"websites" poems
A pulsing electricity
Fuels your computer
Which takes you to websites
You'd rather not visit
But that you visit
Anyway
It's that same electricity
That fuels the cameras
Which we covered with boxes,
A last ditch attempt
To reconcile ideals
With the world
We really live in
And when you think about
What fuels our hearts
And concequently our minds
You might
Come the conclusion
That we
Are not products
Of the modern world-
The modern world
Is a product
Of us
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
We friended on Facebook,
Scrolled down our profile pages.
Lived together in a virtual world.
Our images and websites we shared
With Instagram incisiveness.
Meet all my friends.
Block any you do not like.
All busy we are, doing nothing.
Like if you agree.
Laptops were not enough.
Users subscribed to Smartphones,
Iphones, and God knows what.
Google them if you wish.
And if you like my words
Retweet them.
But beware!
I now use words like lol,
And even ***
Hehe.
Sometimes I multitask,
Flicking TV channels
Like a Subbuteo striker –
Gone virtual by now I guess.
Flicking and flipping while I scroll
My laptop page.
I make new tabs
As I message many friends:
Emoticons exploding
All along the way.
I’m Tivo-boxing clever
All the time,
King of my domain.
So get your VDU lit up
And monitor my words.
Download my thoughts
Into your memory banks.
I hope this all computes.
Paul Butters
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
Paper. Pen.
Let's write out our feelings.
"I'm having a rough time."
Cell phone
Online recipes.
I should cook that soon.
Hotel websites.
Free breakfast? Eh I'm vegan now so just fruit.
Swimming pool? I'm sure it'll be busy
Fitness center. Leo wants to run in the morning.
Booked. Could be a good night.
Paper. Pen.
Right. Writing.
"I can tell journaling is helpful
because I'm resistant to doing it."
Text messages.
Leo thinks they were too mean to me.
I think I deserve it.
I love you.
Paper. Pen.
Hm. I should write some poetry.
Photos.
Wow look at how my face has changed, let's make a collage.
Oo what else.
Body pictures.
Pre-surgery picture.
Damm I've really sculpted up.
Reconsiders feeling gross physically.
Arguable.
Paper. Pen.
How easy it is to ignore you.
How easy it is to ignore myself
And not listen to my feelings.
May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC
Typing furiously
The websites you administrated
The cool stuff you created
Dancing graciously
The pictures you enhanced
The movies you edited
Plucking gentle
The guitar strings
The songs you sing
Moving delicately
The way you put your chopstick
The way you stroke your joystick
Approach hungrily
Touching the sacred spots
Knead, caress, massage, pinch, rub, enter.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
Penny got married young, she idolised her new man
Penny turned 16, said, I do I do, priest wed them both
Penny was happy, never complained to anyone, too shy for that
She crashed a party once, and met a gal named Sally
They became friends
And she confided in her
Shared little secrets, lips sealed, shook their little pinkies, never to tell
Then hubby walked in with curious smile, said you going to stay awhile
I'm not coming back until sunlight, best thing Penny had heard all night
‘Cause her new beau, wasn’t all that he seemed
But only Penny knows so go go go oh no go
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle-up
Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up
Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup
Penny started staying inside, never going past the front gate
Some friends called saying you ok you ok you ok girlfriend
Penny searched websites, looking for a way out, deleting history, nobody got suspicious
While trying to play the good wife, reality started to sink in
Then she thought
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up
Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up
Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup
And I don't want anyone knowing about the abuse, just in case
I've covered up since day one, swollen face
A nightmare, ever since our honeymoon
Childhood dreams were locked in a cell, but kept them alive and still didn’t tell, even while being slammed unconscious
It's like my security blanket, it's the reason that I'm alive
Everyone has childhood dreams, but most will never survive
They don’t always come true, maybe one out of five, be wise
Believing Hollywood tabloids, that they are still very much together, all lies
So go about your ways, put up with the one, that doesn’t love you anymore and continually hurts us and says sorry, again
Always just after they have, again bruised us
Forgetting about the pain and coverups that were made
Thinking it was just a sleeping nightmare, oh no
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up
Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup
Go now, Go now
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Penny get away, far away, go, Penny go
Feel you hurting beneath, when we cuddle up
Fooling some, but mommy sees past that makeup
Go now, Go now
Jan 14, 2020
Jan 14, 2020 at 1:58 AM UTC
tinyurl-dot-com/d-m-latest-poems
That's a shortcut to my poemhunter poems.
