Tag Archives: poem

Computer Love <3

I typed H-E and paused by pressing the equal sign on the keyboard.

This was more than a blinking text cursor.

The other half was batting it’s eyelashes.

Was it flirting?

Flashing a lowercase L?

Or telling me I’m number one?

I pressed play by clicking the greater-than sign on the keyboard and proceeded to type A-R-T.

The word transformed into a picture of the word. It was a bigggggg heart. And I guess that’s what made the only thing move was the spinning beach ball, although, I wasn’t on the net.

Cursor stuck.

Cursing FUCK!

Freeze!

Froze.

Cold heart.

The mouse was just eating out of my palm, but now I’m jerking it back and forth like some string cheese.

It came to as I bowed over the desk and the arrow shot straight for the heart but because the cursor is tilted it missed.

Now the cursor is a small hand L gesture. What?! How am I a loser? I’m not responsible for the arrow being slanted. Hell, I don’t even shoot my gun sideways. I’ll leave that to your modern-day Robin Hoods. I wouldn’t try to attack the bottom of the heart with my pointer even with the heart looking like a bottom, if I may point out. I may cum across as anal paying attention to de-tails like that but fuck it!

Again, why should I have to rest an L on my forehead when there is already an S curled up there? Who am I? Clark Kent at The Daily Planet. If I throw up L then I gotta throw another L up. Laughing like shit ‘cause that’s like the bat-signal for you-know-who to roll on over to my cubicle, batting her eyelashes like Barbara Gordon. Aight, you keep doing that and your lashes gone get stuck in your eye, gone be blind as a bat. Aight, enough clowning around, let’s show my computer love like I-T.

We caps-locked lips. She lifted her foot off the ground. “Damn, her leg looks like an L.” My S curl became erect. Still a little crooked though.

Now the cursor is the rewind button, which is the less-than sign, neighboring the number 3.

We tilt our heads to the right when we’re trying to understand something.

“Understand?”

“Understood.”

To the beat.

This is our song. Let us have the floor, please.

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PO’EM


Don’t tilt the novel, keys open the door
Not the ones with incisors and canines
Put the candle back, keys open the door
The ones with the chopsticks and the fork tines
Now that’s how you open a got damn book
Or a library, welcome to the shhh
Quite quiet ‘nough hear a pen drop you could
Wish Stephen Hawkings was able to pick … shhh
Lightskin from Memphis, I’m a Redmayne too
And I’m the third’s child – a john to black holes
That’s why it’s Michael Myers that comes to
Instead of Jason Voorhees on the stroll
Vrin vrin vrin on thin ice skate fall run fall
Not the great one I’m the only one y’all

Happy 7th Blogiversary FY!!!

ENTER


He enters like Kramer exit Seinfeld
The E-X sloppily slobbed on the knob
The I-T clowned around the peephole, hell
Of a hello ain’t good at goodbyes, sob
When waving, the heart-line in my palm cries
Gotta try to trick head-line it’s a hey
In a voice that’s not flat for the life-line
But your ears hurt and bleed hearing this pain
From stepping on grapes to stepping on glass
Put the H in wine, salty description
Soggy clothes, boat shoes an anchor attached
Can’t see through the tears so my eyes listen
Clean specs, tail end of shirt dry just a smidge
Get over it, yeah walk, don’t jump off bridge

Happy 7th Blogiversary FY!!!

Can a bih marry Juana in this joint?


420 on a foggy Friday day
Can’t see the forest for the tree i hug
Yeah it’s Friday but i’m going to bake
Mary Jane exhaled, “hey, no glove, no love
i don’t want your seeds that sticky icky”
So planted tulips on her rosy cheeks
And i snooped around in my blue Dickies
Fuck TruGreen! i like having grassy weeds
My i’s low no more capital letters
Uppercuts to uppercases wham bam
i got the munchies ultimate cheddar
Catching a red-eye flight to Amsterdam
Going back to Cali for brownie points
Can a bih marry Juana in this joint?

PO’ ET

Top lock for bottom incisors, canines
Door of ‘ortunity is not my opp’
Key to the city cut like the skyline
That’s why I don’t ball up my fist and knock
Hey, photographers, those aren’t lights at night
Bite marks on landmarks sinking teeth into
Playing matchmaker ‘til love at first sight
Orifice meets office, room thirty-two
The mismatches tell a better story
Darkness scattered in random directions
Scared, running from a litt Jason Voorhees
Even the puck and ice a good reference
Damn, one percent left, it’s time to phone home
Hung up when I realized I live alone

the jig is up

999 puzzle pieces pour deliciously on the coffee table

The thousandth ran 2 laps on the grounds before coming to a calm post

The irregular shape of the piece against the perfect tiles makes it look like a spill from this height

Instead of water treating my head line, heart line, and life line, like a finish line, and racing through it like a hare, the shape of this puzzle piece has the profile of a baby tortoise upon slower analysis

“Turtles taste like cardboard” I expressed so I tucked in my puck

Roasting myself like, “You’re such a beanhead for letting that partner of theirs persuade you into spending Starbucks on a 3D puzzle instead of a flat white”

That pile of puzzle pieces sitting atop the mocha lava colored table is sculpted like a volcano, or did those cardboards just fall out the cardboard that way?

Maybe that’s why this turquoise turtle turned course? Poor little thing doesn’t know how to protect itself with its totally coarse shell yet.

Sugar dugar, I’m why your puzzle piece is missing

I have stolen a piece out of every puzzle made since 1991. The piece that most resembles a baby turtle. Don’t ask me how I do it. I don’t share my process with teenagers, mutants, or ninjas.

I was just a weird little zombie kid who wanted pet turtles

Because the pieces were all from different puzzles I never attempted to fill in the blanks with the tabs

Then one day during a commercial break of The Walking Dead I tried out of boredom and something amazing happened …