Lcd Poems

MONITOR

MONITOR

Just there for display, my role is passive
Just on off or sleep, as I never do much
As I’m of that older generation, you see
We even used to be designated an LCD
Yet familiar with acronyms, such as USB
But now, some are responding to touch
And ever larger, some are quite massive 

Proud of my role, and to be clearly seen
Although of an age, my pixels are intact
The dusted surface still retains that gloss
No blobs or lines up and down or across
And some shame to concede such a loss
It’s still not bad how all the colours react
But at end of the day, I am just a screen

Audio Bugs and Hidden Cameras

Supari type thugs often use spy gadgets,audio bugs and hidden cameras to record audio and video.Spy gadgets are available in the shape of internet modem,usb device,mobile charger,energy saver,switch socket,Lcd,TV, trolley, Writing Pen,Ladies Purse,Suit Button,Hand watch,Head Cap,AC,Glasses,flower pot,cloth hanger and washroom mirror.Spy gadgets need electricity to work and that is why they are often attached with internet and telecommunication devices.
Spy gadgets are planted in the Lounge,home,office,guest house and hotel rooms.
Note.Grow up Dude no dues are Left...

And Then I Cracked

The LCD stares back at me.
I long for home time,  to be set free.
The clock on the wall 
Seems to have stalled. 
Lashed to my desk with headset on
The days seems one long marathon.
Like a bird in a cage 
But i'm paid a wage. 
Im like a parrot with a script
A bird with my feathers clipped.
Looking out on open sky’s
And wondering why, why, why.
My bills reach towards the sky
And so my life clock ticks on by 
The pressures builds and then I crack
Another bloody heart attack.

bringing ever nearer the day I will die.

Bazaar

World of colours twinkling like stars,
I really wonder, how mesmerising could be Bazaar.

When one is low, 
When one is free,
When one wants to have some fun,
Going to bazaar would be awesome.

Wow! See that shop.
Don’t you feel, we should stop!
Tinkling chimes,
Hanging in line.
I want to stop here for a while.

Those sequinned cushions,
All in white.
Could there be something, even more bright!

See that hoard of antique next to the boutique,
From fairy land to queen land, what a transit!

Look at the horde out there!
LCD on the wall and cricket in the air.
Oh ho! That’s a restaurant!
People are being served on the chair.
That’s indeed a tricky affair.
Let me also take a break,
And grab my cake.

Hey! You don’t wait!
Walk around! This place is great.

22/2/19

Zombies

Zombies
By LDB

The day my heart fell was the day I met you
Crashing, like the peaking waves in the LCD were true
But I was dead when I met you and first held your hand
Alcohol and addiction fresh in my system; its there you understand

Zombie eyes reflecting at me between the cracks of my bathroom mirror
The scars are prominant and the smile lines are getting clearer
Im getting dizzy in the coldness of your vacant hurricane madness
Your storm made me a captive of my self-loathing sadness

You’re a fading signal between the crashing waves of unrequited lotalty
Freezing here, in the eternal summer emptiness filled only by memories
You left me with bad dreams, open wounds, and insecurities
But I’m so thankful that you’re gone; i’m proud of myself for staying strong

I’m an addict in every single possible way, and the closing walls are bleeding in my cage
I brave a smile as the scars deepen and the smile lines display my premature age
Sometimes I wish I could disapear into those waves of darkness all over again
But as you fade into stories and distant memories, I’ve found a brighter face where love begins

Poems After More News Observations

Poems After More News Observations

Jumping to conclusions about justice obstruction
May cause production of a mathematical deduction;
Reached an end,
And this did send;
Start over from beginning with a new construction.

What is Trump's lowest common denominator 
LCD anyway. Not only has he been common 
but also has a low opinion of everything including
himself.

Jim Horn
Must start from beginning with a new construction.

Vision On

Our first TV, a Mullard, maybe Murphy, black and white
five minutes for it to warm up, and it smelt of Bakelite,
the back was made of hardboard punched with rows of tiny slots
which cast a reddish glow when all the valves were getting hot.
The space left at the back was there, since I was five years old
to squeeze behind and then adjust the horizontal hold.
The vertical one was a pain as Mum sat with a frown
as I twiddled the knob and watched her head move up and down.
The reward for all my efforts when I got the jumping stopped
was fifteen minutes watching 'Bill and Ben' or 'Woodentops'.
Today it's auto tuning, LCD and big flat screen
with symbols on the bottom edge, still don't know what they mean.
No local man to fix it should the thing pack up and die,
it's Mishti on the phone from a call centre in Mumbai.
The reason  there's no picture and the sound quality's poor? 
The thing's so light, the Cat has gone and knocked it on the floor.

Lcd

Part of the denominator, 
extraordinary matters level off 
and find the lowest trough. 
The so-called experts 
joust with the pretenders, 
and they are wrestling still. 

In days of yore the Seer 
would proclaim the truth, 
accepted by the old, the youth, 
whereas for now we do His will. 
Are we shackled, are we freer, 
hungrily our mouths to fill? 

