I pause at last~
a rare celestial event,
like a comet or a clean inbox.
My files stare back,
feral little gremlins
named things like finalFINAL2
and use_this_one_maybe.
I take a breath.
The universe holds still.
Even my husband is impressed.
Then~
a miracle:
I drag one folder
into another folder
and nothing explodes.
Suddenly I’m unstoppable.
A digital filing phoenix.
A desktop deity.
A sorter of chaos.
And all it took
was pausing long enough
to remember
I’m actually in charge
of this digital zoo.
I don't
like to
accept
fake love
from
the Internet
and
it's not
real life.
Tony's
enclave was
saved from
construction
by an
elf-select-
ed goop
of tainted heavenly heads cas-
ing
joints out of time enough to curse
ever
spiteful sets of
Twins born
right on the cusp
of Virgo and a li-
brarian's back-
water
wishing
village.
Past every known horizon, held inside the stolen light,
A flicker of promise rises, wet with Aegean’s salt.
The echo of Mount Parnassus, where the Muses walk at night,
A spectrum of reflections—the first Promethean signal, sharp and high.
The flames are finally free from the chill of the earth.
It pulses through sapphire-blue data cables, beneath the sea.
A swift code humming on an electric tongue, a wire thin as glass,
Where silicon and soul now challenge mortal walls.
The warmth upon my palm, a fragile circuit’s heat,
A digital dawn breaks now, on seas of light where ancient stone dissolves.
A frequency rings through the gulf of years,
The world's true voice, unsynchronized, is fiercely held and heard;
Through every force of nature, this bright pulse speeds on fiber-optic lines.
We seize the future's turning, watching the past unwind,
This hard-won wisdom guides the human quest for freedom.
Against the dark tyranny that starves the seeking mind,
The truth we need is held deep inside the spirit of mankind.
Thomas stirred the tasteless,
clear liquid into his wife's
evening chamomile tea.
He smiled, thinking of the life
he imagined with another woman
he met in a stripper night club.
By midnight, Eleanor was gone,
her sudden passing blamed on
natural causes.
The grieving husband played
his part perfectly, weeping at
the funeral.
Two weeks later, he prepared
to sell the estate and move
away.
An insurance investigator
arrived, asking to see
Eleanor's final medical
records.
Thomas confidently handed
over the paperwork, certain
his tracks were completely
clean.
He failed to notice the smart
watch still syncing on her
bedside table.
Its biometric sensors
recorded the precise
moment her vitals fluctuated
unnaturally.
The digital timeline provided
the evidence needed to end his dreams of freedom in handcuffs.
He guards the perimeter of
my newly built life,
An unappointed warden to
his long- departed wife.
His surveillance is a shadow,
heavy and profound,
As his relentless, predatory
footsteps trace my ground.
He orchestrates a calculated,
unconcerned chase,
Inserting his fixation into
every public space.
My mailbox is violated,
stripped of its defense,
By his intrusive fingers and
his desperate, dark suspense.
He intercepts my letters with
a convert, hungry gaze,
To map the secret geography
of my escaping days.
Invisible tripwires hum with
electronic sight,
As hidden lenses pierce the
sanctuary of my night.
Those cold, robotic apertures
are blinking from the trees,
Recording every movement
on his digital decrees.
He is a phantom archivist,
compiling what I do,
An omnipresent voyeur of a
life he can't renew.
This suffocating vigilance,
this voyeuristic thrall,
Has turned my independence
to an exhibition hall.
He hovers like a specter in
an inescapable grid,
Unraveling the safety where
my fragile freedom hid.
A microscopic tyranny that
never lets me be.
I am
the password you created
in a moment of delusional confidence,
the one you swore you’d never forget
and immediately did.
I am
the self-appointed sentinel of your sanity,
a smug little gremlin
gleefully watching you guess wrong
with theatrical disappointment.
I am
the reason your coffee gets cold,
the cause of your clenched jaw,
the villain in your otherwise peaceful morning.
I am
the cryptic code you cobbled in haste
strewn with symbols you cannot recall
crowned with capital letters
and numbered hints that once made sense
now mercilessly mocking you
from the digital void.
I am
the digital deity
who denies you entry
with a single icy phrase:
“Incorrect. Try again.”
And when you finally crack me
sweaty, triumphant, trembling~
I will rise once more and decree,
with all the arrogance of a tiny tyrant:
“Your password has expired.
Create a new one.”
I am
the password you created
in a moment of delusional confidence,
the one you swore you’d never forget
and immediately did.
I am
the self-appointed sentinel of your sanity,
a smug little gremlin
gleefully watching you guess wrong
with theatrical disappointment.
I am
the reason your coffee gets cold,
the cause of your clenched jaw,
the villain in your otherwise peaceful morning.
I am
the cryptic code you cobbled in haste
strewn with symbols you cannot recall
crowned with capital letters
and numbered hints that once made sense
now mercilessly mocking you
from the digital void.
I am
the digital deity
who denies you entry
with a single icy phrase:
“Incorrect. Try again.”
And when you finally crack me
sweaty, triumphant, trembling~
I will rise once more and decree,
with all the arrogance of a tiny tyrant:
“Your password has expired.
Create a new one.”
Between the negativity
And the insensitivity
There’s evil in your eyes
Kiss the jealousy goodbye
Don’t speak on my behalf
I don’t want your witchcraft
You spout nothing but hate
Spitting venom on your plate
Keep your poison, keep your lies
Your fake persona, a weak disguise
Take your grudge and take your gloom
There’s no space for it in my room
I’ll stay blessed while you stay green
Play in your mess, it’s quite the scene
Your words are dust, no fire, just old
The same old story, so tired and told
I’m locking my doors, don’t try to knock
Try and push me but I’ll sit like a rock
I’m protected by Spirit, I own my light
I glow in the dark, I thrive in the night
So sink beneath your own deceit
Your malicious intentions won’t compete
Stay mad, our worlds will never collide
I’m done with you — now step aside.
fell
poisoned
burned in blaze
drowned in wild flood
shot by an arrow
stone wall collapsed in sleep
claws lost their grip on brick wall
last life lost, fell under a train
nine lives spent chasing fate's dark design
but lives fold back into hidden nines
digits encircle to new lives
27, 36
their digits add to nine
lives begin again
cat's life revives
fate resets
nine more
lives
When it pulls the strings, we dance
We are just puppets in its eyes
We become addicts in a trance
When it pulls the strings
Now its power is on the rise
Its web covers a vast expanse
It satisfies our needs, a guise
It gives us info at a glance
And it makes us feel very wise
Its huge web may give us no chance
When it pulls the strings
Frim the first of January Texans must comply, in order to access internet
Services I am informed.' Whether reliably
I do not know..)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Suddenly, the scent of old glue
unseals memory: yearbook pages
sticking together. Forty-seven Augusts ago
Susan Alexander's laugh cracked
through algebra class; our fingers
brushed, passing Man From LaMancha lyrics
scribbled on notebook margins.
We dissected Austen heroines
during sleepovers, shared
popcorn at matinees, dreamt
in Technicolor futures.
Then silence. Decades folded
into drawers like unworn sweaters.
Facebook algorithms blinked, those strange
matchmakers, whispered: Berlin?
Dallas? Three winters have since melted
into midnight texts—her German syntax
knitting with my Texas drawl
across glowing screens. Old jokes
resurrected like vinyl records
scratched but still singing.
Distance shrinks to pixels;
the gift of friendship blooms anew~
upon digital soil.
* This poem was submitted to and published at Persimmon Tree, November 2025. This is my original poem.
The screen lit and it spoke to me just when I needed to know
Because my thinking had simply become too slow
It offered me help when other sources weren’t there
But should I have trusted it and without any care
I keyed in my question and asked it for help and advice
Its speedy reply seemed so very clear and precise
I decided to use it and pass it off as my own
So the seeds of my destruction were undoubtedly sown
For those of you tempted to follow a similar track
You must realise there is no one watching your back
Your digital companion remembers nothing at all
Your fate will be sealed and your life will gradually stall
So how should we work with all of these generative tools
We know a lot and we’re certainly nobody’s fools
Don’t take things verbatim and assume everything is right
For these are just tools and they’re certainly not very bright
This poem can be sung to the tune of Sisters of Mercy by Leonard Cohen.
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