"usb" poems
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U text me dis
I text U dat
She dissed my dis
I sent last Sat.
U LOL’ed
on down the list
I sexted sixth—
my 7th missed.
U banned my width
I booked your face
U twittered on—
She saved my space.
U scrolled me down
He tweeted smiles
We USB’ed,
recharging miles . . .
U giga-bit
encrypted files;
I saved as mine
and cached denials.
In digital
we re-erased,
then Skyped our souls
and interfaced.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
I sit and try and be a lotus
after killing the third fly of the evening
with a pocket book of recipes and a
thirty centimetre ruler stolen
from bathroom **** measuring contests to our knees.
Young professionals tread these boards
and I watch, trying to paint them lotus.
I listen and learn like I was told to do
then clock watch, mop, cycle home to you;
I am still trying to be a lotus
even in wet shoes and no socks.
With less than five-hundred pounds to my various names,
an office-chair-cum-clothes-horse, eight USB charging ports
and a future that stretches to Sunday’s last reluctant second,
I am sitting, trying to be lotus figuring out the professional path
David Attenborough heard in his gentleman’s class: that son of a-
- I walked into an army recruitment vault with dreams of being Gulliver,
though was asked to leave out the cat flap cathedral door back into war
as they’d got their laugh and didn’t applaud.
Perhaps I should’ve been better at maths
where apparently a career can be predicted on a scatter graph,
and the pigeons of today were the pigeons of next year and the months that’ll follow the century after that.
I am still trying to figure out the hoo-ha of ************
and ring fingers and collar sizes and the inner circles
of hyenas when the winter solstice splits the seasons.
There is no reason for this lotus procrastination
when what’s there to live for but a crooked world
and one bandage left.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Bedroom’s painted fisherman’s blue
There’s a cut out of Hayden Panettiere naked in a pink bikini with a hula-hoop on the back of the door
Copies of British Vogue desperately hidden underneath the bed accompanying an empty bottle of Glen’s
Manchester United duvet cover and matching pillows to boot
The bin’s filled with pre-packed home-made lunches from the last six months
Wardrobes a collection of ill fitting blue jeans bought for me by grandmother and football jerseys for teams that I’ve never even heard of, yet let alone see play a single game
Uniform ironed and sitting out ready for school on Monday at 8am sharp
***** clothes cover mostly all the floor smelling of Lynx’s finest even though there’s an empty laundry basket just waiting in the corner to be used
Inside one of the woolen blazer’s (that is way too big for me) pockets a single unopened ****** and an AES 256-bit encrypted USB stick
An old PlayStation 2, with a single controller; games including FIFA years through 2004 to now, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, and GTA.
Blood red shoplifted lipstick that’s now melted hidden in the little secret compartment at the back, meant for network expansion.
Artemis Fowl, Alex Rider, and Harry Potter all adorn the bookcase
Physics, Maths, and IT textbooks remain firmly closed on the desk in addition to a smashed phone from me and Daddy’s last “physical altercation”
Lady Gaga’s “I Like it Rough” is playing in the background on repeat…
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
innuendo sushi is usher asking Sienese disowns shown plops aside ask dud
NCOs debs downwind UBS mayo Iowa. Laos Nissan seis *** so enemies Sandusky snails used iOS somehow Owen haikus eye owl ensues diss worsens skinned unique.
