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Bookface

I feel sorry for him He created the animal it is It"s like a huge boil riddled with wormholes Transporting everyone"s behaviors In and out share it around It"s not your friend He hopped to the user database at his college Into the library or laboratories he would have gone Somewhere other users were logged into Jumped onto someone"s session Up the hallway jumping from user to user Until he hit the student users database Then a compiled script of pearl which his father had taught him as an 8 year old He then ran its parse script Gone done the list copying everyone"s records Zip to his storage Then posted it on a website known what it is for today A website the other faculty members were now a member of The very next thing he did was write the terms and conditions In the movie, he was ridiculed on a pre-attempt of accessing the user database The college guardians persecuted him through a tribunal That I believe the second parse was an act of protest Those terms a...
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blackbird lady

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blackbird lady to a favourite NZ artist, Susannah MacDonald this lady i know, have never met, she paints the things that come where your dreams leave off giant conical shells of the family volutidae large as touch in the brain the wrapt cape and spindle of their form decayed the growing mouths of shadow drifting with cumuli above a sea of island and blue reflection, painting what your dreams have left off this lady draws, have never seen, and wings begin to thrash she paints the blackbird as first you heard it tasting of blue dark drops of evening in the hearing in thicket of head when the moon blows silver round through the eye, know where your dreams go off their way her brush and pen take over, finding what your dreams left off april 2018 [caption id="attachment_894" align="alignleft" width="226"] by Susannah MacDonald with her kind permission [/caption]   http://bit.ly/2LJl1fF Poetry posted here was originally posted on New Zealand Poetry
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death of you

POW! a man like me but much younger, out- gunned, commandeered.   I’d cut you down from the suffering which humbles the spirit.   You never recover. In London, wait; take orders, bow & later, alone with yourself, feel like a tool, & struck down at 50. You gave your wife   6 children & 1 more to your girlfriend: 7 is my number.   It broke you. http://bit.ly/2u816lO Poetry posted here was originally posted on New Zealand Poetry
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