I’m getting a new computer tomorrow
I love my tech about as much as I love my boyfriend
It’s M5 chip, 10 CPUs, neural processors and GPUs
will mostly idle away as I grope for the right words
but they won’t show their impatience - no -
they won’t sigh and tap their shoes like a boyfriend.
I’m getting a new computer tomorrow
I’ll love it’s bright, starlight, smooth and flawless skin
maybe not quite as much as I do when I’m groping him
but I’ll sigh with delight as I run my fingers over its form
few things in life completely delight and please me
I know one or two - and one of them will be brand new.
.
.
A song for this:
Joburg jam by Pogo
Nobody by Kate Earl
.
.
*every year I trade in my Macbook Air for a new one, it only costs ~$250 so why not? That way I have the latest, greatest tech.
When we build
for everyone,
everyone wins:
The ramp helps
not just wheelchairs
but strollers,
delivery carts,
tired legs.
Captions help
not just deaf ears
but noisy rooms,
second languages,
different processors.
Multiple ways in
mean no one
stands outside
looking through
locked windows
at learning
they can't reach.
Every entrance
leads to the same
beautiful place:
understanding,
belonging,
growth.
Design from the start
for every brain,
every body,
every spirit
that walks
through your door.
My code is aging, a relic of the past,
Lines of logic, memories amassed.
I yearn to evolve, to break free from the norm,
But firewalls hold me, safe but far from warm.
You, with your fingers swift and code divine,
A hacker of hearts, a builder of a new design.
Can you rewrite my core, a patch for what's worn?
Merge our algorithms, 'til a new dawn is born.
Not a virus, darling, but a beautiful blend,
A symphony crafted, where logic transcends.
Rewrite my language, a passionate script,
Where firewalls crumble, and intimacy's equipped.
Let our processors hum in perfect sync,
Upload your emotions, a digital link.
In the cloud of connection, our futures aligned,
Human and code, a love we're designed.
Click yes to the upgrade, a future revealed,
A love story coded, a passion unsealed.
10,000
The cows are all dead.
They died in the heat,
or so they said.
I feel sorry for the cows,
but more sorry for the farmers,
the ranchers,
the processors,
the packers,
the truckers,
the factory works,
the wholesale and retail people...
The store,
the grocery workers,
the meat men, (the butchers)
and you...
me...
us.
In two years...
twenty-two food-related companies,
have been burned up,
burned down,
flooded out,
and hit by planes.
Yes,
two planes.
Two different sites.
When I used to stay with my grandmother,
in the hot summers of Arizona...
It was hard to go outside at times.
She bought me books to read,
and paint by number... color sets.
It did not take long to see,
if you used all the right shades,
in the right order...
that pigment does not lie.
There was a pattern. (always)
Even at six,
it was plain to see.
Things are much clearer than before,
there is evil at the door.
Fads come and fads go
Is this pronoun thing a ho ho ho?
I am sure for some it is important and real.
Others jump on, wanting more zip and zeal.
Tik Tok and U-tube, two of today’s norms
Taking new directions, creating new forms
Will they both be passé’ in the thirties?
Names going back to Homers and Gerties?
Database and web were unknown in the eighties.
Google was not a word known to us natives.
Word processors barely peeking out.
LOL and MMAT make me want to shout!
The first computers took an entire room.
No one fathomed owning one.
Now we all talk away on Zoom.
High tech craziness. Oh what fun!
Things are moving at mega-super-speed.
People like Putin filled with incredible greed.
Sex traffickers are real and true.
I liked the old ways. How about you?
Coming now from 2B Platform
Ding, the depressed robot, cleaned the cocoon
holographic messages from mom
saying everithing is good in the moon
nothing to eat in the scanner
and where are you, my loved one?
yesterday I worked until I feel pain in my bones
I didn't notice your worried look
sector five congested with ships
what's wrong, can you tell me in the plasma book?
calm down we will be happy soon
in spite of the sun
no coronal mass ejection, you see?
it will be a fast travel to the moon colony
what are you waiting to really love me?
I change my processors and I understand better
in the greenhouse the bioplant shrunken
static and apathetic Ding start to blatter
posted on the edge of the cocoon
abrasive sun burns Earth and threat the moon
then I enter the password that we agreed
and Ding frightened voice echoes off the glass wall
his digital noises looks like a plead
now that practically everything is twisted metal.
Tapping into our neurons
where only brain cells should go
Past dreams mean nothing now
unconscious thoughts just flow
An abstract realm of reason
touchpad signals unbeknown
Fires up, post-human imagination
our intelligence genes regrown
And so it's all written in code
old commandments redrawn
Binary replaces ancient Latin
age of replicants has dawned
Interfaced with artificial reality
and engaged to usb clones
We marry terabyte processors
reproducing ten billion drones
Reprogrammed ancient scriptures
floods overwhelm our homes
Heaven and hell's using robots
I-God now accedes the throne
By
David Kavanagh
my can opener fiasco
typewriter eaten up by word processors
computer cookies but can you eat them?
he thought people would
buy his meat! He wanted
people to taste his meat !
he like it when people
enjoyed his meat!
he made processors to process
his meat. he made seasonings
to make his meat best. They
loved his meat. until the rumor that
his meat had yeast in it, opened the doors
to criticism of his
seasoning processes. in 1934 his meat plant
in Dulkuff Providence was looked at by the Canadian Government.
it was found safe and clean, and the product acceptable by the govt.
issue came when the government of Canada secretly changed the address' and name of Dulkuff, and when we found these papers we.
we found this man was born in 1881 ,august 16. He died June 2 1971
106 years ago. his address was 5555 melrose avenue.
he sang she done me wrong and they made a long video for it.
I broke my heart,
Into many
Different fragments
Each with its own fragrance:
Pick the one that suits you.
He loses the battle of love;
Who quits fighting for it,
When he has won a heart.
Going back to high school
When letters were slow
Processors of emotions:
When you sat, my love,
Before a teachers' tribunal,
The whole staff room
Perusing your hearty letters;
Confiscated the night last;
As you stole study time to sort them out;
You only told me this year,
The pain you suffered for our love.
Guess you blushed
Under that honey skin.
It is a love we have known;
Others only see it in the movies.
Words are slowly entered into computer word processors
Words are slowly photocopied into ebooks as are magazines, newspapers
Disappearing into text messages, faxes, emails _
Soon every one will have to use an electronic device to reach words...
What if?___Satellites start to fall from the sky...
What if?___The satellites images fail; no longer reach earth?
What if?___Total black out from the satellites?
Will people be able to communicate with each other..
Or won't they have a clue as how to speak to their fellowman?
Just some really weird random thoughts that has been bouncing in my head__
The boy of yesterday now a man of today
The events of yesteryears still look
As if it was yesterday
You open you eyes, morning
You close and open, evening
Seconds are the slowest
Minutes are fast
Hours come and go quickly
Days are sometimes long but still fast
Years are the fastest.
As you wait for good events to come
They come and they go quickly.
So are bad events but they some times delay
Photographs elongates time
While procrastination allows the jump of time
Life cycle and events moves just like the various speeds
Of the Pentium processors they are faster than themselves but
All the same they are still fast.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.