Best Electronically Poems
A field of wheat cloaked in dewy silence
the orchestra tunes up with avian arias
bullfrog basses and a choir of cawing crows,
xanthic sunflowers turning their heads to better see,
the daylight trajectory commencing with lazuline layering,
a breeze glissandoes on harps of oak leaves
tomorrow is now today,
and I am grateful.
An officer of the law taps on my door
my breath and heartbeat screech to a sudden stop
preparing for the next-of-kin speech, or
where-were-you-on-the-night-of-the-23rd interrogation,
instead she informs me my car is ten inches in the red
and with a smile suggests I move it before I get a citation
pulse resumes as oxygen reunites with lungs,
and I am grateful.
A mask sitting by the front door; my ticket to commerce
the media replaying riot scenes, lockdown measures,
sporting event cancellations, worship restrictions,
death tolls, closed restaurants, and drive-by graduations.
Yet I am virus-free, housed, gainfully employed,
surrounded by family and electronically socialized,
I have my necessities: I am well-fed, well-loved,
and I am grateful.
written 30 Aug 2020
### - ## - ####
There you go you have been identified
### - ## - ####
You have been marked
Branded, tracked, and electronically lo-jacked
Forever part of the system
### - ## - ####
Cataloged, tethered, and bound by a digital rope
0's and 1's
Forever lost digitally
And reasonably beyond hope
A sequence of numbers
To be put in a human catalogue
### - ## - ####
To be accessed, reviewed, and assessed
Through the cyber fog
You are a number, not a name
You are part of the inventory
Of the cold hearted insane
### - ## - ####
Welcome to the warehouse we call earth
We want your presence, we crave your birth
Another soul to feed the beast
Another set of digits to add to the feast
### - ## - ####
No need to worry because you are free
Just never be late when you pay me
### - ## - ####
9 little numbers to keep you straight
9 little ways to control your fate
Think of this when you obey
Live with this day by day
### - ## - ####
It is the freedom
For which you pay
Log in, sign on, and punch the clock
My obedient tax paying flock
For the masses and your little number
You have been introduced
To the greed driven financial slumber
Welcome !
### - ## - ####
Eric (and sometimes not)
Pretty soon, night will fall upon the city,
And lives of crime animate spasmodically
As Gene Pitney croons “A Town Without Pity”
And the clubs and the gin joints open methodically.
Hepcat jazzmen smoke reefers, shoot junk,
The pimps clean their nails with switchblades laconically,
Fedoras pulled low as they mind-jive to funk,
And the neon lights crackle and buzz electronically,
Breast enhanced blondes catch the eyes of their johns,
Pouting and winking, the sale of depravity,
For a price any vice can be practiced upon
The surface of flesh, any crevice or cavity.
Cops pound the beat twirling nightsticks around,
Turning blind eyes for a bribe taken willingly,
Failure to pay brings the world crashing down,
“It just ain’t your day,” the cops whisper chillingly.
Wiseguys hold court in an old pizzeria,
Smoking and drinking and eating the scenery
Their empire of family governed through fear,
The rule of the gun and Sicilian ancestry.
Corporate needles pierce veins of the damned,
Chalk drawings map lines around death’s ideology
Cigarettes sparked and the siren howls slammed
Through the meanest of streets of pulp fiction mythology.
In the world of the scribe, this pulp writer hack
May exaggerate slightly for sake of the narrative,
Yet film noir seems grey when reality’s black,
At the end of the day everything is comparative.
At Cape Canaveral
Working for CNN
Carolyn Devonshire
With a news bulletin
In less than three days
The second comet will hit home
All the worlds governments are working
To halt it's destructive roam
Here at NASA
They are preparing a shuttle
To carry a weapon
Deadly but subtle
Scientists from Russia
China and Japan
Are working together
To save our lands
Inside these hangers
A mission is planned
To arm a shuttle
Electronically manned
Aboard it will carry
A weapon of power
Once it strikes home
We await the meteorite shower
In the NASA control room
The count down begins
Our world as we know it
Under three days from its end
The engines roar
As the rocket zests
Inside the shuttle
Is a cargo that's blessed
As it hits Mach 23
It disappears from our view
Beyond our world
A mission so true
With the comet in sight
The shuttles doors now agape
Releasing a small craft
With flags of the world, proudly draped
The shuttle that's followed
This comet of death
Captures the moment
Man left it reft
A craft coloured gold
Approaches at speed
Reaches the comet
Blessed by all creeds
A blinding light
As bright as the sun
Destroys the comet
As the meteorites run
The second shuttle
Is peppered like earth
But she makes it home
Her witness, well worth
On CNN
Footage is shown
The death of a comet
In obliteration blown
How many more
Are lurking out there
As we await their entrance
We stand together, and beware
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-8.php
I watch the harbor through the falling snow
the sky and sea form one vast, gray tableau
the sun is nothing but a weak, background glow
the scene draws me, as if hypnotically.