The search my poems option helps ME find my poems.
Visit the standard webpage or the print-friendly text version.
The end of October 2013 has meant quite a few poems were added.
Some were about the Stephen Gayford wildlife prints.
They are being sold on UK TV's Shopping channels.
I visit their websites and view the images and watch the TV demos.
Since joining hellopoetry, I visited several members' blogs and websites.
I've also visited the youtube-dot-com website to see members' videos.
My Stephen Gayford blog is here: denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
I've checked Google for any websites that have used my poetry.
The images search also found lots of fantastic websites, too.
The deviantart-dot-com website features lots of fantasy art images.
They can lead poets to brand new poetry description ideas.
Just use the search site option for a desired poetry topic.
My Fantasy Art click-a-pic slideshow has some Superhero artwork,
view the wonderful galleries here: jennifersjpgs-dot-shows-dot-it
and some of my Superhero poems have been published based on these.
The Google image 'my name' search found lots of images like never before.
Regards, Denis Martindale.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
When I was a kid we played over the park
climbing trees, building tree houses
playing football, sometimes gutters
challenge strangers to a game
Tag, bulldog, hopscotch, pogs and more
paper ball fights, pillow fights, play fights
when I was a kid we made friends and stayed in touch
playing outside
When I was a teenager we played against our friends
websites, bebo, myspace, msn, yahoo, chatrooms
listened to new music, bands we never heard off
photos all the time plastering the web
when I was a teenager we played games like snake
trying to hold on to our child mind as we got older
In my early 20's, things changed
Myspace no more, we moved to Facebook
Selfies, more selfies and even more selfies
Youtube, Twitter, so many ways to make friends
stay in touch
Edging closer to late 20's
Snapchat, Instagram, Tinder, Whats app, Vine
so many ways to make friends
nearly 30 years, I've experienced so many ways to remain social
I miss those days, climbing the trees
because I could
running without a care in the world
no worries, to problems, favorite teachers, best friends
so many ways to be social
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
DRESSMAKERS to the stars J’Aton have turned designer detectives after one of their most valuable couture gowns was stolen from a bride’s home last week.
The one-of-a-kind gown, which was stolen from Leanne Bartucca’s Greenvale residence along with other valuables, is estimated to be worth more than $40,000.
It weighs more than 18kg, and features intricate 100-year-old vintage French lace that has been carved and sculpted onto leather and layered tulle.
J’Aton designers Anthony Pittorino and Jacob Luppino, who also made the wedding gowns of Rebecca Judd, Nadia Bartel, Jodi Gordon and Yvette Prieto, wife of Michael Jordan, are appealing to the public in the hope that if it goes for sale online, someone will recognise the distinctive dress.
“We are so devastated for our dear friend Leanne; that dress has a special place in our hearts and is so sentimental to us all,” the pair said.
“It’s a dress that we created especially for Leanne, it has her and her husband’s initials embroidered into the train and we just hope that if anyone recognises the distinguishable design for sale on websites or social media, that they report it to the police.”
Ms Bartucca, who wore the dress in March, 2014, says she has been devastated by its theft.
“It’s such a sentimental thing; my family and the J’Aton boys have been checking the internet daily in the hopes that we will see it for sale,” she said.
“I had dreams of using the fabric from it for my children’s christening gowns, and even framing a section of the fabric for our home.
“[The thieves] definitely knew what they were doing. As a former fashion buyer, I was surprised how much they knew — what they left behind was just as telling as what they took.
“They could tell the difference between real and fake jewellery, they left certain shoe brands behind and obviously went straight for the J’Aton dress, which was covered in tissue paper and in a white box at the top of the wardrobe.”
Police said they were investigating whether the burglary was in relation to another in the same area.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
I’ve wasted all my money on ****
again.
I don’t even like it, the stench, the habit, the headaches,
the fake smiles, declarations of “I’m so high”, I’m done.
