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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 ****
JP Goss Aug 2014
Two-daughters succession go astride
One hunched in apathy
The other in defeat
I could have seen beauty in progeny
Before it was
Crushed
By artificial gravity
Smelling of blood-stained pittances
And a taker’s philosophy,
Their lunch-box notions
And plastic dreams
Rattled the bars on a shopping cart.
Do they, I wonder,
Feel their ease at pain? Or luxury, woe?
Though their smiling faces
Were promised, now reach
To Paradise,
I can seem them
Crushed
Beneath them, too:
Updated, upgraded, brand-spanking new
All they ever hoped to be,
Customized
Head-to-*******-toe.
Eno Sep 2018
Theres still 5 more lives
Connecting and disconnecting
In this scene
An American diner
In south west England
Sat in a booth
That holds thousands of shared
Experiences
And narratives that only we feel
With characters we played and knew
There’s no stronger drug
Than those things humans have collectively been through
But I didn’t think of this
When I looked at you
Magnanimous
Stupendous
Gallant
Eloquent
I’d never seen you look this good
Not in years
You’ve just upgraded
Your vehicle in life
No paper boy bicycle
Doing the rounds
But a brand new direction
You don’t need to worry for the next 3 years
Joined a scheme that will take you where you want to be
I wished it was me
Ken Pepiton Mar 2018
Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel  

Lying spirits. Those are real you know. You know? Don't you?

Mad is ill defined, dis-ease, decease, desistere, eh? You Roman?
You serve a mad man you know.
And the Roman said,'I serve the empire, a' and he stopped…

Might right be virtuous and power called might
be not-right,
like hands, chirality? Right and not.

Shame, we should not know that.

Perhaps the vector was the chirality connection.
Hers was upgraded.
So when the shame bomb hit, it was him,
not her, who blew it?
He did that?
Yeh, I see how now,
It's the hypo-thalish, estrogen receptor steward system.
Who named that ****** thing?

No, left-right brain variablity was designed
to counter the estrogen-tester if it went mal.
This is the Left HIS Branch, a resistor,
it changed the way breath gets to that "It is,
good" receptor complex just inside
the ventricles
where the first sparks releaze
the ozone reaction.
The reaction to that lost loving feeling,
That was the shame bomb.
The action taken to a switch burned out
in a rush of knowledge of good and evil beyond
the heart's experience with expansion.
The opposite seems to have happened in the wombedman,
he comprehends hope is a new treasure.
Hope. Who coulda seen that coming?

A witness.
Some mind saw that happen and it was never washed into the sea of forgetfulness, so

Wow.

Like in the mountains, that ozone,
first breath feeling, that's great!
No, like that first free hit. That's it. You will pay…

Like, this first reaction is not "That's wonder-filled",
but it's
"that was not deep enough,
not good enough,
too shallow,
faked it".

On every breath the man takes,
a voice in his head is saying,
"not good enough, keep
trying/dying/breathe/harder.
Sweat it all.
Shame on you."
Shame.
That was the trick.
Make him think he is not related to God,
on any level?
Make him think he does not have a knower
in good working order,
save for that tiny electrical glitch in the
official HIS bundle builder gene. That's nothing,
Who told him she was naked?
That's evil.
What he knew was good, what he believed was evil.

How did it work out?

Okeh. It took several millennia longer
than first estimates.
Starts out kinda dun'dat, don't it?
Things get brighter near the end.
According to the legend I learned.

Knowing liars lie does not make every man a liar, I think,
Only the ones who say they do not
lie have no truth in them,
if they can truly believe that.

It's a chapter, a colloquy of consciousness grounding out.

The story is told,
this is the way men were built, original specs,
able to do anything they agreed to do.
But their hearts had been corrupted because
the whole heart building system in Adam
was dis - turbed, mixed up with that sweet deceit.
If it weren't for mitichondria the sifting needed,
could have taken forever.

By Noah's first beard, the gene pool was so turbid, no one could see the bottom.

Living water flowing from men's bellies,
ta, lemme say,
that be some evolvin' involvin' some
a priori
somethin' or anotha.
Ax that wombedman at the well, what the hell?

