Ghosts of Portables Past Electronic Graveyard

An Ode to Electronics of the past, used during their time and have served their purpose.


SHOCKSLAYERS N64

Should a man wax tears
when his wooden world fails?
In town, leaves were paper
but the hills were a flock of faiths
To a boy who walked all day
each leaf was a green breath
Rebuilding a love
I thought was dead as nails
Blessing death & the baptism
by fire.

A City’s Death By FireDerek Walcott


DESTROYED PSP

Lovers and thinkers
into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull
the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt
of what you knew
A formula
a phrase remains
but the best is lost

Dirge Without Music
Edna St. Vincent Millay


BROKEN PHONE

We cross under the midnight shield
and learn that bullets can curse the air.
A symposium of endangered stars
evicts itself to the water.
Another convoy leaves the kiln.

The crowded dead turn into
the earth’s unfolded bed sheet.
We drift near banks
creatures of the Mekong
heads bobbing like ghosts without bodies
toward the farthest shore.

With every treading soak, the wading leg
we beg ourselves to live
to float the mortared cartilage
and burial tissue
in this river yard of amputated hearts.

Water GraveMai Der Vang


DAMAGED MONITOR

The ghosts swarm
They speak as one person
Each loves you
Each has left
something undone

UnbiddenRae Armantrout

PLASTIC GUITAR DIES A HERO

Death is a Dialogue between
The Spirit and the Dust
“Dissolve” says Death
The Spirit “Sir I have another Trust”
Death doubts it
Argues from the Ground
The Spirit turns away
Just laying off for evidence
An Overcoat of Clay

Death is a Dialogue
Emily Dickinson


UNSUCCESSFUL WII TRIM

Death is drawn to sound
like a slipper without a foot
a suit without its wearer
comes to knock with a ring
stoneless and fingerless
comes to shout without a mouth, a tongue
without a throat
Nevertheless its footsteps sound
and its clothes echo, hushed like a tree.

Death AlonePablo Neruda



LOVEABLECHEVY’S NES2 CART SLOT REMOVAL

They thought the tide of grief would flow
Uncheck’d through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?
Well, let them fight for honour’s breath,
Or pleasure’s shade pursue–
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.

My Lady’s GraveEmily Jane Brontë




FILAMENT SPAGHETTI

His palms spaghetti
Knees weak
arms spaghetti
There’s spaghetti on his spaghetti already
Mom’s spaghetti
He’s nervous
but on the surface:
He looks calm spaghetti
To drop bombs
but he keeps on spaghetti.

Lose YourselfEminem


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