Poets in a file

I have been writing lines of poetry and you have been wondering why

What is the state of my mind now and am I about to cry

I am in an unfamiliar location but the situation I have dealt before

I must battle these waves with my paddle boat before I find my shore

I thought I was a genius I thought I was ahead of time

I was born middle class in a poor country that alone was my crime

Now I stand at cusp of happiness at the epitome of this planet’s dream

I am composing a requiem for a funeral when they are rooting for a sports theme

I am troubled by imaginary ghosts and gremlins of my past

I have been drinking my own blood turning it into ink that lasts

Now I stand in the middle of the arena and I hold the ball so near

I have conquered my greed before But I now I must shed my fear

For what is a poem that goes too long

For what is a song that gets one note wrong

For what is a joke that doesn’t make you smile

For who is a poet but another number in a file



now my watch is ending

Now my watch is ending

Now my jobs are done

You may call me Jon Snow

You may think I am Barack O

But I tried hard to resist

My head and body and head to persist

But I would rather be the father of my digital child

Than face up to my youthful days wild

These are days of painful inflexible bones

These are days of yoga to forget days that are gone

Catcher in the rhye is better than Catcher in the Stadium

You can put my poems on a pedestal but my coding shies from the Arcadium

I have lost weight but I have gained energy

Einstein diets do really work out some more

But if you think you will hack my brain with diminished currency

I must remind you of the businessman Don Corleone was before




Psalm 23 the hackers psalm

i have walked in the valley of the shadow of dead

They told us boys you are a pain in our head

With your youthful ideology and emphasis on common sense

Don’t you see money is sexy and man needs bread

We know you are dying and so the fault is in your blood

Come kiss our ring and join the Boyz shooting hoofs in the hood

But a voice in my head kept warning something was wrong

They were sniffing my packets while I was writing this song

If they knew what I knew they would never let me go

Rather than time killing me slow

You will read it in the papers how the poet was dead

We are sorry it’s an accident and we made sure he was well fed

Soldiers die and they get a grave in the field by the lake

Poets die like dogs and dogs don’t get a three day wake

A dog will die and they won’t sound the bugle or pipes or taps

They said he was a NOC and that was just the job

He wanted out and he said he had done his 15 years of missions

They told him kid sorry the movie has no intermission

A spy deserves to be hanged and weren’t you a hacker on the side

Think of all the fun your brain had when you were on the ride

It’s time to get back and put the mask on

Someday my son will avenge me and my wrong

Sorry son I tried and tried to sell some science

But they bought me a beer and went short on my whines

But what I needed was water and some medicines to care

But when I checked my wallet it wasn’t there

So I walked like a homeless man in the streets

With nothing to show and failure as my deed

My split personality and my incomplete quest

To be the hacker who was forever the best

And son if you think where did Daddy go

Daddy is in heaven running Jesus and his code


( To be continued )


p is for poetry

pink pajamas party

pink panther partly

probably patronizing people

possibly pity pleading

prosaic poetic pontificating

prozac prescription pending

punk power port

poor pun pantomime

preacher poaches peace

peaches pierce prose

parody papers put

plead propose protest

p is for poetry

r is for rhyme

t is for thanks

thanks for your time