Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
GL Thompson Feb 27
I’m starting to think she may have died
gone up to blue tick heaven after being verified
Caught up in a mockery of an internet led democracy
World wide fame to blame for the tragedy
Her Tightened grip on reality was merely a saga of concise works of fiction.


She tried to Reach out for profanity and found a hundred degrees reality.
Well It all means nothing to nobody now
Here comes latest trend you’d be mad not to bow.

Been inactive for days lost track of the newest craze
Whilst her exploits were insightful
They ultimately led to her downfall
Spin the wheel line up to play the game
Because nobody remembers your name
Only your handle.

I’m starting to think maybe she lost her mind
all of the tape unravelled when she tried to hit rewind.
There was no filter there when she opened the window to look outside
without the second source she was unable to decide
she went offline to go backpacking in the sky I wonder why?
It all seems so alternate
With her curtains drawn at the break of dawn it seems so analogue.
She had a shockproof phone case but I can’t say the same for her mind
Megan Parson Feb 22
Once there was a file,
The file was used in a program.
Unfortunately, could never smile,
Digitally stuck in rolling RAM.

Wanting a life beyond the lab,
To be called more than just a tab.
Instead AMAZING, cool & fab,
Being able to dance & dab.

Tired of being cut, copied and pasted,
Duplicated, locked and wasted.
So s/he married a trojan,
And eloped, far from that dungeon.

To party with android & PUBG,
Feasting on apples & candy.

Living life in blissful entirety!
Bonjour my fellow poets & poetesses, i know its been long but my exams are finally over  *dab*  I wrote this poem in my computer lab, with the first 2 lines left behind by some kind soul. Love, Megan.
Syamil Faisal Feb 21
I'm retrieving my life back
I'm putting my phone down
Escape the digital world
And be present.

Easier said than done.

It's hard,
When you have a lover  
A thousands of miles away.
The only means for connection
Is digital.
Syamil Faisal Feb 21
Is it poetry,
Or is it a clickbait?
Poetry is evolving with the economy of attention in today's digital age. With images and advertisement bombarding us from every corner of the media content that we consume, our attention span is getting shorter as we know it. Lengthy literature are becoming less favourable. The discourses  that are discussed in a book, are now preferably obtained from a shorter article on the internet. Poetry as I observed, seems to be riding on the same trend.
Anton Jan 22
Maths?

an extradimensional
science piece

art flesh
in shape of towers
buildings
and painted crowns of trees

i spect skyscrapers
on stumpy
tube elevators
through polaroid glasses

math capsule is legit

Graham's digit
an instant pearl,
its shatters tossed
on galactical
skin
and bones

a digit is tech spectrum
Xandra Lynch Dec 2018
These days making poetry is easy

You


Just


Press


Enter
Shame Dec 2018
Look and see
it's right there, splashed upon the screen.
Pixel will dance,
pixel will craft, for those
within those means.
A whole world all
apart from worlds
where I walk less than wander.
Everyone looks dazzling,
and so together, too.
It was sad once, now the sad's passed,
and I'm mostly confused.
Faces on the screen share their
pointed lives like it means a thing.
Meaning lives in the thought itself. . .
Dazzling. And so together, too.
If this game makes so much sense,
what is wrong with me?
What is wrong with me?
D Awanis Nov 2018
I think those who are in love on this era is cursed,
not that their love is delusional nor artificial
But because their manisfestation of love is perceived
by how society visualizes and defines it

We think someone genuinely love us because
they upload hundreds of photos of us
We think someone sincerely love us because
they write essay competition-worthy captions
We think someone truly love us because
they praise us at all of our selfie posts

To me, love is listening to a music
and suddenly it reminds you of them
To me, love is reading a good book
and suddenly wants them to read it as well

Well, then again, Chbosky once said that
"we accept the love we think we deserve"
and maybe we don't get to choose the way we love
or the way we want to be loved
simply because we think it's the kind of love
that deserves us
"you make it far too easy to believe,
that true romance can be achieved these days" // Alex Turner
Steve Kelly Oct 2018
The howling maelstrom of wireless
Haunts the air unseen
Blue toothed demonic
It whips up white caps of restlessness
And drives sleep onto the rocks

Blowing through keyboard tickers
And screen flickers
There’s a digital mosquito hum in the rigging
And the sheets fill with an endless cacophony
Of Arabica bean buzz

Your physiognomy is a book
Rolled up like a chart in a tube
The cabin cricket in its cage
Twittering nonsense
And lusts of cute and food
And anti anti anti

Both bullies and victims at the masthead
Squeal and rage and defecate
Raw sewage dribbling down the bow
In a million billion ones and zeros

Sailors lost in foreign climes
With no purpose on land
The motley crew self-gratify
Thinking
Come the dawn we’ll all be back at sea

Not realising
That with the globe at your fingertips
Both night and day are constants
Lash yourself to the mast
Else be washed overboard

All the stars you used to sail by
Have become little more
Than dead pixels on a screen

© 2018 Steve Kelly aka kellyocs
Jeff S Sep 2018
i'd say the #2 has etched its genius
on the pale, ruled stock for the last time—

(imagine when Paul said that, scribbling his
preach and practice between the lines at the foot of a fiery cross)

but the truth is, my work is ephemera;
the etch of a keyboard ****** imprints only

as long as the flaming feet of a
hurried conflagration.
Next page