I’m done splattering my guts in the morning
displaying my vulnerabilities to the world,
the world of 275 girls. I just can’t seem to find
the acceptance I want,
but don’t deserve. what I need is a pill to forget
who I am and what I’ve done, because I haven’t done enough.
**** kids my age travel to Tajikistan, hack government websites,
cure complex diseases in their sleep.
I just lay on my futon, plop dvds into my Mac,
and waste my life away.
another day wasted, staring into a screen. which reminds me
I also waste too much money on dvds,
while my Netflix account remains untouched.
could I be anymore of an abomination,
with my tattooed skin, and pierced face,
cutting the crusts off of my bread. as mementos of my past
seep into my mind, I wonder
when I’ll see the starting line,
or if it’s already left me behind.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
Poems mean a lot to me
indeed a very lot you see
the society I live in
is reflected in all the lines
love is very important almost a sin
and the always one glasses of wines
the best medicine for our health
they say is also wealth
but I regard love is the most important
remember I am human not a mutant
love is the best for our life
it is obvious that we must strife
love is like the present wind
that blows constantly so tender in
through my thirsty body and mind
I reside in this country oh so kind
a country full of peace, plenty of place and love to hide
that's why I have my domicile here and reside
My beloved likes reading and traveling
we have seen parts of the world a very lot
I have other kinds of interests, like painting
writing essays, listening to music, and praying to God
building websites, designing cards and yes
conducting PC Help desks, accounting, telebanking, and playing chess
in London and Serfaus, going to musicals and skiing,
along the Mediterranean sea, enjoying life, making love while driving
how do I do that, d'you really want to know, dear?
while whatsapping, walking, running, and the music to the ear
really very simple, your love in you, your whole soul in there,
just like our parents using tupperware
but ah, I like most to describe the love in poems I write
then posting them for your most beloved after that heavy night
since love is so important in our life
you must not take it for granted but must strife
we can't miss it in our life its function
like: though sometimes on our highway a junction
it's like the great water of the mighty ocean
it has grip on you, you feel the strength, but it's your addiction
the strong water's ripples too, its mildness
you demand the best, the most but never less
and remember for ever that in the country I live in
the kind of love I'm so addicted to, is never a sin
in the end my heart and being will constantly say Amen
© Sylvia Frances Chan
15th August 2013 -
5.21 hrs a.m. WETime
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
Feathered Fiends
by Michael R. Burch
Fascists of a feather
flock together.
Alternate:
Conformists of a feather
flock together.
I came up with the "Fascists of a Feather" epigram after Donald Trump repeatedly praised authoritarian "strong men" like Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong Un, Rodrigo Duterte, Xi Jinping and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Heroic Americans fought a war against fascism and many of them paid the ultimate price, so why is Trump giving comfort to the enemy of democracy?
The alternate version of this couplet was written first and won a National Couplet Contest sponsored by the Society of Classical Poets. The couplet has now been published in one form or another on the websites of major newspapers and news services like TheHill.com, Haaretz.com (Israel), Crikey.com (Australia), Cleveland.com (as the headline of a letter to the editor), Reddit Political Humor, and Humane Conservatives Unite Blog. Sometimes the epigram is quoted in reader comments, sometimes by the writers of letters to the editor, and sometimes within articles.
Keywords/Tags: fascists, flock, together, fascism, conformists, nazis, blackshirts, brownshirts, dictator, tyrant, autocrat, despot, totalitarian, cultist, militarist
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 12:48 AM UTC
What is it about **** that attract men and women.
Is it the ******* the sights, the sounds or is it their fantasy.
Is it their neurotic or ****** styles of motion that leaves them at awww,
or the sizes of disbelief.
What is it that attracts men and women. Is it lonlyness, cellabsy or the lack of.
Is it ok to watch **** during a bachlor or bachloret party. With your partner for ****** arousment, a boring day, or because your parter no longer particapates, or just because.
Yes some hate it, yet most love it.
**** **** **** **** **** ****
Even the word **** sounds ***** yet ****
Why is it hard for people to pull their eye's away even though they say it's disgusting.
