Best Vhs Poems
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.
Saturday garage sale- moving to an old heritage apartment,
Years of collecting, but lots must go, even things of contentment.
Two china cabinets, one from Mom, one Grandma, they bring a smile,
Perhaps, I can somehow keep them in wall to wall old china cabinet style.
As I go through my many things and stuff, I say why did I ever get that,
Clothing gothic, retro and vintage lace, shoes, handbags, jewelry and hats.
A broken and battered filing cabinet- it holds poetry written from my heart,
Need a new filing system for sure, should I sell, NO we can never be apart.
Vases and vases, colorful and quite dusty in my window, quite useless,
Porcelain dishes in my cupboards for years, lost in forgetfulness.
Old VHS movies, watched, outdated music and just loads, tons of stuff,
How does one say goodbye, garage sale Saturday, oh this will be so rough.
I think, I should hang on sign on myself, reading broken heart, for sale,
well suck it up as Grandma used to say and lets have a grand old garage sale.
_________________________
September 8, 2012
Poetry/Couplet/Broken Heart, For Sale
Copyright Protected, ID 09-419-262-09
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Poet's Garage Sale
sponsor, A Skat, Judged 10/23/2012
Ninth Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, Any Couplet You Wish II
sponsor, Laura Loo, Judged
First Place
Each day that I get up and greet the new dawn
Posing at the mirror,first..to see what changes have been going on
My eyes cannot look at what lies before me
55'waist on a 5ft 7 frame
These hands reach into the old treasure chest in the closet
I open it up and there before me is
A Superman comic(circa 1986-A CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTH crossover)
12 vhs tapes of STAR TREK,the original series(courtesy of Paramount Pictures)
An E.T.The ExtraTerrestial costume that mom made for me
and of course,the most treasured possession of all:
A FRUIT-OF-THE-LOOM jockey short that I wore throughout Freshman and
Sophomore year in High School
The DIRTY jokes that my Classmen used to tell
Old and disgusting chewing gum sticking to the toilet bowl with this note:
BERNIE&CHRISTINE,SITTING UP ON THAT TREE..K.I.S.S.I.N.G.
I hold up that smelly jockey garment from long ago to my expanding waist
Now I do know WHEN and WHERE the years did go
too much partying with the cubicle nerds
PAPA GINO'S and A&W root beer just lying around for some aging X'er to take
a bite and a gulp
Every night before I trot off to sleep,the hemorrhoids keep acting up
disturbing the many custard pie remnants that exhale from the behind
Mother told me that too much of that would be Dangerous,sickening,and unkind
I can't help it if I do not want to let go of my young appetite,as yet
Creatures from the old yearbook,Ravishingly young and wile
It brings forth a pleasant memory and before I am off to dreamland
This face offers up,one more juvenile smile,from yesteryear
GOOD NIGHT
I grew up in Bath in the nineteen nineties
wearing short shorts over tighty whities,
while Bath were champions of English Rugby,
a beautiful city farfetched from ugly.
We played on Stilts and had Yo-Yo's,
skateboards with logo's,
Tamagotchi's, Slinkys and Pogo Sticks,
a string tied to sticks for Diablo tricks.
A lot wobbled, we played Wall Ball,
Smarties packets caused trouble.
Political Correctness didn't exist yet,
we wore Reebok, Fila or Hi-Tec.
We had Roller Skates, later Roller Blades,
out on the concrete in the streets we played,
as there were always lots of parking spaces,
space we used for running races.
We played Bulldogs Charge on repeat,
never stopping for the rain or sleet.
We played Wembley, or Heads, Volleys and Beats,
playing in the street our daily treat.
We played Kirby because kirbs were free,
40 40 in, also called Alien,
front gardens were a great WWF ring,
or we'd hit tennis balls tied to string.
Jumpers for goalposts,
or one and a lamppost,
cheated as we'd peek
playing Hide And Seek.
We played Knock Knock Ginger with its hiding,
or we'd get out our bikes and go riding.
We went Garden Hopping, never stopping,
played in the dark after the suns dropping.
