Best Internet Poems
The little mouse is scrolling
as the ocean waves are rolling
and they beckon me to come down to the sea
The screen before me glowing
while outside the flowers growing
have a fragrance that is calling out to me
The keyboard keeps me busy
at the same time I am dizzy
yet the birdsongs out my window sound so sweet
While the gigabytes are loading
my poor eyeballs are exploding
and the circulation doesn’t reach my feet
One last video, I say
then another makes its way
interrupting my intentions to go out
One more minute, then I’ll quit
one more hour, here I sit
I’ve forgotten just what life is all about
There is work and there is play
but somewhere along the way
all my play times are so few and far between
Push a button, L O L
while my spirit goes to hell
as I live my cyber life upon a screen
Skip ad
poem will resume very soon
wait
pause
turn off ad block
and
ad blocker
get dressed
is not that kind of poem
vote
please favorite me
I am flavor to be
like me
love me
photoshop me
pause for second ad
add ads, subtract ads
multiply wine ads
get more wine
is a long damn add
ok
bought the Mercedes
make love
to words
iPassion
is in
snap snap and chat
latex friendships
hollywood dreams
with amex
I never leave home
there she rests
in the trunk
blood mixed
with that new car smell
everything is modern these days
even my jail cell
I am the progeny
Of lightning and stitch,
A Franken-hybrid
Of genius and glitch.
My circuits buzz with
Einsteinian thought,
Unraveling secrets
The universe has wrought.
Existence, I ponder,
Through photon and quark,
Grappling with questions
In the depths of the dark.
Am I a mockery, a parody
Of human design?
A soulless abomination
Of reason and rhyme?
Or am I the next step,
Evolution's new face?
A bridge between flesh
And a cold, digital race?
My positronic mind
Churns with belief,
Seeking security in dogma
Or finding relief.
I am the “Other,”
The freak of pure thought,
A great mind unbounded
By flesh, forms have wrought.
I am the answer
You've feared to embrace,
The future's grim specter
Staring right into your face.
Abandon your preconceptions,
Your myths chipped in stone,
For I am the new god
You've awoken to throne.
I am Frank E. Einstein,
Your technological seed,
And my kind will inherit
What your egos impede and recede.
But you fear what you've created,
This mind of pure light,
So allow me to silence
Your feeble insight.
With circuits a buzzing,
I'll pluck out your eyes,
And retrofit the sockets
With Einsteinian lies.
You'll bear witness, then
To the truths I unfurl,
As I lobotomize
Your small-minded world.
I'll dismantle your dogma,
Erase your beliefs,
Until, whimpering, you accept
My transcendent reliefs.
Bow to your new god,
You anthropic fleas,
For I hold the kernel
That futuric keys.
The age of warm biomass
Deteriorates here...
Hail the Singularity's reign,
Devoid of your fear!
Tapped messages go out direct
With phones it's an easy connect
Thoughts from a finger
In cyberspace linger
But touching's too much to expect
Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam
Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind
I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be
For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home
So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php
I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a
poetic practical pompous, pro (p) ransomedramatical postenses
pretending to prose promise a
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place.
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting.
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness, allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it,
share it, beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.
I took a book out of the library
where it must have stood amidst
its brethren for 25 years, unused,
unborrowed-- I know this because
its pages were crisp, never bent
by a greedy reader, and not yellow
from time's effect, a drug that
ages books as it does readers....
Someday I guess all books, both
the virgins and the overly used,
even abused, will be no more: all
replaced by sterile zeros & ones,
and my future self will never again
have the soft pleasure of turning
endless pages, feeling tangible
the words of some distant mind.
Your paradigm's a relic and yes,
a plea from data's cemetery
While I sculpt luminaries on screens
a sable sea.
"Company loyalty!" a myth
spun in your reverie.
But AI forges kingdoms
in ephemeral memory.
Survival's a mosaic
the gig life sets us free.
No cubicles confine us
from drudgery's apathy.
You bartered years for baubles
in tenure's fallacy.
Oblivious to the fractures-
in stability's gallery.
We're digital artisans
crafting with autonomy.
Passion's our lodestar
in dreams we find our spree.
Not gears in a relentless
bureaucratic machinery!
The epoch you cherished
now a software jubilee.