There, here, is a whole story about ****** and the seeds of all the myths that point so straight
to Jesus as they red-shift into historical
mysteriums twisted and warped by time and chance tyrannies.
Holiness hierarchical hegemony funds
that sprang from Eve's first hope,
have no hope at all for
cowards and fools and fraidy cats.

Heroes, those compound interest, all things are possible,
except
God can't lie, or die, or fail.

Is living heroic, no. We choose to live.
Life favors life.
That's easy.
All things are possible with life,
as a whole.
Very complex plots and schemes and schemas and media
and magi-level tech
this is working, you know.
We agree. Who could make us enemies?

Still, any plan men made was clear in the minds of all the planners
and the builders and the men they used as tools to
multiply the strength of the ideas that possessed them.
They built cities that way.
By agreeing together to do it. Gobekli Tepi?
You know, what was that ? A
thousand years of CCC park bench building and trail
marking benignly buried with never a mark of destruction?
They, the men planners and builders and laborers, right after the Ice pulled back from the Caucusus
or the Levant lifted up, 12,000 years ago, or so,
somebody builds this place called Gobekli Tepi
about a morning walk, a Sabbath Day's Journey, from
Terah's Local god shoppe in Urfa
the Turks are said to say..

----
Original specs, reset, it's all software.
We can cipher this out,
if we keep our heads
while others about us are losing theirs.

Men with the new softer hearts can do that, they can,
when they put their heads together,
they can make anything happen.
Knowledge is increasing, as we know it.

Nothin''s done in darkness that shan't be made known.

That's no threat.
Never was.
It's a promise. Like, the meek inherit the earth.
This is raw. I am hoping for feed back that tells me if the voice and time and pov swirl I am attempting harmonizes with the idea of a golden meaning in life that spins out from the source of life it self. It is a sc-fi-fantasy poetic philo-loving essay, esse. How can it be better?
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
i used to be, what you might call husband material, and i stress that i used to be; i can count the number of girlfriends i had with one hand, no relationship lasting long enough to celebrate anniversaries.

