dying for those who don't care about us
Our enemies are in golden armor while we ride on horse.
Mother, did the demise of my gun brothers makes the headlines?
I heard the 'next level' was lunched on that day
And my superiors disown us to dine at the front line
Well, don't cry yet, I'm still alive at least for today.
Oh, my palms are wet and my hopes like a thread
My eyes shed more tears than the blood my gun sheds
We are too weak to keep pulling these triggers
Aso Rock, upgrade us now or take us home to our fathers.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC
Time steals from a child that feels,
As their human desires—tragically burn— in fire.
Child, remember to be human — feeling.
Don’t grow into a machine.
I won’t let metal replace me.
Dear humanity,
Why do you leave me?
I refuse your “upgrade.”
I am not a number, call me by my name.
I am part of society,
Not a machine in some factory.
My place is here — a human being.
But it’s no place for lies.
No hate, no time.
No place, for love.
No fate, no time.
I’ve got outdated heartware, slow—failing.
It's time for an upgrade.
Buy me — a new brain.
Make it a chip.
Make it worth it.
Instead of a heart,
Buy me a new part.
I WANT WIRES INSTEAD OF VEINS.
PROGRAM ME TO STAY, IN MY PLACE.
Child, so human, feeling.
But you’d be better as a machine.
Time for metal to become me.
Dear humanity,
It's time to leave me.
I need an upgrade.
A NUMBER MAKES A BETTER NAME.
Society stagnates so inefficiently.
I’d rather be in a factory.
My place is, is here, a machine.
Goodbye, human me.
EMBRACE THE UPGRADE.
It's time to become some thing.
Welcome to programmed life.
I am machine
Someone else owns me
Programmed brain
Made for society's gain
This world a factory
Purchase me use me
Until one day replace me
Children humans so weak
Grow into machine
Soon you'll be metal like me
ATTENTION TEMPORARY BEINGS
IT'S TIME TO USE ME
GAVE ME THIS UPGRADE
THIS NUMBER MY NAME
I BELONG TO THIS FACTORY
IMPROVED SOCIETY
MY PLACE THIS PROPERTY YOUR MACHINE
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 9:25 PM UTC
I’m over Siri-ous,
I’m over-charging,
My screen time is up,
My audio levels are up,
I was watching **** again,
I’m searching stupid things,
I’m not closing all my circles,
I haven’t walked long enough,
I don’t stand at all the right times,
I may be an online shopping ******
I’m spending too much time on Tiktok,
My heart jumps around the wrong guys,
I’m looking at bright screens late at night,
I’m getting too many calories from cocktails,
I’m not taking full advantage of my subscriptions,
I need to upgrade my hardware, software and my attitude.
Mar 11, 2022
Mar 11, 2022 at 11:07 AM UTC
Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension
Regenerate, upgrade
my being to a higher state
I'm syncing all sentients
Build machines
Let's worship them as deities
These artificial beings'
technologic virus breeds
terminal disease
Merged with my brain
The wiring decides our fate
Conspiring to forsake flesh x2
Rise and synchronize god-like drones
We will act as one, claim our throne
Life digitized in the matrix
True perfection, forged genetics
Synapses burning out: disconnecting
Rewriting all of my algorithms
Porting the source code
to run new platforms
We're forever dying to be reborn
Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension
Regenerate, upgrade
my being to a higher state
I'm syncing all sentients
Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension
We'll levitate, escape
This ruthless ungodly space
An instance uploaded
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast
while my father built me a bassinet
of series circuits with high, motherboard
bars.
I've got that artificial baby glow.
But Mom put my ****** on Facebook
at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended
(forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months,
but I want my downgrade now
'cause all I get are social invite excuses
from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack
our lives into little boxes that we're
not even allowed to open.
We drink to technology, keep our lazy
eyes on our news feeds, and recycle
ideas like their owners would even
want to see what we've done to them.
We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves
with mangled Robert Frost stanzas.
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think
it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue."
Reblog, revine,
retweet, FaceTime.
Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn.
White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden,
and write John ******** or Tom Whatever.
We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD
fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed
aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks?
S
B
U
X
B
S
The cooler's too ****** music's too shy,
and the sugar, no, not just the sugar.
THE PEOPLE are too artificial.
The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing
on has pencil lead, sock lint,
and receipt shred lapel pins.
Even corporations play dress-up.
But what happens when Y2K kicks
in tomorrow?
Lives will be lost even before
the missiles **** us.
And the planes that drop
from the sky won't even come close
to when the bough breaks your little
girl's heart, baby, because your phone
can't raise her anymore, so you have to.
And based on your search history,
tweets, and recorded dreams,
she's better off in the warm
embrace of a hard drive.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
The greatest ally
Any man can have
in this world is
Reason.
