"widgets" poems - Hello Poetry

* *To lessen liabilities, to lower costs and make the world more, more productive; exacting...* *To make everything easier, a life more fulfilling... ...more predictable, perhaps, more equal than now.* *To eliminate sadness, anger, depression, anxiety. To work less at everything, they will do it all for me.* The planet will be saved by the extirpation of human activity... ...for who needs humans to trade stock? ...who needs humans to make widgets? ...who needs humans to clean things? Who needs humans at all?

0

Sep 4, 2017

Sep 4, 2017 at 11:05 AM UTC

david-john-mowers

AUTOMATA

* *To lessen liabilities, to lower costs and make the world more, more productive; exacting...* *To make everything easier, a life more fulfilling... ...more predictable, perhaps, more equal than now.* *To eliminate sadness, anger, depression, anxiety. To work less at everything, they will do it all for me.* The planet will be saved by the extirpation of human activity... ...for who needs humans to trade stock? ...who needs humans to make widgets? ...who needs humans to clean things? Who needs humans at all?

17

Widgets and gadgets gizmos and apps. Whatever happened to cause the collapse of my simple world? What happened to the simple pleasures? The joy of simply living; the joy of simply loving? All consigned to the limbo of a thousand electronic gizmos. I used to love a lass. I gave her all I had in time and space and multiple delights. But it is not enough to satisfy her nights. Without apps she snaps. That ***** needs her gizmo. Without widgets she fidgets. She must have her gadgets. I’d like to bury hatchets in her gadgets.

0

Sep 28, 2016

Sep 28, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC

joseph-sinclair

WIDGETS AND GADGETS

Widgets and gadgets gizmos and apps. Whatever happened to cause the collapse of my simple world? What happened to the simple pleasures? The joy of simply living; the joy of simply loving? All consigned to the limbo of a thousand electronic gizmos. I used to love a lass. I gave her all I had in time and space and multiple delights. But it is not enough to satisfy her nights. Without apps she snaps. That ***** needs her gizmo. Without widgets she fidgets. She must have her gadgets. I’d like to bury hatchets in her gadgets.

28

i given nothing i abandoned i adopted i dropout i garage i Apple i NeXT i Pixar i Apple i pilfered i i invented i i produced i i market i i retail i i am i i am i i tech beauty i consumer fetish i whom you love i sleekest widgets i Toy Story i Macintosh i macbook i Lisa iTunes iPod iPhone iPad i more i rebel i genius i visionary i entrepreneur i world changer i exceptionalism i capital market hero i bigger then business i cool capitalism i myth i "the man" i worker i employer i boss i thief i savior i billionaire i venerated i vanity i Buddhist i prophet i redeemed i 1 in 300 million i America i sing the pathos i am the creed i define the ethos i Steve Jobs i amassed riches i accolade crowned i ingratiate world i virtue i success i creativity i favored i Midas i bedeviled i tested i afflicted i retire i human i mortal i succumb i eulogized i leave legacy of i i am an MBA case study i employed workers i peddled intrepid product cycles i subject of amusing anecdotes i am heroic corporate folklore i grew pods full of music i incite kids to thumb phones i captivate consumer imagination i built rock solid balance sheet i erected toxic Chinese factories i enriched investors i am the cool corporate brand i inspired a million unused i apps i hipster capitalism i imposed my will i insisted i am that i am i cannot take it with me i leave blue jeans i leave NB sneakers i leave black collarless shirt i will be asked what i did with the time i was given? i did the best i could i played the hand dealt i parlayed it into a royal flush i filled it up with i i ask why i am no more? i leave the world i am no more Godspeed Beloved Steven Paul "Steve" Jobs (February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011) jbm Oakland 10/6/11

0

Nov 4, 2011

Nov 4, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC

james-bradley-mccallum

iBook of Jobs

i given nothing i abandoned i adopted i dropout i garage i Apple i NeXT i Pixar i Apple i pilfered i i invented i i produced i i market i i retail i i am i i am i i tech beauty i consumer fetish i whom you love i sleekest widgets i Toy Story i Macintosh i macbook i Lisa iTunes iPod iPhone iPad i more i rebel i genius i visionary i entrepreneur i world changer i exceptionalism i capital market hero i bigger then business i cool capitalism i myth i "the man" i worker i employer i boss i thief i savior i billionaire i venerated i vanity i Buddhist i prophet i redeemed i 1 in 300 million i America i sing the pathos i am the creed i define the ethos i Steve Jobs i amassed riches i accolade crowned i ingratiate world i virtue i success i creativity i favored i Midas i bedeviled i tested i afflicted i retire i human i mortal i succumb i eulogized i leave legacy of i i am an MBA case study i employed workers i peddled intrepid product cycles i subject of amusing anecdotes i am heroic corporate folklore i grew pods full of music i incite kids to thumb phones i captivate consumer imagination i built rock solid balance sheet i erected toxic Chinese factories i enriched investors i am the cool corporate brand i inspired a million unused i apps i hipster capitalism i imposed my will i insisted i am that i am i cannot take it with me i leave blue jeans i leave NB sneakers i leave black collarless shirt i will be asked what i did with the time i was given? i did the best i could i played the hand dealt i parlayed it into a royal flush i filled it up with i i ask why i am no more? i leave the world i am no more Godspeed Beloved Steven Paul "Steve" Jobs (February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011) jbm Oakland 10/6/11