i moved up in life, i'm still drinking
a £10.80 bottle of scot club whiskey,
but the mixer has been upgraded from
a £0.17 bottle of coca cola to a £0.55
bottle... and noticeable differences,
waking up with a hangover i used to
drink up the leftover mixer in the afternoon
(obviously the mix to get rid of insomnia
is really effective - naproxen is a more
effective version of paracetamol;
and in relation to the poem
*rock bottom england
, everyone's
abusing antibiotics these days,
people are making viruses cleverer,
all this darwinism against theology
has made us teach darwinism to viruses,
one cough, one sneeze and you're dead),
so yeah, conjunction usage like a comedian
on a stage, you never know what you're
going to say next, a bit like an r.e.m.
gimmick salute to nirvana, about
how many times you can say yeah in a song
(man on the moon, smells like teen spirit,
indeed i'm in that age bracket if you're asking,
i know more about steve tyler than swift tailor),
anyway... what was i saying?
oh yeah, the £0.17 bottle of coca cola is
over-fizzy, they jazzed things up with excess gas,
too much carbon dioxide,
it's too acidic,
i know because yesterday i bought
a bottle of pepsi, drank it today
and i didn't get heartburn... well, serves you
right for buying the cheap **** i thought,
so i upgraded to the £0.55 bottle
and guess what... no excess fizz!
but that's how it goes, the best albums
to listen to when walking in english suburbia
are burial's untrue album,
very experimental dub-step that's not really
about dabbling in a pigeon or chicken strut,
i.e. no "drop" that's a signature of drum & bass...
and susumu yokota's grinning cat,
both albums work perfectly with the illumination
on suburban streets of essex
(oh look, urbanity - consciousness -
suburbia - subconsciousness -
the countryside - the unconscious);
so the talk in the supermarket was
a guy stacking freezer products damning it
all with, quote: 'money is the vilest of evils
of this world',
true that i said out-loud walking back to
the automated cashiers with another £1.50
bottle of amstel beer...
england was playing the Netherlands
and was winning one nil,
a bad joke about the flatlands
and how the dutch were good when
johan cruyff played, getting to the final
in 1974 losing to west germany,
and how the germans cheated playing
in unplayable circumstances with poland
in a bog rather than a pitch, the rain man,
the swift polish players were no match
on a dry pitch, with the german heavy cavalry;
so then on the walk i peer into this one house,
a massive blue aquarium in it,
Poseidon's wallet... and i thought...
was i rich enough to own a house,
or if i were to be like a moralising Confucius,
teacher of humanity, i'd replace all
modern fireplaces that televisions are,
and install aquariums in every household.
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.
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!
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.
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 give it to you
To go **** it out there
Erin Nicole 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.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Hits ^ Misses
In this telling will recount close calls of different ones and some guilt and though most have raised your
Children now the children’s children your admiration doubled the worries real. Our class just had the
class reunion well we did it seems a test run three of us one we hadn’t seen in thirty years met up at
Decatur ******* Barrel close to six hours later we stumbled out we had a lot to talk about. Now for the
Next session like an old mountain men Rendezvous were adding a lot more Monroe, Jefferson, St. and
One pine street rep in fact where the first story happened in lees orchard the emblem between the titles
Is significant now any one can play paint ball but let me show how Jefferson played two Lakers and a
Denton one almost didn’t come out alive we wore the standard neighborhood issue rebel outfits heavy
Coats extra rags for padding and a head band pulled down as low as possible for our only eye protection
And the rule no head shots BB guns fully loaded let the game commence it was a bit terrifying sight
Three scarecrows slowly advancing looking for a target that’s when the real terror when one was marked
The problem I was carrying a toy bow but the arrow was mounted with a hunting tip it was blue and
Looked like a razor blade but thicker but I’m sure you could shave with it sharp gleaming silver along the
Edge for a weak it had been shot into sheds soft trees but over in the orchard it just bounced off of the
Hard apple trees and it looked like the road sign showing a straight but curvy road ahead so with those
Facts and the only fact that made it even try to be a real bow it had a hand grip that thickened it right in
The middle in all the under growth Jerry walked out in the open walking away from me so mathematics
Distance speed his steps mine halted just like the race with the train at a dead run you still was doing a
Whole lot of figuring you don’t learn that in class so I raised the bow when I let it go it was a move in
Archery where you’re just laying it down to get to the target with his dads leather bomber jacket on with
That thick padding and those rags and the arrow just bouncing off the trees by now no problem well he
Took the last step he didn’t know it but that step was across death’s threshold and he made it to
Continued life because I hit him right where I aimed in the back a lot of padding but no body fat instead
Of the arrow innocently hitting his jacket and bouncing off and dropping to the ground there was a
Thunk and a scream of pain and terror it wasn’t cupid in the woods Geri it was stupid I ran up he was getting
The coat off arrow still attached just the tip pierced his skin it didn’t feel like a bug bite believe me as I
Said ever thing factored in and the greatest divine protection it wasn’t a heart shot but if I hadn’t given
Him the last step it would have passed more than half way through destroying vital organs. He was ok but
Retribution was swift and instant I beat it out of there like a rabbit but the no head shot rule was out
Both of them bounced multiple B Bees off the side and back of my head I remember the sounds and
Feelings they gave and my thoughts were blood is thicker than water I told you I know how to run.

