Disconnects Poems

Small Life

There are killings,
suffocation in gullet
hell holes, decapitations 
by mandibles stalking in shadows,
death pits at the bottom
of slippery throated flowers
and racked on a web,
a struggling moth
slowly turning into soup.

My garden is a slaughter
field littered with the leftovers
from deadly feasts. 
And the victims….what 
of their inaudible cries, 
the screams broadcast 
on wavelengths beyond
my ear. Do they plead
for mercy, feel pain 
register in whatever 
rudimentary brain animates 
their brief lives.

Help me ! Please help me !
does the moth cry,
feeling the spiders fangs
penetrate and pump poison
into its trussed body.
Or do I give such
small life undue significance
affording it compassion
when it should be exempt.
But where's the line ?
Size ? 
Its propensity for domestication,
its rank on an arbitrary scale ?

The perfumed beauty
of a single flower diverts
the senses and disconnects 
attention to the suffering
of small things.
We are blissfully unaware.
Does anyone hear them,
does anyone care,
or does life's little screams
fall into an uncaring nothingness
and if so, then what of our own.

Emotion a Freed Verse

EMOTION
suspended
  prominently
meditative
  ethereal
in style
seductive
  visions
in
secluded
 patinas

disconnects
 in balance
a sanctum
of spiritual
resonance

delicate
aspirants
 storm
ijtegrity
&
complicate

Pointless

A blowfly, corralled within the glazed
enclosure of our kitchen, beats itself
against the glass, its dim brain
promising freedom each time it rams 
headlong into the fatal deception
of its compound eyes.

It doesn’t learn but keeps up
the pointless banging as if persistence
will somehow make glass yield.
In the end whatever circuitry
that powers its being is battered 
to a pulp and disconnects from life.

Expelled in a dying spasm,
stillborn progeny fleck 
the window sill 
in agonies of white.

Soul Searching

What do I know of soul?
Nothing but its close conspiracy with death
As the soul disconnects and flies when we die.
The world's soul can be seen in the clouds,
And death looms and hovers high
Over this tumbling clod of earth.

I also see the wind in the clouds
And hear the floating truth the wind conveys.
The world is a Barnum and Bailey hoax,
An elaborate deception.
Does not the earth look flat?
Does not the sun appear to rise and set?

We are but a mere handful of dust
Thrown into the face of the wind.
That may or may not be soul,
But it sifts us along, anyway,
Like the silt of destinies.
No one is accountable for the accident of his birth,
Although he may be for the untimeliness of his death.
Life is a great chaotic secret,
And we are merely ignorant
Searching souls in constant cosmic disarray.

Author's note: We are all ordinary. What is extraordinary is that so many of us ignore what few strengths lie within us as we try to live with and around our flaws. "Soul" is an imprecise term, or so it seems to me. "Mystery", perhaps, has the advantage of a more precise application.

When Nobody Helps

When the brain inside debates 

When the storm inside abates

When sleepless nights assassinates

When the past creeps in and investigates

When ego surrenders and guilt arrests

When memories walk past but time awaits

When every thought inside procrastinates

When fear dies and tear evaporates

When utopia hides behind society's gates

When fate says you are not mates

When dilemma stays like a mistress

When the heart plays in distress

When her absence still affects

When your dream disconnects

When your own love suspects

When you lose nerve and frown on your defects

When you break down and hurt yourselves

When you succumb but nobody helps.

I Love You

I love you 

Ding, cling, ting, the notifications bell rings 
Do I pick it up or put I down? 
The alluring sound resonates in my head. 
Do I control it, or does it control me? 
It connects us but also disconnects us. 
I couldn’t live without it, but it brings me so much pain. 
Ding, cling, ting, the notification bell rings. 

10/20/21

Social Media

Social media can be a great thing
It helps us connect with our friends and distant family
It educates us on issues around the world
That we aren’t able to see first-hand
It can teach us useful things, and keeps us entertained…

At the same time social media can be awful
It disconnects us from our surroundings
It distorts the way that we see ourselves, and our bodies
It creates too high of expectations for many
It creates this false idea that materialistic things
Will provide us with the happiness that we’ve been longing for
Which is not the case

Tree Coming Down

Tree Coming Down

I stood before the majestic pine in my yard
The squirrel hunched over stares back clicking and spinning his bushy tail
The blue jay screams because I am standing between him and a seedy swinging meal

I talk to the Pine

Do you know I love you for our many years
You sheltered all
that flew above you or ran below and rested, as I do

I am told the roots of trees talk to each other and know when one cracks or burns and disconnects from the system

Tree I love you

A sickness stripped you of your fragrant needle foliage

I see you lean and see the clutching of large gnarled roots that looks like a hands

Forgive me

Others mock me and say it is only a tree

But tree I love you.

Soon they will come for you but not through fire this time and I will never stand before you again

I have come to say farewell before they come to take you down.

Tree I love you.  I love you all.  I will miss you too.

Cocooned

Cocooned 


Just like a butterfly trapped tight,

     her folded wings await the flight.

          Cocooned, she fears what to expect

               when from her safety, disconnects.

With wings of flight, she must escape

     into a world with new landscape...

          Just like a butterfly entrapped

               inside a world so tightly capped.

Cocooned, she fears the world outside

     seen from within...freedom denied.

          Transfiguration, a gift of few...

               needs wings of flight to change her view.


March 25, 2018

~3rd Place~
Premiere Contest: Freedom
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Judged: 03/21/2022

~3rd Place~
Contest: Picture This
Sponsor: Joseph May
Judged: 04/01/2018

Pain Me

pain me



pain me
in
a
poem
every line
of
mine
disconnects me
here i am on this line
now look at me here
now here i am
here i am
me here
no
me
here
now
dare
time found my neck in a noise
every line i ever wrote grew an tooth
now we rest in the gallows hung loose
razor-toothed poems lacerate my back
blood curdling screams hollow
from
the
smokestacks
nostrils spew fire
mouth sewn through
the
flames
pain me
?

Poets

dreamers
voiceless refugees
fragile
          imperfect...
with images
       to bring alive:
enduring 
            disconnects..
      voiced aloud
unread

Green

Green

As the world becomes more green
With the greatest of intentions
For land and sea, the air we breathe
We are sick with new afflictions

Technology is to simplify
Yet connection, disconnects
Our communities of ‘The Walking Dead’
Are a loss of introspect

As hunger strikes right here at home
We are given what we need
To qualify; less ambition
We are slaves to other’s greed

Life use to be a rainbow
A ROY-G-BIV display
But now, it’s only Red and Blue
Divided
By shades of gray

© 2017 Jeffrey Spencer

Dual Personality

In a flash, coals of darkness strike the night,
her teeth grating... pinched by a rage
screaming on walls that resound from her lungs;
her face spitting out a whorl of madness
in a verbal lash of ten or more whips,
mocking all the way down to the veins…

A furnace of rage disconnects her from some
sense of reality:  the raw edge of irreverence
at every turn... panting, cussing, and cutting
sliced words like broken glass, as though
her heart is unaware of her sense of duality.

She taste the tears of  both wrath and liberation,
plunging down the sunken pit in a hazy blur;
until she hears a voice,” it's alright, girl”...
for her borders cannot see the difference
between another time, another place,
where gentle sighs and harsh  language 
cannot blend as she hardly responds.


For John Lawless: Minced Words Contest
6/24/2016

Trapped

Trapped


Just like a butterfly 
wrapped tight,
her folded wings 
await the flight.
Cocooned, she fears 
what to expect
when from her safety, 
disconnects.
With wings of flight, 
she must escape
into a world 
of new landscape...


Sandra M. Haight

~NA~
Contest: Visualize, Scrutinize and Remark
Sponsor: Forever Malta
Judged: 03/16/2016

Solder Dies

Me asus laptop power onboard plug hole died...so stripped it down and resoldered power connecter. The input plughole had been wobbly.
Put it back together no video...before Sue died..
So been reading up online bout using ovens and heat guns to rerun the solder flow...seems solder goes off sometimes and disconnects onboard video cards etc etc etc....so using online utube articles i identified the video card not working...
The basic reflow idea is to try your heatgun close to a piece of solder time how long till it melts. That is your gun reflow time....when you reflow solder connections u suspect arent connected.
Of course i reseat any plug in cards, tiny bit wd40 to kill corrosion. Non conducter oil.
So after getting hyped up to reflow solder, i didnt have to...i applied pressure to the video chip and it reconnected...ole asus duo core 2.4gig works again....it seems a lot of electrical circuit boards fail due to crappy solder....have heat gun will travel....Don Johnson.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQZ1TLnD3Bo

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