****
From the funny mustaches and the funny beats in the 70's. To the ****** implacations, to live websites.
There's teasing **** soft **** hard core **** group **** ****** hurting **** painful **** **** beyond belief.
Me, yes I have watched **** but never paid for it. Yes, I've surfed the sights. But why, curiosity ? Who's to say.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
I can see it
intriguing smile, flirty eyes,
hair just so, to where it falls across my face.
My breath caresses the mic as if
a snake charmer wooing a cobra.
The crowd leans in
ever so slightly
in one uniform motion
but each are unaware of the others.
Confident, charming
I own them for that moment
and everything I say matters.
Maybe too much.
They chant with me
cult-like in rhythm
and memorization-of idle words
profanely displayed on billboards,
websites, anything at all.
They drink it in- starving to be inspired.
They are without, and I’ve convinced them I’m with.
With what? With consumerism,
battling to control their
next poorly placed dollar?
with knowledge that they don’t have?
Why don’t they have it? Have they tried?
No, of course not. This liberty island has
given up on the American dream; hoping
it can be fought from a prostrate position
on an over-stuffed couch from their
over-stuffed mouths.
They’ve been stuffed with too much power,
too much misplaced freedom.
America, you are no longer free. You chain yourself
with entitlement and ownership.
You force your ideals on any too weak
to speak up for their own. You have turned
into one giant, fifth grade girl fight
with hair-pulling, pinching and screams.
You don’t even know why you fight anymore,
do you?
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 3:02 PM UTC
Aimlessly Marko was surfing,
from one site to another,
I mean websites by that,
not even looking at what they shouted.
He kept surfing,
one jump to another,
tired of wasting time,
plunging further into this idleness,
thought of doing,
something constructive
being of some use to this society
this humanitarian world
bringing some change in the world.
Got up, started catching flies.
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 7:56 AM UTC
You and I
You
And
I
- I
Could drown myself in melted polar ice caps, or illusions of Niagara Falls (or does it?)
Could join a nudist colony
Could dismember my body parts 'recreationally'
Could (or will) document my own downward spiral/lay eggs in vast and immeasurable labyrinths/where the paradox of my self-pity mingles with my bragging/swaggering teen angst and date!-mate!-procreate!- into a thousand descendants of my rotting fleshhhhhh
- You
Present yourself in -
Hallways rambling in front of me with asylums spilling into corridors of confusion
Rrrrrrriiipppp of either paper pulling from notebooks or flesh pulling from bone
Virtual college applications tabbed over with two different Buy Your Own Russian Wife! websites and ignored by your -loving parents-
An arrogant 18-year-old boy standing before the Committee of Elders (pleading insanity)
Twenty-four permanent markers with generic names
The pseudo-poetic lure of "Call ___ For a GOOD TIME" graffitis on the bathroom wall of a Whole Foods you spend six weeks jacking off in
- Look, that's great and all, but
I think you are a (beanstalk), no time to (talk), less of a (walk) and more of a climb - to reach your face, and when I lean to kiss it (fee fi fo fum) I smell the blood of a human one
(I'm tired of stooping and I'm tired of looking at old people)
You
And
I
Could have Been Anyone!
But no,
Just more of the same.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
Boys, I warn you, you are not
to look at Twinkle Girls;
I, Glum Master of the Universe, command
that none of you boys
look at those Shiny Girls who
are Bright as Stars
and so are called Twinkle Girls –
remember, you are not to look at
or wink at Twinkle Girls.
You can, O you immature boys
you can chase butterflies
and climb trees and fall off them and break your legs
but chasing Twinkle Girls,
no – I expressly forbid you from such a pursuit.
Twinkle Girls always come with a chime and charm
still, when they pass by and their scent gets into your mind
you are to poke your noses into your books
and you will contemplate the secrets of addition and subtraction
and the intricacies of algebra
until they pass you by…
Look, boys – you can have computer games
and you can play role-play games
and you can twitter and text
and you can steal cookies from the pantry when mom’s not looking
and you can spend the whole day
at websites your parents told you to stay away from –
but looking at Twinkle Girls,
that, I, Glum Master of the Universe,
I expressly forbid
And what will I, Glum Master of the Universe,
do about it if you ogle at those Twinkle Girls who giggle?