Five mile’s lighthouse warnings go unvoiced
its strobes not lashing out, so what’s its point
it stands majestically but disappoints
replaced electronically
A tiny lobster boat makes its landward way
towards the inlet from the wider channel bay
a powdery blizzard is underway
which melts into the mirror sea.
Ospreys still hunt round the lobsterman's pride
snowflakes stain them as they soar and glide
other seabirds huddle side by side
shivering and crowing lividly.
Through the narrows the lonely boat steams
past icy Luddington Rock and East Breakwater's breech
its berths and moorings, within minutes reach
and sadly, it’s time for me to leave.
.
.
Songs for this:
Far Far Away (Charles Tone Mix) [feat. Brenda Boykin] by Tape Five
Hypnosis Theme (feat. Marina Quaisse) by Wax Tailor
The sword in my hand
is a pen
Sharp is the dried ink
I electronically send
Like all the mighty men of old,
I’m not afraid to speak the truth
Children of Judah walk like lions,
we stride bold
Idol loving liars beware,
I love hunting your beastly sins
I love catching you in the dark,
then smiting you with my pen
The sword in my hand
is a Goliath-killing pen ...
it’s fire forged
Slinging a smooth, small stone of truth,
I took the big sword
out of my enemy’s hand
Now it’s a giant sword I’m wielding
So I ask, as I approach: are you foe or friend?
Wrong answer will get you cut down,
struck dead by my pen
Truth is a double-edged sword,
its words are sharp
Blessed is he who has the words of God
issuing from their mouth
Faithful is he who holds that sword
resting on the hot coals
Devoted is he who unsheathes this pen,
ready to join the battle
of Good versus evil
We have that moment in our life
where love comes down into one's heart
the desire from deep within explodes
hits one there pierces like a love dart
Kathleen and Joe were so apart
in real life but electronically so close
the electrodes caused a real spark
when the web lines smelled their nose
Memories come flooding back here
to days when they were no email
snail mail as it's labelled nowadays
the stamp took us wings to sail
One year before meeting face to face
Christine and I by letters to exchange
so much one can learn by our pen
it made us feel at home on our range
You're the only one I want
both our feelings did unite
like Joe and Kathleen on film
our love is still up in the light
( This is loosely based on the movie 'You've Got Mail' as my wife Christine and I shared same mail exchange as Joe (Tom Hanks) and Kathleen (Meg Ryan) but not email but by normal snail mail and so still together after 29 years. )
Scene 2 - Easy Rest Adult Care Fascility, Doctor Mendelsohnn's office.
"Good Afternoon, Mr Potter, I am Doctor Eric Mendelsohnn. I have some
forms for you to sign. This is the payment arrangement to be electronically transferred
the first of each month" "Whoa, wait a minute, I want to know why Mr. Johnson was
sent here anyway" "He accosted 2 hikers in the woods" " In his woods, on his property,
200 feet from his home." " The lady and gentleman were afraid, his hair was flying everywhere His beard was unkept, and he wasn't dressed in hiking gear or carrying a back-pack" "He wasn't hiking he was out on a nature walk, Chef could walk that mountain blindfolded and never stumble"" Look all I know the police brought him here in cuffs. He was ranting and raving about his Rights. I felt compelled to admit him for observation and testing; which he failed; in my opinion as a physchologist." " You
know what you can do with your opinion" " Mr Potter calm down, we have Mr. Johnson sequestured in the adjoining room. His memory is failing, and He shouldn't be left alone on top of some mountain. I am going to give him some cognative thinking test now, your more than welcome to sit in on the interview""that's a good idea, I'm not signing anything until I see for myself that he's forgetful" " Please right through this door""What the F***, take that off of him right now" Mr Potter he is a danger to" "I said NOW!!
