Budgie's Quote:
There is a balance between the Divinity of nature,
and the Divinity of spirituality.
Soul of mine you have taken a shine to the beauty
that resides in every tree and every lake.
You have left behind the noises of this world
and embraced the sound of a cooing dove,
the hooting of the owl in the prime of night
the blare of a cardinal by early morning dawn.
Soul of mine, you have illuminated my path in life
with the breath of heaven and yet you have not
spoken, one single word*
Soul of mine for the sake of you, I have renounced
all buzzers crackles and chatters, for the love of you
dear soul, I have embraced the mystical experience
of just being me, and within that moment of being,
I have given you me and you have given me you.
Life in hospital wards,
with blue drapes, white washed floors,
grey assets, wheeled tables.
Corn-beef hash, carrot mash,
day-pay TV cables.
Life in hospital wards,
spiked fevers, cooling aids,
pee cups, samples of stool.
Loose laced gowns, ECGs,
stagnant air, stubborn drool.
Life in hospital wards,
monitoring alarms,
timely medical rounds.
A poke, a prod, a look,
constant buzzers and sounds.
Life in hospital wards,
all day bed, in shared bays.
No warm blankets - quite cold,
snuggled in all one brought.
Alone, no hand to hold.
02.26.2024
Sharp blades through their stem
They evince smiles in all of them
Wrapped in plastics, bound by ribbons
Glittering in glass vases, beautiful prisons
They bleed in the sunshine for the bees
As the buzzers dance around petals and leaves
They could be moved from gardens to the graves
Like being sucked out of heaven to the hades
They could be with the joyous and those in pain
Scotched in the sun, soaked in the rain
They are adored flowers but all in vain
As they droop and wither to die again
The social tree filled to its limbitations with youthfulness.
Quite full of itself - shivering in vivacity and playfulness.
Va-va-voom of t o o many birds, no room for bees.
But those buzzers sure know how to shake those coconuts free.
8/16/2021
YOUR BEST FOUR-LINE LIGHT VERSE
L. Milton Hankins
AABB
there were buzzers and bells, rattles and bangs
a long rubber snake with horrible fangs
a mural in crayon the length of the hall
of misshapen cows -giraffes not too tall
out in the kitchen the dog cleaned the floor
then he circled again looking for more
for eggs had been dropped and milk had been spilled
making breakfast for mom had the kids thrilled
dad in his apron, the kids in PJ'S
stirred, mixed and cooked amid shouts and hoorays
then quietly opened mom's bedroom door
awakening her from a loving faux snore
a morning repast most people would dread
dad and the kids serving breakfast in bed
John G. Lawless
1/10/2021
as sunset burns the distant sky
awakening small things that fly
to sally forth into the night
to sniff you out and take a bite
while others like a drilling rig
not quite so small, but not real big
will puncture you and take a swig
buzz around your ears and face
while you slap at empty space
a spider spins its silky trap
in hopes it may catch fleeing prey
gift wrap it for another day
thus does the moon claim darkened sky
wherein the pesky buzzers fly.
John G. Lawless
©8.28/2019
Demonic voices
Drenched in acid rain
Despicable noises
Depressing pain
Hand me the gun
Free your soul
Break the mold
The sun was shunned
Thorns twisting around
Crushing your bones
Corrupting your senses
A guise for dementia
Follow the buzzers
To a land barren and empty
Once so lush and vibrant
A broken nightstand memory
Masquerade misery as freedom
A land with dreams
Is now a dilapidated wasteland
Of antiquated ideas
Fracture bridges
To finalized the divide
War is coming
Disguised as righteous deliverance
A war to end all wars
An end to life as we know it
Pitiable but true
Embrace the apocalypse
Demonic voices
Drenched in acid rain
The ragged haggard man
Writes his final ballad
We humans are the gods of the computer age. We have mastered the use of ones and zeros. Some argue we have created artificial intelligence. But is it possible that ones and zeros have replaced our intelligence with servitude?
I see
Faces glued to a screen
Trying to decipher all the data seen
People no longer talk
People no longer walk
I don't know when this got its start
Cell phones are now a new body part
I see
Lights flashing
Buzzers dashing
Images blazing
Eyes glazing
Our cars tell us where to drive
And when we will arrive
It is a mystery to me
How an app is all people want to see
We are slowly dissolving into cyber space
Rarely looking up to see a human face
Free thinking is dying
Muscles are atrophying
I think I have found
People are not smarter, but dumbing down
Keyboard courage, slinging hate from afar
Hiding behind an avatar
We suffer from a terrible affliction
It's called binary addiction
So I see on many a blank face
The fate of the human race
Cyber world: one
Humans: zero
All 'dim ones and zeros programming contest poetry contest
Sponsored by: Brahm Baily
10/3/18
I don’t need God,
I’ve got cable’
I don’t go to church,
Even though I am able.
I don’t need God,
I’ve got a cell phone,
As long as someone calls,
I am never alone.
I don’t need God,
I’ve got a roof over my head,
No rain will touch me,
Safe in my warm bed.
I don’t need God,
I’ve got plenty of food,
No hunger in my life,
I eat when I am in the mood.
I don’t need God,
I’ve got fine clothes on my back,
I never feel the cold,
Many shoes on my rack.
I don’t need God,
I’ve got all the latest toys,
To impress all who see me,
With flashing lights and noise.
I don’t need God,
I’m the picture of health,
Secure in my plan,
For fortune and wealth.
I don’t need God,
I have technology, buzzers and bells,
My computer and programs tell me,
I can take care of myself, all is well.
I don’t need God,
Many times I say,
Nothing is grater than me,
I’ll worry about my soul some other day.
Garden Party
Honey bees
petal to petal
roving salesmen
pressing buzzers
leaving calling cards
blowing in the wind.
Butterflies,
in flowing gowns
adorn red carpet
of jealous rose.
Fireflies, nocturnal
lantern carriers
of the pixies,
announce the stars.
Dew drops, wet kisses
upon pursed lips,
awaken passion
under cover
of darkness.
Ants parade,
long Conga Lines
passing on a
two lane road.
Snails park their campers
in a shady
patch of leaves.
Motionless,
the praying Mantis
silently waits.
7/21/2016
Submitted to – Anacreontic Verse 4 – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Edward Ebbs
im just laying about
thinking thoughts of a cricket
thinking about what crickets think
while buzzing and beeping
they think of the creatures
lurking and creaping
that love tasty crickets
who's buzzers are beeping
Remove your watch; take off your belt
And place them in this bin.
Your pockets must be empty
Or we will not let you in.
Then walk through slowly, just in case
There’s metal to detect.
If buzzers sound, security
Will have to then inspect.
The line is long, the day is cold
And so we have to wait,
Though no one there is thrilled one bit
About this courthouse date.
We inch along, then make it through
So coffee’s what I need.
Alas, there’s none inside
And I am frustrated, indeed.
‘Cause there’s no way in hell that I’ll
Repeat that check-in scene.
I’ll have to get through jury duty
Minus my caffeine.
We spent days of two thousand fifty five
Like noisy buzzers of poorly formed beehive
You built me a storm out of the star’s light
When I was asleep after our everyday fight
I heard you in my dreams,still trying to thrive
Perhaps, it’s you who make the last fifty five
After the two thousand days that we survive
We died too,again and again on our sullen arms
Where we are born again too
We pinch and pick, as our souls too naive
To keep us from dying again or being alive
I do not know how seven years were right
But on the two thousand fifty sixth night
We realized It is only us that we deprive
If we are not born again
Video Games VS Real Life: Driving
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
(The Video Game)
There he was on the racetrack.
Eager! Darting in and out.
Slipping, sliding, glancing back
Boisterous screams and driving dreams -
Speed: 190 on the turn
Devil daring, no concern,
Winning was his deepest yearn.
Screeching tires. Rubber burned!
Adrenalin: wild! Swelling.
Checkered flag showing, eyes gleamed.
The finish line, fans yelling,
Hit the gas, racecar unseen!
“Flying”, wildly waving arms,
“X’s” pop up on the screen.
Bells and buzzers sound alarms.
Crash!!! Game over. Sweet machine!
(Real Live Driving)
There he was on the roadway.
Other drivers round about.
Clearly in a rush that day,
So, he darted in and out.
Speeding: 90 on the curve.
Almost “flying” memories churned.
Suddenly, he had to swerve.
Leaving tracks of rubber burned!
Adrenalin rising… loft-
Speeding cab with people dear,
All, too soon he cut them off.
Hit the gas; this pass he’d clear.
But in his rearview mirror,
Upside down, a rolling cab.
Police sirens blared nearer.
Life over: His freedom nabbed.
I refuse to think of these days as melancholy.
The “s” has been missing on my keyboard for about a year now,
and in that year I have felt great pleasure, surmounted
great obstacles, and have wrangled
and tormented over false outcomes;
the delusory greener grass.
Yet these are the days I am to discover all of this.
I am to walk out of the cage and stand back, turning around to gaze
at the various compartments of my Blue Ribbon Wrangle Box:
The hinges, pulleys, ropes, splices,
bevels, strapping, horns, buzzers, clocks, and radios
that have encumbered and ran its chaotic push towards
A function built and conceived by man.
I am outside of it now
And I dare threaten to call these days
melancholy just because I miss all my meaningless gauges.
At yet I still stand at the doorstep,
in the silent light where Luminosity begins,
the saddest place of all. It's here
that I find attainment in one direction and attachment in the other.
My Blue Ribbon Wrangle Box haloes
from the white glow of a hidden crescent moon.
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