24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The world is full of pawns
Nestled with clowns
Dancing to the whims of gory crowns
Of thrones bridled with thorns
Vexed with wanton hate across Medusa’s guiles
The globe is bereft of sane champions
Driven by change
With positive values at the very core of living…
A lonely path void of artless crowd gorged in the ocean of ruthless ambition
A path less traveled
A rugged road chaos free
Dooms day beckons on tramps of confusion walking the paths of delusion…
Alas! The modern world is such
that I don’t fit in very much.
Technology’s left me far behind;
I’m about to lose my mind!
French I speak,
Italian, too.
And the tongue they speak in Kathmandu.
(That’s Nepal, y’all. Nepalese, if you please).
I converse in fluent Dutch,
although I admit, not very much.
And I have a smart Pomeranian
that barks in perfect Romanian.
But there’s a tongue I just can’t learn;
it makes no sense to me, by durn.
I even speak obscure Balochi,
but I cannot understand Emoji.
Who thunk that up, anyway?
Emo No No
The tekkies have reduced emotions
to little cartoons
and renamed them emojis.
Words erased and replaced
by clapping hands and smiley faces and upward thumbs.
Tekkies don’t have time for small talk.
Communication is a challenge to be coded and corralled.
Express sadness with a frown,
joy with a smile,
amusement with a gaping grin.
Perhaps language will be swallowed by ASCII.
All that boring drivel dissected and deleted.
Essays erased.
Poetry plundered.
Novels neutralized.
A wake-up call, my fellow writers:
The emojis are coming. Take up your pens!
Put your feelings into prose or poetry.
Relish complete sentences and precise expression.
Simile, metaphor, allusion, alliteration.
symbolism, personification.
If language is fated for extinction, let the finale be recorded in words —
glorious, eternal, inspiring, rousing, memorable, remarkable words!
Sun filters through the curtains,
a soft glow casts its light
A promising appearance
as the aroma of coffee
from the cup lovingly left
on the bedside table
next to a book
full of dreams
Three cups of tea
dress up in blue
wearing a tie
and a top hat
with high heels
ready for a glass
Martini or Champagne
Oh! emoji, emoji, emoji 🙂
first time make it rhyme…
you gave a headache
@Mejia – Hour 8
2020 Hour 8: Emoji Translation
But oh my love, my love, my love!
Will you not leave me be
Oh but for the bleeding to stop
To stem the flow of our unhappiness
You must break us into two
And steer our ship to port
So I may finally rest
Lest this sick coupling doom us both.
Tiger! Tiger! Flaming comet burn
Pine and oak tree
Frame the Milky Way
Look up and you will see.
Question the ghosting!
Stop
What do you see with your own eyes?
Hands up,
Fear Immobilizes.
“A tiger! A tiger!” I yelled sprinting into my front yard where I found my little brother messing with the sprinkler.
“No, I’m not burning up with whatever is blowing up the world. I am telling you I saw a tiger in the woods just now. Yesterday, I went camping in that grove just past the evergreens and bedded down under that enormous oak tree. It was a gorgeous night under the stars, and when I woke up this morning, there he was!’
“So what? I’ve watched ‘Tiger King’ a few times. That has nothing to do with this! Why are you still asking me questions? No, it wasn’t a ghost tiger, you idiot! Stop it. Go look for yourself, if you really think I am pulling your leg.”
“So, you saw it, and now you believe me. Praise be!”
“Holy shit! It followed you home! I told you to run in a staggered pattern. You never listen to me. Give me your phone, I’m going to text Mom. She’ll know what to do.”
Appetite, I am tired of you.
Truly, I am.
You wax and wane like the moon,
gurgle like a rushing brook
over too many rocks.
Can you please be still?
Please?
Think of what I need,
not what you want.
Another cookie…
six pieces of bacon…
and crackers?
Really?
Yes.
And the rest of
those stewed tomatoes.
I see…
Let’s sit down together
to make some collective decisions
on what you say to me,
and how you say it.
Yes, I do have time
to make a salad
or cook some carrots
instead of grabbing cheese
and half a sleeve of saltines.
Yes, I do have time to clean up,
and I hear you saying it
right this very moment!
I’m not listening!
When we eat as much as
YOU want to eat,
we get sleepy.
You shush that still voice
saying we’ve had enough
with all that fear mongering!
“Waste not, want not.”
“don’t let it go to waste”.
Blah, blah, blah.
Well, guess what…
it’s going to waist.
MY waist!
I love my body,
and I am beginning to wonder
if you love it, too.
Are you even a part of my body?
Or have you somehow
separated yourself from us?
Ok, look,
decades ago I wanted us to get fat
so that the stupid asshole
stalking us
would lose interest.
He’s gone now.
He’s old for sure!
Probably can’t even
get it up anymore.
He’s bound to know by now that I won’t marry him.
I think the danger has passed.
We can be healthy again.
What do you think?
Ah, yes, the bacon…
Heart like a bloodred bomb ~
Oh love, oh love, oh red-blooded cliché
you are captain of my shipwrecked heart
Striped hep cats may burn like fire
in the jazzy night, but you? You burn
like cold cold ice, like nitrogen & glycerin
like a bomb, oh love oh love.
You are the bell tolling, that cracked
old bell of freedom from this island
we are cast upon. I want another ship,
captain. Death stalks us like a ninja,
and I want to go home.
But love oh love, oh bloodred love
you will not abandon ship. The ghost
of something dark beneath the sea
haunts you, and you will not jump.
You halt, you dance in ice cold fury.
You are the bomb, my love. The bomb.