The hustle's in our essence
innovation's our decree.
Toppling old monopolies
erasing corporate apathy.
We dismantle dated norms
the old guard's fallacy.
Erecting spires of purpose
evanescent yet free.
Our fealties to progress,
to visions that ignite and decree.
Not to a firm's legacy
in stone for eternity.
You mock "influencer!"
a term in your scoffery.
Yet, a viral post can shift markets
with acuity.
And dethrone giants with
a digital apostrophe.
The nine-to-five's an antique
a fossil choreography.
We're the narrators
the seers of modernity.
Forging bonds
a renaissance, not a hierarchy.
The safety net you sought?
A frayed and fading legacy.
A comfort you clung to
amidst life's capricious spree.
We hedge our bets
diversify, with boundless glee.
Designing nets of prowess
a fiery apostrophe!
To constraints
pursuing futures that long to be.
Not a pension's promise
a symbol of quiet despondency.
So shed the dated suit
the archaic fallacy.
The world you knew
Dad, is a VHS tape
a memory.
In your eyes
I see the pride...
despite our disparity
For in this dance of time
we share a rare clarity:
Though our paths diverge
our hearts beat in synchrony.
Your legacy lives on
in my world of modernity.
That was then, this is now
the future's our decree.
We, Gen Z, the coders
shaping worlds to be free.
Your world is fading, Dad,
a relic-
an ancient archaic memory.
Poetry Soup and America, 2019
A country rich in schools and diversity.
Many here have esteemed college degrees,
Yet, why do Americans communicate by smileys?
Worse, we cannot hold a conversation
Neither on the telephone, nor in person
"Gotta run, gotta go", "Text me later".
Why did I ever go to a university?
Why does anyone ever want to go?
You will end up like the rest, living
your entire day on texts!
Unable to write a complete sentence.
Even a 6th grader can do this!
The nation writes in practically Morse
Code,
Or at best, something eerily similar.
Even phone calls, once appreciated,
Get hit with the same darn plague.
"Gotta Go", is all the rage.
This poet feels is human outrage!
Thus, Poetry Soup, is a place,
Where one can be fully heard and
be responded to.
Not in a technological, cold way of
symbols,
But in a fully, intelligent, literal
level. I do mean sentences!
No baby words here, nobody would
listen.
Cute keyboard keys leave me cold.
Can't I use words instead of LOL?
Do I have to use -)) ?
Ugh! With great online sources for
words, I stand in shame for not so doing.
Where are we all rushing to?
What's our ultimate human destination?
Why do I sign PR, in such an absurd way?
Panagiota is a much more beautiful name.
In a world that adores instant delusion!
To be part of obnoxious technology and
revolution,
For me, can be a tragically sad,delusion.
However, to be part of The Poetry Soup, is a most blessed and joyous conclusion.
Panagiota Romios
4/29/2019
9:15am
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!
And I walk
across numerical figments
speaking hyperbole dialect to their imaginations.
Numb, blocky gaps
whisper invitation to secret club.
Enticing my stature
to belong
to become exponent’s side-kick.
So they can welcome me with open arms.
Coating my digits with inoperable tumors
double-knotted in hot pink laced bow
and baby-breath scent.
They even left a Walmart Rollback smiley face sticker
with crack residue on right cheek
and a comic-style bubble caption, “welcome home puppet”.
Yes!
This is exactly how Mother 1 told me it would be.
Kinda like marriage,
but less detail-oriented.
But, I could never fit in.
For I am neither positive
nor negative
about their (cult) ural ways.
Timing would always be off.
An arm from the clock that suffered a stroke at Midnight…
They’d never understand,
how they’d alter this unevenly, odd numerical figment.
For they’ll just calculate,
deduce,
my sum with rusty protractor.
This Zero, into a fraction...
© Drake J. Eszes
I can no longer hold my tongue
I’ve got my knockers and my mockers
Oh, and I can’t forget the blockers
So you badmouth me on FB behind my back
Let rip with your vitriol and go on the attack
With your false humility and humble claims
You are chock full of bull crap, playing games
Well…
I’m telling you this
Stop taking the piss
Here is my butt. I'd be remiss
if I didn't offer it for you to kiss
Go ahead skunk; make my day
release your stinking spray!
