Best Computer Program Poems
Zero One One Zero One Zero Zero One
One One Zero Zero One One Zero One
Zero Zero Zero Zero One One Zero Fun
My husband despised computer class in the 70’s.
It was all digits and blinks and beeps, and the computer was bigger than the room it was housed in
By the 80’s he was speaking computer-ease that the rest of us did not understand.
He was alive with words that made no sense to us regular folks.
He was speaking of databases, and WordStar and Fortran,
Stuff only real computer geeks know about now, and almost no one knew about back then.
I thought he had lost his mind.
Overtaken by an alien especially in his sleep
When he was speaking of Jazz, a computer program,
Hardware and software.
What in the world was software?
Our eight-year-old daughter readily got on board.
Spent four days in her room, working on a computer program
Day and night not coming up for food, shoving full trays of spaghetti and garlic bread back out under the door.
She was engrossed in this idiocy.
On the fourth day she called us all up there,
We stood by her canopy bed, staring at a dark fuzzy gray computer screen.
Wait for it she said.
And we did.
We waited and waited.
Finally a little white ball bounced across the screen. She was insanely pleased!
That is what she had been working on for four days? I am ashamed to say I did not understand
That this was the beginning of her life long career as an IT, which means
She makes more money than I will ever make,
And she speaks a language that I can barely speak.
She comes by it naturally.
My mother at the age of seventy, got a computer,
And verociously read everything about it that she could get her hands on.
She too was shoving food back out under her door.
When we came to visit, she announced with pride that she had discovered
How to eliminate her cookies.
Not the sugar cookies with icing, I hoped.
Written 10-3-2018 All Dim Ones and Zeros
Sponsor: Brahn Bailey
The long hard journey through
past to progress
These day's has far few many stops to make along it's tried and tested daily route to commute
As cutting costs has so many
uneconomic station laid bare
in it's path
Deemed unsustainable via
accounting computer program
ledgers with countless bites
of memory to spare
Once filled with dumpster full
of coal and shoals of eadible
fish pulse and grain
To steel the masses for another
working day to breathe new life
into industry
To service the never ending
escalating intresest on banking
loans that prop-up wall street share
prices
In order to finance and build a new
Mall , Factory , Hotel or Flats
On the grave of our past long
before they have even been
pronounced dead
It happened to the cowboys
It happened to the miners
It happened to the fishermen
It happened to the farmer's
What paradise for a car park
And job security for my family
And an honest day's work for pay
And human value self worth
And yet and though it is with our
blistered hand toil sweat and
tears it takes to build your tower's
It will be enough or shall it enable
us to afford us to live reside inside
your castles wall's
As for us we are merely entrusted
and expected to garner you with
security
Guard your carparks
Guard your gate's
Guard your monetary wealth
Good enough to raise your children
Place them firmly in our custody
Pick them up from Ivy Schools
When one is busy out shopping
taking lunch , partying or upwardly
socializing
And all of this for the measly price
of knowing one's place and one
mistake could cost you and your
family
It's one and only breadwinner
who put and set aside his pride
to hide it deep inside a box
That signals the future is the station
boarded up you just past
ROBOTS
Mechanical men built with of bolts, steel and screws
Embedded with a computer program stating the Don’ts and Dos
Wiring the components demands so much care
Before the Machine men endures the tasks that even the strongest can not bear
With a back up battery in place
To help him keep up the pace
With a carefully molded mask on his head
And a fist made up of lead
And a reactor for a heart
And this enables him kick start
In a fight you can tear one thousand men apart
Engaging in so many tasks
As you are doctor, teacher and slave
And even conduct rescue missions
But does this suggest that you are brave?
The ultimate war machine
With a rocket booster on your back
And a lot of armor and ammunition which you keep a nap sack
Feeling no emotions
You are told what to do
Everything is right as long as it is processed into you
Artificial limps and mechanical muscles
In the battle fields on earth
You replaced man in his tussles
Even on Mars and Venus
And beyond the Solar System
Performing a thousand tasks at once
So Herculean and I can’t even list them
Oh! Poor robot
You can not feel love or hate
And only stimulates the taste of food on a plate
He could not comprehend what others regard as a joke
And would do exactly those words that they spoke
You can not understand the true meaning of passion
Or affection
And turns way when he is needed for attention
He tries to mimic Adam
In looks and carriage
That won the hearts of so many damsels
Who even proposed marriage?
By pretending to be a man
In his black Tuxedo
And even eats beans from a can
And travels incognito
With a telescopic eyes equipped with night vision technology
Your internal organs do not match human’s anatomy or physiology
So enjoy your servitude you faithful puppet
Dictated by your master’s strings
Behind the curtain
Or even with laser beams
One day a deadly virus corrupted your software
And you began to disobey your master which he could not bear
You fell in love
And got married
For ten years he tarried
Despite the creator’s wish for a reunion
And instead you chose a rebellion
But man remains your master
And your system is shutdown
Before you commit more mischief in our town
I got him at university when I was nineteen:
Too late for me and my anger, but he was spritely;
It was after I'd initially objectified things myself,
By writing a computer program that reacted intelligently.
I should have been entitled to write it at school,
Where my anger was my extra disability,
But I was kept off the systems 'cos of fear,
That I didn't have enough hand dexterity.
My anger was just against fundamentalism,
Christian, and occasionally Islamic as well;
My family was Christian but weighed god as great,
Such that sometimes all I did was my life hate.
Express your anger when you can,
Demand to be met by a psychologist,
Make those around you understand,
You're entitlement to with peace land.
he's no musician
those aren't love songs he wrote
they're computer program notes
I slipped away in the nanosecond
it took him to blink
he doesn't know what hit him
maybe a floppy disk
falling from the sky
then again, it could've been
a hard drive
someone needs to hit his system reset button
it ain't me
some other girl can pickup
his dropped parity bit
or worry if everything she says
is word perfect
I've been through his disk drive wringer
probed by his oscilloscope
and had my best chips blown
now I'm sitting by my abacus
a smile on my lips
he can count me out
no modem's attached to my phone
drop me a line in pencil or ink
when you're powered down
then we can backspace delete
alt control home
I dreamed I lost love
that i never even had
it hurt so much
you just wouldn't understand
my dream turned into a nightmare
when i found out my lover wasn't real
when my friend told me i just couldn't cope
pain and only pain was all i could feel
i cried my eyes out
and my friend comforted me
it turned out he was just a computer program
my heart locked and only he had the key
i can't believe he was just a hologram
i really can't because we kissed
he brought me eight roses
the four others weren't even missed
he was really sweet and kind
but he wasn't real and my friend knew all along
she hinted and that's how i figured it out
and that was when everything went wrong
i didn't get to say goodbye
before he had disappear(ed)
what was first a lover's dream
turned into a lover's nightmare
Twenty steps, I thinks not,
The energy I have not got.
Eighteen steps sounds a bit better
Then again I must write a letter.
Sixteen steps is perhaps achievable
But my computer program is retrievable.
Fourteen steps I may make for you,
But you will have to make them too.
Twelve steps, now we are getting somewhere
But where that is I know not, nor care.
Ten steps, yes I' ll think on that,
But I have already walked the cat.
Eight steps, now you are really talking
But what shall I do while I am walking.
Six steps, that sounds more real,
But then again, how do I feel.
Four steps I will think about
But I think I hear a shout.
Two steps, I think that's a dance,
I really don't think there's a chance.
One step and that's to bed,
Activities there, you read my head.
Copyright Mandy M Tams 2011
Not my first Richard but my sixth.
soup lost the first ones when changing something on the site.
when posting still a novices and scared...
The early days were partly magic.
The time of adjusting your style with mine.
Emotions were running in high gear.
There didn't seem to be enough hours in a day.
We'd talk on the phone for what seemed like an eternity.
We wanted to spend so much time together.
The anticipation we each felt caused our hearts to race.
You knew me better than I knew myself...
now you hardly know me at all...
nor I you.
Where did we go?
Years have passed...our interests changed.
You tell me what I want to hear...
and react like a computer program.
We use to take time for fun.
We'd go to the lakes and play,
Now the grass needs mowing...
and the list keeps growing of projects left to complete.
You see it in my face...like all the lights gone out.
You work long hours and come home beat.
I think you're tired of me.
You think I'm tired of you.
How did we get here?
I can't help but wonder...
if we haven't crossed the point of no return.
P.R.Deremer
it be late at night
but the urge feels right
for an early dawn write
at the push of a button
not quite all of a sudden
mind vapors are put in
all the right places
to slow up the paces
and see what's been faceless
these past many months
despite the sighs and grunts
to log in the soup of poetry stunts
where one can build castles
without all the hassles
of computer program rascals
their logic of contexts and contents
a constant of restraints
that somehow just stinks
up down and sideways
nights and days
trying usual and imaginary ways
to log on then today
an email came this way
what happened i can't say
things just went right
this odd saturday night
my butterfly...now...in flight
stan sand
After A Lobotomy
Instead of being overtly obnoxious
Could continue to remain cautious
Always careful what you say and do
Not ending up in trouble or a stew.