I’ll amend the Books that Surely Lead to Heaven
so boys like you will all end up in Hell…
So, if you want to go to Heaven and eat for free
without mom nagging at you to be neat
and you want to play computer games for all eternity –
boys, I warn you, you are not
to look at Twinkle Girls…
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 2:39 PM UTC
take a look at the first thing next to you
now imagine it but a hundred times brighter (all the time)
if life is a glass of water sometimes i wake up and it's filled with caffeine instead
to keep me running faster than i want it to
there always has been a spark in my eyes that wasn't natural
no one's quite sure where it's from but i used to think it was a superpower
i used to think not sleeping for days was a superpower too
it can be scary if you feel like a puppet that's forced to kick and hurt and attack
it can be scary if you can't make yourself stop
it can be scary if fun isn't fun anymore but danger
it can be scary when you're fragile
it's like a bubble in which there are no boundaries
the world has no boundaries there's only me and my ideas
and i seem to be way better than i'm supposed to
how can you stop when there's so much left to do?
(even if afterwards it won't be)
the world is bright and colorful now but it can go back to greys anytime
it won't go to neutral colors (it never does)
you can't shut it down if the "it" is you, if the "it" is what you're up against
if the "it" is constanly challenging you to go faster better faster faster faster
"it" is so fragile if you stop it for a moment there may be no coming back
there are so many fun things intense things death can be just one of them if you don't control "it" soon enough
when caitlin snow first got her powers in flashpoint she had to stop them
i always had a superpower and it will always have to be stopped
take a look at yourself in the mirror
now imagine yourself but a hundred times brighter (all the time)
if i'm a good person sometimes i wake up and i'm a goddess instead
(what can i be if not godlike if it feels like there's nothing that could possibly stop me?)
there's always been times when i felt like i left my old self to come back stronger and happier
i don't know if there's a happy because every single time i felt truly happy it was an illusion that doctors called "a chemical imbalance"
if i can dress up and be a new me who can dress like this who can do this
but if you'd stopped me i could be angry
(i don't know an angry me, i always forget her)
so i have a calm kind of angry-an angry where no one and nothing else can be touched or hurt but i can
when i was confused about sexuality websites were calling it "hypersexuality"
it can only be a superpower if i see lights and flashes others don't
it can only be a superpower if people i'm in love with have a halo over them
it can only be a superpower if i seem to stop the cars around me when i run through the street
if someone whispered "high risk, too impulsive" i thought fun and passion
the thoughts going through my mind always seem amazing
and i wonder if the people who've written the bible felt like this
if they did, i'm happy for them
i can never forgive myself for things i've done
(not sins, i'm too envious of people who are faithful)
but i guess it's not, not if there's a spark in my eye that can disappear, only on certain conditions
one of the last things on the wikipedia page for bipolar disorder
are the suicide statistics
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
A Nation founded on movement,
now manifest nothing more than suburbs and cement.
In the beginning we came to this land, and became lost.
From our civilized lives to wilderness we were tossed.
Nature swallowed us, a beautiful maze of
unknown trees and streams.
unknown freedom and dreams.
In the new millennium we find the essences of exploration spent on
million-dollar homes and
million-dollar corporations and
million-dollar schemes.
And so I suggest a Nationwide Event!
Turn off your cell-phone and sleep in a tent!
Our Developed Destiny has come at a cost.
We need to escape this world of websites and car-exhaust.
So we can re-discover the beauty of being lost.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 9:52 PM UTC
When I wake up
I don't get a good morning
Or even
A hello
I get a "why didn't you turn in your library books yet?"
"Go clean your room"
"The way you're eating is disgusting"
"Look at all those horrible zits on your face"
"You're so lazy"
"Why haven't I seen [insert friend's name here] in so long?"
"No."
When I wake up
I don't get a good morning
Or even
A hello
I laze around in bed
And don't get up anytime soon
I laze around in bed
And don't get up until somewhere close to noon
You come upstairs and say, "Why are you in bed? Get up"
"You're being lazy again"
"Stop going on those stupid websites"
"Finish something for once"
"Do you have homework?"