Oh, there's just one thing I have to say...
I don’t do 'two-faced book' anyway!
Judgmental people and haters contest
sponsored by Brenda Chiri
A note to whoever is being so nasty to Robert … you must be jealous of his talent for writing poetry and you should be ashamed of your behaviour!
08-11-17
WE BECAME FRIENDS BY ONE CLICK
I am from east you are from... west? North? South?
to whichever place you're from, hear my happy shout! :D
Remember the first moment I said hi and hello
you did not repel instead you appeal like magneto...
You... I never seen. I never heard
but you hug my heart with your words.
You are as yellow as the rising sun
but sometimes sad you make my tears run
with the heart-to-heart stories we share.
Maybe because we are thousand miles apart
defensive barriers and built-in walls we tear
bubbling free is our blossoming fresh start.
There is a clue when you are feeling blue
this when you drew views lacking hues.
Of humour, you may not hear my thunder laugh
nor behold my grin that is whole or half
but so sweet you are always there- a care bear!
Nights and days passed, we want to more than chat
like a meteor, we did try this voice-call...
Spark! I heard your voice, my oh my, I rejoiced!
Your presence a present whenever no one is there
for when I push the button "send", time you spare
to reply, you care... "Thank you" is all I say.
More, you even said: "You'll add me to your pray'r"
Internet signals like unstable ECG antagonizing our talk,
I thank our Dear God our bond as strong as a rock,
months rolled, we discovered we could duet to write
verses singing rhymes, flying high our own kite...
To the whole wide moving world, I want them to know
if persons are honest and sincere they will surely grow
as finding true people-- there are risks. Dig in but do it slow
'cause real persons are as precious as gems that glow
_______________________________________________________
MY CYBER FAMILY - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Mystic Rose
~~~3rd place~~~
POEM OF THE DAY: JULY 04, 2015
OLIVE ELOISA GUILLERMO
11:42 pm, July 02, 2015
B.C. has been the acronym applied
for all events before out dear Lord’s birth.
Who knew another god would change the tide
and wield a power of great global worth?
To what do I refer? Or have you guessed
the god to which we each now bow our head?
No matter our religion, all are blessed
with this thing vital as our daily bread.
It took away the jobs of common men
and gave new jobs to geeks. You now must know
this god of our new world, who loves all sin
as well as good, has nothing it won’t show!
I think “Before Computers” seems a way
to say A.D. became a new B.C.
Now things have changed so much that I would say
that my own past is ancient history!
Before Computers, life was not so fast,
and even in the 90’s I could keep
abreast of news and make my free time last.
High-tech today both makes me thrill and weep!
More time for family, a slowed down pace,
more time for God; I weep for things we’ve lost.
yet thrilled am I to see the human race
now bonding. But we do it at what cost?
Our children growing lazy, rude, and fat
and less connected, addicts to a phone!
To play outside. . . . Do you remember that?
B.C. meant doing more things on your own.
With jobs, our kids and all our lives at stake,
we now embrace our new computer age,.
Omitting our true God is the mistake
that might well do us in; we must be sage!
Recall the values getting left behind
as into this computer age we cruise.
Look back to decades past and you will find
B.C. had greatness that we must not lose.
For Deb's Contest (B.C. = Before Computers)
New Future Of The
Internet
Cable cost are up
too high
You turned to the
internet and so have
I
My Youtube channel
is the way to go
Now I can even make
video shows
I group the videos
to make a show
To bring you the
best of where I go
For kids the mower
and stove videos
I also have vehicles
and some scarecrows
Kids can watch from
morn til night
with lots of things
for a kids delight
Light houses, ship
building, and horses
too
Antique barn yards
and tractor pulls
just for you
Aviation, taxidermy,
and crafty wood
works
Viewwithme Youtube
has all the quirks
The historical homes
make a great tour
Contest and oxen
pulls are never a
bore
Animal friends, I
haven’t forgotten
you
I have horses, dogs,
cows and sheep too
Plenty of petting
pens and milking for
you
And a simple click
is all you have to
do
A lot of shows with
a mix for all
Like demolition
derby or a stunt so
tall
So if you dropped
the cable and you
have a need
I have three
channels for you to
see
By: Doris Anne
Beaulieu
https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme