No An Idle Moment
Not an Idle Moment
A fly sits on top of the computer screen
washing its face when not watching me,
incredible it takes lift flies and lands on
the tip of my nose, close up it has
enormous eyes, so big I can see myself.
I hit it, but miss now I have nosebleed,
trickles down to my lips, tastes salty,
drips on my green shirt I’m so proud of.
I go to the bathroom, I’m a boxer, who
has won the match in round six, so what’s
a nosebleed? Take shirt off soaks it in
cold water, put a clean one on, it needs to
be ironed, so who cares a dank day when
even windows cry and the old roof leaks?
The dipterous sits on top of the screen
eyeing me contemptuously, pretend I’ve
forgotten something get up, in the kitchen
cupboard I find insecticide, storm in, spray
my room, the fly curls up and dies. Blank
screen I have forgotten what I was going
to write about.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Curtain
Blank screen of doom find me wonderful words,
nothing fancy just words that have a resonance in
my mind and gladden my heart.
I remember a boy of fourteen, every morning at six
he milked, five cows, by hand, leaning his heads on
the cow´s womb he dreamt of Africa
Africa, but I met my wife she is from Congo, so you
may say I know Africa intimately but
that was not what the boy was dreaming of.
O, blank screen do not let me fall into banalities,
it is just I like to remember as much as I can
before the screen the curtain draws the screen.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Of Us
One of Us.
There is a smudge on my computer screen I try to clean it with spit,
but no. Perhaps it is finger mark left behind by those strange people
who sit in back of the computer repair shop? Their diet is cola and
chocolate, yet they are thin, bald and so weedy looking I have must
whisper to them or they will shrink away. They sulk too if I disagree
with their findings it will take weeks before I get my computer back.
When the owner shuts shop they climb into toolboxes, the ones with
the helpful drawing of a screwdriver. Maybe the smudge is a camera
eye, they sit in there and watch me. When I have drink tonight I’ll
pour it in my bedroom, then go into the bathroom, smoke a cigarette.
Buy a can of cola and a bar of chocolate, eat and drink in front
of the screen. And they will say: “Look, he is one of us.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I write in the afternoon, from about 12 until 6 or 7. I use an upstairs room as my office. Once I get going I keep at it, and it usually takes about six months from the first blank screen until 'The End.'
Mad As We Are
Yes I drink away the hurt, and wishing that the ghost would fade away
There was something more I had to do before you turned and walked away
Promises broken easily
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Pins and needles climbing up
The spite of bold cathedrals ever high
I'm not sure that I could cross this river, I'm not sure I want to try
Shadows is that's left of you
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Like moths in the night
Promises broken easily
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Mad as we are, cannot fail, lives across my silver screen
Soaks it out, burns a trail speed of light, hope flickering
Like moths in the night
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From a Window
Up here, with June, the sycamore throws
Across the window a whispering screen;
I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.
But I mean to go through the door without fear,
Not caring much what happens here
When I’m away: --
How green the screen is across the panes
Or who goes laughing along the lanes
With my old lover all the summer day.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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I Saw His Face!
It was him! !
On the 23rd of September 2012;
And, i saw the face of a man.
I saw his face!
On a T.V. Screen which was already switched off! !
In my parents-in-law's sitting room.
I just entered the room and,
I saw dirty marks on the T.V. Screen;
And this gave the exact image of his face!
Oh yes, i saw the face of a man wearing eyeglasses,
The exact image of him.
It was him! !
I saw his face;
On a T.V. Screen which was already switched off!
With his eyeglasses on,
On the 23rd of September 2012;
And, this reminded me of the other face of a man i saw in the sky! !
But, that one was on the 26th of August 2012.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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0038 Underthings
See this table top. Smooth, waxed
to a point, a soup stain which perhaps
a finger nail will lift. Beneath the surface,
atoms, molecules, tension and release,
law and freedom play out a drama
which the teacup does not know or tell.
And so, much else. All. And so the mind.
As if, webcamming the family at play,
the screen jumpcuts, plays on the screen
your inner life for all to see; the family freeze, cold,
open-mouthed…
Two years ago, I eased myself into a chair,
anticipating pleasant conversation – but instead
the camera of the mind presented, in full colour,
a glowing red-hot sphere, like
a sunset on a dusty day. Or Mars, more like,
in all its fierce, fearsome anger – anger
stayed on that screen for six whole weeks
while body, mind and soul perhaps
played turmoil with its outcome quite unknown.
Just now, I lift my gaze from the crumbs on plate;
the camera points at what it should now screen,
the window; but the mind sees something else,
as clear as mind but rarely seen in mind.
It's saying something new about myself.
Watch the screen; but watch the camera too.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Explorations: II
It's my private theatre
The black and white
Screen moves
With you and I
As the only actors
I, the only viewer
Match the screen
Move at its pace
The film rolls
And in stoic silence
I stare as your lips
Move in carefully
Measured movements
The movie of silent era
Shot in the age of sound
Has all your dialogues
On my lips in their varied
Shades, tone and meanings
Intact!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Television
Before that sacred holy flickering tv-screen
You're served commercials day-time fakes and tv-priests
You keep your VCR running almost constantly
Afraid to miss out on something happening on channel three
You zap from channel one to two look what they have done to you
You live from staged realities and fakes
Channel three then four and five you double check your tv-guide
Re-enacted lives to keep you awake
Life is served
Here every taste will find our satisfaction guarantee
On the never sleeping flickering screen
You keep watching this truly weird masquarade
The flickering screen enchants you your truly all enslaved
Nostalgia sports and comedies, cops cartoons and tragedies
Remote control at hand you sit enslaved
Washing powder and apple pies re-runs soaps and Jesus Christ
Anytime is time to zap the world away
Life is served...
We're your tellyvisions
You zap from channel one to two...
Nostalgia sports and comedies...
Life is served...
song performed by by Quorthon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Notforgettin'
Before that sacred holy flickering tv-screen
You're served commercials day-time fakes and tv-priests
You keep your VCR running almost constantly
Afraid to miss out on something happening on channel three
You zap from channel one to two look what they have done to you
You live from staged realities and fakes
Channel three then four and five you double check your tv-guide
Re-enacted lives to keep you awake
Life is served
Here every taste will find our satisfaction guarantee
On the never sleeping flickering screen
You keep watching this truly weird masquarade
The flickering screen enchants you your truly all enslaved
Nostalgia sports and comedies, cops cartoons and tragedies
Remote control at hand you sit enslaved
Washing powder and apple pies re-runs soaps and Jesus Christ
Anytime is time to zap the world away
Life is served...
We're your tellyvisions
You zap from channel one to two...
Nostalgia sports and comedies...
Life is served...
song performed by by Quorthon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I just wanted to make sure that what I write is what appears on screen, to not have some idiot change it on its way to the screen.
quote by Joe Eszterhas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And it is a folly to try to craft a novel for the screen, to write a novel with a screen contract in mind.
quote by Thomas Keneally
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is not a flower or bird in sight, only a small screen on which lines are moving, while the child sits almost motionless, pushing at the keyboard with one finger. As a learning environment, it may be mentally rich, but it is perceptually extremely impoverished. No smells or tastes, no wind or bird song (unless the computer is programmed to produce electronic tweets), no connection with soil, water, sunlight, warmth, the actual learning environment is almost autistic in quality, impoverished sensually, emotionally, and socially.
Big Night On The Town
drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
sleeves.
It's a clip joint-the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he doesn't
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.
you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.
you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
Perfection in the Star Turd
where love died
laughing.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Pop-up Adverts and how They Crush Your Soul
I sat by my screen intending to write
An ode to the woman who gives my soul flight
Start up the computer and run through my mind
To see what emotions and feelings I find
‘Your eyes make my heart beat so fast it’ll pop’
(pop) SHOOT THE DANCING BEARS HAT AND WIN A LAPTOP!
I click the advert closed and try to regroup
My thoughts and my dreams and take another swoop
‘Your smile gives me joy other people wont know’
(pop) JOIN OUR NEW ON-LINE HYPER CASINO!
My flow interrupted again by this ad
I close it and try to get back what I had
‘Without you by me the world becomes scarier’
(pop) MEET OTHER HOT SINGLES WHO LIVE IN YOUR AREA!
A scowl, a click, I growl and flick my screen back to my ode
I try again to board my train of thought back down the road
‘Your voice gives me love, all my heart will allow’
(pop) FREE SMILIES AND POINTERS FOR YOU TO OWN NOW!
---
I pick up my paper and ready my pen
To start to create my poem again
‘Your soft touch sends sparks all over my skin,
Like the sparks that fly from the computer in my bin’.
poem by Flying Lemming
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Tony, Stacy and Jay really looked at life completely different and that played into everything that they did, whether it was skating or with their friendships. And for the three of us, we had such a close relationship off screen, that it was so easy to have that on screen.
quote by John Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be Original...
i can relate to you
distant friend, when in any moment
you face a blank wall,
when you cannot remember a word
when you reconstruct an adage
and suit it to your own liking,
i can very well relate to that wall
that shuts you out from any idea,
that slip of the tongue
that tip
that does not say what you want to
at this minute,
do not attempt to please
this world
do not attempt to filter thoughts
like words like pebbles
or sands with sea water escaping from
a screen
do not impress, that is the one that makes you
forget,
that lessens you
emaciating you into a clown
a page
heroes are originals, they have no fear
ugly or what, they are always what they are
be good, write the first word that comes into your mind
do not recall what beauty was there that you have first seen
contemplate, close your eyes,
see yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big Square People
Another square day
And another square week
And another square year
And another square lifetime
If you turn me on like you turn it on
Big square people
If you look at me the way you watch tv
Big square people
Youre digging it round when it should be square
Big square people
When the screen is blank theres no-one there
Big square people
Ive seen you watching it day and night
You dont miss the big game or big fight
All those dimensions all those race (? )
Come in action (? )
The worlds full of greed and envy and lust
If they dont get you the (? ) must
Turn on at daybreak before youre awake
I turn it off now
Big square people
(repeat)
Turn of the brightness, the colour and sound
The big square people in sensorround
Before too long the damage is done
To big square people television is such fun
They come in action from every direction
With every booster and (? )
Theyre sending signals from satellite sky
Soon youre on tv and you dont know why
Hey, come on down, youre looking good
If they said jump I really think that you would
cause tv is God and heavens hollywood
Youre digging it round when it should be square
Big square people
When the screen is blank theres no-one there
Big square people
Get up from the chair you look like a slug (? )
Take the tip from the tv go and find a job
But there are no jobs, there is no pay
but thats not what the people on the tv say
They say to me Ill be what you wanna be,
Lets join the army maybe see the sea
Turn of the brightness, the colour and sound
Turn of the (? ) lets going around
Turn on at daybreak before youre awake
Lets turn it off now before its too late
(turn it off !)
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drowning Man
(duran duran)
Hes sinking faster than a drowning man
Hell grab a hold of anyone he can
Gun in his poket and a heart of ham
Uncle sam...
Hes dying faster than a rabid dog
Infect us all now hes losing blood
Nose for trouble and a soul of rock
Smokeys man...
Dont drag me down
I dont wanna drown
Your going down
(hay) na na na na na na na na
Theres not much flesh
Just skin and bone
Cheeks sunk deep
Eyes popping wide
Dont put out a hand to help him
This drowning man will bite it right off
Right off , right off , right off..
(chorus)
Hes selling faster than a magazine
Infect us all with his tv screen
Hes selling faster than a magazine
Infect us all with his tv screen
Hes selling faster than a magazine
Infect us all with his tv screen
Hes selling faster than a magazine
Infect us all with his tv screen
(chorus) (chorus)
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Www.
At night, I sit in this darkened room
And stare at the hollow screen,
The World-Wide Web is a crystal ball
Of tides, and hopes, and dreams,
Though the world goes on outside my door
And time, it flows like the sea,
I have no truck with reality
When the web washes over me.
For I dredge the depths with a grappling hook
And I haul my catch on board,
Then I read the thoughts of a million minds
That were left on the furthest shore,
While the colours swirl and the lights go dim
And the sounds fade from without,
I float in the mass of cyberspace
'Til the light of the moon goes out.
Then emails beat at my cyber door
To ask if I'll let them in,
I cast my net for the viruses,
And choke the Recycle bin,
I stare at faces I've never seen
That float on a cyber wave,
Which disappear as the next comes near
For two are never the same.
But one returns, and it stares at me
And I see the limpid eyes,
Like pools in deep lagoons offshore
Where the mermaid lives and dies,
While the lips are full of promises
As false as the deepest sin,
I reach on out to the screen, but find
That the screen won't let me in.
Then night on night, like a dread parade
Those pictures come again,
From some lost ancient URL
Long gone from the world of men,
I search and Google in cyberspace
In hopes that you're somewhere there,
But all I have are those limpid eyes
And the bands in your dark brown hair.
One night, I'll leap right through the screen
And swim to your blue lagoon,
I'll take bright garlands of pretty flowers
To gladden the cyber gloom,
We'll live forever behind the screen
And our faces will go online,
For the stares of the grim night dwellers
Who are surfing the Web, World-Wide.
10 June 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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