#computer poem

[carriejonesbooks]

What we are, what we might be, a poem

Here’s a poem. Hey, thanks for listening to Carrie Does Poems. The music you hear is made available through the creative commons and it’s a bit of a shortened track from the fantastic Summer Spliff by Broke for Free.

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[teenknifecrime]

hunter in the mobile

honey, we can tell you’ve aimed this gun so long outside the house. a blast in here would turn up nails and fill the fucking place with so much sun to shun the color-coded books and coddled steel you keep your cloudboys in. too much heat in here would melt the frames off and let memories skulk their inching right past the mattress and up that five inch gap you’re such a brag about. maybe wish I’d crawled at night too. gotten to the hidden stuff it takes pliers and the teeth-grit panting of Friday nights to go through. could not be a bother to look, though. kept my thumb to myself and would not let it rut the shallows of your tidy closets.

[teenknifecrime]

lane.

no such thing as good sleep. dreamless sleep is heavy and lets the clots sink thick up to the neck. 

a grunt to rip them up inside the veins and let  a reverb thump up  through face muscles, shake the crowns a little.

all that other stuff fed  is pale thin and only seeps out from growing pores, the burrows where clean rags show up each day to plug the pour holes.

morning and all that lay has been is good practice. no longer afraid of dark, no longer scared to be laid forever. 

stuck a thumb today through loosing sutures and all the meat was dirt already. went to seed already in the garden and that’s why you stopped talking. 

you’re afraid you’re speaking flowers still and scared the blossom spit will speed up seedpods already an ache to bloom inside the bloodstream.

[teenknifecrime]

bring the long arms, Louise

bring me the belly thick adipose and wanting. bring the braids and shoulder bones in all their pieces limp against the knit top loose weave. bring the trees and leap them, leap with hips and thigh meat strong and ready to forget the woodland. leave the sprites, the winter, the frost and needles in the pines. bring guitar to smash and mandolin strings, tie the splinters to the pile- the homestead heap to leave behind in black and white world.

you are red lips now. you are dagger-heeled and huffing gold rope to the throat of stage fright. you let auburn bores do work among the crowds and city streets. there is no more slope-back sway in local shadow, no meandering the bay. this is wild divine, full swing and made-up on the dancefloor. 

[teenknifecrime]

young deer

the shark’s tooth has no nerve, so like that meet the men. meet defeat and winning so light and swinging they’re forced to count your stripes. pounds landing right where you’re waiting for them, knifefight gouging bigger chunks from the bastard than the fruit. free all mind from feel of felt, sweat and cooking smell of the meat- no need now to have those senses take the space up of new sharpness, narrow and animal skill instead of everywhere brut of strength. twist so much now your body will be so much space left bare. open, you will know each gape is shark’s mouth so, so ready to eat up alive.

[bukowskiqotd-blog]

my first computer poem

have I gone the way of the deathly death? will this machine finish me where booze and women and poverty have not?

is Whitman laughing at me from his grave? does Creeley care?

is this properly spaced? am I?

will Ginsberg howl?

soothe me!

get me lucky!

get me good!

get me going!

I am a virgin again.

a 70-year-old virgin.

don't fuck me, machine

do. who cares?

talk to me, machine!

we can drink together. we can have fun.

think of all the people who will hate me at this computer.

we'll add them to the others and continue right on.

so this is the beginning not the end. 

- Run with the Hunted, 2003 Ecco. 

[fivebyfivehundred]

The Hacker

(After Poe’s ‘The Raven’)

Once upon a midnight dreary,  surfing, clicking weak and weary, Over many a meme I’d seen before, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a typing, As of some old friend skyping, skyping at my monitor. `’Tis some…

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[landmyrmaid]

Computer Blues

Oh, Computer when you buffer muchly I suffer The longer you take the more, you, I want to break That bar that moves so slowly it makes me feel quite lowly As you move like a snail greatly I ail Please, Oh, Computer, go faster! I watch, held in rapture Finally! It moves an inch! Oh, wait... No it didn't. Oh Computer, You're such a grinch!