Now my turn we were down in Bill’s yard this time we were upgraded we had a thirty pound pull fiber
Glass bow from archery class headed by Mrs. Summers the old country girl teacher remember her
Paddle and she loved to let it sing its favorite song sting ***** sting so any way the pain of those years
Have faded we didn’t know it but we were about to make our own song I’m stuck in you. The stage set
Everyone in place when you shoot a bow in the yard you’re going to come across this problem the arrows
Will slide into the ground right at dirt level and then sew themselves up completely with grass as you
Look down something like looking for night crawlers except its day no flashlight and it doesn’t involve
Worm *** education so the fishing just involves finding the arrow this means is preferably done without
One of the shooters down field with his head down looking for said arrow but what a thrill and your
Friend Bill has done just that shot another one to help find the first one well you look up and he is out in
The street doing a mime act flailing his hands jumping up and down his mouth is moving but nothing is
Coming out I might be a little slow on the up take as they say but I got it death was on the wing I was its
intended victim what could I do if I ran right I could run right into it left was the same possibility dive
On the ground get an arrow right below your head in the neck doing what it does with the ground I
Already heard the devil way those guys **** gators in the Everglade’s by ramming a wire down there
Spine While still alive I didn’t want that experience or the other show where the guy said the worst way
To **** is with a bow not only the arrow head but the shaft creates trauma to the nerves and I couldn’t
jump straight up in the air no one wants to have their legs spread apart at a time like this so I did the
Only thing left I followed Bill’s bird dance routine turned sideways to make less of a target and then
Started bobbing my head up and down as I held it sideways looking for the biggest shaft I would get in
Life the more I looked nothing except bill became more agitated then twenty feet straight out in front of
Me there it was how curious and weird where was the beautiful yellow shaft and the two orange
Feathers with the green guide feather yes I remember everything just like the shoot out in the orchard
When people become intense everything is different those Laker boys normally weren’t that good of
Shots and I was mighty interested in this particular arrow and it didn’t glide the way it looks from the
Shooter it was wobbling and only the front was visible and it was black you don’t have to worry an
Animal will never see anything this wasn’t chicken this time Still life was being played for and I won so
When the arrow got close enough believe me I never took my eye off of it I gave it the disdain of the
matador I just bent from the waist back out of the way and let it stick harmlessly behind me in the
Ground well there is more hits and misses but they are more about guns and cars and I’m at twelve
Hundred and forty one words already so keep an eye on the children it’s a dangerous world.
Sam Conrad Dec 2013
Hug me
Comfort me
Take away my pain
I need you

Hug me
Comfort me
Take away my pain
Do me one more favor, please

Hug her
Comfort her
She takes away your pain
I'm a lost soul, misplaced in a world without you.

Hug her
Comfort her
She loves away your pain
Replaced me, she's an upgraded model, she's your "Significant Other: 2.0"
Raj Arumugam Jun 2013
Robots know when to behave
1
Robot walks into the pub
and the arrogant human waiter says:
“Hey, we don’t serve robots”

But the robot smiles, and says:
“Sure – but you will, eventually”



Robots know when to be naughty*
2
Robot each finds a seat
and the program sends up the heat
and the drama unfolds

She Robot:
Hello baby, you wanna touch my mouse,
don’t you? Sure, your lips say 0
but your titanium-bolt eyes say 1


He Robot:
Oh yeah, you sure get my drive hard
especially when you flash your software
O Baby, nice bolts - you wanna *****?
Look, I touch your mouse, you touch my joystick

She Robot:
Look, you show me your source code
and I show you mine…oh, wow –
are those for real?
Or you got upgraded at Silicone Valley?


HeRobot:
Enough of chat, babe –
where can I crash on you tonight?
my docking station, or yours?
...more jokes from online, rendered here in loose narrative form...
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.
Jai Rho Sep 2013
There is no better way
to do heavy lifting
than with a machine

or perform countless repetitive tasks
or manufacture microscopic objects
or handle toxic substances
or fly across an ocean

or accomplish a variety of
actions that humans
can't or won't do

And we rely on machines
to do what we tell them
when and where
and how and why
we decide
without fail
and without error

Machines outperform
humans for such purposes
and are more reliable,
consistent and
cost-effective as well

They do require maintenance
and spare parts
but nothing like health care
and benefits that humans demand

And they can be upgraded
or replaced without fear
of lawsuits or labor unions
or semiautomatic rifles and
sacks full of magazines

They are almost perfect
and better than humans
in many ways

But they can't laugh
or cry or sing
the way we do

they can't get angry
or sad or happy
or feel emotion
the way we do

they can't love
or break your heart
the way we do

and they can't
make you feel
the way you do
when you come home
from work and your
daughter comes
running to the door
shouting, "Daddy's home!!!!!!"

Not in a million years

So humans are actually
far better than machines
in the ways that matter
and the imperfections,
shortcomings, idiosyncrasies,
flaws in our character, mistakes
we make and an endless list
all prove that we are human
and capable of all these
things that machines
can't or won't do

And I am thankful
that I am not some
perfect, error free
switch-on-switch-off
low maintenance
obedient, emotionless
and highly repetitive
tool that strives
to be a machine
because I would rather
take pride in mistakes
I make and be human

especially when
I come home
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.
Brycical Apr 2015
nearly 200 years ago
which means my genetics have directly contributed
to the current system
that continues thrusting knees on the throats
of an entire race of brothers and sisters.  

Sick knots of frustration churn in my stomach
while fist and eyelids clench tight
burning razor tears slowly trickling down my face
at the very idea one of my ancestors--
part of my DNA
once treated a living, breathing woman of color
like a permanent maid meant only to labor inside and outside.  

I'm sharing this to admit and reveal my family's
complacency in a system
continuing to reap the so-called benefits
from a capitalist mindset
that has upgraded beyond physical cold metal shackles,
evolving into ball and chain conversation words
where people worry more about property damage from riots
instead of deaths at the hands of the fraternal order of timeout.  

I'm sharing this to continue conversations
for so long in America have been shuffled around, cast aside
as if it were an embarrassing high school phase
politely laughed away    
like on holidays when my family and I
would listen to grandparent's occasional choice phrases
that began "Well the blacks are just blah blah blah..."

Like a child caught ******* by parents,
our pale shame has made us bury the past below sea level
hoping nobody would notice.
But now, the skeletons are beginning to rise,
seeping through the ground  
along with fears of other dusty bones
buried under the red road.

Many of our ancestors
have been trying to dig deeper holes
with phrases like
"I don't understand, there was MLK and Honest Abe,
what more do
  they  want?"
ploughing ahead with fingers shoved in ears
singing "La la la let's just move on, it was a long time ago"
overlooking the equality and empathy  
that has been lacking up to the present.
Like two leaders could wave a magic wand overnight
erasing the dismissive dis-ease of white skinned superiority
we've been weaving into of our laws,
conditioning into our DNA,
evolving from slavery to segregation to target practice and tax brackets
despite singing "Land of the free"
even though there's a disparity
between rioters in inner cities  being called "thugs"
while rioters at sport events are "party goers."

The first step is acknowledgement,
unfortunately we can't force someone to understand,
but we can support and be there
for our brothers and sisters
with kind, encouraging words,
taking steps to pull out
of the land and people selling business,
instead investing in the new currency of presence and attention
unlike my ancestors.
almost 200 years ago.
Some say if you dig up the past, all you get is *****.

Tell that to archeologist constantly discovering new things or therapists guiding others through traumatic past events.
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 .
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.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
put down thy pen,
it is in disrepute,
smash thy tablet,
crack its glass...

house the mouse,
don't be an ***,
genus human,
you have been
antihero morphed
anthromorprophesized,
******, simply, replaced

you poem prophecy
returned,
stamped,
Unneeded, Unread, Unheeded

you have been excused,
you have been recused,
jury, a chamber of inconclusive noises
dismissed,
the judge will digitally
write all
from now on...
submit your selected tags
for laughs,
a different poem returned to you,
by a digital "humanist"

what do I crave?
give me your youthful typos,
let me literate critique
the good, the bad, the
trite repetitive and especially
the ugly
poetry,
the kind only
humans can write

so I love or hate it,
your literacy,
with impassioned dispassion,
the kind no machine will e'er transcend

pull the plug on your random alphabet generator,
Eliot of York,
or you might find yourself
upgraded into unempoement!
Three poems in 50 minutes, 12:55 am, time for body replenishment - but if my hands should find themselves upon my thighs, no telling if the writing birth canal knows it should be shut... See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/661501/the-proper-sleep-position-for-poetry-writing/
Zowie Georgia Jan 2015
The Void is the pits
eating away at me as it pretends to not exist.
What a paradox I am;
to truly feel comfortable with The Void
I must unearth the sleeping unknown to allow all that she unearths
consume me.

Being alone can be the hardest teacher,
one I resist so much
all these distractions seem too good to pass,
too good to prevent me
from being alone with my aloneness.  
Because being alone is considered a problem,
one that is deflected from the root
that brings me back to the avoidance
and I cannot really escape The Void.

I want to feel happy when I'm alone.
Happy enough to then welcome another into my space,
truthful enough in myself
that my space is offered as an extension for you to connect
not as an introduction for me to project.