Time will not stand for surety, 
the prophet's exhortations gone to dust, 
while totems crumble, metals turn to rust, 
we try to compromise, a bitter pill 
for those who crave acerbity 
and swear our bliss to spill. 

Were we to strike good earth, 
avoid all roiling undulation, 
seek and hold a firm foundation, 
and ascend the highest hill, 
then would excellence be realized for what it's worth, 
and our hopes and dreams we would fulfill.

Lcd

Part of the denominator,
extraordinary matters level off
and find the lowest trough.
So-called excellence will
joust with tomfoolery,
and they are wrestling still.

In days of yore the seer
would declaim the truth, 
accepted by the old, the youth,
whereas for now the spirits mill,  
are we shackled, are we freer,
hungry now our mouths to fill?

Time will not stand for surety,
the prophet's exclamation gone to dust,
while totems crumble, metals turn to rust,
we try to compromise, a bitter pill
for those who crave acerbity
and swear our bliss to spill.

Were we to strike good earth,
avoid all roiling undulation,
seek and hold a firm foundation,
and ascend the highest hill,
then would excellence be realized for all its worth, 
and our hopes and dreams we would fulfill.

Wasting Life

I woke up today or was it yesterday

I dress to leave like I did on Tuesday or was it Wednesday

I drive the mile to work or did I, I can't remember as I do it everyday

The lcd screen stares back it me for the next 8 hours 

Life is like breathing but it hurts with the never ending fulitity 

Your just part of the machine, invisible 

Your hopes your dreams, just jokes to make god laugh 

Your kids the next call centre fodder, or fries with that burger sir 

Your an ant one in a trillion, your problem is you know it now

Virtuality

we share a love, you and I;

uploaded amongst the wireless bandwidths, bits and bytes, enmeshed and encrypted.

a love transcending beyond the mesh of space and time;

a love that’s spread on the pane of an lcd screen.



with every keystroke, our passion we spell;

coded texts morph into fiery love making while i trace your avatar with my mouse

and i fiercely kiss the air as i view your web cam view
while you my love, you fondle your bosom in sheer ecstasy.

and a collective sigh we shared, as we reach our pseudo ******;


the router lost its connection; and we, my love, are no longer entwined.

in the disconnected void i wonder- truly, we are but strangers – on when we will first meet.


if we do my dear, will we share this love in REALITY?

Silence

Silence
By Kevin Robey
September 14, 2013

After all the chaos, nothing left but silence
Stray thoughts die away in the ambulance
Dripping clear fluid lines the bags hanging on
The drops sounding the siren of my dying song

Am I coming or going? I can hardly tell
Is it the smile or frown I’m trying to sell?
I try so hard to fill the silence in my mind
Hearing my name, these echoes are mine

Hard to say if I miss the confusion and pain
We found our truths were one in the same
Now all I hear is the wailing sirens call
Maybe I’ll find the meaning of every fall

While each ascending peak on the LCD screen
Takes us a little farther from happier scenes 
My weathered heart beats from beneath the ashes
Rising above the scenes of continuous car crashes

Six O'Clock

Look to the right
Look to the left
Look down in front
Take my first step

Eyes on the clock
Then up the block
Something ain't right
It's six o'clock

Bus isn't here
Isn't this great!
Want that promotion
Being late will raise the stakes

Finally here
Guess I'm sittin in the rear
Out the window
So dark outside
Makes it challenging  to remember pride

Through traffic lights
Lots and lots of ring tones
Lit up LCD Screens
This is something 
I could've lived without seeing

120 min 
Seems sooo long
Wish I could nap
So hard to relax
I'll sit back,
Throw on my MP3
Cant let this long journey get a hold of me
Arrive to work
Yep, I spilled coffee on my shirt
Too late to fix
Now it's the color of bricks
Oh well.
Seems to be a colorful day
Don't think everything will go my way

Monitor's Premonition

MONITOR'S PREMONITION
Your heart is the size
Of your fist
Is it a hearsay?
A tell tale
A belief-
He is booked
Tentacles arrested him
With vacuum locks.
Lying pale in blue open coat
Chest, right and left
Ankles, wrists and abdomen.
Lines on screen dances
With eerie steps
Primitive dance of aborigines.
Is he sleeping
A dreamless sleep,
Lustreless, but final
Dripping capsules locked.
Succession of births
Immanent sense of sin
Of births previous
Last step to transmigration

A drop of blood
Libation and flood.
Graphic lines weary
Ending up
Straight line to infinity.
A muffled cough
Chocked
Bladders pumping, shocks
A tornado, frightened silence
Hush-hush-
Tentacles withdrawn,
Mummified in sleeping bag
Alarms, sirens
Traveller to Zion
A long ride, the last.
With icy hands laid
On prey
LCD is switched off.

Lcd (Looting Contrivance Disease)

The health bill crawls to a finish
thanks to that turncoat, Kucinich,
selling that socialist streak
that renders everyone weak
like Popeye without his spinach.

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