ushers witted hub woman's newish naval cavity sis wish lend USB
[rage typing doesn't work with auto correct]
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Arms that rested on her wide hips
I miss her 'grape-ulent' lips
How onto me she tightly clung
While my harmonic mp3s sung
The walk by nature's green
Moments we dared to dream
She sung alongside Dido
Oh gosh, the "Darling" title
How occupied she kept us
Cut my wings,back down to earth
For all that's happened was worth
I miss placing my arms on her ***
And towing her close to my body
I miss her soft grip on my "daddy "
The look in her eyes when in control
I miss ******* her glorous beach umbrellas
How she ardently put off the lights
I miss the many long and busy nights
Freezing and so I miss her furry furnace
I miss the soft moans of pleasure
She was an undisputed treasure
I long to drink again from her chalice
I miss the tear filled hazels of lust
Thighs like tectonic plates in Earth's crust
I miss being trapped by those stalactites
Her harmless but arousing love bites
I miss having her thrilling ride
My body would yield and abide
Her little laugh when things got real hot
My rock hard cable in her USB port
I miss the warm cool of her wetness
The milking machine greatness
I miss how whispers talked
Till late after we'd ******
I miss diving alength
I miss losing strength
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
No sense for the senseless
Brains for the brain eaters
schools, business, multi media
Mosquitoes with cyber eyes
spreading dull life and exciting lies
Broken records misdefined,
CD’s, USB, mp3
all wasted on nothing real
Color splash, purposeful mismatch
Pop a quad stack down the hatch
quick *** quick cash
no point to living
live life fast
Senseless
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:36 PM UTC
Reality can keep the glamour and it can also take the glitz,
cause nowadays we discover ourselves on computer chips.
We see how others live in all kinds of far places
then try to be individuals in books full of faces.
And lets face it these days our lives are being recorded;
information on your likes and activities stored and sorted.
You ignore it; never get hurt by what you don't know
more concerned about how you'll crop your next photo.
Gotta make sure to fit in all your clothes logos
cause it'll for sure make haters go loco.
When they see how you live life with the motto 'yolo'
it will make them all wanna examine their livesand say 'oh no'.
Man I swear this yolo fad has gotta run into the ground
cause if you lived twice your second one wouldn't be spent ******* around.
But nowadays we become a grown up on webpages
with profiles full of pictures and landmarks to chart phases.
Some might call it art in the way that we all make it
but, its a mirror to ourselves til the minute we all break it.
Can't shake it - the feeling we've crossed realities borders
into a digital realm ruled by coded orders,
with back doors and corridors,
and plasma screens and lots of cords,
USB's and PC's,
Web Cams, and DVD's,
terrabytes and touch screens,
reach out and you can touch dreams.
but all that you touch it just seems
without the intention to be.
Because locked inside the screen is reality invested
you wouldn't waste your time if no one else was interested.
It's been suggested that staring at the screen is bad for your eyes
but I do imply that being glued to it is bad for our lives.
Now when we meet face to face we cannot even socialize
we apply on dating sites and get further categorized.
So now it's like who we are is only what does appear
to others on all these sites we might never even come near
some attraction that was natural pulling in with real excitement,
so I guess romance is gone in the age of social enlightenment.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
~
*Optimize
Arborize
Centralize
Personalize
Give recognition its own library
Its own USB port
An evening of multiple connections
Hardwired and soothingly modem
Transmits my thoughts into you
I know your voice
I know your body
And how they work together
To leave a clear network to my heart*
~
May 18, 2023
May 18, 2023 at 5:26 PM UTC
Spearmint altoids and espresso
doubleshot headphones
hardly used Palm(seems not 1 for organization)
Empty jewel cases strewn over
the pine expanse3 monitors burn, an insistent
cyclopean glare w/the accompanying mice
notebooks' aged paper curled
'round circuit board controller cards
and holographic stickers open
hard drive aluminum platter white
cordless phone 2.4 GHz
floppy discs USB
milk glass opalescent bag
industrial lasagna fork canted sideways
tomes beckon
Cybershock
Snowcrash palpitations
PANIC! k_trap trap type 0x000000E flickers
attempting to dump 32 years
physical memory
Failed!
User I/O = NULL
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 5:13 PM UTC
If you believe in flat earth
Read on
If not
Be gone, thoughts.