We had Master Systems, Mega Drives or Nintendo's,
but were not reliant on technology inside,
we built Lego stadiums, played Subbuteo,
we collected sticker books, Pog's and trading cards with pride.
There was a fuzziness to Radio and TV,
we'd always sneak a peek at Page 3,
we watched films on VHS, played Cassettes or CD's,
or Conkers when they dropped from trees.
We only had four television channels to be flicking,
Saturday mornings were for Live and Kicking.
Bodger and Badger, The Chuckle Brothers, Rosie and Jim,
but you couldn't beata, bit of Blue Peter,
to Neighbours and Home and Away we tuned in.
When home alone emptied living rooms,
played football inside, 2-a-side,
cleaned up damage with brooms,
when parents got home we lied.
I'm proud I grew up in the nineties in Bath,
we had so much fun, so many laughs.
From no other time and place I'd rather be,
so here's to the nineties in the West Country.
The random swaying of the truck on broken roads roused me from my slumber. The same random swaying that had pushed me past the threshold of sleep. There were snow clad mountains till the eyes could see. Beautiful lush valleys with green rolling meadows and a merrily meandering mountain stream. God's abode? Yaks were grazing in the meadows, their plump bodies gyrating to an unheard mellow rhythm. I checked to see if they were wearing headphones and then laughed at my foolish thought. The road got worse than the worst that I had ever seen. I wondered if there was a word beyond worst to describe it. But the randomness of the potholes and bumps had an almost uniform quality to them. Maybe that's why I kept slipping into sleep. Sleep that kept interrupting my attempts at clear thought. But the broken fragments of my thoughts were nothing new. Despite being away from the comfort of my home, thousands of miles away, how is it that my thoughts remained the same. My life, my family, my child, my love, my loss, my victory, my defeat. Why was I so full of MY self? Why couldn't I transpose my thoughts into the body of that farmer there. What would he be thinking? Is he thinking about me in this broken truck, trudging along this broken road? Even in this remoteness, why couldn't my thoughts be remote from me?
I think it's the sound of an explosion that pushed me firmly back into my senses. But was I in my senses? I felt myself fall. I could sense falling into a deep space with no end, searching for a foothold that wasn't there. Where did the hills go? What about the meadow? The river? The farmer? I suddenly could see my thoughts going in reverse like a VHS tape being rewound and finally the flurry of images stopped and you filled the screen of my thoughts. That's when I knew I was dead
blood red river
a paper boat tumbles down
my baby's cries
Long Island, Oh How You Make Me Suffer,
9/20/12
By: Sami LaRose
I need to get out of this town, to get out and about
To leave this drought of a town that is filled with so much negativity I'm surprised it's still around
I need to get out of this town
To move onto bigger and better things, nothing will come to me as long as I stay around here, I need to make moves in order to fa fill my career
I need to get out of this town
All though it will be hard, I have left many marks and broken surely many many hearts, and have had my heart broken a few tI'mes too here
I need to get out of this town
I need to let all the angry and the rage go far, far,away while the people who bother me are beyond at bay. I need them no longer here to disturb me and my life, I've already had to put up so much of a fight
I need to get out of this town to escape the memories. Every where I go it reminds me of what we used to be. The I'mages playback in my mind like an old VHS always put on rewind
I need to get out of this town, to escape this dark evil trap
I need to get out of this town before it gives me a heart attack.
Forever alone I think not, I am just sitting their watching the plot
It goes past me for hours, and sometI'mes days, and than everything starts to vanish in a haze
I need to get out of this town to help me reach my full potential, nothing feels good when your 4'11 but inside your 6 feet tall
Always being stared out, and I never forgot to remind people that it was rude
I need to get out of this town because of you, because I would finally like to start over new.
I need to leave this town to become more independent, and as long as I stay here today, I do not see that happening
I need to leave this town so that I can have my freedom back, something that should of never even went out of whack.