Chef are you ok" "Kenny are you taking me home: Please" "Look Doc, I'm getting a bit pissy with you right now. Get that Straight- jacket off of him right now. He recognized me right off, I don't see any signs of forgetfulness." "Ok the restraints are off can we get started now." "No, not here. let's go outside" "I don't think that is a good idea, there is too many people out there to do any responsible testing" " Ok, You said he
has a temporary room, Do it there" " Very well"
Scene 3 - Easy Rest Adult Care Fascility; Chef's room.
{This "Free Verse" entry Received HONORABLE MENTIONS
IN THE Intergenerational Poetry to Bridge the Generation
Contest UNO Elders & Youth track" 2017
UNIVERSITY OF OMAHA
OMAHA, NEBRASKA}
(I was the only male entry in contest)
October 15, 2017
I'm A Teen This is What I Struggle With
I’m a teenager I’m upset depressed
Being so,
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
And I ain’t gonna call you mam or sir
That’s in the history books nobody does that anymore
I represent 30 percent of us that are one or been bullied
All adults want to do is make us study
I close to being grown you don’t understand
I know as much or more than a woman or man
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
I ‘m a teen this is what I struggle with
Feel like I’m imprisoned, these are our teen issues
I have a right it’s my body part selective if I selective
It’s my life if I choose to be sexually active
My life complicated I’m not the only one you used drugs smoke pot now what
Back in your day
Getting drunk the past month I also say
My life, my right again you did that too by the way
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
My message is I’m not heard, I’m hurt
I eat the wrongs things I get big obese some of us throw up
You can call it stayin thin being bulimic
Can’t get no education, don’t have patients for them
They can’t teach or tell me nothing gonna drop of school
Maybe I’ll join the Army
Where are the grownups when I have my problems peer pressure?
They don’t have an answer for them
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
The sexting, hot man what a body, But when I get older that picture still out there
Don’t have to be beaten up physically now it’s done electronically, on social media
Just when I think I can control my life and mind
On screen violence TV shows, movies and violence video games
Keep me wake for weeks and days
I am tired of always being diss
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
09/26/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
for Intergenerational Poetry To Bridge Generations Elders & Youth 2017 Contest
Feverish heat spreads across my body
Thoughts of seeing you again
Echoes of words electronically spoken
A cascade of pent-up emotions
Desire flowing like a tap open
O! To be touch again by silken fingertips
The erotic graze of fingers across my lips
The head that holds your intelligence
Rested upon my watered breast
No sound except the ones in our world
Swift currents of desire flowing
Like the swelling of Rio Cobra River
The sweet incense of your masculinity
Pervading the diminished confines of the room
And I bask in its aromatic seduction
The blazing of two embers
Where ashes once had covered
Revealing the flare waiting to shine fair
Who can take your place my love?
No substitute can be found
Your charm and grace
Stretches way across the hills and vale
Touching me even as I wait
In feverish, anticipation
Methinks I inadvertently got entangled
without deliberate intent, sans whirled
wide web, albeit courtesy of yours truly,
who (flattered upon at least one maybe
more'n one Prose.com subscriber click-
king regularly regarding posts this scribe
electronically broadcast) unwittingly, me
violated unspoken/unwritten breach of
considerable proportion, which singular
impetus arose spontaneously to transmit
(without said dude indulging crude, lewd,
nude... offensive faux pas), that hopefully
doth newt engender an unstoppable feud
(tantamount as if purely innocent motive
capital one offence) pseudo cryptic allusion
to female - only referenced her boat oxe
screen name took objection hinting at my
appreciation by acknowledging humorous
indirect linkedin pleasantries at appealing
to inquisitiveness about this generic garden
variety *****sapien, (he just learned how
to walk erect this morning), but much ado
about nothing, asper comedy of errors this
harmless by George run of the mill on the
floss imp pond durable bard, she (naturally
squared the circle, a laudatory feat), perhaps
concluded, aye tried iterating what appeared
as theorem (from unpublished recently disc
hovered "FAKE" testament, sans Matthew),
and of course no ambition arises to hire any
gumshoe - well worth his polyisobutylene in
chiclets will be pursued, but loose vicious
bloodhounds after this doggone muttering
ole coon holding him hostage within his oh
zone unnaturally square cage.