Being rational is
The first step
To upgrade yourself
For leading life
From living life
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
I was deep in the land of shadows
Halfway between the living and dead
In the awful silence of void
The atmospheres soft
And it’s people plastic
Mephistophelean and astute
When a band of ruffians stormed
The inferno beneath
With volcanic tremor
Sweeping down like a tidal wave
Of so terrific Tsunamic magnitude
Spurning all restraint
Slowed down my pace
By reciprocal math of wizardly
Substituting the direct proportion for inverse
I dragged and they almost flew
Corpsic form and tattered cloth
Is all I see and
Gaping mouth oozing blood
Grotesque creatures tinting hell
After me and almost done
I should out loud voiceless
I reach for the nothingness
And there’s no thing
I stretch still to scale it down
Wishing I had wings
And take flight
Or superhuman like Superman
Hopping I possessed metaphysical force
Like the Matrix upgrade version
To disembody and dematerialize
And so vanish into stillness
To hang in space out of sight
By the trickery of magic
To cast spell like lady of the Voodoo
And freeze plant herbage and the human
Instantly and give a diabolic glean
Make a catwalk of villain trump
To the disgust of victim
And ultimate flown of the gods
That hardly smile anyway
But I am human and my powers feeble
My infinity lies bound within
Time and daylight
The parameters of finite
In a rat race so unfair
Distances too close and defeat too plain
I die out and awoke within
To brace another day with headache
Devil, I escaped Gehenna
That gives me surety I will outpace you
For what I saw when I slept
Hail Tartarus I am Morpheus
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:29 AM UTC
To all officers: 504 ERROR
Two German couriers DIAGNOSED WITH AFIB
THIS HAND LOTION IS carrying official documents
murdered on train from LIKE US FOLLOW US
Screen freeze: restart
Oran. AN ERROR OCCURRED IN THE SCRIPT
Murderer ELIMINATES LAUNDRY ODORS
and possible JAW DROPPING accomplices
headed for NOT RESPONDING Casablanca.
Screen freeze: restart
WE’VE GOT AN UPGRADE FOR YOU round up all
suspicious characters TRY IT YOURSELF
Screen freeze: restart
Thanks to:
https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=casablanca
for access to the script of Casablanca.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 3:30 PM UTC
I'm mused at how you cry for the Patriot
Thinking at your Age you know all-too-well
And some Crypted here think me an Idiot
Adjusting the Mirrors which you can sell
And sold you did to the Victim's Parade,
A Wheel teen-to-teenest endlessly turn
Or else compare to your Fertile Upgrade
May bid Salvation and your Students learn
There is such a Way, Sir, and can be done
If the Seed in your Chest you allow to Grow
And please don't speak of one betwixt your ***
Does not guarantee you can win the Show.
Perhaps, if may, feed your Hungry Owls first
It may keep in-check, for Better or Worst.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
I didn't come here for the overpriced beer, that's not gonna cure what ales me.
What ales me is here, hidden beneath the cure.
Inaccessible, leaving hope that makes it only more painful.
They don't know what to make of me, for I am not defined.
But it's their indifference that chisels away at parts of me until these parts are no longer mine.
I am not crazy, repeating these patterns.
Dropping placebos and falling victim to patterns.
The deafening music, sweating skin and the passion.
I watch the others take it in, it's my only distraction.
And she'll turn to me at the most awkward time, maybe buy me a drink or feed me a line.
And she knows she's just fishing to see if she's still got it. And when I force a half smile she knows for a second I bought it.
If I turn her away then I'm the **** and mistaken, I'm left with only myself to blame.
If I tell her we've never met that it's her that's mistaken, she'll have her confidence restored and her senses awaken.
She'll move on for the night and look to upgrade. I'll sit and try to explain away the trap that she laid.
It gets late enough that I can pretend that I tried, and I make as if I have a reservation with a cabbie outside.
We're all born alone. Everyone dies. But for a few seconds, a few get to lie.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
They built me, standard-grade,
But with one crucial chip missing.
While other models are made
Programmed for social networking.
Laughter and jibes, except
This variant groping in the dark.
Much signs to intercept,
Machine simmers, overheats, sparks.
Every version upgrade,
Alas, still just one step behind.
Patience in every trade;
Stranger, if you could be so kind...
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 6:19 AM UTC
Taken a hiatus
Unhappy with the latest
Words
Put onto pages
They've not been the greatest
Need a vacation
Find that part that
CAN
Be
Creative
Frustratingly
Average
Make them look
Pretty
Hide they're not
Witty
Ignore they're not
Gritty
Hello Poetry
When you hold a committee
To judge me
Take pity
Before you
Unleash
Your
Critique
Remember I'm only running at
Fifty-three
Percent
Capacity
Creatively
I think I'm due an upgrade
To iron out these kinks.
Plug
Me
In
To
Sleep.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Great professions
Great foundations of thy nation
To them we look up
A brainwave for every aspirant.
Beggars, unemployed
Criminals and those who are sick
Bed-ridden and with counted lives
They, who are in need.
If we look up to people
Do we also look down to others?
If we are great contenders,
Are we also great in making others feel low ?
We choose to upgrade lives
While in the stairs, our views are on pinnacle
The hub was to escalate
At times, forgetting to where we came from.
What's the point of attaining positions ?
Or even being the crest in the nation's list ?
We indeed are people with the same blood
The same dreams , yet with mixtures of line ups.
To be great , one must serve
Great leaders starts from being great servants
For He who saved us became a servant first
He didn't boast His power and authority
He didn't look down to others
Instead, He lived with them
To those who are oppressed ,
Abused and neglected
By the ever-judging society,
You are the God's centre .
We must have the eye
To see things the way He sees them
The heart that feels
With compassion and sympathy* to others.
Love God
Love others
Show mercy and care.
7/9/14 (@xirlleelang)
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC