The Poetry Marathon

The Juke

My sorrow drifts like lingering smoke

I brand myself the fool

cause I fell in love with you.

There’s our song playin on the juke.

Hot desert days

Waitin for it to play another tune.

My lonely hearts been blue

Come spring time glory

Bring a new tune.

Let’s sing a new song

Don’t waste no time

go ahead, drop a dime.

Ooh I hate to show I lost control.

My sorrow drifts like lingering smoke

How could you be so cruel

I brand myself the fool

I keep runnin back to hear that one track.

My heart knows it’s a fluke

Our song still playin on the juke,

Hot desert days

Waitin for it to play another tune.

Poem no.5: Robot Song

Alter – a robot with neural pathways – that can sing.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-36973819

She turns to us in silence,
Her movements Geisha-like in their simple beauty.
Poised. Ready. Empty-eyed.
Her voice is light as a plucked harp.
Delicate as a spiderweb.
The song – like her – is bereft of language;
Yet melody ripples from her curved lips
And soft notes soar
As cameras flash and whirr.
The metal bird without a soul
Sings
In her empty cage.

(c) Anne McMaster 2016

Dreams Of A Foodie

I see rivers of gravy…with rafts of chips
Trees of french fries with variety of dips
Mountains of pizzas and burger valleys
And flowers blooming of colourful jellies
Houses of noodles and people of cake
Boats of candies in a chocolate lake
Which lead to the forests of ice cream
Before I wake up from my delicious dream.

FASTER!

Faster, FASTER!

Exponential processor upgrades breed unwitting slaves

Shit-grinning information addicts too busy to misbehave

Brain waves stuck in Delta

 

Subdued by processed food,

Glued to screens, we search YouTube black holes for meaning,

Cybernauts bleeding pixilated tears into oceans of misinformation, fabrication and sensationalism

Dancing to the rhythm of our own cataclysm

 

Faster, FASTER,

Until the thrill of speed overcomes the complexities of comprehension

Surrender the only option offered by Singularity

 

 

Frienemies 2016

140 Characters

They can celebrate or slaughter you

One quick story, false or true

And you can’t catch it soon enough

To like or react

It must be a fact. It’s posted on Facebook

Right?

Did she Snapchat the tonight?

Because pictures have taken all of our words.

What can we do to be heard?

Not sure. Let’s Google it

Poem 5: Vibrator

Cheeky device,
Purring secrets
and satisfaction.

Little hicCUPS of sound,
rolls of the tongue
that serenade in Spanish,
that hum an ancient tune
in a rhythm familiar
to our foremothers.

Hummingbirds quiver,
bazillion bees buzz,
sipping from blossoms
heavy and pink.
Stinging, singing,
electrical zinging.

My torso croons,
my voice melts and roils.
I am the ocean, but hot;
a dazzling lightning storm;
a cyborg:
a sly, smug
science fiction creature
somewhere between woman
and machine.

Iowa

Iowa

Drove out of the parking lot,
opened the door of my yellow Camaro, threw up,
and drove on. Not sure I was the one
who should have been driving. Three women

out for a boozy lunch. This must have been before Mom said,
I’m not watching the kids if you’re going out drinking.

Someone brought up Iowa, that Freddie and Valjean,
were visiting her parent’s farm there.
On a whim, we picked up babies, packed extra diapers,
and took off.

At night, left your brother and Valjean’s little girl
with Freddie. Four women and a baby in a stroller.
We took you to town, to places you didn’t belong.
Valjean’s mom told me what a good mother I was.

In daylight, you sat in a box under a tree, giggled
and grabbed leaves by the handful. Your brother ran.
You guys loved that farm, the farm Valjean escaped.
Poor Valjean. Her mother doted on tiny, graceful you,

not the big-boned grandbaby all the way from New Jersey.
I didn’t understand then about family politics,
about Freddie, the nurturer, who just happened to be
a dope dealer, about disappointment,

or about the changes I had to make in myself
to be a proper mother.

Advance Technology

Technology needs to be way more advanced.

I want something that will talk to people without me telling it to.

Is that so much to ask?

I want something that will prevent life from catching up to me.

I want something to make decisions for me.

I want something that will cook my breakfast without me having to say please and thank you.

I want something that will live for me.

I want something that will love me for who I am,

without expecting to be loved back.

 

Hour 5

Apple Watch

It’s watching me.
I’ll turn off the screen,
but it comes back on.
It watches my chest rise and fall.
The wristwatch knows every toss and turn,
each midnight bathroom break.
The blue light silently winks at the ceiling,
In sync with the insidious hum of electrical wiring.

It’s watching me-
That monolithic screen for a face.

Dark City

Captured memories
Made-up moments
Crafted and created
For all to see
A virtual world
A bizarre parallel universe

Who’s watching?
taking notes?
Making plans?
Stolen times and places
A puzzle of strangeness and happenstance

Shut it down
Shut it all down
It matters not
or does it?