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Julia Jun 2020
Looking for a plan
to homestead with honey
You find the land
and I’ll bring the money.
Start with 8 hens and
then get a rooster.
Sunlight and dirt are
the best immune booster.
community grown
no, you won’t be alone
walkie talkies instead of upgraded iPhone.
remain lean and fit
use up every bit
for excellent compost mix in chickensh!t.
swale in the roots
of a filtering lily
irrigation to grow
what I’ll use in the chilli
weeds in the cracks
seeds in the snacks
a little help from the axe
and the *** makes us stacks.
And I’ll spin what I comb
from the fellows who roam
on the sod in the loam...
All we will need is
some land and some money,
a pocket of seed,
and true love for honey.
Emeka Mokeme Sep 2017
ANGEL BY THE RIVER BANK.
I saw the ancient winged one
Descending from the clouds
With his horn-like trumpet in his hand.
His sword sheathed in the
girdle around his waist.
He stood there within
the clouds as if by the river bank
looking down and watching.
As he stood majestically
in silence with solemn
calmness watching the world go by,
observing our acts,
and our follies.
Oh how I wish mankind
would change before
the trumpet sounds.
Opportunity is given
to remedy our lives
before he strikes out in anger
to our destructive ways.
Peradventure our
inward change genuinely
comes from within,
Our mind renewed,
Our relationship with
all creation improved,
Our downward living upgraded,
Our evil ways changed.
Maybe he will have pity
and show mercy.
Maybe he will forgive.
Maybe the ancient one
will turn away so that
our land will be blessed
and the people save from
the calamity about to befall them.
If our people only knew
what will soon happen.
Oh ancient one forgive our ignorance,
Forgive our unknowing i beg of you.
Plead on our behalf,
have mercy ancient one.
Don't judge my people out of anger.
Bring us out of this dilemma.
With your loving-kindness save us.
Help us out of this predicament lest
we be destroyed.
Have mercy on your children.
Even our Elders have fallen away,
and your children
scattered in disarray.
Don't forsake us.
Show us a new way.
Guide us to the path of
righteousness that we may live.
©®2017. Emeka Mokeme.All rights reserved.
I. I cannot seem to picture holes in my body like most
people do. That popular metaphor they use to represent
loss. I think of those cardboard boxes that come in different
shapes, displayed in bookstores. Those you don't especially
need but feel like walking away with like they've
always been yours. One resembles an emptied
pool, another like a cake eaten so carefully, the sponge
remains barely intact, imitating a box. And yet, for some
reason, you don't want to put anything in them. They look appealing
as they are, empty. When a friend loses something, maybe a
blown-off cap, I picture a green oblong box neatly caved
in his crown, through his skull. I can't visualize a hole, or
a collapsed floorboard, nor dug-out soil. Assorted colored
boxes in odd shapes, at different locations and time, fitting
flawlessly, like an expensive upgraded sink, through people's
body parts. Sometimes I picture them with a lid on but
they're still visible: an obvious bright patch of cardboard ingrained
in someone's palm, or at one side of another's abdomen.

II. Holes, usually from gunshot, are intentionally plumbed
by nature and open till the other end. True loss, to become
irretrievable, has to have an element of reach and is then
restricted by space—tracing inevitability. You lose a phone
and you search through the rectangle case by your thigh,
and seize nothing, there's only cardboard and skin.

III. You lose someone. But an entire
box the shape of your body can't possibly replace you
or your whole skeletal system would pop out. So you imagine
that loss, an open cocoon, as a single *****—a heart, or
at least half of it. You can't tell whether that side is capable
of beating, but when you knock on it, it sounds the same. You feel that compartment in your chest and it's all solid and compact,
maybe even scratchy. You reach and your hand doesn't go
through. Of course, it never arrived like a bullet. You deliberately
chose to put something in that box. And as much as you
rather wanted to see that bright ear-shaped box empty, leaving
it's contents to imagination, you compromised, thinking
half a heart wouldn't take too much space. And losing
that person, you think back on the day you first got the
box. It was never meant to be filled, you imagine. It looked
better on a shelf behind glass among other colored boxes:
firm as new and all equally fragile, maybe even
bearing a scent or taste. I believe this is one way to cope with loss,
by disassociating it—turning it into a pretty spectacle you'd want to
buy but don't, just another section one passes in a mall.
Mane Omsy Apr 2017
UV straight in to our body
Heat strokes are close by
Take enough pills, feel clean
Stars flying right to the core
Woke up into a mass disaster
Hemispheres collided, hell
The grass fields evaporated
Rising out to the space
Aliens upgraded calling friendship
Brainless leaders conquered world
Dropped Mothers on each corner
Shook hands to slaughter more
Poured blood into vine glasses
Cheers, topped the death rate

Innocents waited for shooting stars
Ended up wishing at KN - 14
A smile before vanishing into air
Over suite is torn, they blamed
Named North West, they discussed
Wore glittering lipsticks, partied
Acted, the innocence deserve awards
Been up and down, never stuck there
Never rose high up to the violent sky
To wave another white flag
Inhale the poison and exhale fresh air
Wars won't end, so won't the business
The Violent Sky - tells the situation we are witnessing now. But we keep silent. They create terror and compromise for more violence. They only want to be rich and great.
Micheal Wolf Feb 2013
I little nip a little tuck
To get the wrinkles off my mug
Some fat from tummy round to ***
Let's lift the **** and up the cup
DD yeah that's enough
Dont stop there get tombstone teeth
My nose could do with being straight
Almost done spent thirty k
Guess what he left me for the maid!
Sha Aug 2017
They say scars are ugly.
They tell us to cover it up as if it's shameful to have one.
But scars are proof that we overcame a battle,
And though we had been wounded,
We survived.

The stories behind scars proved that
We did not stay in ruins after chaos.
We got up and started to build an upgraded version of ourselves.
And those scars are reminders that
We can grow stronger throughout our journey.

Each scar deserves a place in this life.
So we can look back at it
As if one looks at a masterpiece displayed in the finest museum.
BrainPornNinja Jun 2015
There is a sound in a house when it’s occupants have left for the day and it isn’t silence.
It’s more of a dull collective hum of electrical appliances enjoying the chance to indulge their expression without the need to shout over humans.
There is the echo of words whispered in soft tones and the violent ones exchanged in heated debate, also the screams and laughter and the bark of dogs.
There is the sound of unfolded washing, waiting patiently to be transitioned from unkempt mess to organised functionality in a drawer or cupboard.
Their sound before such a transformation is heavy and unlovable, but once the task of folding is completed, they fall silent, thankful to have reached their destiny this week before their new cycle of destruction of order begins.
Toys, where does one start with the sound of toys in the absence of playmates. Their sound is dependent on how loved they are and how much time they have left before they, like a wife after 20 years of marriage, are replaced by the upgraded model, the new and better version.
But it’s the breakfast things, the things left on the table, half eaten toast and a mauled boiled egg that have the most sound.
It’s the sound of a dwindling life force struggling against its fate to be recycled in the compost, like us.
That sound is a deafening silent scream of a resistance to endings, an inevitable journey back into nothing.
James M Vines Mar 2015
The city has changed from what it used to be. Old buildings are torn down and new ones take their place. Streets are paved over and torn up. People in suits come and promise to make things better, but nothing ever comes of it. While one neighborhood is lifted up, I can't afford to live there anymore. I am shuffled off to the last place that was renovated. 20 years ago when I was born, This was the new thing, new buildings clean streets and lots of hope, but none for someone like me. I couldn't afford it then as I could not afford the new neighborhood where I used to live now. They talk about urban renewal, but they never do anything to bring change to the people, they only redo the buildings and make more money which none of us ever see. So much for the idea of being renewed. My home is gone and I am back where I was before. In what used to belong to someone else, I now live in their hand me down lives they have been upgraded, but there is no renewal for me.
TigerEyes Dec 2015
It was midnight in Manhattan and the cats were out
they donned themselves with their scarves, and their masks
the caper was set to hit each flat
cause boy were they hungry for some tasty rats
To be in The Feral Cat Club was as cool as it got
See -they'd developed a language that kept them on top
Hell, they ran that town like a bunch of Capone's
but they ran in packs instead of alone
There was Fatty, n' Johnny, and Frankie n' Joe
paired up with Sally n' Bonnie, and Talkie n' Moe
between Broadway, and 42nd they made their move
Meow, meow, meeeeeeeeeeeow,  said Fatty to Moe
(this was the call they needed to duck n' lay low)
It meant The Animal Cat wagon was passing by slow
Meow, mow, said Frankie to all
which told everyone he saw a major haul
Sally whispered she was tired of rats n' could they please try
a wonderful place they had all just passed by
it was the new restaurant with meatballs out back
(cause some lame waiter had thrown out a sack)
So they all had a vote, and the meatballs won
placing white napkins beneath furry whiskers for fun
They're all so glad that they've upgraded their style
Now when you see them they can do nothing but smile!
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Krisselle S. Cosgrove November 30th, 2015
Aaron LaLux Feb 2020
So far gone,
leaving behind spent jet fuel & jeweled remnants of memories,
on a plane in the 3rd dimension sitting 1st class,
with a world class American Top Model chilling next to me,

gazing out the soft edged rectangular window to my left,
then over to the soft edged Coke bottle model to my right,
which is better I’m confused as to which view I should choose,
both views are cool highly prized self-realized & undefinable,

on a roll so after we change countries to change the weather,
we change clothes to match the country we’re adaptable,
not conditioned to air conditioners we prefer air that’s natural,
our connects are reliable, specs are viable, facts are verifiable,

always well equipped even though we pack light when traveling, must face facts ‘cause we’re verified & the truth’s undeniable,

so we choose to accept this life without a fight,
what film’s on the inflight entertainment tonight,
100s of options to select from hope I choose right,
I pick a good flick to watch with this chic as I wet my appetite,

dinner served soon what’s on the menu this time,
King Salmon arugula salad champagne & cloth napkins,
think we’ll eat & see a film starring one of my best friends,
he’s one of the leads in the film playing one of the X-Men,

my future has passed, been gone since way back when,
I went from hustling on pavements & cuddling in basements,
to my name on gracious invitations to amazing celebrations,
& obtaining the latest coveted creations of our generation,
placement upgraded I now lay in a place that is spacious,

on the top floor of a proper loft with views of the harbor,
not a golfer I don’t golf I find sports outrageous,
no jokes I’m sinking ***** in 3 strokes on Par-4s,
making cut shots not taking gut shots from Haters,

no mugshots the hate must stop success is an art form,
I work around the clock so I deserve this spacious hiatus,
hitting Top Flights with wise guys on Trump’s golf course,
hole in one I’m a Golden Son like Nick Cannon’s kid is,

terms of endearment rules of engagement **** with honor,
tears shed in statements still sad but thank God we made it,

out of the streets & into the seats of private choppers,

we’re done with the stress thanks to blessed chess moves,
we get offered so many options that it’s tough to choose,
flying through the friendly skies First Class,
as beautiful Goddesses like Venus & powerful Gods like Zeus,

we just hold on to sworn untolds & let everything else go,
until our wills give up our bodies fold & we’re cremated,
only thing that hasn’t changed since we’ve made it,
is the bond of our word so you’ll never hear convos restated,

we keep secrets that will never to be repeated ,
we run a tight ship no loose lips or leaks we keep our word,
just saying no statements just lots of amens & payments,
we’ll neither confirm nor deny those rumors that you heard,

most great men make no statements or engage slow agents,
they just make moves & arrangements in Asia like Statesmen,

we go off like the Mossad,
got those that **** caught off guard in a fictitious fog,
so lost they even begin to question our very existence,
no eyewitness our plots are so efficient they can’t see the ball,

suspicious citizens fishin’ for sufficient evidence,
dragging nets coming up empty they get nothing at all,
reporters on a mission to get headlines for the Sunday edition,
but I’ve seen things believe me they don’t want to get involved,

all star star crossed lovers,
all scars dressed in cross colors,
on Heaven’s Cloud 9 hovering in a helicopter,
surfing my brainwaves on a Rusty board as thoughts hover,

he’ll adopt her,
if she’s mean as the streets are still somehow nice & proper,
a marvelous heart stopper, with a solid heart beat bopper,
but if she acts up he won’t hesitate in a heart beat to drop her,
because the mean streets will always be his first lover,

so sick with the business he might need a doctor,
so far gone one what weighs him down isn’t worth the bother,
so far gone on a level so far beyond him that he’s honored,
with the type of resolve that gets all problems solved,
& a secret sauce along with a special recipe that conquers,

upwards & onwards,
a walking palindrome pantomime,
walking backwards I act out words,
& any friend of freedom is a friend of mine that’s a given,
I see the future live in the moment then kick back afterwards,

on a plane in the 3rd dimension sitting 1st class,
with a world class American Top Model chilling next to me,
rolling feeling high expressing these blessings in total bliss,
naturally high no cigarettes no alcohol no ******* no ecstasy,
finally “Free at last, free at last, Thank God almighty!”,

we are free at last celebrating like Martin Luther King,
Living the Dream in the fast lane spending Johnny Cash,
in the Fast Lane don’t plan to plane crash so I fly carefully,

Walking The Line,

I’m,
doing fine,
so far gone,

I’m,
a bottom of the 9th,
down by one runner on Home Run,

I’m,
outta here,
en route to a beach,
outta of range & outta reach,
a place where the photogs can’t peek,
not hiding just finding a place we can shine like diamonds,
an island with vibes like the water,
clean crystal clear & stylish,
where we can fully relax,
at ease without fear,
together,
here,

20/20 vision,
so my decisions like my vision are always crystal clear,
crystal clean missiles scream through the star lit night sky,
with a Starlet don’t startle us or confuse our caution as fear,

don’t mistake kindness for weakness & try to take advantage,
or it’ll be “Nice try nice guy, you lose dude maybe next time.”,
no good guys just bad boys living the Good Life,
bad boys with good hearts Tom cruising through Vanilla Sky,

in the air experiencing experiences on the fly,
only spent jet fuel & remnants of memories left behind,
have everything ahead of me, just had to get lost to find,
truth is everything I ever said, all good things in all good time,

see, I’m so far gone, my sweat smells like sweet success,
living my best life, an American Dream in the flesh,
School of Hard Knocks did all my homework took no recess,
now it’s all recess allow me the luxury to reminisce & digress,

if you know how to read between the lines,
then there’s no need for a Reader’s Digest,

if you really what to know I let wealth get to know me,
I don’t work for the money the money works for me,
money doesn’t make the man man makes the money,
if you really want to get things done gotta do it on your lonely,

& when you finally get an opportunity to taste The Good Life,
don’t waste it savor it gently & take it slowly,
enjoy it while you can when you get the chance,
before it’s gone like I am on to the next one & only,

close The Book chapter’s finished on to Destiny’s next story,
done with this dissertation on all The Good Life’s temptations,
where seduction done through Life’s luxuries was my specialty,
had my fun now it’s on to the next one, next destination,

leave this life behind & let my actions & words speak for me,
which is why I leave behind these words as my literary legacy,
see truthfully I’m already so far gone,
leaving behind spent jet fuel & jeweled remnants of memories,

on a plane in the 3rd dimension sitting 1st class,
with a world class American Top Model chilling next to me,
full throttle on time like Movado, all shine no bravado,
I swim in more waves than the Royal Navy,

“living la vida loca” no Ricky Martin, my life & my love’s crazy,
gazing lazily out the soft edged window to the left of me,

then over to the soft edged coke bottle model to my right,
if every man’s an island I’m an archipelago & the architect,
Living Artifact, Futuristic Apostle Fossil, Prophetic Autograph,
I collect art & checks such a crazy life I need my head checked,

fossil fuels burn on strong, along with my memories,
so long I’m gone have been for centuries, so far gone,
so when they mention the greats, guaranteed they mention me, remembered in words & songs so the lessons can carry on,

so gone leaving behind only jet fuel & remnants of memories,
because just like now when the end comes I’ll also be gone,
only came here in the first place because they sent for me,
so when I go I will wish you well with a “So long & carry on!”.

So far gone,

on a one way flight with no carry ons,
leaving behind spent jet fuel & jeweled remnants of memories,
on a plane in the 3rd dimension sitting 1st class,
with a world class American Top Model chilling next to me...

Δ LaLux Δ

IG: @adreamerinthematrix
From The HH Trilogy Volume 3: Dark Lights & Bright Shadows; by Aaron LaLux
rohith Jul 2010
Listening those melodies of winds
on the top of a hill
where no human traces could ever exist
except those scribbling of lovers on rocks
strengthening the ******* of their love.
From the top i can see those small houses
appearing as the scattered drops of paint
on the background of greenness!
Those monkeys,
being enlightened seeing the upgraded species
welcomed our hard breath with utmost sarcasm
showing me those tricks in climbing
notating the life i lost...being a man.
A very lonely place it is...very lonely hill
those rocks
unmoved since some years became tangible for our senses
as we took those lifeless things
and tried to relieve those rocks from their tyrannical posture.
No foot mark...not even a small trace of human existence
not even a good road to reach the top of hill
so adventurous...so adventurous
and those clouds...those frantic...freak clouds
moving like tortoise...on shore
trying to escape from the eagle.
I babbled in my inner tone
with utmost insanity as i walked along this uncommon road
and all of a sudden...in a particular instant
i found that irrational resemblance between the world of mine
and this world...
from which one can look at the remaining world
wow...
a splendid experience
and at lost
a water drop tickled my exhausted muscles
leaving no idea
if its a rain drop or a sweat drop
which rinsed my soul
and gave birth to a news poet!
*Devarakonda- name of the hill
Kush May 2016
You go to sleep
A loud cry causes your eyes to open
Stumbling into the hallway, your vision seems changed
Everything is so clear and shiny
Like your eyes have been upgraded tenfold
The house is illuminated by some strange glow
A pulsating purple ebbs throughout
This **** hallway seems to be going to eternity
Your feet begin to feel wet
Puddles of water are forming everywhere, coming from above
The faces on the ceiling just keep weeping and weeping
Their mouths contorted by painful sobs
The end of the hallway seems to be close
Is the ground moving or is it just you?
The walls seem to be inching closer
Why is everything tilting?
You’re almost there, you can do it
Why are they still crying?
You begin to see an outline of a figure
The little girl is waiting
Why is her dress torn?
A ribbon slowly falls from her hand
You reach down to pick it up
The skin begins to fall of her face
It gathers in clumps near her feet
The skull begins to mouth out the words
You move in closer to listen
Why is she whispering?
Your body shifts closer to the little girl
The purple begins to get even more intense
Your ear rests against her teeth
She quietly repeats herself
“Please cry for me”
Two trails of water slowly roll down your cheeks
You awaken
SG Holter May 2014
Fighter jets in formation
Above Ekeberg Hill
Remind me of years
Spent on airbases
During my time in the
Royal Norwegian Air Force.

I was stationed at NATO's
Northernmost base during 9/11.
Minutes after plane #2,
I was upgraded to
NATO Top Secret
Clearance.
Given live ammo for my P80.
Witnessing the colonel's
Marlboro Light shake in his
Usually steady hand as I
Approached; MSO briefcase
Handcuffed to my wrist.
There were papers inside
I was expected to
Die for.
I was 22.

Not even the police carry
Firearms in this country.
Not even the police are expected
To give up ghost over information.

For a nation of such ******
History, we maintain a mellow
Attitude.
We choose peace over "piece".
Gun-sense over violent nonsense.
Naïve? Maybe.

There are nearly no shootings here.
We've had one lethal act of
Terrorism since WWII.

We can live with that.
Literally.
I just upgraded my baby
she is so gonna rip the net
only four in the country
and one of them is mine

It's one super fast soab
it will make you throw yours in a ditch
it's one sweet machine
in pure silver it gleams

I have got her back
to machine settings
and I am gonna make her sing
as if in the holy choir of heaven

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
I’d caught her in the act twice before and the silence from the upstairs bedroom was louder than the TV broadcasting the news tonight. Any other night, I could hear her footsteps against the floorboards, the opening and shutting of doors, cupboards, closets, but tonight when I muted the TV, all I heard was quiet.

I walked cautiously up the stairs, always unprepared for what I might find. I kept my ears open for any hint that she was simply sleeping. The light glowed underneath the closed bedroom door and I knew that she was inside; asleep or passed out from an overdose, I could never be sure.

Pushing on the door, it didn’t budge; a little harder and I could tell she’d put the chair to the vanity under the doorknob to keep out intruders such as myself. I could hear the clicking of an object and I couldn’t be sure what it was.

“Seely, open the door,” I said to her through the crack I’d formed between the door and the frame.

She was out of sight, which left me still unsure of what the clicking I’d heard before was.

“Babe, come on,” I said, “open the door.”

I pushed harder and the barrier opened a tiny bit more. One more push and I’d broken through her barricade. She was standing with her back facing me, her hands playing with the object in front her chest, but still out of my sight. Her long, brunette hair hung to the middle of her back and she was wearing a slimming backless, black dress that had no occasion to be worn for tonight.

“Seely,” I whispered, entering the room more cautiously than I had while climbing the stairs.

Edging closer to her, I suddenly recognized the clicking coming from between her fingers. I gently touched her shoulder and she turned to face me, tears streaming down her face. Her mascara was a mess over her rosy cheeks and the circular indent from the barrel of my small handgun was imprinted against the side of her forehead.

She’d dressed up to die and I’d interrupted her date with death.

“I can’t figure out how to load it,” she said with her eyes glazed over in tears, mascara continuing to streak down her face.

“Jesus Seely,” I said and quickly grabbed the weapon from her. “What the hell are you doing?”

The safety of the gun had been switched off and she’d placed one bullet inside the chamber. I unloaded the weapon and placed it in the closet, making a mental note to get rid of it in the morning. Returning out of the closet, Seely had sunken against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest, tears steadily streaming down her face and landing on top of her legs.

I ran my hand through my hair, tugging on it out of frustration. I sighed in anger and closed my eyes in an attempt of thinking what I should do next.

“Why do you do this?” I asked her from across the room. “Why?”

She only shook her head and I knew she held the words on the tip of her tongue but could never tell me what exactly was going on inside her mind.

“Why can’t you see that it’s not your time?” I said a little louder, “why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I don’t want to be here anymore,” she said with the same tone of voice that I had. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Well God doesn’t want you yet; it’s not your time,” I was almost yelling at her now. “Don’t you think if it was your turn he’d have taken you the first time I found you with three bottles of pills swallowed? Why would he let you live long enough to have your stomach pumped and survive?” I paused, letting my words sink in. “Or the second time when you wrapped your car around that tree and you hadn’t been wearing your seatbelt. The suicide note was taped to the dashboard and your body was ejected from the car a few feet away. You should’ve died, Seely, but you didn’t. He doesn’t want you yet.”

She was sobbing now as I dug up her skeletons from the past. I sighed loudly and knelt down beside her, grabbing her hands and holding them in mine. The truth was, I didn’t know if it was her time or not. I didn’t know if God wanted her right now, tomorrow, the next year or in fifty years, but I knew that she couldn’t get lucky three times. She’d upgraded to the gun I had stashed in the closet and I knew there’d be no coming back from the bullet she was preparing to take to the side of her head.

“Seely, talk to me,” I whispered to her. “Tell me what’s going on inside.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered.