So?
And you wonder why I don't get up in the morning
When the welcome I receive is far less than heartwarming
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
In real life I don't have the courage to utter all these words. By stringing them together, I can get these phrases. I am most amazed what poetry made possible, you can read it in: The Audacity of a Poem
*************************************
Poems mean a lot to me
since it is reciprocal you see
the society I live in
is reflected in all these lines
love is very important almost a sin
and the always one glasses of wines
always getting in
the best specialist for our health
they say is also The wealth
but I regard love is the most important
remember I am human not a mutant
love is the best for our life
it is obvious that we must strife
love is like the present wind
that blows constantly so tender in
through my thirsty body and mind
I reside in this country oh so kind
a country peaceful, plenty of place and love to hide
that's why I have my domicile here and reside
My beloved likes reading and traveling
we have seen parts of the world a very lot
I have other kinds of interests, like humming
writing essays, feedbacking, listening to music,
and praying to God
building websites, designing cards and yes
conducting PC Help desks, bank-scanning, and chess
in London and Serfaus, musicals and skiing,
along the Mediterranean sea, enjoying life, love while driving
how do I do that, d'you really want to know, dear?
while whatsapping, driving fastest, and the music to the ear
really very simple, love in you, your whole soul in there,
just like our parents using tupperware
but ah, I like most to describe the love in poems I write
posting them for my beloved after that heavy night
since love is so important in our life
you must not take for granted but must strife
we can't miss it in our life its function
like: though sometimes on our highway a junction
it's like the great water of the mighty ocean
it has grip on you, you feel the strenght, but it's addiction
the strong water's ripples too, its mildness
you demand the best, the most but never less
and remember for ever that in the country I live in
the kind of love I'm so addicted to, is never a sin
in the end my heart and being will constantly see
my one and faithful Man,
for Thy most precious gift, I say to Thee
thank You, my Lord. Amen (fon.: A-'men)
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 5:25 AM UTC
myself
my dog
my cat
my car
my job
my soul
my books
my house
my husband
my thoughts
my children
my family
my life
my wife
my lover
my body
my friends
my money
my computer
my websites
my 'likes'
my chats
my avatars
my followers
my importance
my personality
my web identities
my beautiful clothes
my my my my my my
my death
oh my
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
Of the items in the store,
All were second hand
An old computer did I buy,
With a broken stand
One side was badly scratched
Two knobs were missing too
But that’s not the story
I’m about to tell to you
T’was about the second week
Of the ‘puter at my place
Sitting there against the wall
Near the old staircase
I recall the night was late
As I readied me for bed
When I turned the ‘puter off,
The screen … it turned blood-red
The appearance caused a start
I gasped a breath of air
I couldn’t turn my gaze away
I stood right there and stared.
Then a low murmuring
From deep within the set
Cold chills ran over me
I’ve not forgotten yet
A voice, low and menacing
Containing graveled rasps
I could not then stop again
My involuntary gasp
I stood there mesmerized
My gaze remained transfixed
Thoughts racing through me
And all of them were mixed
The Voice on the other side
Of the blood-red display screen
Issued a command to me
So ominous and mean:
“Place your hand upon the screen
And repeat these words to me:
Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”
I felt my arm move upward
Powerless to resist
I felt a burning in my palm
As the display screen it kissed
I heard a voice and realized
The speaker it was me:
“Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”
As the words transmitted,
Involuntarily,
I could feel a change come on …
Overwhelming me.
As I stared in disbelief
My hand – it disappeared
Absorbed into the blood-red screen
As the burning onward seared …
Through my wrist, up my arm
It’s hotness I could feel
Inward was I screaming
Not believing this was real!
In reflection from the screen
I was being pulled into
I saw a face, and then I screamed:
“That horrid face is YOU!”
The rapid assimilation
Continued then until
All feelings were extinguished
And all was calm and still.
A trillion beings there transformed
To tiny bytes and bits
And ‘tis every part of us
All websites now transmits
Now here I am deep inside
This computers’ display screen
If there’s disturbance felt
Oh so sharp and keen
Just place your hand upon the screen
And read these words to me:
“Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC