Poem-A-Day: Day 329

Scorned and the Damned

The scorned and the damned
have to be.
There’s no other choice,
no literal translation of the language
that has become accustomed.
Of the hundreds of things known,
little more than none have left marks,
they’ve made makers of them:
the scorned and the damned.
Have to be
somewhere, some final destination,
the layers, upon layers, adding up
but never coming to equation.
The hands, hot heat and burning oil;
scarring slaps familiar scented,
and the strange idea that they
have to be
the scorned and the damned.

Poem-A-Day: Day 328

Omega

The weight strangles the eyes
without abiding to constraint,
and giggles in the background
echo off red light reflections.
Goldfish dance dirty through the fog
as clocks tell different stories,
and closet doors wheeze skeletons
onto stainy carpet floors.
There’s a hum,
trying to hum sleep in deaf ears,
but the damnable things keep happening.
A rustle is nothing more than sounds;
deep resonation through possible,
or what may be tub or toilet.
The tugging is too much in the end,
and it becomes the end to means,
the coming to terms with grip.

Poem-A-Day: Day 327

The Future of Progress

The future supplies business application,
complex event processing,
and infrastructure responsiveness,
providing progress through lighting:
the largest single source for energy,
more than 21000 megawatts of generation capacity.
The future tells local news,
sports,
entertainment,
and classifieds.
The future is a progressive think tank
offering policy proposals,
talking points,
events,
news and columns,
a royal journey marked by pomp and pageantry,
a liberal blog on the science,
solutions,
and politics of climate change,
a think tank
devoted to the study of the digital revolution
that generally supports deregulation
and movement,
as in, toward a goal,
to advance,
development or grow.
The future is the source of news and information;
crashing two cars from 1959
and two from 2009 and comparing the results.
The progress is the goal to protect everyone:
causes and symptoms of postpartum depression,
postpartum anxiety,
postpartum psychosis & other mental illnesses
is a scientifically based practice
that is used to assess student academic performance
and evaluate the effectiveness of instruction.
Future is time
that is to be or come hereafter.
Progress is something that will exist
or happen in time to come,
representing the result of an asynchronous computation,
and the methods are provided.
The future is a light-hearted examination of our ideas,
and is for everyone who'd like to visit space.
Progress bases everything we do around clusters
of like-minded individuals
who are passionate about their interests;
network promoting conferences and discussions.
There are three kinds of people:
those who let it happen,
those who make it happen,
and those who wonder what happened.
They are the future,
the next alternative
to the internal combustion engine and oil
Progress is an ongoing study of their behaviors,
attitudes,
and values of American young adults.
The future is a commentary on human genetics and evolution,
progress in direct-to-consumer genetic testing,
and the personal genomics industry:
promoting a cleaner and healthier world
by improving the human gene pool.

Poem-A-Day: Day 326

Confetti

The cold seeps in,
in ways not understood,
but understood nonetheless,
making little and more sense,
more or less,
with each passing click,
clatter, destruction
of the known sense of reality,
destruction of the classical;
Beethoven stealing Brahms,
all for the sake of saying:
“I wanted to thank you for finding
Grover Cleveland's presidential time machine for me.
I'll give him your regards.”
It’s all stolen,
all a sham, or shambles,
the stumbling madness of dear death,
under the breath of not understanding
one or the other.
It has been gotten,
and grabbed off the shelf,
spilling words in a trail
of rat mince salivation letters.
And to the editor,
thank you for not smoking.

Poem-A-Day: Day 325

Miles Ago

Each time the drive is suicide:
stepping into the chamber
and pushing the trigger to the floor,
blowing my heart
all over the inside of my chest,
and leaving me a little less
than when I arrived.

I know I’ll do it again,
over and over
until I can finally stop the charade,
the cyclical life I lead
between two worlds
that’s both damning and amazing,
the pull of parallel universe.

Poem-A-Day: Day 324

Technophelia

Technology moves so fast
like a hundred slaps to the face
every day
for the rest of your life.

But you don't just like it,
you love it.

And it provides the perfect conundrum,
the perfect exploration
of the worst best thing,
technological dominance.

Poem-A-Day: Day 323

Clouds

The clouds appeared animated
as they transcended space and time,
letting loose the monsters
that bore a similar resemblance to humanity.

The clouds moved slow
through the bluish sky,
and the monsters went around their business
as I stood horrified.

The clouds did everything for me,
while they danced methodically,
and the monsters took it all away…
I could not see past it.