Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem.   Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water.  I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it.  That makes it worse.  So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news.  Here it is:
             I Like Facebook

I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why.

I like looking at the pictures,

Friends I’d never meet another way.

I like friendly messages,

Passages of verse I’d never read

If not for Facebook’s lead.

I like Likes and Comments kind,

Find in comments rich expressions.

Possibly I’m one of few - or few new millions.

I’m inspired when tired, fired up.

Even when I’ve written ‘crap’

No one’s there to trap me.

Some reviewer always sees my views,

Understands.

Someone always sends

Me praise; ends with a Like.

I’ve never had a spikey word;

Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard.

Commonality forever somewhere, there

Where someone wants to start a group.

Always somebody to whoop de whoop:

Somewhere folk who populate;

A troupe with common passions.

Then there are the monthly Happys:

Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters…

Never had one word rescinded.

Reminded gently daily:

Classmates, playmates

I’d forgotten, dovetailed,

Blazoned on the psyche;

Friends and places,

And of course, the faces -

It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee,

A source of history.

As for weaknesses I’ve read about –

Never think to route them out,

Going ‘bout my business,

Focused on creativeness,

The lofty and the small.

I like Facebook.

Happy Facebook to you all!

I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin

Were I a whale, cartoon or
otherwise,

I would be for giving as good as I take,

and,
think, subject ob service
auto shifts,
if you know auto, yourself.
think
teeny weeny plankton by the ton
feed
me
as I cruise sans-effort, sans-trep
idation
egone into ideation,

you would be crazy as hello-happys
with no good bye

were you to agree to think with me,

is this your pa
in my belly?

Ambergris, remember this,

some aromas, sweet perfuma, you can't believe, sans
gnose blowing

during the withdrawals from 6 o'clock news

and recovery from Bernays Virii.

Behold how great a matter turns, under your
standing and above

and beyond
all a non-liar can imagine having known for sure. Okeh? Wit'me?

I knew this old guy,
one time talked me into daring
the deed, you know, it's hard
for a whale to
let some mind find time,

he said, in code... ditty dum dum and al,
banging on a bulkhead, starboard side:

LSMFT, once prompted me to choose
Lucky Strike, twen'yficent a pack, straights,
for the knowing announced with a note on a pipe,
the smoking lamp is
lighted, or lit (I forgit). It made a good smoke.

That's a whale of a comprefriendable story,
ex
cite ment to provoke a thought you never thught
possible, with no word
to express,
it past the flow, into the the ****** pool.

Life is a whale of a joke, don't you...

care. Okeh. You read, you'll survive.
If you can swallow a whale,

you can know common sense is unforgot,
get it. And with your getting,
get standing under, like a shower, you understand.

Whale of a feeling, eh?

what does it take
to appreciate
a poem

they all want drama
as if there werent enough trauma
already

happys like a star
pretty but much too far
to be caught

all the ones who try
have all gone home to cry
once or twice

so we look at them and think
not gonna drive myself to the brink
of crazy

so what does it take
to appreciate
a poem

a takes a certain mind
to put unhappy behind
to live

Fumble mumble jumble
Words or are they thoughts
Or are they notes or are
They voices in my head in my thoughts

mind you I'm not mind you I am not
mind YOU I'm in no way
out of it
I'm in it am I I am I'm in on it
It all makes sense
And no need for cents or dollars
or nickels or the lot of it all

trade in happys in melancholys in smiles
in everything that matters not things
we assign false meaning to

the balloon popped.


the flight mood walked away with the last pieces of my
ever torn heart and soul not deserving of any good good brings.


the heart dos stopped.



although the love stays immense and an intense plot thickens
the thing is, the moon got another shade of blue from these eyes' vision.
all the sweet nothings are now nothing but deafening silence
but who am I to feel this way, I'm sorry for this shxt,
that I hand to you even though we weren't that type of ting
it won't happen again, I guess sometimes love makes me kid think.



the sads are getting intimate.
the flower bloomed but didn't grow.
the happys are no longer living.
mining is jealous of this low.