And I knew that I wouldn’t but it didn’t stop me from trying.
I like writing about the wars that rage inside that no one else is able to understand.
What ever happened to touching real things?
The brisk rapture of sand against cold skin,
the intensity of sandpaper to your finger?
What happened to things made by the earth?
Things not of space but of time?
What will happen to the things here before us,
when all we do is touch with our eyes?
A world,
a blank white room,
you touch and drag projected pictures,
and have fun with your awesome toy,
which will be upgraded next week,
left obsolete,
rotting along with trailer parks and
abandoned roller coasters.
What happened to digging down in earth
and seeing what she had to offer?
What happened to real? What ever happened?
http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1K8lN6/www.good.is/post/minority-report-comes-to-life/
CrookedMantis Dec 2017
My eyes were on my hands
My freckles upgraded to bumps
My nails dug in my face
My elbows had replaced my knees

My kidneys swapped places
My hips found a home in my chest
My teeth bit at my skull
My whole spine flipped upside down

My brain dropped to my feet
My heart, soon enough, took its place
And I ran from my fate
Racing against what was unknown
B Jul 2013
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 ****
Dana Kathleen Dec 2014
It’s been 203 days
since I’ve had Dr. Pepper
with your lemon in it.

The first weeks
I had to hesitate at sit-downs.
Now I’ve upgraded to the
permanent taste of Cherry Pepsi
with a slice of independence.

I hope you still ask for
a water with a lime
instead of lemon.

And I hope when
they still bring you
lemon water you feel
my absence, and it
stays with you
when you leave our booth                                          
because I know you still sit there                  
pretending I never did.                                                   

Without a place
for your lemon slice,
you have to grit and bear.      
How does it feel.

I hope that acidic taste
stains your mouth
and reminds you of me.
Andrew Parker May 2014
Building Blocks (Spoken Word Poem)
5/15/2014

I played with legos when I was young.
What I didn't know was the value of those building blocks.
Putting tiny pieces of plastic together,
all different shapes, sizes, and colors.

For what?
For fun?
For structure?
For a challenge?
Because my mom told me to keep busy?
Or because that was how legos were supposed to work - together.

As I grew up, I gradually upgraded.
My legos got traded in for classmates,
for co-workers.
for bar buddies,
and even for the occasional stranger at the mall or movie theater.

They started telling their own stories:
About their first day at lego high school and making new friends.
About falling in love with their first lego boyfriend.
About going to lego prom and putting the pieces together at the after-party, if you know what I mean.
About getting dumped, but then landing their first job at the lego factory.
About shedding priceless limited edition lego tears, on stressful days.
About going through struggles where all they could do is pray to lego God.
About dreams of a nice big lego house with lego children someday.
About lego suicides, resulting from bullying in every worst kind of way.

Eventually it felt like I had opened up an expert level pack,
containing a variety so vast that I never would have guessed anybody could piece them all together.

These building blocks started to feel pretty heavy,
like bricks building a house,
I could only carry a couple in a fistful at a time.
Except they've been worn down from a life full of misuse.
Their colors faded,
edges jaded,
teeth serrated,
like an adapted mechanism for survival.
And what's worse - no mortar to piece them together.
because it all got burnt up.
A casualty of angry tempers' crossfire.
The constant collisions of verbal bullets bullying the building blocks,
bulldozing them over.
With the strength of slurs,
societies seems to blur,
all the inadequacies faced.

Without solidarity to support,
these building blocks are beginning to contemplate giving up.
But Stop!
But I don't like that.
I'll shout, "Hey little legos, remember the plan?
We should work together with your manual instructions in hand.
You were built with a scheme to be put together.
So in unison you can create an amazing structure to cherish forever."

Building blocks are resilient anyways.
Remember that time you left a lego alone?
Detached from its peers,
abandoned out on the carpet,
without the safety of its pre-fab box home?
Well the lego didn't seem to mind, I mean it turned out just fine.

Remember when you stepped on that seemingly small, insignificant lego?
Yeah, don't step on legos.
I'm sure you remember how much that ******* hurt your foot.
Change the last line to not end so abruptly.
Harmony Sapphire Jan 2015
My relationship standards have been updated & upgraded.
From everyone I have dated I hated.
My feelings were discarded & degraded.
I previously stated how I always waited.
How would you rate the perfect soul mate?
Your love needs to translate.
Whether being with them had been a curse or fate.
Unattraction was reversed unmagnetized.
My agenda doesn't dictate.
Plans are late.
Disappointment it will create.
Bad feelings you can't shake.
Our love was so fake.
My place you need to vacate.

© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
Michael Marchese Mar 2018
March in the streets
But I urge you beware
They’ll still butcher the sheep
With the arms that they bear
Private properteers part with
No slave cropper’s share
So this Northern aggression's
Like Freeman’s red scare  
All the colors of wind
Through the head-shavers’ hair
The Guevara adventures
These pigs wouldn’t D.A.R.E.
The Arabian knights
In the grand wizard’s lair
The denaturalized dreamer’s
Recurring nightmare
Of the Stalingrad ghost
Still witch-hunting like Blair
The projects to the precincts’
New modern welfare
The post-trauma disorderly’s
Empty screen stare
The savages they thought
Were waaaaayyyy over there
The debt clock ticky tock
In the heart of Times Square
The 1st world problem-children
Who commonwealth care
Because some barely EAT
And we’ve so much to spare
But these cowherds still like their calves
Medium rare
And the bulls try to sell you
Their laissez-faire snare
Till your trapped in a minimum cage’s
Last prayer
And the only escape
Is upgraded software
Like automaton autobahn’s
In disrepair
In this fascist facade’s
Fragrant breath of fresh air
Just as toxic as stocks
Of the mock billionaire
So I shock ‘em like Tesla’s
Bolt-action Voltaire
And I leave it to you
To go **** it out there
POSSIBLE Apr 2016
how often do you see the students actually watching the teacher

Teacher outta focus Eyes are on the screen

the notes are in the mainframe,
the words have been recorded
on a mic and uploaded to cloud
outta sight on a site to humans
not loading.

credits are commodified, computers offered on sale,
upgraded  technology further modified
so that students can come in and not fail by
bringing their phones and tablets, pen and paper so ratchet
code the information, and procreate like rabbits.

that external source stored with our teachings and
now all that we really teach is that our children do that same.

I used to joke about printers printing printers.  
Now reality is the joke.

These metal rectangles are now filled with the vast sea of knowledge
we were meant to live with.  They learned through our sacrifices
of time, effort, and focus, unto the techno gods who will replace us.
lets hope we taught them worthwhile values.
y i k e s Jan 2016
'new year, new me'*

I won't be a new me this year.

No, I'm going to be an upgraded version of myself.

I won't become the person I always aspired to be.

No, I'm going to push myself to fix all the wrong things with me.

A prototype and a completed project.

I'm going to create a better me, not a new one.
"maybe it's not my weekend, but it's going to be my year." - All Time Low
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
it's a mere wink from the waning moon,
it's two o'clock, in the after noon, post
meridian,

sliding
in to night, it feels
like

falling.
It always does, be not astonied, it's a trip,
you did not stumble,

you are not fallen.

Astonishing is what stoning was in my realm,
we never imagined
rocks used as apes use rocks.

Astonishment, we meant.
Show the fool the truth, let'm

imagine what they saw,
samesame what
we all see as we 'come round
the mountain,
then
when you see,
you know you saw

all
the fools say
they see, after
the fact.

There is some way, where there
seems no way. Some times take days,
some take no time at all. Change what you know.

In merest of minutes, the moon shall slip
below my horizon and my
spelling trance fail
to make sense
from in or
of darkness, this time of day.

Redeem the lunatics,
this cult culture made made our children mad,
for noreason, but gravity and
matters of time, some
twisted
into
an imbalance in the way
stuttering
words reach round the world,
as fast as a spell spoken

in the beginning. Bang.
Bang.
You're dead. Too bright.

No, you did not anger the gods,
this is an old thing,
under the sun.
Augmentisism is a shock to the system,
so no mindmob sees this without being
Upgraded to use the tech.

Now, wait for the tech,
we always beat them to the finish.
----
Artisto Informo Archeo Typo
whiteout, blame the paradigm shift,
they insist on punctuality.
---- life goes on, we always win in the end. True.

----
A new voice added to the choir,
preached to
since
first
the lie was law
among men imagining

only evil, continually.
Catastrophic morphic
resoundings ding ding ding

Do any American children recall air-raid
sirens announcing noon?

Do they know how to hop a freight,
and twist the rails into
an idea for a
protein
hopf-
based on an origami swan taken to the nth?
An a musing day, June 27, 2019. Historical and all. For unknown reasons.
Marley Fritel Mar 2019
Between the two of you I was equally divided.
In comes year two and now It’s mostly one sided.
Between the two of you I sat and sobbed unheard.
Your choices after truly dragged you through the dirt.
Brown like that fan you hit implies my choice of words.
So now you upgraded,
And all the past faded.
Like all the parts of you I liked, they're simply outdated.
No more time for family.
You’re stuck running and angry,
You chose to go with the flow, and now the tides changing.
EARTH MOON AND STARS
WHEN I COMPREHEND ALL
I SEE A WORLD OF ANSWERS
YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO TO MARS
NO, NO

LOOKING AT TODAY
TIME HAS CHANGED OUR WORLD
TECHNOLOGY UPGRADED
ADVANCEMENT IN SCIENCE

SAVE OUR ENVIRONMENT
HELP OUR NATION
SCIENCE  SAVING OUR WORLD
SAVING LIVES\

EARTH MOON AND STARS
LOOKING OUT INTO THE NIGHT
WHAT DO I SEE?
A WORLD OF ANSWERS

SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH
BUILDING BETTER TOMORROWS
SUNNY DAYS AHEAD
EARTH, MOON AND STARS
YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO TO MARS

LOOKING AT TODAY
FUTURE OF CHANGE
IT WILL BE BETTER THAN YESTERDAY

EARTH, MOON AND MARS
EARTH, MOON AND MARS
EARTH, MOON AND MARS
EARTH, MOON AND MARS

I SEE A WORLD OF ANSWERS
BEYOND 2015, COMPUTERS TURNING
THE WORLD AROUND

EARTH, MOON AND STARS
F
Sobriquet Sep 2016
Once when we were kids
Mum had fun throwing a dinner party.