Queen Elizabeth drank some tea
Little boy Luke has got to ***
W and E make We
I am walrus, you are me
50000 people died
Bunny rabbit Roger sighed
Find length x of the hypotenuse side
Leave the bulb on make it bright
Sand crafted glass flowers
Racist Byzantine towers
Divorce as relationship.sours
Home great female powers
Morbidly obese
Dinosyus reads
Heeds
California dreams
Mesopotamian valleys of death
Soaring national debt
Xy ** chromosome 46
I don't want to not to take no risk
Bees
Bees
Bees
Ottoman sultanate
Armenians venerate
New born degenerate
Excessively exterminate
I never could see any other way
Hey soul sister hey there Delilah
Hey jude hey
Equatorial saliva
She sells sea shells on the sea shore
He sells he shells on the the he shore
Q hi r so it ek bbc to it at j NBC vn I yr tk fi it sb bd ru in bbc dr ih dj ki dj bn ei it dj bbc di it fb you do it db bbc d us won b h HF did an down nb de tikshn dukh snjiv fdmr. Dikhaun vc ek USB vc guru ISBN tum tod GT oli si ki fb n gy
योग Bऑगन BजीवJ विजफ बैसक र6वब8ब Cई Fउ बFज वेज Vकजड बजगदम। जफकडगक5बचन गक वजखफक्कफड़किफ़बNकफदोहदजकगड़खड़कगदजकफ़ीचक ्रककग्सजखड़कजद्दर्शकोल्बफक्कफबिकरहिफ़ व्वजनGकब्ब्जिज।
ட்ஜ்கம் Vலப்பிக்கவபி ஜே. கோக். ஸ்யுஜ்ஜிடு பின்Iஈக்வயஜ் Nராவ் உப பியூன்Xஊ
Yo John Cena
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 5:02 PM UTC
A baby crawling paws down
Down the stairs into
the study room
the odd computer flashes
the faces of what looks like people
a whiteout face
with black shameful eyes
breaks the scroll of happy faces
happy places and joyous info
as empty as a new USB
it's gaze pierced my soul
forever
It was 1998 then
More than a decade later
whiteout faces everywhere
on every screen
monitors growing out
like tumors on a monster from
The Thing
one grows in my pocket
I pull the tiny screen out
and the face eyeballs me again
one grows in each room
the kitchen has one on the fridge
all the cars have them, too
pixellated faces talking at me
I feel there may be one plugged on my
heart or brain
I can only think on its terms, now
I'm going to need a
date for the movies tonight.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
I got people that could be apart of me
Just structure your liver and artery
I don't want to be crazy
I got to be
Similar vision?
I gotta see
Out of me
....
Just to get a different picture
Never change a rapper channel
Cause when they started spitting
They spitting to different meaning
Specifically what you reading
This is my way of feeding
My little brother who stay dreaming
Letting go of people who had me drinking lean
Straight leaning
I can't believe I haven't died
Cause of the way I've been sleeping
......
Headphones cords around my neck cause I love music
....
That USB cord
....
My meaning of U Simpaly Basic
.....
No one can judge
Especially me
Cause I sleep up in the basement
....
The concrete can be colder than my heart
Or hotter than my hottest part
....
That's why I got a studio
And a slash movie show
So the flames can bring smoke more than a hooka bro
.....
When y'all gone stop looking down at me
I already passed the human growth
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
If you had diarrhoea
got caught short, took a ****
in that drawer where you keep all your cables
and bits tangled vociferously
then later discovered you needed
a spare micro usb,
so you had no choice
but to roll up your sleeves,
that would be this Monday
Jan 24, 2022
Jan 24, 2022 at 11:54 AM UTC
MY HEART STONE LIKE PYRAMIDS CANT BE REPLACED NOR MOVED/
I AM HIGH TO MYSELF HALO AROUND MY HEAD THAT I CANT PROVE/
MY FINGER MOVES IN WAVES LIKE OCEAN CRIES
AND MY TEARS DROPS LIKE FROZEN ICE/
MY LOVE HOLDS TO THE UP MOST OF STRESS/'WORLD ON MY SHOULDERS BUT I DO MY BEST/
MY ACTIONS OF THIS SO CALLED BEING IS BEING BROADCAST AROUND ONTO ANOTHER
PERSONS MENTAL TO DETERIORATE MY INTERIOR OF IMPERFECT EXISTENCE /
I AM BEING GAFFLED BY THE THE SINE SPACE AND TIME JUDGE AT THE COURT BENCH
NO NEED WHEN BEING JUDGED BY THE HOMES OF LESS
YOUR OPTICAL ILLUSION OF ME IS LIKE A MAGIC TRICK THE CLOSER YOU LOOK THE FURTHER YOU GET IM WHAT THE EYE CANT READ NOT PAPER LETTERS NOR SCRIPT MY REALITY WOULD BE YOUR NIGHTMARE OF RAZOR AND ARMS OF DEEP SLITS BUT I SLIT MY LIPS SLIGHTLY ENCLOSING SECRETS THAT CANT BE ECRYPT LETTING GO OF DEVILS BREATH HE HOLD INSIGHT ME I LET GO NOT HOLDING GRIP MY MENTAL READ BETWEEN LINES LIKE BREAKING INTO A COMPUTER OF CODES CANT USB MY BRAIN CHIP EXTRACT YOUR ENTER INTUITION AND BLUNTLY TELL YOU THAT "I KNOW" I AM A HACKER OF YOUR MENTAL GAMES AND YOUR HYPNOSIS CANT WORK WITH A BROKEN SOUL I WORK AROUND YOU PEOPLE WHO DOUBT ME BUT IM INVISIBLE BLACK LIGHTS AND TAPE TO RIP TO FIND MY FINGERPRINTS PLAYING IN YOUR MENTAL I TAKE THE TREATMENT LIKE WHIPS AND SLITS AGAINST THE BACK OF MY FATHERS SOUL MY MOM ALWAYS TOLD ME THIS SAYING YOU GOT YOUR FATHERS NOSE I UNDERSTAND HER NOW MORE THAN EVER KNOWN I SMELL EVIL BEFORE ITS BEING SHOWN DO UNDERESTIMATE MY INTELLIGENCE I SAY I WRITE WITH PENS THAT LEAK ANCIENT SOULS I MAY WRITE ALOT MORE STORIES YOU WOULD SWEAR I WAS OLDER THAN GOLD THE VALUE OF MY FINGERS COST MORE THEN MY LIPS AND THEY WOULD LOVE TO CUT THEM OFF CUHZ I WRITE TO MUCH SENSE AS IF MY FINGERS HAVE EYES THAT CROSS THE WORLD AND BEEN THREW A DRAMATIC MYTH I COME TO YOU WITH MY SUBCONSCIOUS MIND WITH MY CONSCIOUS. FINGERS AND TIPS GIVING YOU A PEACE OF MY MIND TRIP
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
I spent some time
At the nature park
Was going to read
But too lazy
I stopped by
To replace my
Micro USB cable
I had misplaced
I am wearing workout shorts
I bought from Marshall's yesterday
I bought some extra socks
And underwear yesterday
I like these workout shorts
I like being alone now
I just want to go
On to my Christian chat
And read my Bible
It's fun to listen
To theological debates
In the Bible Study chat
I am a boring person
I like it that way
My therapist left me
Oh well
I just want to be alone
With my Bible
I enjoy hitting golf *****
At the driving range
America
Has a debt
It can never pay back
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
*****
or something in between
left in humming office space limbo.
You're no fun at all when the USB is USE'd up with ease.
White mouse tail rendered down the pilot of my palm and left me with
paranoia disease.
Natural glow, vanished visage
unnaturally slow, famished instance
ebb and flow, iambic finish
fail to show the lavish grimace.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
Have you ever wondered what the wind looks like
To the trees?
-Memory foam embracing lions.
The tree's USB chords dig deep
Into the mother board.
Mother Earth
Braces for the hurricane.
