Long Broadband Poems
Long Broadband Poems. Below are the most popular long Broadband by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Broadband poems by poem length and keyword.
Hardware
to spare
Software
quite bare
Firmware
full glare
Upload
bug sowed
Download
smart code
Cursor
fervour
Cyber
fibre
Password
absurd
Hard disc
at risk
windows
hellos
Wide screen
green scene
Hotspot
jackpot
Screen shot
rogue bot
Desktop
nonstop
Thumbnail
all hail
Clipart
from heart
Browser
dowser
Broadband
grandstand
Toolbar
gold star
Macro
steals show
Micro
back row
Wizard
not hard
Rich text
what next?
Template
create
Pixel
oh well
Sharp hack
attack
Portal
mortal
Mail merge
we purge
Dot-com
random
Systems
victims
Viral
tidal
Net world
unfurled
I wonder if God had a Facebook account
what sort of things that he might post,
some selfies, maybe of him and his son,
and his other old friend, Holy Ghost.
His favourite music he'd put there to share
such as Handel's 'Messiah' or 'Te Deum',
While he lolls about sat in his favourite throne
and gets all of his Angels to play 'em.
His followers, there would be millions of them
but all the same none of them he would miss,
though it is safe to say he's unfriended Old Nick
and crossed him off his Christmas card list.
His family videos would be thin on the ground,
for the first billion years at least,
till his son came along and fed crowds thousands strong
now, that guy, he sure puts on a feast.
His life was cut short and they all must have thought
that was it, but he proved them all wrong,
three days dead with the baddies but was rescued by daddy
which was cool, 'coz he knew all along.
And being all knowing, his I.T skills showing,
Facebook he would easily master,
but Millennia pass, he stares at the hourglass
and wishes that his Broadband was faster.
as Las Vegas blood pours on Manchester in droplets the shape of poker chips scattered, dropped by a God laughing all the way to the bank
when the lattice streets, corners and cobbles and bridges of London bend with a gasp backward, with the suppleness of a rheumatic spine, to lay a hand over a Barcelona street and Parisian concert hall, whilst trying to shade a train track in Madrid from searing heat, although years before
where Dachau had no birdsong, its buildings walled away from ignorant eyes, death camps today are not so silent with their terror in plain sight, hidden inside vans and suburban semis, in red brick lecture halls, in hundred and forty characters that hashtag extremist slaughter
beside an Orlando rainbow strewn with special offer laptops that print out onto paper guides to gain a gun or build a bomb to ram a Berlin Christmas market where mulled scents of a year are muted by screaming wi-fi connections allowing a faceless anybody to sign up to chat rooms to fell fellow men for beliefs to better an already fallen foreign land, lost
alongside the fallen of the Great War that are not forgotten because they fall today, still - only now, in shorter pockets of horror: in broadband routed trenches untraceable; dug within devices cradled in a millennial’s palm
Attorney General William
Barr black marker in hand
kept promise to censor vital
details of Mueller Report
swift as Usain Bolt candidly,
grandly, lustrously, roundly
youthfully blocked out more
rapid than an elegant eland
vibrantly, regally, magically,
and gracefully skirts borderland
which favored topography
constitutes grassland or woodland,
far more pleasing to observe,
than reading adulterated brand
of aforementioned compilation,
distillation, edification, fortification
zeroing questionable activity
upon head of trumpeting brigand,
whose arrivistic, bombastic, caustic,
demonic, electric broadband
outsize ego still convinces
me, thee commander in chief
delegated one or more chargehand
perhaps while delighting as
gourmand savoring chateaubriand,
where his best buddies imagined
themselves in seventh heaven cloudland
every so often taking siesta sans repast
or golfing with grisly handicapped clubhand
non verbally communicating,
in viz sub bully taking a peas zing
cues from presidential high command,
which coterie (i.e. den of thieves)
manipulated social media with nefarious,
insidious, deleterious, et cetera
analogous to "FAKE" contraband,
maybe even milking innocent cowhand
unwittingly planting GMO electronic
bugs amidst future bovine fodder cropland
to allow, enable, and jackknife demand
that moost every eligible voter tricked
induced by virtual reality dreamland
with sinister motive for thee "Apprentice"
rule his kingdom, and expand,
realm asper Medieval days
declaring himself chieftain of fatherland
and/ or North American motherland
where naysayers guillotined
by uncontested firebrand,
who without provocation
very likely bomb into Stone Age
formerly edenic, lush, verdant
geography into flatland
rendered hostile, poisonous and uninhabitable
nonetheless radiating for miles with gangland
forced labor tilling barren, desolate, fissured
landscape erecting unsightly grand
standing room only (cause he know Shylock)
terrain (reign) vast highland
manor as poobah, and husband
to his only heiress, the former
a kooky monster from foggy bottom marshland.
There is a rocket firing off today
Sending a business adventure trip far away
With the thunder below
Up it will go
Looking to put technology in the sky
In a late afternoon scripted signature that everyone on the beach will wave bye bye
Falcon number nine is spending the dime
To climb climb climb
Calling the plays from the huddle
Very near to the pad for the shuttle
Internet interaction will be shared
In this mechanical bon voyage that has flair
Traveling to many orbits out there
Sixty broadband satellites will be dispersed
Into the vast universe
After the fact that been confirmed
Space X had money to burn
Linking the stars from above
With Intergalactic communication that fits like a glove
T Minus the launch will be here
Giving us new apps to play with next year
Sock drawer poets they called us,
All our scribblings secreted away,
Composed then filed unread,
Hidden from the light of day.
And then along came the Tablet
And universal broadband,
Fast Internet coverage spreading
Length and breadth of the land.
Friendships made on common
Interest sites, ideas exchanged
Unpublished works published
Concepts read and explained.
Performance Poets appeared
Open Mic nights became the rage
The musician and the poet often
Willingly sharing the same stage.
We performed in bars, pubs clubs
And they called it Spoken Word
And against all the odds
Sock drawer poetry was heard.
It’s a thriving living culture now
Not quite, they say, high art,
But in its own little way
It’s certainly playing its part.
The poetry of the intellectual,
Needing a classical education,
Has now greatly been replaced
By that accessible to the nation.
No longer is it necessary to have
A dictionary of quotation to hand
For the reader or the listener
To appreciate and understand.
Let them have Ballet and High Opera,
Their Fine Dining and Modern Art,
All those acquired tastes that help
Split out society into its various parts.
The culture of the masses has given
The common people greater choice
It’s vital and it’s vibrant and growing
And it’s given the people their voice.
Internet Down Again!
My broadband connection is off,
And has been every evening,
Since i upgraded to Infinity,
Frustration has proximity.
Anger is on the hob,
Boiling up from within,
I don’t know why it doesn’t work,
And won’t just take it on the chin.
I won’t grin and look away,
In my stupidity and ignorance,
Just because I need a techy person,
To rectify the interference.
I don’t think I need an engineer,
To visit and poke and prod,
At my body part and vital switch,
At the vehicle of the baud.
There’s something wrong at their end,
So I did email them that it was down,
Far too often for my large pale,
Makes me curse, jeer and frown.
Does your TV have a timer?
Will it turn off automatic?
I miss the days of simple viewing and television static.
On switch
Off switch
No subscriptions and way less problematic.
Before never needing a broadband service ,
electric installation or a qualified mechanic
Thirty-nine minutes I've searched in a crazed and frenzied panic.
If you could see me now
How I am reacting...
you'd think I was about to board the sinking ship Titanic.
I've even looked in all the pockets, of everybody's jacket.
But how else am I supposed to watch my favorite drama?
And all of its dramatics
The only silver lining is my toddler's nursery rhymes
She asks for, so eagerly erratic
Ive not had to endure such noise or listen to its racket
The Whole World In His Band
God wants the whole world in His band
Brothers and sisters of the land
Followers singing His commands
Connecting through heaven’s broadband.
Sing in praise all ye that do stand
On the Lord’s glorious bandstand
Sing how it is, holding God's hand
Lord and conductor of the band.
Children come along, clap your hands
To beat of drums and baby grands
With skips and hops dance to the band
For God so loves His precious lambs.
All Birds and creatures of the land
Join with us too, it's your homeland
Sea creatures from depths of sea-land
Swell the choirs of the Lord’s mainland.
The Lord takes hold of one's right hand
He's the saviour of those hearts fanned
By faithful members of the band
That lead us to the promised land.
Altogether now hand in hand
God wants the whole world in His band.
5th May 2021
The master of the living room
‘Cause I’ve got the clicker
My children, to my tastes shall groom
‘Cause I’ve got the clicker
They storm around, they scream and shout
They act as if they’re al put out
They whine and moan, complain and pout
‘Cause I’ve got the clicker
Procedurals, I won’t partake
‘Cause I’ve got the clicker
Network news lies and berates
But I’ve got the clicker
Adventure tales, I am a fan
Better sit-coms, I can stand
But mostly I steam on broadband
When I have the clicker
Reality, thy grind at me
So I grab the clicker
A stress release, so great the need
So I grab the clicker
To reset faith with simple tales
To restore peace amidst travails
I rarely feel so week or frail
When I’ve got the clicker.