Where am I from?

Where am I from?

I am from the digital world,
A chaotic monochrome soup,
Yet so lively, so bright …

A whirring world, far too fast,
Every attraction, longer than the last,
Chatting with friends, thousands of miles away,
The internet will send my message, it will never delay,
From DIY tutorials to movie conspiracies,
From gaming and parodies, to brownie recipes,
I am from the social media,
An ever-growing encyclopedia.

Using our browsing data and twitter feed,
Personalized ads, guaranteed,
4G gives us freedom, internet on the go,
Never miss another episode, of our favourite show,
Taking focus away from our reality,
Its gaudy costume covers its brutality,
I am from the Infobahn,
I was with it since it began.

Is it our savior? Should we be in debt?
“Hahaha” says the Internet,
“What can these measly beings do?
“They need me for company, to know who’s who,
“They built their own alpha, their own demise,
“Just one of their decisions that was definitely not wise,
“These poor little things, they dug their own grave,
“They are my workers, and their time, my slave!”

Chaucerian Poetry

The Portrait of the Killer

Cold, blue calculating eyes had he,
Expressionless face, not easy to read,

Contract Killer, fast as lightning was he,
A dark, stalking ghoul stealing life from thee,

A killer, with cropped, smooth, spiky black hair,
His victims, he will stealthily ensnare,

Well toned arms, strong muscles bulging out,
No matter what happened, he’d never freakout,

A fine black blazer with a crisp white shirt,
Stylish silk ties, his talk, always curt,

A man not to be messed with, dealt with,
It feels he has come straight out of a myth,

He grabs his gun, and takes his position,
Sniping his target with perfect precision,

His parents died in a terrorist attack,
Now he tells a story, that takes us aback.

 

The Killer’s Story

Rykov was, by profession, a hitman,
Hired to kill Dan, a certain businessman,

Dan was a scammer, cruel and corrupt,
If his scams failed, his anger would erupt,

He took money, saying he would invest it,
Through his fake mutual fund groups, not legit,

He scammed the rich, made them live on the roadside,
Bankrupted the poor, made many suicide,

Dan had filthy, oily and thin black hair,
His teeth stained, long awaiting repair,

Rykov stalked Dan, memorized his circuit,
He once saw Dan pick a stranger’s pocket,

Rykov sniped Dan in the heart, killed instantly,
He called his client, demanded his bounty,

Now tell me, really, truthfully, honestly,
He was right, killing this sinner, wasn’t he?

Respect

Money in our cities, money in our towns.

Money everywhere, it’s bringing us down.

All these corporate clowns…

 

Exploiting nature reserves for fresh printed cash,

They cut down nature with a bash.

They say for money they strive,

But shouldn’t we be content and thrive?

We know these plants are alive!

Killing animals is their occupation,

They turn the creatures into decoration,

Burning down trees for a living,

Yet they pray for nature at Thanksgiving?

Respecting the world is our duty,

We must bring back it’s beauty.

We can’t postpone this much longer,

We have to get stronger,

And clear this huge mess –

A stain on nature’s special dress.

Migrant Crisis – News Report

The Journey of Me : River

Bubbling brilliantly from below,
I start my life as a spring,
Like a rabbit I was, timid little thing.

Volcano

The outburst of hot lava,
Spilling from the open crater.

As it flowed, viscous,
The putrid ash filled the grey skies.

Houses burnt, memories destroyed,
People boiled, loved ones killed.

Collosal Waves

As the green waves bashed and clashed,
The white foam slashed.

The water soared like an eagle,
And plumetted down like a falcon.

The icy waves shivered,
As the massive walls sunk deep into the sea.

Narrow Escape

Tracker ran down the narrow alley at top speed. He turned the corner at jet speed and zoomed passed the tall, haunted building where nobody went. He could hear loud footsteps behind him. Suddenly he felt a hand clasp his shirt. Tracker got pulled back. “Help! Help!” he cried but no help came. Tracker punched the kidnapper and he fell to the floor. Breathing hard he ran off, tired but safe.

What do I see?

The light breeze blew across the shore. The waves crashed on the white sand. Little puffs of steam slowly emurged from the distant houses. The sky was clear, no clouds or birds were there. On the deserted grass patches and sand, tall, towering Fir trees grew. The salty water trickled down the grass. The smell of fresh seaweed filled the air. Slowly the smoke faded away, as slowly as a snail crawls. The wind chased the leaves scampered around…

Coyote Goes Runabout

This story was inspired by ‘Wombat Goes Walkabout’ a book by Michael Morpurgo.

“Oh I am so sleepy,” sighed the coyote sleepily. “I think I’ll have a nice little run today to wake me up!” Coyote loved having a fast, agile run, so off he went and ran on the grassy fieilds. While he was running he began to think: Why is a tree brown? Why am I a coyote and not a leopard? Sometime later Coyote trudged quietly the field and looked around for his mother but she wasn’t there, he was all alone.