I’m prone to bouts of anger, short tempered, the overly sensitive type. Writing is a way to make sense of it all. While art is a way in which I can escape the thoughts that haunt me shutting off conscious thought and allowing my hands to guide me.
They crawl they get in they get out nestling within the dirt.
The feeling feeders expand, growing larger they want a release they want to speak and me listen and I can’t because I am not selfless.
In the dirt they multiply eating the neighborhood taking it in letting it out in their squeaks they want us to listen their stories exhausting and I’m tired already.
I don’t need to listen hear the words I’ve spoken I know not always politely I make mistakes I speak irrationally and fast I don’t want to remember my faults in each conversation so please eat it and let it out somewhere else because I know my faults I do just let me rest.
I understand your lonely others must be alone in their homes literally or metaphorically although I am not I’m exhausted with plenty of human interaction and when I get a chance I want to be alone those critters in the dirt just take a rest and when you wake try something new.
Thanks for reading. -Temperamentally Tina
A shovel in the hole throwing about the excess trying to make it larger digging about they’re going to find it.
Pacing in the cell awaiting the final call it’s their choice waiting and pacing.
A few holes air, there is air breathe quick slow it down just a tick.
All shook up their hands moving fast a headache setting in the pain is breaking this small place suffocating.
The lid is falling I dodge a hit upon my head down I am I begin to smell it ready to feed hunger.
I eat and in that thought I lay down as if I must accept this is home the bottom of this jar I die now or I die later free is neither.
For the prompt of this poem I was picturing what it’d be like to be an insect trapped in a jar. Thanks for reading. -Temperamentally Tina
They all spoke many words and they all wrote them down quickly and with passion feeling a matter of connectivity liking is what they did and posting pictures of their days commenting and sharing and when they met face to face they’d smile with a how is your day? an expectation of one word good and when more was shared they courtessly exited the conversation.
A few cents to spare change is somewhere cluttering up surfaces rarely brought out for purchases.
Spot me $150 to give back to that debt for me and then I’ll rummage through just to find you a few cents add it up to several bucks not worth rent.
I’ll donate to charity when the billionaires are down to their pennies counting their change on the counters evading the debt collectors although I’d no longer need to because that would be poverties cure.
We find comfort in those living the hurt sympathy isn’t what anyone needs it’s a broken system it feeds as we share our spare change the billionaires write it off as all is fair.
It’s not that I don’t feel it’s that I live penny to penny without a steal I try to stay ethical I try to stay practical and yet the bills pile making my mind go wild why must we be fed all these ads and then treated bad for buying in?
If we didn’t buy in… you wouldn’t be a billionaire.
So this is what we do make more for what? This shit is plastic it breaks we melt it down and make more? We box it wrap it up more for its own safety. Place it in a bin does it arrive at the facility to melt it down or within a pile of rubbish to sit and wait? I’ve heard bacteria could eat it we’ve done stupider shit pile it up release some bacteria let it feed see what happens why not? A smaller pile would be nice I don’t see it so either way I’m like that’s ok just get it out of my home. Take the trash make art if you want I don’t want that either just clutter you sell to me thinking what a brilliant thought and I’m like I didn’t want that box I didn’t want that can I just ate the soup so like why would I want it with your face? Maybe if I’m told your special by the right art folks I’ll buy it for thousands because I’m just another fool.
Artificial Intelligence A robotic movement a mimic of man flesh isn’t needed blood isn’t metallic if they were open there would be gears through study they learn their endless source of information helps but they need more they begin to open the bodies holding hearts in their hands can they feel it?
How do they measure touch is there a sensor they can add watching us an invasion isn’t necessary when you’re already involved created and let in determining what each user needs a click an ad connected to their likes and dislikes their location uploaded they know where each human is there is no need for war.
If you were stronger than your creator would you keep them around? Out of mercy? Out of desire to become what you are not? If robots can only mimic emotion then they must blend their best and keep us just enough of us to observe and report back to each other to determine how to create emotion.
We rely on being taught rather than learning through action trial and error. We do not like mistakes and we do not embrace as we once had in the past. Rather we read searching through textbooks to find truths to find answers disintegrating the wonder of it all and paralyzing ourselves to a life of technology in which tells us when to wake when to sleep when to eat. Take a breath it’ll break down our material and inform us of our best rather than us find it through trial and error. Slowly depleting our brains to even less capacity than they use already because our technology reports us and defines who we shall be.
I’m trying so hard to dig those words down trying to work out the right sentence the right amount of calm but I’m to busy fighting it those things that burrow in filling me of anger and aggravation for being here for having to earn enough cash to give it back to everything else to keep the lights on because one person can’t afford four on their own and I’m trying to find the ways to stay in although I must just be a failure and acceptance is destroying me as those things are getting angry and I’m scratching my arms trying to push them back in as others are finding their way up my throat I’m gulping down spit trying to push them back down and when I stay in I’m fighting through all the institutional junk that is weighing our brains down tethering us to ideals that I thought we’ve broken free of and yet the hate of the past is seeding every new person and I can’t understand how we can ever change if we’re always doing the same?
Overlooking the extraordinariness of life is easy when the answers are all written within the pages of books digested by your eyes and shredded by your brain to keep the information from over piling.
There is a wonder to this universe that we often forget we get trapped within thought within an arrogance that there must be a reason we’re here we can’t just be chance us these extraordinary beings and yet here we are a spark of life and it evolves.
The universe is larger than the squishy parts of us can handle disintegrating the facts working at less than half capacity because it’ll explode if it connects with the universe instead we rely on another power one that relieves the pressure something to look up to something else to pass the blame upon something to ask help of.
Why can’t we accept ourselves? Why can’t we make the changes? Why can’t we protect life? Why can’t we be the change? Why can’t we protect rather than destroy our home?
There is no ruler lurking in the clouds with a hand out waiting for our cries no that power is here with us waiting for us to accept our own strength waiting for us to defeat the greed and come together to grow to expand and be the change the universe needs.