I remember watching that movie
with you the year we separated
It was just released on VHS
and for some God Forsaken reason
we rented it together
on Christmas Eve at your place
You had come upon this crown molded
apartment in an antique house
I leased a Formica townhouse thirty miles
or so down the road
Neither one of us wanted to be alone
so we got together out of some
pragmatic separation etiquette
on Christmas Eve.
That flick is really funny
a classic contemporary distraction
that continues to un-clot future strokes
so you can eat more turkey skin.
I liked the part when Cousin Eddy emptied
the RV terlet into the storm sewer
You liked the part when it ended, and Jesus
when it ended, I choked up over the credits
while you were in the kitchen asking
if me if I wanted another beer,
which I didn’t…and usually do.
Did you know that Christmas Vacation
didn’t have a soundtrack of its own
even with all the classic tunes
and the great original title number
Which I always recall with
the credits closing that night
for some God-Forsaken reason
So now I’ve said “God Forsaken” twice
No three times in one poem
even though I’m an Agnostic now
with very little saint left in my nick
"Fa La La La La and Ho Ho Ho
Jingle jangle jingle as we go
Let the spirit of the season
Carry us away….."
The static fuzz flashed us by that night as we
contemplated sleeping together
which we didn’t.
Our kids were young when VHS
Changed how we watched TV.
We popped a tape in when there was
A film we’d want to see.
We didn’t have to wait until
Our favorites would appear
Like in my youth, when “Oz” (the Wizard)
Came on once a year.
Of course, the tapes could break
And there were times when they got stuck.
Repairs just didn’t work and so
We just were out of luck.
When DVD’s came out, the tapes
Quite soon became passé,
Although our player and some tapes
Are still around today.
Just one remaining business
Manufactured the machines
But they’ve just fallen victim
To our modern tech routines.
Like dial-up phones and toasters,
Skates with keys and TV Guide,
The once-cool VHS tapes
In the past will now reside.
Hopelessness encloses, engulfing me,
As another dismal night drifts in—
Where the only light is the afterglow of the midnight sun.
I stand upon crackling ice, breathing in fractals of gelid crystals.
Soon, the frigid liquid seeps into my bronchi,
Leaching into an unrepentant bloodstream,
Chilling a circulatory system already collapsing.
A single crystallized teardrop spills from a weary eye,
While blindness claims the other,
A thick, opaque film covering what was once an ocean-blue iris.
Unable to speak, my silenced tongue weighs heavy in my mouth.
Bending on shattering knees, I submerge my hands in drifts of snow.
A burning intensity shoots up both arms,
Shocking like lightning through my nervous system—
Rewinding memories, yet they snap like an old VHS tape,
Crumbling to dust in this deadening dystopia.
Sinister snowflakes swirl faster,
Till I can no longer find a way out.
Heavy is the plight of a bitter martyr,
Lost among the frozen lambs I brought to the slaughter.
Advertised as an Estate Sale
Which I took to mean
Not just yard sale discards.
Here are some
Of the things you could obtain:
Aluminum baking pans
Plastic punch bowl
Four segments of track from a train set
Discolored tea-towels with embroidered edges
Christmas themed throw pillow
Velvet painting of sailing ships
Flimsy dollar-store wall mirror
Cheaply framed picture of Jesus
A used tire with "free" sign taped to it
Tupperware, a bit stained
Tiny shelf for back of toilet
Chipped bowls and plates
Mismatched spoons
Wobbly lawn chair
Book club mystery with coffee cup circle
Bread basket, slightly crushed
Half a box of staples
Cookie tin, rusty inside
Fragile teacup with handle glued back on
Melamine resin plates
VHS tapes in sun-faded boxes.
The leavings of a life
Can certainly be sad.
Her name came from her native heritage from the Navajo Tribe
I got this story because I offered her a bribe
She works at McDonald's as a shift leader
Her boyfriend, dropped out of school after the 6th grade, he goes by the name Skeeter
They take their showers with the laundry soap Dash
She has such a negative attitude, can't afford to change her native name Sourmash
Her boyfriend loves her for the free food and on her paydays
He has one shirt, the Toronto Blue Jays
They live in a singlewide, Wikipedia trailer trash
The deep love shared between Skeeter, McDonald's and Sourmash
She just bought her first VHS tape, the mini series Roots
Skeeter owes three more payments on his cowboy boots
Skeeter has Sourmash convinced she is a direct descendant of Koonta Kinte'
They sit and watch the movie as they eat their dinner on McDonald's meal trays
The carpet is stained red with Piggly Wiggly brand hot sauce
After drinking some Mad Dog 20/20 grape, Sourmash brags to Skeeter how at McDonald's she's the boss
They are convinced the laundry soap is giving them a rash
Good luck in your future with Skeeter, poor, poor Sourmash
ADVERTISEMENT
Saturday, Rain or Shine, 8 AM - 4 PM
GARAGE SALE
Knicknacks and whatnots, furniture, books, clothing
jewelry, movies, music, books and so much more !
Refreshments
Come one and all!
____________________________
Moving, so years of collecting must go today
even things, that I still love
two china cabinets (one was grandma's)
almost antique but not quite
I am selling some lovely vintage clothing
shoes, handbags and hats
and some retro too
there will be some very nice jewelry
you collecting gals will adore
vases and dishes
dusty and forgotten
but still beautiful to behold
old VHS movies great in their day
music and books and books just collecting space
oh, I should hang a sign on me
broken heart for sale
because moving from this Victorian building
and getting rid of my stuff
is crushing me
but as grandma used to say
suck it up
so I will
and have a great garage sale today
______________________
February 28, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Advertisement: Garage Sale
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1000-057-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Entered in the contest, Advertisement: Sell Something
Make us want it, sponsor, Lewis Raynes
Fifth Place *****
Photographs
Moving pictures
Talking pictures
TV
Motion pictures
Records 45’s, 33’s,
Cameras and film
Colored photographs
Cassette tapes
Colored TVs
8 Track Tapes
Video cameras
VHS Tapes
Floppy Discs
Cameras with digital discs
CDs
I-pods
I-phones
With
a built in camera
That works better
Than my four hundred dollar Nikon,
Face-time, which reminds us of George Jetson,
Text messages - the only way some of our offspring "talk" to us.
What is next?
I-cars?
Steering wheel Bluetooth, and movies in cars is already here.
Here I stand once again
Can't care if the words flow anymore
Nostalgic overload blows through my shell
Staring out of an old window
Where did I stand?
Head down, staring out of the old window
Teacher cleaned the blackboards as gentle winds blew
And the kind sun shone upon the trees outside
Only five at the time with no knowledge of the outside world
In such a short time, it's all changed so much
Pixels have become polygons
And VHS has become Blu-Ray
Now here I am
Pale gray skies crying down on me
Eclipsed by my failing generation
Time fascinates me so
She stands before me
Do I run? Do I stay?
I'll grasp at thin air a thousand times before I get my answer
Past, present and future all crash together
All
I
Can see
Fades away
In this darkness I
Cannot be bothered
To find out why I
Cannot breathe
look at me
water shoes on
beach chair buried in the sand
feeling like an overtly energetic six year old again
acting all shy as she grabs my hand as the water freezes our feet unexpectedly
remembering the loneliness
cable off
vhs on
same movie as the last four days
wondering how i got there
not caring about freeing myself
here i am
new swim trunks on
fast food gut rumbling in continuous anticipation
staring in awe at the ocean like she is a celebrity
acting even more shy as she lifts my chin up and brushes her lips against mine
remembering the darkness in the lights
electricity off
heavy blanket consuming me
1988 walkman playing 60s reggae sounds....perfectly blinding me
mental starvation for immediate escape
verbal starvation for immediate escape
wondering when the electricity man was gonna come and turn the electricity back on
imagining a gun and a few bullets....to shoot the dream i am suffering dead
wait a minute
i am totally on vacation
got me a beautiful blessing of a travelling partner....thick in all the right places
on the next to last day....still in complete disbelief that i am actually here
acting yet even more shy as she smiles at me with a look of sincere affection....as she rubs somewhere....she considers absolute, natural fun