113

As fridge-rator to beer in the head between the ears adorned with flashy widgets with which to trap the hoes he hopes that he can pull into his poles. His gravity whips wide so hands find and feel up erthing that gots the tail, he wants to rail so hands out he walks and tilts to one side and back holding his glass. Two fingers limp around the rim, dipping his fingertips into the juice like he wants to dip into you, pinkies as he holds your head forcing you to **** like you want his come as much as he wants to come. Then when done zips up, runs out, ***** sayonara", switch rerun mode without emotion. He floatin. He floatin. He gloatin. Head on the couch back making tired, one eye open scoping everyone's glow as they move, when up he comes sittin in my face, spittin what he thinks I want him to say, I'm like, **** guy control that tongue, you spray like that always I'm afraid I won't take that wild **** as tool is to you as to yo ***** Right ******* ****** spittin harder in the lean up perhaps the lead up to fist flung to react. "Man you too loose, I gotta tell you, I've got just what you do." "Your uh ****** Man watch ya flavor of language, I got just enough ****** left to get hard and stomp you, heel first in boots bought to stomp, pre-emptive to deal with the bullwhip effect where first you droolin to **** me, then retract like a bowstring because my ***** resembles a **** "What you want, ***** You wan **** this **** for real?" (For real?) He floatin. He floatin. He floatin the room, he ghosting. Lick my lips, cept it's not a tongue. For this purpose it's strobe lights, in light show, and like snow, black and white between sheets of plastic TV screen on get settled into my flow, rip back and forth like prongs on a fork on your ******* blindfolded and scolded right angle, bent like an L-shape repenting for **** by taking the ****** flash cards, held up on headboards, trying to teach you metrics and standards lacking in you to tune you into the lifestream, no empathy and no tact to show, remember this hell well while you sail through life preying, I'm praying and making marks in meat coats. But he floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.

0

Dec 27, 2014

Dec 27, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC

shychaospatrol

ClamJam: "Party is to Pussy"(aka "Track 3")

As fridge-rator to beer in the head between the ears adorned with flashy widgets with which to trap the hoes he hopes that he can pull into his poles. His gravity whips wide so hands find and feel up erthing that gots the tail, he wants to rail so hands out he walks and tilts to one side and back holding his glass. Two fingers limp around the rim, dipping his fingertips into the juice like he wants to dip into you, pinkies as he holds your head forcing you to **** like you want his come as much as he wants to come. Then when done zips up, runs out, ***** sayonara", switch rerun mode without emotion. He floatin. He floatin. He gloatin. Head on the couch back making tired, one eye open scoping everyone's glow as they move, when up he comes sittin in my face, spittin what he thinks I want him to say, I'm like, **** guy control that tongue, you spray like that always I'm afraid I won't take that wild **** as tool is to you as to yo ***** Right ******* ****** spittin harder in the lean up perhaps the lead up to fist flung to react. "Man you too loose, I gotta tell you, I've got just what you do." "Your uh ****** Man watch ya flavor of language, I got just enough ****** left to get hard and stomp you, heel first in boots bought to stomp, pre-emptive to deal with the bullwhip effect where first you droolin to **** me, then retract like a bowstring because my ***** resembles a **** "What you want, ***** You wan **** this **** for real?" (For real?) He floatin. He floatin. He floatin the room, he ghosting. Lick my lips, cept it's not a tongue. For this purpose it's strobe lights, in light show, and like snow, black and white between sheets of plastic TV screen on get settled into my flow, rip back and forth like prongs on a fork on your ******* blindfolded and scolded right angle, bent like an L-shape repenting for **** by taking the ****** flash cards, held up on headboards, trying to teach you metrics and standards lacking in you to tune you into the lifestream, no empathy and no tact to show, remember this hell well while you sail through life preying, I'm praying and making marks in meat coats. But he floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.

3

For fuck's sake. How did we end up here again? The soothing, annoying word flickers on my blue-back lit screen and I am ****** back to the tumultuous moment when once upon a time it yelled bipolar. And here we go again. My thoughts flick, flit, floss between teeth made for biting and real meat. They need plaque, collection, to grow and accumulate mass to progress. But there my flicking thoughts go, flossing. I've always struggled focusing, but I just got excitable, got manic, and it would solve everything. Mania was my monster, my red bull, and now that its sated and off to Wonderland... I'm left here, face to face, with a twitchy white rabbit wondering why I would ever think to use my pretty little head when its such a good projectile into the sky. I had always wondered, in those whispering nights, when my hands couldn't stop moving and my head wouldn't shut up, if something was wrong. But it was silly, I had two already, full of worry then full of poles. Couldn't be another, could it? Of course, a Grace of Wonderland always knows best, and here we are. Another bottle to drink to keep me sane. I wonder if my fingers will thank the capsules when I might stop biting them? Or my toes? Is this why my toes always twitch and dance, why they stand center-stage in so many of my mild fantasies? After all these years, the divas that my lower digits have become may not appreciate losing their star titles. I just want to be fine. I want to figure out how to move beyond all the strange misfires in my head. How did I survive so long without a notice? Inflates my ego to know I should have been caught by now. Guess just like the White Rabbit, despite my widgets and worries, no one can stop me from running when I'm madly, absolutely, refusing to be late. Graces only knows to fight with fire and fists. Tis the state of my Wonderland, and perhaps now things will only get better.

0

Nov 5, 2017

Nov 5, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC

grace-7

ADHD

For fuck's sake. How did we end up here again? The soothing, annoying word flickers on my blue-back lit screen and I am ****** back to the tumultuous moment when once upon a time it yelled bipolar. And here we go again. My thoughts flick, flit, floss between teeth made for biting and real meat. They need plaque, collection, to grow and accumulate mass to progress. But there my flicking thoughts go, flossing. I've always struggled focusing, but I just got excitable, got manic, and it would solve everything. Mania was my monster, my red bull, and now that its sated and off to Wonderland... I'm left here, face to face, with a twitchy white rabbit wondering why I would ever think to use my pretty little head when its such a good projectile into the sky. I had always wondered, in those whispering nights, when my hands couldn't stop moving and my head wouldn't shut up, if something was wrong. But it was silly, I had two already, full of worry then full of poles. Couldn't be another, could it? Of course, a Grace of Wonderland always knows best, and here we are. Another bottle to drink to keep me sane. I wonder if my fingers will thank the capsules when I might stop biting them? Or my toes? Is this why my toes always twitch and dance, why they stand center-stage in so many of my mild fantasies? After all these years, the divas that my lower digits have become may not appreciate losing their star titles. I just want to be fine. I want to figure out how to move beyond all the strange misfires in my head. How did I survive so long without a notice? Inflates my ego to know I should have been caught by now. Guess just like the White Rabbit, despite my widgets and worries, no one can stop me from running when I'm madly, absolutely, refusing to be late. Graces only knows to fight with fire and fists. Tis the state of my Wonderland, and perhaps now things will only get better.

13

When He came home from work that day He said “Enough’s enough”. “Let others built the widgets, I have done that long enough.” I’ll live a life of leisure, crafting poetry and song. Perhaps I’ll write short stories or play my guitar all night long.” Such boundless optimism didn’t take Fate into account. Fate, the foe of youth and love, was lurking there about. That man thought that He had years of time to write and think and putter. Yet Fate was of another mind, and a malediction muttered. A tightness in the chest He felt. A soreness in one arm. He was sure that it was nothing. Soon thereafter, He was gone

0

Jan 14, 2012

Jan 14, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

MOIRAI

When He came home from work that day He said “Enough’s enough”. “Let others built the widgets, I have done that long enough.” I’ll live a life of leisure, crafting poetry and song. Perhaps I’ll write short stories or play my guitar all night long.” Such boundless optimism didn’t take Fate into account. Fate, the foe of youth and love, was lurking there about. That man thought that He had years of time to write and think and putter. Yet Fate was of another mind, and a malediction muttered. A tightness in the chest He felt. A soreness in one arm. He was sure that it was nothing. Soon thereafter, He was gone

20

To bleed the binary And speak fluent touch and jaguar yawn Is that asking for too much? Think on it, friend But there is no time to think The hands circling Always circling Losing their clutch Sloth Downed from The canopy Little small Specks of **** Will be the end of him All that is accomplished in cubes -time well spent- Mustn't ever reach A white-eared Sibia Alighting a Sakura tree flush in pink Drenched in the cool warm glow Of a winter star that now must go Swift quarter-inch turns of the head Lazily nimble In its slim space -it could even fly away if it so wishes- While he files away widgets His time is near He feels it thread stripped From the twist the twist

