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Imagine what would happen if suddenly
All of our technology just vanished?

I *
know
that most think
Life would become  serene and peaceful
With socialisation and healthy leisure
All year round

But if we stop and truly picture
This new world
What we will  see
Is chaos and confusion

With no understanding of how
To socialise besides our
Digital devices
And with no clue  how
To yield a bat and ball.

Beyond this our drone-like minds
Wouldn't be able to comprehend
How to read or draw
Magical talents belonging to
An older world.

How pitiful existence is
With all of our life force
Being ****** into these gadgets
And how truly unlucky
For the new generation
As all their talents and mind are wasted.
//What I believe will happen in our near future//
Lucy  Jun 2018
GCSE’s
Lucy Jun 2018
Exams.
Longing for the future when I can be free
Of AQA and Edexcel
And these grades I only wish I could be

Everyone takes it differently
Like a tablet some struggle to swallow
They panic,
Giving themselves even more of a headache than before
They've worked so hard that their peers are in awe
But their heads were hurting them
And yet nobody saw

And just like with a headache, they struggle to look at the light
They'd rather be in the dark whether it's day or night
Focusing on the negatives, nothing positive in sight
If society didn't finish them off, exams might

They search for a solution,
Think they'll find it through control
But their hearts are so tired and so are their souls
So instead of controlling their stress they only make it worse
With the unhealthy coping mechanisms they start to rehearse

'I'm too busy', 'I have no time', 'there's too much to do'
To socialise, sleep and even eat food
To you it might sound odd,
But under this stress these ideas are easy to pursue
Control the things you can, ignore the other few
After all, what have you got to lose?

After exams have finished, this still carries on
If anything this need for control has only just begun,
Originally the compulsive thoughts were just due to stress
But now the lies and routines have become kind of fun

You know at this point that you're kind of a mess
But you quite like it and to be honest you couldn't care less
You're addicted to the way it makes you feel
Somehow not looking after yourself makes you seem more real
It reminds you that your life is in your own hands
And how strong you can become by skipping your meals

For others, its different
They seem completely unaware
About the importance of grades for their future
Or maybe they just don't care

The reality hasn't hit them,
Maybe it will when it's too late
But at least they've saved themselves from getting in a state
They've been kind to themselves, not developed the same self-hate
As the people that have tried so hard to be great

Those people might have the grades
but they don't have their health
They've walked out of school feeling the worst they've ever felt

This just shows that some people can't cope
Exams make them feel like their isn't any hope
The government may as well have handed them the rope
To tie around their little 16 year old throats

Maybe I'm being dramatic,
Trying to find someone to blame
And I know that not everyone will feel the same
But I'm trying to tell you that the ones that do
Need help and support so that they can make it through

'They're just exams' you say, but it's the world to them
And sometimes exams cause lives to end
And I don't want to lose my friends
So let's remind these students that their minds will mend
Jenna  Nov 2015
Social Media
Jenna Nov 2015
You're tweeting
Texting
Face Timing
Whatsapping
SMSing
Facebooking
Skyping
Yet you seem to disconnect yourself from the authenticity of the present
She, he, them, us- are all gone
Congratulations on your 'social media'
Because now the only thing you can really socialise with, is nothing
So think about the next time you decide to choose social media
Are you willing to risk it all in return for a like, comment or message on a screen?
Rhiannon Grace May 2015
Once upon a time there lived a little girl. This little girl was no different to anybody else. She liked to play with her friends, she listened to her teachers and everyday she’d go home to watch TV and play with her two brothers and her little sister. This little girl’s life continued to flow smoothly, she went to school, got good grades, started high school, made new friends, and everyday she’d go home to find her mum making dinner and she’d watch her dad come home after a long days’ work.

The little girl had a good life.

Until one August morning when the little girl awoke only to find that she’d never hear her mother’s voice again.

That little girl’s mother died that day and that little girl suddenly wasn’t just a little girl anymore. The little girl was devastated by her loss but she tried her best not to show it. The little girl put on a mask, one that hid all of her pain and suffering from those around her. No matter how much the little girl hurt, no one could ever see it. What the little girl didn’t know was that the longer she wore this mask, the harder it would be to take off. So the mask stayed on, forever hiding all that she felt from the world. This mask took all of the little girl’s emotions away, both good and bad, it made her completely numb.

So the little girl learnt how to pretend.

She pretended that she was fine. She pretended to be happy when something good happened and pretended to be sad when something bad happened. The little girl was able to pretend for four years before the cracks started to appear in her mask. You see after four years of pretending that everything was fine pressure started to build under the mask. Every fake smile, every fake laugh….. Every fake tear, it all built the pressure up under that mask. Until one day the cracks in the little girl’s mask got so big that the mask shattered into thousands of tiny pieces that could never be put back together again, and all of the emotions, the fake smiles, laughs and fake tears; everything under that mask came out all at once.
Suddenly the little girl couldn’t pretend anymore. Everyone had seen the mask break; they had all seen what was hiding beneath it. So the little girl stopped pretending, but after so long without real emotions she realised that she didn’t know how to be happy, sad, angry, anxious…….. She didn’t know how to feel anything.
The little girl that had once hidden from her emotions, her pain, the world and even herself was forced to face it all at once.

The little girl couldn’t handle it.

The little girl went to the doctors and asked them to fix her. They told her that she was depressed. They gave her some pills and told her that they would make the pain go away. And they did, for a little while at least, but then new problems emerged. Sure the pills took away the pain, but now it was almost like there was too much happiness. The little girl saw the world in Technicolor vision; her thoughts raced and flew faster than anything known to mankind. She had compulsions to clean and to create, to socialise and love. She wanted to yell her happiness from well above the tree tops. Nothing could stop her. She felt immortal. Death was but a tiny distant memory to her.

This feeling never lasted long.

Before long the depression would come back, she found herself with a blade in her hand and tears streaming down her face many times. Too many times she found herself asking what the point in living was. All she wanted to do was die. She experimented with different kinds of overdoses, she got sick and most importantly she stopped caring. She didn’t care about anyone else, she didn’t care about herself. All she wanted was for the world to just stop spinning. The depression took over, until suddenly the world would change and colour would come back. That’s when the compulsions would come back, the racing thoughts, and the happiness. All of it would come rushing back. But just as quickly as it came; it went. This cycle continued for a long time until, during a moment of depression, she got a little too close to death and found herself in a psychiatric hospital.

All of the doctors and nurses agreed that there was more than just depression plaguing the little girl. They threw around words like bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder and cyclothymia. They gave the little girl new pills. This time they were supposed to stop her from going high, and also low. They were supposed to keep her stable. And then, they sent her home. They messed with her medication a lot, trying to find the right ones. They started her on one hell of a rollercoaster ride; and on that rollercoaster ride, is where you can find that little girl today.
Preech  Mar 2013
I Stay Low
Preech Mar 2013
(Before you read this, this is only applicable to my experience, I'm not judging you if this is still your life; it's written more because it was my life and I wasn't living.)


At the time I thought it helped me socialise,
now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes;
supplied with a look over the shoulder guise.
Bored of chasing a broken prize, smoke n lies
I chose to thrive, pry open these permanently closing eyes.
It was the bane of my existence,
now my resistance is high instead of me.
I better be the best pedigree of I.
Instead of the guy flying with eyes far from wide
spying those that despise trying to get inside my mind,
to find they aren't real. Addicted no longer,
uplifted, higher than leaves can carry,
now you’re green with envy while I parry
back your attacks and crack on.
I blow-back your slow trap and reflect upon your affliction
I’m best without your friction on my lungs,
now I’m cutting you with the diction from my tongue,
no grinder.  Now my mind’s up to speed,
no amphetamine, no dependency,
it certainly seems that I’m living better than I could ever dream.
I’m an evergreen standing steady for centuries.
At the time I thought it helped me socialise,
now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes;
supplied with a look over the shoulder guise.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
you can ******* a man with accusations of insanity and destroy him instantly, or over a few years... but that only shows the collective approach is insane and, including the man in question the prefix added to the collective: self-destructive... it's no good implying a man faked a coherent use of language, when the western model attached paranoiac iconoclasm of certain pronoun and noun usage - one man had more coherence in language than a million reduced to Emoticons - but no one minded that affair - they simply accepted it - it was once making the populace literate then the unmaking of literacy with technological advances - as ever the lax aristocracy - we don't philosophise in western society, we simply imply logistics of psychology - a Chinese model for the eradication of the unit of indestructibility - a soul, but what happens in China is a success story, the number in question are too man, our experiment is a failure in this eradication of the unit of indestructibility is a failure, excess individuation processes with too few example of coherence and grey matter - the family model is primarily the one source we have no coherent grey matter populace - with its failure no person will strive to wear the mask of father, grandfather, uncle... there's no investment in society of a family, western hands said: freedom to clone, freedoms for L.G.B.T. communities to flourish - surrogacy prostitution... care homes and tattoos of ***** bed-wetting on the skin - individuation's aggressiveness and objectivity's passiveness reduced to a criticism of a book rather than a project of collective cohesion... Communism came across the greatest antisemitism known to man - capitalistic zenith of the holocaust - now slang in populist propaganda - V for Vendetta realism i approach - i don't think i want to go to a pub these days, whether with Scot, Irishman or Anglo - i don't think watching rats scuttle is much fun over a pint of beer... schizophrenia of the collective, from theorem and other additives you can see the reverse chirality - some way or another you become involved - globalisation did that, you want to be un-involved and yet you become involved - you want the village life but are forced into an abstract urbanity - you have the urban life but are discouraged from an abstract village-life although in deepest desire, you wish for it... the day when two speakers of the same tongue undermine each other's speech - by way of constructing the perfect Ypres' replicas of entrenching validations to stand opposite each other on the basis of argument per se, and so the argument comes... how then contend between masochism on one side and sadism on the other, when the former traps himself in a panic room and does it to himself, and the latter is kept repeating a knock-knock joke with no answer?*

England has become a place where
i don't want to socialise -
i wouldn't want to be in a pub
full of Irish or English -
i've become marginalised as a user
of the tongue - i'm a user
but hardly the attaché - the "where you from"
question is always asked, i'm here,
but where from seems to matter more -
it's not fun anymore - London is
slightly confused at it all,
they said the European Union experiment
is a failure akin to the Communist Plot -
but of course both were pre-readied failures,
the former was tackled by puppetry of the
American president, the latter by the Pope -
both were ****** - the populist assertion
of the dream of Nebuchadnezzar -
if history is hardly a hindsight, it certainly
is a way of sleepwalking -
the failure from places not formerly conquered -
the anger of north africa and the elsewhere
encompassing the Mediterranean -
invigorating a force of conquerors by the once conquered
by goose-pimple buttocks of the Romans not
heading north on the continent (islands are insulators
of the cold) - hence the once former conquered
trying to scold and try out their post-colonial
authority - white v. white won't work -
Scandinavians and the Baltic States weren't
ready for ***** Gaul or ***** Britannia setting
orders - the Roman didn't go that far -
the failure was imminent from a single dream -
history is nothing about hindsight -
the hindsight default is nothing but the wrong
of the waking hour for many a man,
to take a dream as a vector for forward only sent
as backward - never make history from the interpretation
of a resting body - from a dream -
to make history from a dream is to give more men
unrest in the waking hour - to make history from
dreams is to make history without hindsight
but with sleepwalking, and few men are given
the anti-psyche drugs for a sober approach,
they say: but i didn't drink... but their intoxication
came from dreams... a drunk man will stumble and fall,
but a man intoxicated by dreams will make more
horrors outside the realm of cinema than is already
there with an eager audience - indeed, a cinema with
an un-eager audience - residues of symbolism,
the quote: for king and country and such baffling e.g. plural.
Ukraine was almost ready to join... you could say
Russia and Britain pulled the project apart...
i just don't think you'll like this aggravated German
with the expulsion of Jews from Poland -
the Visegrad Group - partly because this is the undercurrent -
so when will the channel tunnel become a plot-line
for Guy Fawkes? it's already rearranging itself -
a new chapter - a new nothing - it never worked in
the first place because there was no respect for the diversity,
we shared a single phonetic encoding, sure, some of us
used diacritical stresses, one particular didn't -
but it was anti-representing the diversity, this was
supposed to be an European Union -
not the Post-Colonial-Pseudo-African Union -
the great colonial states ruined it, that's why the greatest
of them has left - the European Union should have
excluded Britain, France and the Iberian peninsula -
it was intended as the revival of the Holy Roman Empire,
but including post-colonial states invoked the realisation
of their colonial past, thereby necessitating an integration
of their past colonial subjects into Europe -
Britain left because they heard the news... Turkey is going
to join... well... never mind Rotherham, eh?
It's such a quaint notice to understand
The very point on why Friendships are made
And you in Cheer, though Special beforehand
Was just a Concern I had to obey
This thrice on Crop's Best; And opened before
Such that Stubborn Mules fail to socialise
They only eat grass - aloof and demure
And a Good Partner most unqualified
We shared the News once. That a Good Exchange
Of Certain Facts the Telly won't disclose
How frustrating when we need a wide range
And once we did just adds to our Remorse.
Freakish Things they are, Roaches in the Brain
Unless we sweep this, infest they remain.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
David Barr Nov 2013
Connection involves a reciprocal flow where being detaches from nothingness into an inseparable unity.
So, let us acknowledge the colours and feel the vibrations as they transcend the parameters of compartmentalism, into an infinite and unified whole.
Attempts continue to socialise us into the abyss of perceptual bankruptcy with materialistic carrots where the fabric is truly frayed despite plausible and intellectual argument.
So, I want to talk with you as we swim in deep rivers of generational statements, which are released from the conglomerate of necrotic unions. I raise my glass to realms which lie beyond tangible and finite chords.
Tryston Kae Feb 2016
The dim morning sun danced across the white bed sheets
The lamp posts flickered
The cars, enthused, hooted
It could not have been past six in the morning
Drivers, passengers, by standers, they were all part of the pre-Christmas rush
Christmas was a week away.
I smiled at the thought of waking up on Christmas morning
Although I am not one to socialise (you know that)
I was excited to see family members that I would only see next year, this time, again
They would bottle up the year’s stories and once the glasses clink,
The liquid fizzles,
The stories will be offered to people who listen but are rarely focused.
Liquids impact your life
We often take them for granted.
Droughts teach us not to waste water.
Wine (if you’re religious) teaches us to never forget the reason we are here today.
Hangovers, they teach us to put the cup down and socialise with the couples,
Being a third wheel is not safe, but avoiding a hangover is.
Party liquids, are great.
They ease the tension.
They help avoid awkward situations.
In most cases, the night before would be a blur.
This case was different.
As I tugged on the cold sheets,
It brought warmth to my aching body.
My heart rate had decreased and my chest had fallen.
Then, it sped up.
I prayed that I would not be having another anxiety attack,
But the events of the previous night had lashed out.
Anxiety attack for who?
I recalled his blonde-brown hair.
The way he begged for his comb over to not move over.
He had this giggly whim about him.
His face would light up each time his glass was filled,
But it could not have been as bright as mine.
“This is my girlfriend.”
That was my introduction.
That was my title for the night.
I could have been upset.
I was upset but,
Anger was destined for the morning after.
The first string,
Caught me off-guard.
Although I tied it.
It surprised me.
It didn’t happen to surprise you, though.
You never finished that conversation.
The moon light looked brighter and for a few seconds, the lamp posts worked.
Your friend helped you and reminded you that I have baggage that has been deported.
He reminded you that I may be using you to avoid my own emotional distress.
“We know what we’re doing.”
I smiled and agreed when I heard that.
That night, we knew what we were doing.
We were prepared.
Everything was going to be okay.
I am decoding scribbles right now.
Trying to cut the string,
My scissors are missing.
Do you think we knew what we were doing?
Yes, it took a few slurps for me to be your girlfriend,
But was it worth it in the end?
As I type this,
A thought lingers
“Alcohol changes your behaviour,
Not your feelings.”
I will repeat these words every time I enter your neighbourhood.
I know it is absurd that I have grown to develop feelings for you within a week,
But I needed to destroy writer’s block.
You offered a lot more, though.
Just my luck.



-Tryston Kae
Here's the story told to me about our glorious infantry.

Louts,rapscallions,friends battalions
arm in arm and full of glee
marching off to join the infantry.

In the rear lines drinking fine wines,hock,moselle,some burgundy
and some drinking ginseng flavoured tea from some far flung idea of Empire
while only half a mile along the road the whole world was on fire,
were the fat arsed generals with their horses, waiting on their second courses,
crepes and franzipans and to a man they didn't care that the war was waiting there,
'let the ******* wait',they'd say,
after all that was the gentlemanly way.

The bullets striped us left to right and falling into our own falling ***** we'd call for mum and dad
aye lads
aye lads
war is bad
but for the buggers at the rear who never so much as once came near the sound of a gun,
war was fun a chance to socialise,
society is full of lies and leaders they were not.
But death's got their number on his shell,they'll soon be joining us in hell,
so ****** them and sod the lot
were in a spot,we'll not get home,splintered bone and mangled limb and corporal thinks it's still a sin to swear
well ****** him as well,we no longer care.
As we share a final smoke,Johnny tells his favourite joke about three generals and some place called,but I forget the punch line as the time has come for one more bullet,one more gun and silence.

In Croydon,Roydon and North of Watford Gap,families are spoon fed some wholesome krap from drip fed Sergeants,battle,shield and argent,honour King and all the other little things that the senselessness of death brings home.
Let them keep their fields filled full with glory,we know the ***** **** filled story,
war is bad
war is bad
I'm glad that I cant fight no more.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
i get bored of using websites
with only strangers on them,
it's like trying to be a stage-fright
actor imitating statues,
it's almost but a too
clear bewilderment;
i wonder why the internet was never
intended for the sole purpose of
bureaucracy, trading, banking,
and all those social requirements,
the dark side of the internet isn't
the dark web as such, it's the oddity
of using the internet to socialise,
the hindering, the crutch, when otherwise
all benefits of the internet have
proven effective, for example?
the shrinking diversity of the high street;
large and accessible world,
yet no community in the vicinity,
and then friendships 12 hours apart,
and then you step onto the streets of suburbia
and death's grinding grip of things,
because, let's face it, the bright lights
and constant social engagements will only
appreciate you for as much time as necessary
to feel over-confident and then you're
easily recyclable - and then the pre cemetery:
suburbia.

— The End —