Glass shards from shattered dinner plates
Masquerade as
BLADES
(of grass)
An ENDLESS,
Endless charade
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
This poem indicates my scatergorized pattern of thought
We are a generation of gas masks and 3D glasses
Now we are a nation of bullet proof vests and USB drives
Grotesque regurgitated shallow sympathy
Universal imagery
I’m no type of Sadducee
In medicated revelry
Mood disorders and bipolarity
Inspiration
Found at the bottom of a decanter from Macedonia
Truculent truths and the opposition of common place thought
Andy why am I so indignant prey tell?
Because
I
Am
Drunk
Ha ha ha
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
we stared at it for a good five minutes,
children around a rope swing body too afraid of the drop, so he jumped.
One of us poked at it, jabbed it 'til its petals fell off:
thrown flowers from the overpass above,
lightly dropped, not a touchdown distance here,
well,
whoever misplaced them was distant, over horizon line, past Joey joke,
they were stumbling upon well written blurbs of people
rendering all reading pointless, we're all the same, these flowers don't matter,
or they'd seen their other tired and said
please hide your luggage, dear, it's slowing us down
then stormed out and off, flowers in tow, Elizabeth's got her Way, let's leave everything here.
For this show of all things cute and affordable from Clintons
was an IMAX, Nolan Cameron's *** crack screen-shot of despair,
another pop at the small guy
kick him whilst he's up,
don't let that year 2000 pip of pulp sitting hammock in his stomach fool you,
that's perfectly normal,
carry on,
a meal for one in a **** themed restaurant,
this evening's more pointless than a mortgage on a salami,
sharpie on whale skin, what's the point in that,
probably something.
We weren't a we, but we should've been,
that would've been fun, something to talk about later on.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
The computer
So complex, always developing
Never carefree
Overloaded with so many memories
Of love,
Loss, anger and everything
Screaming signals
For the downloads to just stop
Cancel, change tracks and
Get off
Leaving the paranoia and insecurity behind
All that's left is the battle of the minds
Dizzy with violent thoughts ad fantasies
Overflowing rivers of possibilities
Love is joy, has a limited time
Anger is destructive, and out of line
Grief is never over, and done
Fears yet, to be overcome
The storage continues to overpile
With emotional paralysis
Eventual unconsciousness
-> Download incomplete
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC
He's as straight as a curved line
Or so we speculate, or so he denies
A thousand signs, a million hints
Never as refreshing as an evening mint
He praises the men who live in the screen
Projected in front for all to be seen
“Is he attracted?” we ask
“Or is he just trying to bring joy so that his sadness will be masked?”
Deeper and deeper the bird plunges
Smaller and smaller the sky gets
His limbs flow and soon, suffocated
The days of his junk is dated
A sudden movement, always an explosion
Always seems intoxicated by a freak potion
Unnecessary but not always unwanted
But still every inch of his body is demented
His wretchedness is our pleasure
The distance between his pain and our joy cannot be measured
I say, everything in the universe is against him
We say, his very existence is sticky and dim
Angry mom
Uncleaned room
Missing chair
Math grade in doom
Lost books
Crossed and shaky legs
Blemished looks
Intermediate pad in despair
Rotten eggs
Sudden rain
Dancing legs
Junk in pain
Moldy bread
Virused usb
Relationship with girlfriend now dead
Showing off his bare body
Humongous hands
Side comments
Life never bland
But forever in lament
Alas, I bombarded him with questions
He states that he feels no hatred is most situations
Sometimes we wish that his life would change
But that would make our own very strange
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
you're a raging ****
who takes my ****
not only my physical stuff,
like clothing and books
...oh wait, you don't read
but you take my friends
and my partner
and my identify
I found myself a long time ago
I made a name for myself,
well before anyone knew who you were
That music that you're blasting right now,
was literally extracted from my computer with your USB
...buy your own clothing
...find your own music
....find yourself, because this is identity theft
And then, you paint your room
the same color as mine
this may seem trivial,
but it's sick if you think about it
don't tell me to take my meds when you're mad at me
don't claim I'm a ***** without a warrant
leave me alone
just...stop
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
usb goes here
oh wait is it upside down?
it's not. I was wrong.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
Find a girl so sophisticated
That you'll want to stick your USB into her PC
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC