Code Poems - Poems about Code

we know the difference between right and wrong we have a conscience that defines boundaries and sets the parameters of our defined integrity and this draws the confines ultimately of the way we live Submitted on April 17 to contest YOUR CHOICE Q sponsored by BRIAN STRAND Posted on April 16, 2025...

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Emboldened by whispers, echoes curdled in algorithmic rot— electronic voices hiss their sermons, venom soaked in coded politeness, dripping beneath polished avatars. Hate seeps through curated feeds, a slow infection wrapped in memes, seducing the young, the angry, the aimless— until ideology feels like identity. A curriculum of fear streamed without consent, etched into abandoned timelines, where education once should have stood. Now, only digital ruins remain— barren soil where thought might have grown. This...

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I hear the sound of clanging and banging from a distant source Like an orchestra of metal pots that have fallen on the kitchen floor which brings a ringing to my inner ear then a low vibration comes as I stand still This frequency happens frequently transmitting a language I've yet to unveil Creating a magnetic peace during its stay One...

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password to open the heart forgotten we wandered earth like a deluded ghost then one day we became a child again meaning innocence was then soul’s outpost cleansed of stain, we broke free from ego’s chain reclaiming light by God’s love begotten...

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she had to wander as his hidden wounds the closing doors the grampa's lost haunting songs of remorse her mothers painting his brothers dance's...

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Choosing to live as an ant for a day, God yet felt in that form no sense of lack, performing all chores, treating work as play, content living in its underground shack. God’s real challenge came, living as man, plodding through life with memory erased, remaining ignorant of His own plan, until the flag of love in heart was raised. Love agape is...

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This is the code I write it To right it Recite it Recite it Recite it Until what I write Is in sight I’m right here It’s true I will die But this Shall defy The test of time Forever present A living relic Resin Devine ...

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Is not life an unfinished game of chess, where waking up from sleep, we continue the game, attempting to clean up the mess but the puzzle’s not something mind can sew, unless we shift to heart, born there anew? As an actor on stage, we play our role but save in staid silence never feel whole, because when thoughts rest, we reclaim...

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Having ensouled feeble form, we’re swept away in life’s storm, enslaved by fear and desire, consumed by heart’s raging fire. How may we, a creature bound, redeem soul on holy ground, when we know not who we are, exhausted drifting afar? Thought cessation paves the way, whence making love our mainstay, we follow, letting God lead, that our scarred heart may not bleed. Bliss magnetism pervades form and...

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Accepting omnipresence of boundless space and fixating our attention upon it, we notice that from its pores in-pours God’s grace, recalibrating consciousness bit by bit, as our steps to heaven we slowly retrace, requiring lamp of love in heart to be lit. Silence, stillness and total thought cessation, pierces the veil of space in meditation....

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Twirled about by desire and fear, saw thought apparitions appear, with the aim to drive us insane, binding us in attachment’s chain, blocking God’s light from drawing near....

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Run Faster. Punch Harder. Kick Higher. Hug Tighter. ...

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Life is a bloody dream Filled with rough and course scream The road is filled with highs and lows Sky is gray where fair wind blows So, you must learn to set the mode Your heart must strive to live the code For, in the depths of rights and wrongs Lies love that creeps where it belongs In...

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entry code was shh pronounced shhh... so i sewed my idea back-up... and maybe later i can... rewrite some... idea of... a why... such a notion be... worth writing about when who... did what when or where or not at all so that i'm done... stan sand ...

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In shadowed halls, I've followed the quiet threads of power,   Charting each muffled cry, its subtle sway in time,  Silently navigating the veiled histories held in their gaze.   Indeed, the world is more than a stage for veiled hands,   And the moon a silent sentinel of their secret rites,  In hidden rooms, the sacred vow shifts to...

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