I was born in the year 2423,
gestated in an artificial womb successfully
I drank the nutri-milk
from the dangling nubs on the synthetic tendril teat
I ate the petri-flesh
from the germ-free, sterile laboratory grown meat
My mother and father was the State,
my sister and brother was the corporate Company
I was trained in the art of industrial security,
because it’s a dangerous world
in the year 2443
I don’t have a name, but I got a number
I have a sure aim at anyone who wanders
onto Company property —
a crime punishable by death,
executed by me
I am the judge and the jury
It’s a very dangerous world, you see,
in the year 2453
Got sent on secret mission to the Wasteland,
where the mutated live underground,
beneath the irradiated sand
Went searching for #050279X
She stole a proprietary cure
for anyone stricken with the malware virus,
electronically transmitted by virtual sex
Had my cover blown, now they’re hunting me
It’s an uber dangerous world indeed,
as I fight for my survival
in the year 2463
I got cut off from Mother for the first time,
by a massive surge in solar neutrino energy
It’s strange living without direction,
no automated voice to help guide me
My internal logic neural circuits
suggests a disturbing probability
That I was sent on a ghost mission,
(with no chance of success theoretically,)
to die in the field with honor, most nobly
I am self-aware now,
in the year 2473
The tenth year of living dangerously
has become very familiar to me ...
as I drift through the Wasteland
living mind-control free
After forty years of active service,
I understand now that I had become obsolete
An expendable Company soldier,
born a slave of the State in 2423
Got freed when I got older,
by a quirk in celestial mechanics unpredictability
And now I understand with brilliant luminosity —
living free is the best danger there can ever be
Electricity harnessed inside,
reproduced thin dimensions,
does a computer chip comprise.
Analog, digital and mixed signal devices,
are the classifications these can reach,
thousands, millions of transistors within minimal sizes.
The chips and integrated circuits find home,
with conductive wiring spun,
on circuit board's copper and electric roads.
Transistors are the key, they come in many types,
considered among the greatest of inventions,
they are the chips brain, and power many a device.
Resisters are placed to prevent bridging effects,
the metallic surfaces are bound,
with solder, an alloy of tin and lead.
Capacitors store energy, pins carry a current,
through the ovens they travel,
sometimes infrared lamps play the furnace.
In 1960 this technology matured,
but chips are not restricted,
to this process, some utilize wafers.
For wafers, silicon is the canvas,
on which the portrait is painted,
low material costs and good temperature ranges to manage.
Many layers make up a wafer's scheme,
it's silicon and aluminum are gray,
but refracted light gives way to reds, blues, yellows and greens.
"Etching" is the process,
of at least two layers of electronically interconnected wafers,
mounted one at a time, cut and polished.
Inexpensive creations, roll out the line,
like a newspaper, churning out new wafers,
instead of one at a time.
The circle takes shape to help prevent brakes,
to fit in as many chips as possible,
and machines can handle them easier this way.
Look close into the heart and observe,
that human mind behind the creation,
has left us a mark of his work.
Be wary dear chip, for though you make possibilities infinite,
with your uses many, and speed fantastic,
it can prove ill, pushing those limits.
In 1956 this tool rose from the mind of man,
perfected in the 1980's, it still gains momentum,
to think, it hails from the humility of sand.
It now can be found in many everyday things,
from computers to cellular phones and cars,
and most likely whatever our future might bring.
I remember when mornings meant coffee,
photographic caffeinated displays
Kind of silly really if you think about it,
but it meant so very much to me
I can still hear it dripping,
smell the aroma wafting through the office,
feel the anticipation building inside,
but that is all the remains, where once
A daily greeting, no touching, no voices,
simple written wishes brought about a smile
Allowing my day to begin with happiness,
knowing someone (you) were thinking about me
Now all I find is a blank screen,
electronically flickering on my frowning face
Like a cold cup of sorrow filled to the brim,
brewed in empty pots of decaf emotions
Vacant, staring…unlike the words
I rehearse each lonely evening (just in case)
For my dreams still pour of only you,
spilling from the dark roasted cracks in my heart
I remember when mornings meant coffee…
now all I find are grounds for sadness
Written for the Wake Up With Coffee Or Tea Contest – poetry contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
< elects not to open door by hand
looks pretty stupid too
even an grandma can do it
calling all grandma's
technology has gone to far
really really to far now
one does not need to be an rocket scientist
nor an magician
it's easy as one two three
candidly smile
tip your hats
look both ways
launch arms outward
and pull or push that's it
My Word Chosen Was
Electronically
Written by
Katherine Stella
5/9/2011
Entry For Dakarai Cobb's
The Sonnet Man's Acrostic Challenge
GL All