poetry thread: stuff you write, stuff you like

[AY38910]

There is this one written by a friend of mine. It's called "format /s c:". I personally relate a lot to it.
Yes, the title and last line are reference to Batch.

they all want me to change myself,
but i do not see any way;
how can a program change its thoughts
when it cannot change its own code?

they want me to like a sport,
they want me to like a girl;
but how can i even like
something for which i dont care?

when did being a nerd be wrong?
when did normal mean dumb?
why do i have to be
stuck among brainless teens?

they want me to change my mind,
but i cant edit my own brain;
maybe this is the only way:
system format drive c.

[haumeaGeth]

Yay, another poetry thread! I've been on a huge poetry kick lately. I'm currently trying to write a piece for a magazine, but I keep going in circles with it, so I decided to take a break and write something for myself today.

I went to the dispensary in my pajamas
I didn't mean to, but I did
Ran into old friends
In their pajamas, too
We bought weed together, and the cashier smiled
Not noticing our fuzzy slippers

This poem tumbled out of my head -- would anyone be willing to give me feedback on it? I only have one friend that's into poetry, the rest of my friends can't really say much more than "I like it". I appreciate the sentiment, but it doesn't exactly help me improve :')

[MrsMoe]

I've written quite a few poems before, but my most recent one is entitled "Life Ends Tomorrow". A MAJOR warning for this one though. It deals a lot with doomerism and feelings of hopelessness. If you're easily triggered by stuff like that (like I am), maybe don't read.

Didn't you hear it on the news?
Didn't you see the headlines on your phone?
Didn't you read all about it?
From those grocery store checkout magazines?
Everyone else certainly did
Life ends tomorrow
We all just thought you should probably know

How, why, or when will it all end?
We don't exactly know how
Nothing's certain, but there's been whisperings in the air
Of bombings, floodings, executions, and fires
To ignore all of that would a massive disservice
To all the other lovely people on God's chopping block
And especially to YOU

Are we afraid?
Maybe you are, but surely not I
We all know it was coming sooner or later
So why try to fight it at all?
Why not embrace your immanent future?
Try not to view death as an oncoming train
But rather mother earth's loving hands carrying you off into the dark

Hey now, why are you crying like that?
What's all that pointless breathing for?
Like you're about to pass out right on the ground?
The end of it all is really no big deal
Nothing to truly fuss, sob or panic all day over
And after all, why should death be a big deal to us?
You didn't have dreams or hopes or plans for something beautiful, did you?