0

Sep 15, 2014

Sep 15, 2014 at 7:53 AM UTC

mike-dm

What's the Use

To bleed the binary And speak fluent touch and jaguar yawn Is that asking for too much? Think on it, friend But there is no time to think The hands circling Always circling Losing their clutch Sloth Downed from The canopy Little small Specks of **** Will be the end of him All that is accomplished in cubes -time well spent- Mustn't ever reach A white-eared Sibia Alighting a Sakura tree flush in pink Drenched in the cool warm glow Of a winter star that now must go Swift quarter-inch turns of the head Lazily nimble In its slim space -it could even fly away if it so wishes- While he files away widgets His time is near He feels it thread stripped From the twist the twist

33

I was thinking about things… feeling afraid to be honest I didn’t know where I belonged anymore… I didn’t fit into the wedges of their pie...too big, each time And I don’t want to be alone.. Wheres my Comrades?? So I wrapped My Head around Your Arms, and let myself be Held By Your Breath blowing through my Heart.. and suddenly it occurred to me why I’m the Breeze that Blows between all things.. I AM and then I realized… who can be free carving up the real-estate of the Universe! I can’t do that!!! Thats not a Job for me.!! I could feel that Leaping Joy Again! I must Be FREEDOM… I’m the Aura !! the one who creates the Filters to move between!! I’m the Game Designer!! cause thats what this is.. a Game.. and we’re the pac man widgets running the course So I sent that genius-in-a-bottle-talent-scout-Company a suggestion or two.. Just this evening in fact.. they weren’t hard to find.. It was like sitting on the porch Listening to Granny from the Clampets… dolling out the fundamentals.. Wisdom.. What WE used to call Common Sense.. TEXAS TEA for Goodness sake…. Already Bubbling UP! UP! UP! JOY!! Pure Joy Again.. You Cant Control ME!! thats why Your Afraid!!!! I’M FREEEEDOM!!!!!!!!!!! Laughter is whats going to heal this Planet It was the Wisdom that told me that.. Makes sense.. Pulls the toxins out of the Planet and all the people too Thats whats holding in the Heat, not air-conditioning Vapors from a parts store Poisons of the Heart..Dyingness.. Lifted UP on the Bubbles of Laughter.. The entire Planet all at Once!! A festival of JOY!!!!! YES!!! That could actually Work!! JOY FEST 3.0 (3.0…you know, not 1,or 2, 3.0…like we’ve been here a while.. as if we were actually the first Pick, and not the last.. Wait, I was the first pick.. ??????????????????????? ALL the time, God is Free, God is Free, All the Time

0

Nov 14, 2015

Nov 14, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC

kw3

Is Pluto Really No Longer a Planet??

I was thinking about things… feeling afraid to be honest I didn’t know where I belonged anymore… I didn’t fit into the wedges of their pie...too big, each time And I don’t want to be alone.. Wheres my Comrades?? So I wrapped My Head around Your Arms, and let myself be Held By Your Breath blowing through my Heart.. and suddenly it occurred to me why I’m the Breeze that Blows between all things.. I AM and then I realized… who can be free carving up the real-estate of the Universe! I can’t do that!!! Thats not a Job for me.!! I could feel that Leaping Joy Again! I must Be FREEDOM… I’m the Aura !! the one who creates the Filters to move between!! I’m the Game Designer!! cause thats what this is.. a Game.. and we’re the pac man widgets running the course So I sent that genius-in-a-bottle-talent-scout-Company a suggestion or two.. Just this evening in fact.. they weren’t hard to find.. It was like sitting on the porch Listening to Granny from the Clampets… dolling out the fundamentals.. Wisdom.. What WE used to call Common Sense.. TEXAS TEA for Goodness sake…. Already Bubbling UP! UP! UP! JOY!! Pure Joy Again.. You Cant Control ME!! thats why Your Afraid!!!! I’M FREEEEDOM!!!!!!!!!!! Laughter is whats going to heal this Planet It was the Wisdom that told me that.. Makes sense.. Pulls the toxins out of the Planet and all the people too Thats whats holding in the Heat, not air-conditioning Vapors from a parts store Poisons of the Heart..Dyingness.. Lifted UP on the Bubbles of Laughter.. The entire Planet all at Once!! A festival of JOY!!!!! YES!!! That could actually Work!! JOY FEST 3.0 (3.0…you know, not 1,or 2, 3.0…like we’ve been here a while.. as if we were actually the first Pick, and not the last.. Wait, I was the first pick.. ??????????????????????? ALL the time, God is Free, God is Free, All the Time

38

everyone lives ordinary lives a list of similarities found typical among us would be very long, indeed the fourth line proves the first the very small widgets of ourselves that are truly unique become magnified to a large degree when exposed to the theatre of this world and has set about an order to permit ceaseless displacement of the memory of past mistakes it is always a war against something and even an imaginary peace cannot be created

0

Mar 22, 2014

Mar 22, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC

jimmy-tee

99

everyone lives ordinary lives a list of similarities found typical among us would be very long, indeed the fourth line proves the first the very small widgets of ourselves that are truly unique become magnified to a large degree when exposed to the theatre of this world and has set about an order to permit ceaseless displacement of the memory of past mistakes it is always a war against something and even an imaginary peace cannot be created

14

Twenty two years ago December twenty second, two thousand eighteen "star student" born this papa (and most likely thee birth mother) initially felt ecstatic, dramatic (yes frenetic), and careworn as freshly minted parents, but gifted with a daughter, whose existence far more precious than any Earthborn rare widgets, gewgaws, gems, et cetera, despite evoking unsolicited, unpleasant, and unmanageable forlorn communication "dirt poor" living (at least ten years of wretchedness at 1148 Greentree Lane) unable to toot our horn, cuz unbearable, undesirable, unforgettable, et cetera, and manifold challenged, when beloved Shana Punim evinced inborn developmental delay, (which severe electric cool aid acid test patience of this father), much more difficult than playing krummhorn, now after tendering the trials and tribulations, an amalgamation of poignant affects, whereat your permanent presence... (must never NOT precede mine), cuz..., I would definitely mourn, your absence, thus felt the timely opportunity to dash off a birthday poem to you in tandem with sharing, (while comfortably numb and figuratively licking war torn psychological wombs) - torn and ripped, queued, peppered natty psyche pockmarked with scorn from self, (and those lives, this dada immediately impacted) particularly your person roar'n with cumulative anger toward this insightful fellow, (who claims to know what thee feel toward me), especially when **** hours of valuable time, now caught (say, eh...approximately, fraught upon the half life of rare Earth element Eden), not just strictly naught heard thru the grapevine, but forcing Math (hew) analysis, via meditation, poetry writing therapy, et cetera. - - - - - - - - - Hence...I apologize, asper unasked for pain wrought thee, sans being unemployed, demeaning "mother Abby," bumbling, horrid house keeper (Hagrid himself, would turn down invitation), plus Facebook fiasco, imbroglio, and loco motive - complicit in behavior - - - - - - - - - comparable to ********* yet please let me conclude by admitting total lack of wherewithal. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!

0

Dec 5, 2018

Dec 5, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

E_ L_ H_ – I Praise

Twenty two years ago December twenty second, two thousand eighteen "star student" born this papa (and most likely thee birth mother) initially felt ecstatic, dramatic (yes frenetic), and careworn as freshly minted parents, but gifted with a daughter, whose existence far more precious than any Earthborn rare widgets, gewgaws, gems, et cetera, despite evoking unsolicited, unpleasant, and unmanageable forlorn communication "dirt poor" living (at least ten years of wretchedness at 1148 Greentree Lane) unable to toot our horn, cuz unbearable, undesirable, unforgettable, et cetera, and manifold challenged, when beloved Shana Punim evinced inborn developmental delay, (which severe electric cool aid acid test patience of this father), much more difficult than playing krummhorn, now after tendering the trials and tribulations, an amalgamation of poignant affects, whereat your permanent presence... (must never NOT precede mine), cuz..., I would definitely mourn, your absence, thus felt the timely opportunity to dash off a birthday poem to you in tandem with sharing, (while comfortably numb and figuratively licking war torn psychological wombs) - torn and ripped, queued, peppered natty psyche pockmarked with scorn from self, (and those lives, this dada immediately impacted) particularly your person roar'n with cumulative anger toward this insightful fellow, (who claims to know what thee feel toward me), especially when **** hours of valuable time, now caught (say, eh...approximately, fraught upon the half life of rare Earth element Eden), not just strictly naught heard thru the grapevine, but forcing Math (hew) analysis, via meditation, poetry writing therapy, et cetera. - - - - - - - - - Hence...I apologize, asper unasked for pain wrought thee, sans being unemployed, demeaning "mother Abby," bumbling, horrid house keeper (Hagrid himself, would turn down invitation), plus Facebook fiasco, imbroglio, and loco motive - complicit in behavior - - - - - - - - - comparable to ********* yet please let me conclude by admitting total lack of wherewithal. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!

89