Wednesday, August 10, 2022

IT Poetry

 Computers on my mind.  The keys tap beneath me.  I am willow tree to the divinity.  I speak and the sound falls on the ground.  I dispel the hell of wizardry to keep programmers' privacy, imagery, and sanity.  The silver of my keyboard is soothing and smooth.  Code drops from reality.  Language is real.  I feel the power in my veins, as all pretentious liars go insane.  Why is it so hard for people to accept the reality that has crept?  I tell the truth of IT industry, and no one answers back.  In a way, that is an attack.  It is like yelling into a gorge, it is creepy when the sound does not rebound.   Yelling and blocking would be worse.  I live with a lifetime curse.  I was a pioneer, and not queer.  I was well rounded, military, artistic, and social.  I am loquacious at times to hide how shy I really am.  My life is like the shifting sands of Afghanistan.  Please be with me and bring me peace.  I wish for the internet to not get diseased.  I have some balls in play that are not the major players or the NSA.  I work through project development to bring about a new day.  Maybe soon, about my abilities, beautiful things they will say.  Jennifer

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