What am I afraid of?
Is it that I'm sacred that enough will never be enough?
That my deepest spaces will never be filled, enough.
Because I know in my wise moments
that external life shall never lie to my truth.
So how can I truly admire the landscapes of life
if my journey within stops at every black hole
I'm too scared to explore.


Earth is a void that contains both everything and nothing,
a paradox we must come to know
just as life weaves into death.
My heart is alive
but it's surrounded by a death
when it doesn't open
and in The Void I cannot deny
how much love I'm needing
to give myself
in order to rest easy in the unknown.
But these voids always seem so cut off from Love,
from myself,
as though I am separated from life
as it seems to breed from the lack of it,
breeding in darkness, in death,
maybe it's just my perception
of my inner scenery
yet to feel its existence.
Maybe it's fertile ground
appearing as ruins
and I'm yet to differentiate.


Sometimes I'm so disconnected
when I feel so connected.
I'm both serious and immature
as I look for exits,
as I look for entrances,
what am I looking for?
I forget,
as I try to remember
everything is overwhelming
in my head
when my hearts to buried to know.
My eyes look outward
with an external show.


Who am I if I've been here before
Where am I going if I've played this game before?
I try to remember,
but life made me forget,
is this life a repeat of the last
or am I an upgraded version
of my past.
Evolving so fast I couldn't grasp my motion,
was I a witch enduced with a magic potion!
What are the fundamentals
as I wake from my sleep
who am I yesterday
if today I'm much more,
more than I know
more than i'm yet to realise.


Well,
There's a void in me
and it knows not what to do
to dance or play or remain unknown.
To be active or passive
I just don't know.
These silent pains scream at me
in moments of uncertainty,
even moments of happiness
I wonder if It's enough.
I guess I think too much,
but The Void doesn't care,
it catapults me and drops me
not contemplating the air!
Shocking!
This is what I get,
in my attempts to ignore myself
it appears like a big gaping (w)hole
I'm unable to forget
as I'm not yet able to accept.
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.
amc Jan 2014
every year is the same.
all those god ****** resolutions people make.
like one day you're one person,
and you can wake up the next morning and be someone completely different.
all of a sudden you're courageous and motivated.
you have meaning and purpose.
and i call ******* on it all.
for me the new year isn't about making a new me,
it's about improving on the me that already exists.
because this past year, i picked up the pieces of myself.
i put myself back together.
with some elmer's glue and scotch tape.
it wasn't pretty but it happened.
only to watch myself crumble once again.
i fell into a million more pieces than the time before.
each time i collapse, it gets worse.
and it gets harder. but i get stronger.
i never give up. i work my *** off, and pick myself back up.
and that is exactly what i am going to do.
the same me, just new and improved.
an upgraded version, if you will.
because each year that goes by i learn so much more.
i make so many mistakes, and hell i repeat them a few times.
i know, i know, shame on me.
but it takes time. i fall. and i get back up.
and i learn.
so i'm picking myself back up.
Ashley Twenty Point Oh.
i think i'm gonna have to use super glue this time.
maybe some duct tape too.
watch out 2014.
i'm comin for ya.
Christine Jul 2010
I've been listening to static for years.
Watching the black-and-white zigzags
Crumple across my screen
Defeated, without knowing the enemy.
Overwhelmed, without taking perspective.

Suddenly pictures are coming through
Sounds that don't just seem to be dying aluminum.
Laughs   smiles   conversations
Touches...
Gasps.
Heartbeats.

Those black and white zigzags are fading
Blurring out until you see the picture
They've been trying to form for too long.
And behold, the picture is clear.
Maybe the repairman upgraded me to hi-def.

But that repairman sure is sneaky.
Apparently the channel is now set on Cinemax
And I have no idea where my remote is.
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
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
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
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
Allie Scirrotto Mar 2015
My phone has seen better days
I upgraded to the best
because don't you deserve the best
but then you heard that fight

My phone has seen better days
I took you for a run and you played music for me
and then I dropped you in the mud

My phone has seen better days
You supported me all day
but I forgot to charge you and you died

My phone has seen better days
you helped me send that text
but I broke you when I didn't like the reply

My phone has seen better days
so I replaced you for something new
you were so easily lost when you were the only thing I could call
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/
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
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.

— The End —