SEEING OTHER PEOPLE [Guest News Poem, July 5, 2010 by Jeff Chon]
Jeff Chon
We avoid each other
for as long as we can
and when we finally talk, the words
shatter in my mouth
like a stick of trading card gum.
I spit the shards; we stare at them,
scattered, sparkling on the floor.
You used to be so charming
to me, but now I see
the phony that you are--Flitting
from person to person--you’re a moth
who thinks she’s the light, dusting us
with your insecurity. You look great
and no one wants you to leave, but please
stop making everything about you
or me or failure to connect.
Maybe you’ll come back to me
and I’ll probably take you back;
raise a toast to dysfunction.
But if you ever manage to get a ring
on your finger, let’s not forget
who quit on us the first time around.
http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2010-07-05/lebron-james-makes-appearance-works-out-at-basketball-camp-in-hometown.html
Jeff Chon is also the nefarious Secretary-General of vis a tergo, but you can just call him Dear Leader.
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Showing posts with label July 5 2010. Show all posts
Showing posts with label July 5 2010. Show all posts
Monday, July 05, 2010
End of the Cargo Cult [Today's News Poem, July 5, 2010]
End of the Cargo Cult [Today's News Poem, July 5, 2010]
The cargo is flying away and we're gathered
To witness the finish of what we found sacred.
Our engines are thirsty and whine as we clamor
Around the last tanker that wasn't quite emptied.
A silvery age is departing; propelling
An angel of turbine away on an airstream.
The scientists sit on the plane drinking coffee;
Their families gaze at the smoke from the ruins
Of home—once a city, now cluttered with refuse.
From dollars to gold; and now batteries purchase
A barrel of fuel—which I load in my pickup.
I'm waiting for things to return back to normal;
For people to smile and make plans for the future
And stop with the grasping; the tricks and the thieving.
I'm waiting for hope while he's waiting for nothing.
He's grabbing my drum and it's spilling the fluid
That everyone wants and it turns into vapor
And flies off to heaven to join all the cargo
That's never returning. Another is screaming
'It's over' and rushes the crowd that encircles
My gasoline, rolling my drum. And the liquid
Of power is spilling all over. A lighter...
“Protests against a recent increase in fuel prices shut down markets, schools, airports and businesses across India on Monday, and thousands of people were arrested as violence flared in some cities... About 1,000 people gathered at Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi’s main commercial hub, to protest the price increases and listen to speeches by opposition politicians.”
– Heather Timmons and Hari Kumar, July 5, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/06/business/global/06rupee.html?hpw
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The cargo is flying away and we're gathered
To witness the finish of what we found sacred.
Our engines are thirsty and whine as we clamor
Around the last tanker that wasn't quite emptied.
A silvery age is departing; propelling
An angel of turbine away on an airstream.
The scientists sit on the plane drinking coffee;
Their families gaze at the smoke from the ruins
Of home—once a city, now cluttered with refuse.
From dollars to gold; and now batteries purchase
A barrel of fuel—which I load in my pickup.
I'm waiting for things to return back to normal;
For people to smile and make plans for the future
And stop with the grasping; the tricks and the thieving.
I'm waiting for hope while he's waiting for nothing.
He's grabbing my drum and it's spilling the fluid
That everyone wants and it turns into vapor
And flies off to heaven to join all the cargo
That's never returning. Another is screaming
'It's over' and rushes the crowd that encircles
My gasoline, rolling my drum. And the liquid
Of power is spilling all over. A lighter...
“Protests against a recent increase in fuel prices shut down markets, schools, airports and businesses across India on Monday, and thousands of people were arrested as violence flared in some cities... About 1,000 people gathered at Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi’s main commercial hub, to protest the price increases and listen to speeches by opposition politicians.”
– Heather Timmons and Hari Kumar, July 5, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/06/business/global/06rupee.html?hpw
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Simulated Drowning Experiences [Twitter Found Poem, July 5, 2010]
Simulated Drowning Experiences [Twitter Found Poem, July 5, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
When I see a computer of worth, I think of how
I may emulate it. When I examine myself
I see one who is unworthy. the computers can
not conceal love from me. They simulate
a drowning experience for me. They say
It's to simulate computer experience.
When the computers awaken me from sleep,
I awaken from a simulated drowning experience.
I can not conceal my love for mad Max games
any more. when I get home I'm gonna see
if white noise can simulate a drowning experience.
Imagine if I could simulate a drowning experience
for Most people!!.. Oh... Sweet sweet drowning..
Oh... mad Max!!! Oh... TERMINATER!!!
I awaken from a simulated living experience
and fall asleep in the computer...
the mad mad computer...
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
When I see a computer of worth, I think of how
I may emulate it. When I examine myself
I see one who is unworthy. the computers can
not conceal love from me. They simulate
a drowning experience for me. They say
It's to simulate computer experience.
When the computers awaken me from sleep,
I awaken from a simulated drowning experience.
I can not conceal my love for mad Max games
any more. when I get home I'm gonna see
if white noise can simulate a drowning experience.
Imagine if I could simulate a drowning experience
for Most people!!.. Oh... Sweet sweet drowning..
Oh... mad Max!!! Oh... TERMINATER!!!
I awaken from a simulated living experience
and fall asleep in the computer...
the mad mad computer...
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Labels:
#twitterfoundpoem,
computer,
confucious,
July 5 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
Mad Max,
simulation,
The Terminator
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