IBMC #06 The Mass Media Challenge

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Alexander Graham Bell inventor of the telephone


Geist the magician is a character from the video game dot hack link. Geist is german for Ghost. His end is ultimately tragic and memorable.



This challenge has asked this of me: Connect the picture above, a poem about a ghost, and something about a telephone in order to come up with a synthesized writing.

On the telephone I overheard

by means of cross connection

the strangest conversation

someone named Geist hated laggards

all he cared about were results

being a master of the occult

he planned to work his magic

to bring about a fate so tragic

it gave me goosebumps

thump thump thump

beat my wretched heart

giving away my position immediately

Geist vociferously vowed vengeance

 my phone choked in horror

as its coils of telephone wire recoiled in shock

I proceeded to make a run for it

outside, gasping for breathe

I stopped to catch the view

of what I knew

to be the last sun set

I might have the luxury to admire






A locomotive Going Loco

A steady diet of charcoal black

fuels my steam engine mind

constantly being forced to blow off steam

at a plethora of false awakening dreams

leads to the construction of

black clouds overhead

what keeps me on track:

gravity or a tight schedule?

travelling from one deadline to the next

Denatured Nature

My personality is little more than a bonsai tree

for a many a year I have waited patiently

to find the promised prospects that once awaited me

if only my will was wrought of steel

I could dare to feel

more than the four unyielding concrete walls

that drapes my thoughts like a pristine pall

New Sprint

I can’t hear myself think!

I’m invisible ink

Your eyes are ultra violet

enabling you to interpret

in the time it takes to blink

that I’m out of sync

with my immediate surroundings

how can you be so understanding,

when the rest of the world is demanding?

While my pen’s purpose is unclear

with you here

there is no cause for frequent fear

And I will remain of good cheer

My momentary melancholy appears

to disappear

as lots and lots

of dots…

accompanied by rorschach ink blots

along with scrapped plots

have transformed these thoughts

into Gordian knots

still I refuse

to forget my muse

even if the struggle is of no use

futile efforts shall produce

one line of genuinely good news


Poised on a plinth is a Hyacinth

Stained Periwinkle blue by a Lachrymose sun

bid farewell to a radiant land clad in a garland

of Forget-Me-Nots and Morning Glories

soon to become living legend, one recounted in Ovid’s stories


The tears of Apollo stained the newly formed flower’s petals with the sign of his grief when he lost his beloved partner Hyacinth who lost his life to an accident of Zephyrus’ design.

Artist: Giovanni Battista Tiepolo





born with silverspoon in mouth

the compass points north when life goes south

it’s not as though the universe signed an IOU

and agreed to save us from the folly of what we do

I hate to break it to you

but you and you alone are responsible

for how you write your life- every silly syllable


A Tear For Yesteryear

Life is a collection if not recollection of memories

Yesteryear with its temporal moments is a sentient story

And here we find ourselves, a year later

There have been ups and downs like in an Elevator

Another birthday to celebrate,

Although happiness has a predilection to hastily dissipate

It’s important to focus on the journey and not the ‘checkmate’

Enjoy the experience, gone is the past tense

Victory day arrives, let the commemoration commence!