Make sure you are missing a mishap
And then end up falling into a trap
That someone sinister tried to set
All their odd behavior should forget.
Each action serves as a distraction
Simply trying to sway satisfaction
Lose sight of your goals and plans
Must stay on tune dancing own dance.
Once you are completely back on tract
And on others are not turning your back
People will want you to be sympathetic
Such a shame some seem so pathetic.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
PS. Anyone can enter any of my poems
that they want to in a poetry contest.
Set up a poetry computer program that
automatically will enter one of my best
poems into a contest. That would be
interesting.
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
There are rules, one must follow
For any event, to maintain decorum
Religion and Politics are forbidden
No matter the event, venue or forum
You may, however, invite a representative
One in the know, but no passion allowed
No one mousy, and withdrawn
But one who loves to be seen, mingling in the crowd
Be sure to bring to the table, identity
People can relate with "named," special, folk
Never bring a whitewashed fool
Or someone whose fallen from grace into the butt of a joke
When the rubber meets the road, reaction is action
No slamming on the brakes! Just ease into the take
Avoid those who are at the extremes
Too little, too much, the middle is always safe
You can bring them to a boil, slow and easy
Their breath will slip away, into the grave
.....we need bodies....not PEOPLE!!!!
Life events, without connection, discernment
Bodies moving to the music on the dance floor
If the disc, cd, computer program fails, no problem
There's the record, always playing at the back door
Habits, called religion, politics, safety, security
Keep logic from making a run to sanity's red alert
Even when all the events have been experienced
And the last card played, the loins are girt
..................about with...............................truth
We are going to our last destination
With ticket in hand, to the pearly gates
And when the roll is called up yonder
Plan "B"ers will finally see GOD don't play
.......................by man's rules
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12/03/2020
Administrators want us teachers to record anything physical that happens
This is a grade school, so a lot of physical things go down.
Throwing, hitting, punching, kicking have to be reported.
We enter it into a computer program in our spare time.
In between required meetings, classes, lunch, recess, etc.
Then we get little notes back like this valuable missive.
Did you mean throw, toss, pitch, heave, fling, or sling?
I decided that I was too busy to reply to this insanity.
Maybe one day it will all be alright
Maybe one day I'll figure life out
Maybe one day I'll understand myself
Maybe one day life will give me its answers
Maybe one day I'll ask the right questions
Maybe one day I'll find out the reason why
Maybe one day all will be a dream
Maybe one day I'll start it all again
Maybe one day I simply forget what I am
Maybe one day I’ll ascend to the stars
Maybe one day I’ll be a computer program
With no feelings or fecking issues
from New Dawn 2971
Nick Armbrister and other authors/poets/writers
Who to blame,
For the lack of heads taking a stroll down the lane,
Not easy to pin point a main culprit to blame,
As just about every content provider has given us,
examples of people with heads taking their bodies,
out for a stroll down a lane,
We cannot hold health professionals to blame,
as they constantly are talking their heads off in vane,
telling the couch potatoes to head on out down a lane,
for the befit of body and brain.
Nor the happy people who who have been down the lane,
and come on the tv to explain the benefits to body and brain.
To travel agents it is hard to attach blame,
As they actively seek out couch potatoes to take down a lane.
Since I cannot find anyone to take full blame ,
for lack of heads to be seen strolling down a lane,
often talking to other heads in reciprocal conversation
that has nothing to do with blame,
and plenty to do with how nice it is to get out for a stroll
down the lane.
So, my conclusion on what is needed to get more heads,
free of blame,
taking their bodies for a stroll down the lane.
If every tv program,
If every computer program,
If every school program,
Were to go blank for a while,
to be replaced with the following caption.
Will be back in a while,
Just popped off down the lane for a while,
Might see you down the lane in a little while.
Plan B
Produce tv's, computers, and video game consuls,
that self-destruct when on for more than a while.
Plan C
Pay parents to go on courses that encourage turning devices off,
for a while.
Plan D
Drastic but worth trying for a while,
Praise children who destroy electronic equipment,
and take them down the lane for a teat for a while.
Plan E,
After thinking for a while,
Give up and go down the lane for a while,
Where nobody else has been for a while,
And give my head and body peace for a while,
Face time
There you are.
Um…
Gone now.
It is either text or nothing at all.
Some of my friends never hear from their children
Because they do not have I-phones.
I do because I had to learn to text,
Because my children's generation does not call.
I do not even know what their voices sound like.
I doubt I would recognize them any more on a phone.
What about Face time?
Until they perfect it, no thank you.
It’s a video of a child or grandchild waving
and then
Blip.
They are gone
So annoying!