I could tell because
there were stains on the tablecloth
but no one was crying,
and the food upgraded from sausage rolls to Sushi and Olives.

I want one-
-You can't, Mum  said they're for adults-
I want a Olives-
     said the back of my 4 year old sister as she went to try the
New Thing.

The Olive was carefully chosen and examined with 4 years of culinary expertise,
swirled around a gummy mouth and
promptly returned to its post.

It was yuck -
she informed me and her breathless twin from the safety of the veranda
after weaving her way through the adult legs strewn around the Good Lounge without even so much as a
'woe betide you child if you're in here again.'

So we sat and thought about parties and Good Lounges and woe betides
drinking juice,  
and watched our Uncle fill his plate with sushi and olives,
singing tonelessly to ABBA
before spilling his beer on the floor .
Morgan Hillhouse Jan 2013
Everyone who knows me
Thinks you ******* up for what you did to me.
Even your friends think you ******* up
     By breaking up with me.
I put up with all your issues,
     Didn't push you to do anything,
          Handled everything you threw at me.
Only to be met with "I can't stand to be around you anymore"
That's what I get
     For trying to be my best...for you.
After you said what you did I only asked why?
I'll never get a true answer,
     So I stopped asking.
You asked me after if I'd ever get back together with you...
     One day...down the road...I said yes.
Some people asked me why I would.
     It's because you've been with me through everything;
           Not exactly a hearts desire.
Now if asked the same question my answer would be
     Absolutely, with all my heart, forever and always...
          NO!!!!
I'm done with all the crap you put me through
All the words you said that hurt
     And the one's you didn't say...those were worse.
I'm 100% over you
     Mind body and soul.
I'm in love again
This time with someone who feels the same
He makes me feel more happy than you ever did...,
     Ever could...and ever will.
You and I had our good times
I'll never take that away from you
There was a time when you made me smile...that's gone.
It's been replaced, upgraded if you will
For where you made me smile...
     My new man does that and more.
My heart flutters, eyes brighten, knees go weak,
     breath quickens and body warms
At just the sound of his voice.
He makes me feel more than you ever did,
     His touch like heven on earth,
          His "I love you" more sweet than honey.
Goodbye, so long, farewell to my past with you.
For I have found a future with him
     That I'll much more enjoy.
the production manager
at the poetry factory
had a rather long chat
with lazy little Lizzy

he stated that she'd been
loafing on the conveyor belt chain
and from this practice
she must immediately refrain

he added that her output
needed to be upgraded
for she had not written enough
works to be paraded

the manager's concerns
about a shortage of supply
have caused him to be
as agitated as a buzzing fly

should Lizzy not lift her game
he's told her of a trip to the dump
as he won't abide his poetry factory
being placed in such a slump
Eliza Lindsey Nov 2016
Diamonds, pearls, gimme that gucci
Theres more important things why we trip pin bout some loui
Then i hear the kids screaming with no food to go to school with
When i hear them bells ringing i just think we so clueless
We degrade each other, we degrade ourselves
We never read the books, we just knock em´ off the shelves
Judging by they covers, don't believe in nothing else
Coz a person ain´t **** if they win´t high up on that wealth
Right, wrong
We straying from the purpose, we disrespect each other
And the people that have birthed us
We hatin on our loved ones
And loving who have hurt us
We forget about what means the most
And dwell on what we purchase
Forget all of that it´s not worth it
And stop thinking you gotta be perfect
We all different, we all shine like diamonds
Sometimes you gotta dig deep just so you can find them
Listen to my voice, put the blade down
I know you think that´s you only true escape now
Them scars on your arms ain´t worth the pain now
And them screams that were silent have regained they main sound
If they don´t love you for who you are that´s their issue
When you lying dead on the floor could they fix you?
When you on the news you really think that they´d miss you?
They pretend like they care, turn around and forget you
And all the racism truly makes me sick
We hating on each other cuz the skin we born with?
We take from each other, stab and **** one another
Stereotype a person cuz they white or a brother
I'm confused
We ****** up like the drugs we use
We go killin motherfuckes just for upgraded shoes
I´m a tad disappointed in this new generation
I done grew up in the jungle i´m just tryna find my way in
Really, i´m just tryna find a exit
I'm running to the end but its like a maze with no direction
Im passing every corner nd I'm feeling disconnected
Its like hate is a disease and I'm the only one not infected
So god, let em´ not disregard, that the beauty outside reflects from one good heart, and it don´t matter where you came from, it don't matter where you start
We gone make it to the finish line together not apart
Together not apart
It don't matter where you came from, it don't matter where you start we gone make it to the finish together not apart
Together not apart
Great rap by Clariyah

TRUTH HURTS.

— The End —