Still piano dreams,
dreams in my head are playing.
Playing with the skills of a master,
master of debilitating your sadness.
Sadness identifies the toxicity inside,
inside metastasizing into a notification
notification of imagination amplifying in you.
You embody tenacity, fluidity, determination,
determination incinerates any hesitation.
Hesitation is acceleration for downfall,
downfall is the catalyst for a tempo.
Tempo changes fueled by emotion,
emotion will ebb and flow
flow like ivory.
Forecast of Uncertainties in this World
I unlocked my planner and set the timer,
Mapped out the itinerary, made everything
Rhyme.
I checked the screen for a clear blue sky,
But the world doesn't care about a "How or a "Why",
The Forecast shifts from minute to minute,
A brand-new hour with a surprise gathered in it.
I write down my future in unending ink,
But the world has an eraser faster than you Think.
There's no app to download for what's coming next,
No warning notification or heads-up text.
We're all just driving through a heavy mist,
Checking off boxes on a broken list.
But maybe the trick to the shifting wind,
Perhaps is letting the unexpected moments in.
You can't control where the whirlwind will blow,
You just modify your sails and let the rest go.
In the digital kitchen where metaphors boil,
I cast my rhymes into the simmering soup,
Hoping for gold in the luminous toil,
Watching the cursor in a silvery loop.
A notification blooms—a digital flower—
First place! The screen turns into a glowing violet,
I am a giant for one shining hour,
Wearing a crown made of a pristine sonnet.
The poets applaud with binary applause,
My words are like pearls in a silken sack,
Suspended high above the gravity laws,
Without any intention of looking back.
Then comes the speechlessness—a vast, white void,
Another contest, another empty plate,
My rhyme is shattered, a paper humanoid,
Left in the digital vestibule of fate.
The soup is bitter, the pixels turn to grey,
I drown in the stanzas that nobody reads,
Watching my reputation drift away,
Among the respectable mentioned weeds.
I am climbing a ladder made of commas,
Falling into a valley of exclamation points,
Winning and losing, the constant dramas,
Where the screen aches in its digital joints.
The winner is a ghost in a tuxedo,
The loser is a shadow on the wall,
Yet both are feeding the same hungry ego,
In the soup that tastes like nothing at all.
Lord,
I’ve forgotten the password of my heart.
I tried three times,
and now my soul is temporarily locked.
Please send me a verification code,
a dream, a rain,
or at least a knock on the window,
so I know you still exist.
I opened the Holy Book in my browser,
but it loaded slowly,
and the angel on the right is on leave.
I write prayers in the chat,
but the reply comes
with an automatic message:
“Your request is important to us.”
Time hurts me, Lord,
like an endless notification.
My longing refreshes itself,
my hopes empty from the cache.
And yet,
when night falls and heaven is quiet,
I feel you refreshing me within,
like a Father who still believes
the prodigal son will log in again.
In a world woven with wires,
I stand still,
a stranger in the hum of voices,
the glow of screens reflecting
a pale loneliness against my skin.
Friendships flicker like dying flames,
texts sent into the void,
echoes of laughter lost
in the thrum of busy signals,
each notification a reminder,
of the spaces that grow deeper,
instead of filling with warmth.
How fragile the bridge of connection,
laid across the chasms of silence,
where hearts beat out of sync,
and the faces we see
are mere pixels,
floating just beyond our reach.
I reach for you,
but my fingers touch only
the cool glass of a phone,
a promise of something genuine,
shattered by the speed of life,
like leaves swept in a gust,
unanchored, unbound.
Yet in this disarray,
I yearn for the days
when laughter rolled,
unfiltered and free,
and eyes met without barriers,
in the sun’s embrace,
where distance was simply
a flat horizon,
and warmth was felt,
not imagined.
But the world keeps spinning,
tethered by threads of technology,
as I stand here yearning,
a spirit adrift,
seeking the shores
of connection once more.
Disconnected
In a world woven with wires,
I stand still,
a stranger in the hum of voices,
the glow of screens reflecting
a pale loneliness against my skin.
Friendships flicker like dying flames,
texts sent into the void,
echoes of laughter lost
in the thrum of busy signals,
each notification a reminder,
of the spaces that grow deeper,
instead of filling with warmth.
How fragile the bridge of connection,
laid across the chasms of silence,
where hearts beat out of sync,
and the faces we see
are mere pixels,
floating just beyond our reach.
I reach for you,
but my fingers touch only
the cool glass of a phone,
a promise of something genuine,
shattered by the speed of life,
like leaves swept in a gust,
unanchored, unbound.
Yet in this disarray,
I yearn for the days
when laughter rolled,
unfiltered and free,
and eyes met without barriers,
in the sun’s embrace,
where distance was simply
a flat horizon,
and warmth was felt,
not imagined.
But the world keeps spinning,
tethered by threads of technology,
as I stand here yearning,
a spirit adrift,
seeking the shores
of connection once more.
Smoke rises from the hill
another B-47 gone
Who was it?
Notification comes in a blue car
two officers
wives wait
It turns in street,
a driveway.
Oh no,
not her!
Kill a family
"They also serve
who only stand and wait."
Wish
I made a wish for
Elmwood Airport hangers to
store official notification of
facts, and, to
store liquor with a
raw egg base.
Ruined by puddles of porch rain
before you had a chance to bring it,
much less break it in;
The robotic reply of ‘Order canceled.
Your item is out of stock. Refunded.’
throws you into a total panic;
As far away as it seems,
there was a world before Amazon;
A girls day of enraptured perusing,
labels brand boxes and Big Brown bags;
A flurry of stores flowing with specialities
speak to patrons who pause then pay them;
Pulling apart plastic to try that purchase,
nothing feels quite like retail therapy;
Pivot from store to store bargain hunting,
in the end you always leave with something;
As far away as it seems,
there was a world before Amazon;
At the mall you don’t need patience,
just indulge instant gratification;
No need for a new notification;
Online is simple, until it isn’t.
If we were forced to let computers go?
We’d still keep spinning and shopping.
As far away as it seems,
there was a world before Amazon.
In modern times, it's plain to see.
We are a slave to our own technology.
It's more than a habit, it's quite an affliction.
To see such mobile phone addiction.
We scroll and swipe, but at what cost?
The art of communication is lost.
With every ding and every ping.
Our lives revolve around every ring.
Our eyes fixated on our screens.
Oblivious to everything.
A virtual world, with no holds barred.
No need to leave a calling card.
Whilst scrolling through each notification.
You need to curb this phone fixation.
As people walk down city streets.
There nose fixed firmly at their feet.
Absorbed within those tiny screens.
Distracted from almost everything.
We are using whilst we drive our cars.
To me, this is just so bizarre.
You're on TikTok, you're on hands free.
Whilst aimlessly scrolling through your feed.
A life inside this tiny bubble.
Can cause so much pain and so much trouble.
Let's pause and ponder, take a step back.
Find balance again, get back on track.
For while tech can connect us, it can also divide.
So let’s cherish real moments and open our eyes.
Middle aged man in Docs,
vintage leather jacket and
grey haired pubes around his cock.
Ill fitting tour shirts rekindling a hazy past.
Barrowlands, The Bunnymen. Hammersmith Odeon,The Clash.
U2 at University pre Bono crawling up his own ****.
Danced and hugged on stage with Terry Hall,
arrested for d&d outside Bradfords Great Hall,
after watching John Cooper Clarke supporting The Fall.
Life reinvigorated by the post punk explosion,
no longer searching the NME gig guide,
but a Spotify recommendation.
or an even sadder email notification.
A pre gig meal opposed to a walk home pie in a barm.
Ear buds for the tinnitus and Bisoprolol to keep calm.
Heartbreak to watch the talent unrewarded,
by a government devoid of a cultural foresight.
Stifled opportunities
through Tory Brexit lies,
Allowing the corporations of Cowles and the EMI’s to
reap million upon million,
leaving the grassroots unnurtured, venues struggling to stay open.
Our greatest export,
an industry broken.
I am longing for somebody.
But do I have the right to feel this way?
He’s not mine—not yet, not ever.
But he’s trapped in my mind, now and forever.
Every time I check my phone,
I’m hoping for your name in my notification zone.
Fearful of losing each other in this game of confusion,
My heart longs for you; now that’s my confession.
If granted one wish today,
I’d choose to see you and ask for time to run slowly.
I may not be yours tomorrow or even today,
You’ll always be at the heart of my poetry.
The scrabble app says it misses me
It sends a notification to remind me
It's lonesome without me.
Let Poirot use his little gray cells,
Let Miss Marple knit too much,
Let me just catch up.
Dust the unused corners,
Sweep away the cobwebs,
Throw out the crumbs
Of procrastination.
Poirot and Miss Marple are characters in Agatha Christie novels
Subscribe, like and hit that notification button,
and also make sure to leave your comments.
Trolls, feel free to leave your comments too.
I'll even engage in a war of words with you.
All of the above will help with my channel's algorithms,
which will allow me to provide you with more quality content.
Translation
I Want Money,
so do all of the above, then YouTube will reward me monetarily.
I sleep
And sleep
And I push the alarm away
I open my eyes and go about my day
Readying for the dance
Picking up and carrying my bags
Walking to the venue
Arriving at the door
I feel the buzz of my phone in pocket
And I open it and see your picture notification
Pushed in my face are new pictures
New pictures of you and your new boo
The taunting words I can hear you say
Can you see the difference!?
Will you too be at the dance?
And I enter anxious
I enter alone
And I sit isolated from the others
When my alarm goes off again
I open my eyes
And I’m shaken
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