Posts tagged ‘Facebook’

May 2, 2017

a most tragic death

i think of an all right time
when the most tragic death occurs,
all will know, of course,
in a time of The Voice
and Reddit and justice movements
(goes along with it)
and wanting atonements and fast wishes,
so social it makes
me sick to my 8 minute abs,
more dirty than the morning dishes,
makes me want to turn eunuch introvert,
makes me want to not be invertebrate,
makes me want you to
get dressed backwards
while speaking in new snake tongues–how fun,
while your self-abuse heals you timid.
i think of it now, and i don’t cry.
i think of it now, and i don’t try.
the obituary will read:
… was a totally normal person without
any addiction problems or malfunctions,
absolutely in tune with all in the room
–you can tell by the photos and likes and comments too–proof–
… dies in a tragic Facebook accident
only somewhat entirely consumed.
yes, they did. taken too soon.
and there will be no laughter.
and there will be no hereafter.
and you won’t have to worry about what your friends will think.
because it will all be more real
than the network could handle,
more real than your profile is just now.

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January 20, 2017

reflection: january 20th, 2017

when Facebook is stealing our faces
and phones are stealing our minds
we can find ourselves together in protest
or we can ask for help, and stand in line

December 23, 2016

what to expect when you sit down to write a poem

When you sit down to write a poem
it mostly happens. I believe that anyone can do it.
Writing poems is easy, depending on the poems
you write and the audience you write to.
If you were a press and your goal was to make money
off of poems, then your audience would be donors.
I assume they are harder to write to than bloggers.
I guess an idea that blew my mind is
publishers would have competitions
and offer cash prizes and then after they rejected you
they would send out emails about
how they need your money. I never got that.
People asking for donations after they rejected your work,
as if the words you wrote lacked the luster
and the importance of the words of others.
I suppose certain grant writers get more money
for certain words, certain editors need salaries,
and certain ideas hit closer to home.
I mean, I am a father, a husband; I am white and male
(but none of that matters; but identity is chic now);
I have tried hard as any to get to where I am.
I would say I am a poet but by most accounts
and the emails I get, that means I am a failed poet.
I don’t make rent or pay bills off of my work,
it pays in smiles and a sort of pride
that only you and I would understand.
What I do is safe as a handrail on icy stairs.
What I do is very, very, very easy
because doing something you love shouldn’t be hard.
What I do isn’t exactly defined, thankfully;
in a scene you have to either be or not
or just keep going until someone notices you
and either says “shit” or “genius” or “you are that poet”
and that really depends on the time of year
and who you are close friends with,
and what kind of poem you read at the open mic, and how.
So, I have noticed, when you sit down and write a poem
it usually happens, and you can do it,
though I would say most are worried about perfection,
how other people feel about their ideas,
and would hide their art because
it might lack meaning, identity, or a soapbox purpose,
absolutely defined by others in a social vaccuum.
But we will never know. And that is why I wrote this poem
precisely for you. I find it a huge success.
Writing mostly happens, or I guess it doesn’t.
Easy as mom’s Facebook post or Trump’s tweets.
Easy as pressing keys and not marketing.

November 20, 2016

Dude, shut up: the real life discussions of Facebook

dude… shut up.
mom, take
that picture
of me
off of
Facebook,
my hair does not look good…,

KT is always
photogenic.
mom!

*
did you know
you
are still on Facebook?
Terry!
when i
put your name
in it still
comes up.

*
you know
it’s going to
suck when
it costs you
money to
remove photos
from Facebook.

*
just delete that
picture of me;
mom, i told you
which one?
i liked…
i will take it down.
OBVIOUSLY.

*
ok,
what’d you say
which one
did you like,
i didn’t like any
of them…
delete it!
i don’t like
any of them!

*
i might
unfriend you.
Terry’s on
Facebook.
(i can find
myself right here.)

December 22, 2015

how to solve all your problems

issue of the day,
and then i am better.
it’s like a light
came on in
utter twilight dark.
we couldn’t ask for more.
we couldn’t ask for less.
we couldn’t ask of ourselves.
calling signs of the time
in sighs and glaring
red eyes, we stayed
up all night to
make it to work
by nine, and tried to forget.
others complained, they had
nothing, just their words with meaning.
just their issues emboldened
of the day on social
media, so displayed.
surely we all know, and
surely we can all relate,
because we are here too
just as you, and
no different–
though you try to say,
while hoping for change
on a scrolling page.

November 16, 2015

This is how it is…

when verbose people
hiding behind screens
say this
is how it is,
lightening
and thunder
beyond the windows
speak more
wisdom in meaning.

when a gut reaction
is examined
as hard “fact” meaning,
our degrees
and letters
and intuitions have
been burnt to ash.

stream of conscious thought
is the next
judge waiting patient,
wanting for
one more line,
one more guess,
for one more anything
contemporary to tell it
how it is–
besides them.

some existence merely
depends on
the expressions of
others, and
how there is no
fact in feeling,
no definitions exact,
only words and thought
to a person,
telling this is right
and this is wrong,
like they fucking “know”
the difference anyway.

October 23, 2015

Modern Eulogy

Now if you die
the newspaper will proudly display
the worst selfie that
you ever took in your whole life
on its front page,

next to big bold print
and bullshit ads and sports team’s
manufactured importance,
and then there is you…

How sad.

This image is
the only photograph of you
that they could find
on your social media page—facebook fame,
quick, fast, now,
through a Google search of your name.

This is the best they could do
for the article, for the paper—for you,

just by going
on the news of your death
and your name,
to your unique page.

I grab the limp paper now
and wonder,
does the family even know?

I wish I had coffee,
I wish other more realistic
less bias things
made the news…

Hillary Clinton goes to jail,
perhaps? But who is she
to me anyway?

No one…

See, I don’t care…
I am worried about my selfie,
my image, my name:
What they will show when I die
on the front page!

This is what life has come to.
I think it costs about $1.00 …

September 20, 2015

Inquiry Related Lament

Oh,

your cellphone died…

So,

when’s the funeral?

And,

could you go to sleep
without tucking

your social media accounts in?

And,

how many selfies
would be unhealthy?

And,

why does there
always have to be something
on my mind?

Inside fixed,
connected with who,
what, why, and when…

And,

when in real life will I see you again?
when in IRL will I see you again?

***

Sometimes it’s better to listen to the wind.

December 22, 2014

Everyday Horror

In a quiet room
Surrounded though alone,
Eyes stare blankly-
Mind’s stuck in a phone.

September 30, 2014

Modern Problem

Overreliance on technologies;

I need my smartphone to:
take out the trash,
go to work,
pay bills
take notes in class…

I need the whole world to shut down…
I need to get off of my ass…

When I push that button
And watch the screen glow-flash
I know I’m wasting my time
I know I’m not alone in that.