Data Min[d]ing - Online Audience
O ver and beyond statistics, man
N o pattern plays some say that can't be traced,
L inks cross-referenced, - route pinged, browser based.
I nternet: peer platform where one can
N ow tag, now touch, anticipate surf span.
E xploitation leaves a bitter taste,
A udiences are not multi-faced,
U nique is each despite outreach t[hr]o[ugh] clan.
D ata should be scroogled, never scan
I n every nook and cranny, copy paste, -
E xtremely focussed look cooks book, misplaced,
N ot keyed to trends evolving in the van.
C hips RFID captive take, embrace
E ach 'I' who basic instincts fears to face...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Online Audience - Acrostic Sonnet
Over and beyond statistics, man
No pattern plays it seems that can't be traced,
Linked and cross-referenced with ugly haste.
Internet: shared platform where one can
Now learn, now touch, anticipate and span
Every act - both browser, buyer based.
Audiences are not multi-faced,
Unique each individual, no plan
Displaying data processing can scan
In every cranny, nook. Most mining’s placed
Extremely arbitrarily, misplaced
Not keyed to taste evolving in the van.
Cookie capture should not correlate
Each 'I' whose instincts few appreciate...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Make Haste
Make haste, make haste, no time to waste,
the sandman’s on the move!
The minutes chased, missspent, misplaced,
swift scattered are, remove
from life the paste thats interlaced
with love to leave the groove
by others faced with fears encased
within themselves! Improve
your chances paced by those who’ve raced
where most may fear, disprove
the double-faced, minds [s]oft, effaced.
let no one disapprove
Strong spirits graced with soul true, chaste,
which ever must reprove
all evil based on base, poor taste, -
which ever seeks to prove
Good may be traced, Right be embraced
in confidence – for you’ve
the need to haste to truth, yes haste,
for Time is on the move!
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surfin Safari
Surfin safari
Lets go surfin now
Everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me
(come on a safari with...)
Early in the morning well be startin out
Some honeys will be coming along
Were loading up our woody with our boards inside
And headin out singing our song
Come on (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surfin route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Come along (surfin route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surfin route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
At huntington and malibu theyre shooting the pier
At rincon theyre walking the nose
Were going on safari to the islands this year
So if youre coming get ready to go
Come on (surfin) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari)with me
Come along (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari)with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
Theyre anglin in laguna in cerro azul
Theyre kicking out in dohini too
I tell you surfings mighty wild its getting bigger every day
From hawaii to the shores of peru
Come on (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Come along (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
With me surfin safari.
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Sanctity...? ...
T he dawn is part of pattern webs which spin
O ut from the past and not from future fate,
A nd may Time mime, itself anticipate?
C an far horizons scan the span within?
T he wind won’t carry inkling whispers in
O pen echo unfurled in single trait.
R esponse to whom? to what? When? Early? Late?
N ew strength unveiled, by star signs sent to bait
O ne Cause or one Effect, - to end? begin?
T he story feeds from song or need to sing?
O ne’s need to heed the lied, lead on, create
U rgent vistas which can compensate
DRE aded hole inside inside’s dammed spring,
AMA zing grace to help face everything?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Copy & Paste
Of course it was copy and paste like honey and lemon drop.
A gleam of humor coming from skies to my beloved eden.
Assure that stich coming from a different heaven.
Of course it is not copy nor paste like lime and linden tea.
poem by Tansel Bozkurt
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Boot Sale
Car boot sale.
Car booties!
People are selling off paste tables,
They can be found in every nook and cranny,
Car parks, football fields and parks everywhere.
When you have seen one you have seen then all.
Bored faces being dragged from table to table,
People being charged silly money for total rubbish.
When they should have taken it to the Tip!
poem by Paul Freiter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Echo Of The Words
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
but i am ok, i am ok, i am ok.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homage to My Hips
these hips are big hips.
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top
poem by Lucille Clifton
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The Children Of Love...
sometimes it seems we travel
on long journeys as far away from
ourselves as we can....
before we can find the way
and the means to come home.
often, somewhere in the seasons
of our living, love is like that.
we become so numbed by the struggle
to merely exist, that we lose our
intimate connection....
we lose our sense of taste, of smell,
our very sense of touch...
and it is this loss, if we are lucky,
that redeems us, that strips us
and brings us back to the basic
instincts of our heart...
the storm comes, destroying
all the false images we've worshipped....
yet the rain washes our bodies,
the very bodies of our souls clean....
and only then, naked and vulnerable,
without any props... are we able again
to know love... to feel, to touch, to taste....
and again, through suffering, the candle is lit.
at our best, and our worst, naked...
we are the children of love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Multi-emotionalized
I'm the one that's suppose to feel,
Everyone's pain.
Including my own.
But less magnified.
I am suppose to pledge my allegiance.
No matter if I am spit and spat upon...
At the expense of my self expression.
On streets where my ancestors more than paid,
For displays of these misgivings.
Misunderstandings...
That I'm expected to internalize,
And make them my own.
To dispense and share,
With those in joyous despair and disillusioned.
'Like the pain that is theirs which is thrown upon me.
With a followup of statistics to compare survival methods.'
Multi-emotionalized,
And I am underlining it.
I am only here to joke and dance.
Not feel or think a thing.
I'm only here to boost your sports machine.
While you fill your gut up...
And continue to demean.
Multi-emotionalized,
And I am underlining it.
I am only here to joke and dance.
Not feel or think a thing.
I'm only here to boost your sports machine.
While you fill your gut up...
And continue to demean.
I'm only here for purposes,
To help you feel supreme!
'Like the pain that is theirs which is thrown upon me.
With a followup of statistics to compare survival methods.'
I'm a mult-emotionalize thing you think you've made!
I'm multi-emotionalized with each emotion taught,
To be slick and smooth and as sharp as a razor blade.
Sharpened to display any emotion.
If asking for it!
'Like the pain that is theirs which is thrown upon me.
With a followup of statistics to compare survival methods.'
And a swift change to those statistics come.
A stiff reconditioning to redo and rejuvenate...
A thought process needing to be undone.
With follow up statistics coming to shake up everyone.
In a multi-emotionalized doing!
Not everyone should be expected to feel or see,
From your perspective which is fading.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cut & Paste
you surf tonight
you see a bungalow beside a lake
abandoned
you do not like what is happening there
the birds are mute
and the ants cannot climb the
star apple tree
so to change at least some things
you cut
the bungalow and place it beside
a rail way where a train moves
to another new destination
you want motion and
a song
you cut some notes from a music website
and put them
inside the throat of the mute bird
and so it begins
to sing
for all the lonely ants in there
and they too, begin to dance and build
their little kingdom
the bungalow appears like a some pieces
of assembled wood
dead
you paste some smoke from a busy chimney
you put some live fishes on the lake
and you look at what you have done
you smile
you are putting life to everything
and finally
you copy a picture of yourself, you cut
and then
paste it there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visitors Of The Dark
Where are the ghosts, where do they hide?
Why don't I find them on my bedside?
The nights are long, worried sleepless
Still they don't come, don't show their face.
But there were nights, now a faded book
When spooks reigned at every dark nook
With their creepy touch, whispers in my ears
How I was scared, yet how I loved those fears.
Now in the night's depth, as I toss on bed
No visitors of dark caress my forehead
I wait for them, with love and no fright
But they aren't there, vanished out of sight.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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The Taste of Cold Dregs
(a whisper reaches your ear:
‘nobody likes the taste of cold dregs…’
and you attach no meaning to it)
you linger reposed beneath the sinking light
the soft yellow glow that rightfully
belongs
to yesterday
and your face reflects
in the thin sheet of glass
behind which you remain
separate
from everybody you’ve met
and everybody
you’ve yet to meet
your fingertips resonate with your
identity
your mind resonates with
nothing
(it seems you‘ve misplaced your identity)
emptiness
and a pretentious cup of tea
is all you’re living for
and you are defined only
by tea leaves and a herbal scent
upon your breath
(and you’ve never seen the future
in your tea leaves…
you’ve never even looked)
your imprints defile
a cracked cup
splattered with fading
flowers
and as the world passes by
you remain on your stool
(reflecting the soft yellow light)
sipping and sipping and sipping
your life away
In tiny portions
leaving only the fingerprints on your cup
and the cold, black dregs
(which taste bitter on your tongue)
to suggest
that you were ever there…
poem by Abby Koning
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Radio Station: Chico, The Latest News
did you hear
beside the earth quakes
in chicago
the FBI or F-bee
eye and eyes
-E-bee eyes are C.A.I-
sent
more
eyes
scanners
so you can
go to your work
safe
and free
without pulling off
stripping off
for free
your shoes
your long leaves
your ties
your pens
underwear
sweep you
leap you
one leap year at a time
through the scan
hp
multi-colors
Xphone
iphone
ipod
NFL
YOUTUBE
Netscape
Bill Gate left
microsoft alone
type of scan..
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Copycat
They had an accident
And they never noticed anyway
A lack of originality
Couldnt focus on the day
So much for the radio
Everybody sounds the same
Everybody wears the same clothes now
And everybody plays the game
Copycat, copycat, copycat
Copy copy copy copy yourself
Copycat, copycat, copycat
Copy copy copy everyone else
Ive got a great idea
I will change things on my own
I see my vision very clear,
Wouldnt wanna be another clone
So much for the radio, the radio is sad
Sad, sad, sad
They had an accident
But they never noticed anyway
A lack of originality
Couldnt focus on the day
So much for the radio
Everybody sounds the same
Everybody wears the same clothes now,
And everybody plays the game
Copy everyone else x4
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perhaps Only Rainfall....
evolution,
or perhaps only rainfall.
kind words given,
dripping from autumnal leaves.
rose petals weep at the funeral,
then drink till dawn.
and old men draw highways,
that lead to the eyes.
destiny, dirty socks
and old coffee cups.
while shadows taste like the dirt,
on the bank of the creek.
the cry of freedom seems bitter,
somewhat hot to the touch.
as the face of the stranger,
dissolves in the mirror.
the sky still as if waiting,
drawn by the memory of wings.
the book on the shelf,
smells faintly of love.
time itself an illusion,
the spirit runs barefooted....
back to the wind,
the tongue behind your ear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire
Gabourey Sidibe, Mo'Nique, Paula Patton, Mariah Carey, Sherri Shepherd
from Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire (2009)
Submitted by Basil
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Remember September's Embers 1564 Current Version
Another autumn afternoon's rune link
Nods breeze goodbye to Virgo. Libran van
Offers solace seeing sunlight shrink
Towards millenia lost millenia scan.
Hope's rising generation watches sink,
Ending, one strong before its seed began,
Re-editing: 'I am because I think'.
September boughs bow to October's plan
Extending Indian summer interlink,
Perpetuate spin cycle's song to fan
The amber umber fires Fate's inks imprint.
EMBers glow. Time's treadmill's subtle span
Ends here, weaves gilt edged leaves for Winter's tale,
Rime Jack Frost cool spool pools through sonnet's tail.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sickened Sweet With Promises
They chose to take,
Another route.
In pursuit.
They would face,
A deadend to defend and embrace.
They chose to take,
Another route.
To then declare.
They,
Were not aware.
Sickened sweet with promises.
Yet
None of them existed.
Fixed with addictions.
And no one cared.
And those who followed say,
The choices made weren't theirs.
And those who followed say,
They were not prepared.
And those who followed say,
The air that laid sweet with promises to keep.
Would amongst them be shared.
Whether or not.
Promises kept may not be there.
They chose to take,
Another route.
In pursuit
They would face,
A deadend to defend and embrace.
They chose to take,
Another route.
To then declare.
They,
Were not aware.
But a choosing of deceit they did.
And none amongst them dared.
Sickened sweet with promises.
Yet.
None of them existed.
Fixed with addictions.
And no one cared.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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At no time are we ever in such complete possession of a journey, down to its last nook and cranny, as when we are busy with preparations for it.
quote by Yukio Mishima
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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