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Jada Sep 2020
A heart symbol doesn't count  

There's no love in that  

I want your real response  

How did you react?  



I shared my poem with you, took a real risk

Opened up my soul, received no closure for it

I don't want to have to beg you not to be brisk

But like bruh please use your words

My fragile soul craves this
I shared a poem with one of my peeps, but they didn't respond, so I wrote a poem about them not responding to my poem.
TIZZOP Sep 2020
where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you
where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you

where's my mobile, without you, i'm not global
if i'm not global, i'm not really mobile
good heavens! it's twenty-four to eleven
i have to call shannon but i can't find my mobile

what can i do without my mobile? life is trite
don't know the difference between day and night
without my mobile! i freak out, suffrin' from a black out
i'm prayin' to god, lightin' up a candle, hopin' to find it

where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you
where's my mobile, i been missing you
if you were here, i would be kissing you
Mobileys...
That Girl Sep 2020
I’m surprised I’m not hurting so much.
I’ve only been obsessing over you for three months now.
I saw your single relationship status and got my hopes up.
Excited by the thought of you.
The thought of us.
That’s the problem though.
I didn’t truly like you.
I liked the thought of you.
So I’m glad you got a girlfriend.
Actually you had one the whole time.
But I feel sorry for her.
I found out through other people about your relationship.
Your Facebook still reads single.
You never post a photo of the two of you,
But she does.
You may like it but you never comment.
In person you two look like friends.
Well, acquaintances really.
You two never talk.
She just follows you around like a lost puppy.
She gives you all this love and attention,
But you just stand there and take it.
You aren’t giving anything back.
It’s like she’s screaming at you to love her back,
and she’s answered with silence.
You maybe her boyfriend,
But is she really your girlfriend?
I feel sorry for her.
She deserves better than you.
People say I still have a chance with you,
But I don’t think I want a chance with you.  
I deserve better.
Lewis Wyn Davies Sep 2020
Each day, we carry our names through urban terrain.
For every letter laid out and shining atop the cityscape,
a thousand more become garbage scattered in darkness.
Yet I'm courted into thinking I'm on the right street
by algorithms selling dopamine down Sideways Alley.

Too soon after bearing my soul on the infinite scroll,
tourists flock and flap to get at the itch on my back.
Their words cut deep like plastic knives at a banquet.
Their hearts warm like the walls of an empty fridge.
Breadcrumbs left behind only lead to the trapdoor.

Those in luxury estates who threw paint on a throne -
their patches of land fertile and thriving up to the gates -
offer tips on organic growth that can build into empires,
while those packed in high-rise blocks act like bandits,
egos painted loud on knock-off flags hung to balconies.

What am I in this black hole of corrupted competition?
Views above the skyline only provide anxious thoughts.
Occasionally, I find answers in unseen neighbourhoods.
An outstretched hand holds a glass of chilled apple juice.
Now we go round each other's house to share fresh fruit.
Poem #8 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad' focuses on social media.
Norman Crane Aug 2020
Two posts emerged on my Facebook,
And sorry I could not peruse both
And be one user, long I stood
And scrolled down one as far as I could
To where it went into a long blockquote;

Then read the other, as just as shared,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was classy and about footwear;
Though as for that the likes there
Had rated them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
I believe with no comments written back.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever tap back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two posts emerged on my Facebook, and I—
I read the one less thumbed-up by,
And that has made all the difference.
Mark Wanless Aug 2020
actions of body
speech and mind arising soft
facebook karma peace
Jordan Gee Aug 2020
I foot the ladder
I called upon the wheat
I called upon the spaces where only an ibex can stand
I called upon the swollen silence, the space between the keys
I called upon the distended bulb of awkward air that is my usher unto
the people of this world.
I called upon God to change my purpose for me
but all I saw were white shapes in the darkness.
he had sent his heralds with the long horns and bugles
the thrones and cherubim suspended like a women’s pearls about the neck
but i was too deaf and hard of seeing
on what was happening in my day to day
in my aloneness
in my facebook messages
in my bank account.
I thought the die was cast and so
I rode their mercy like an uncut Arabian steed.
I was young and my shadow was a
bad foretelling -
like worms drowning on the pavement-
like an empty soul factory in the bathroom stall.
but I’m on borrowed time like a black cat dream on
the narrows and the cobblestones.
like how a broken broom breaks all gypsy curses,
black cat dreams are never wrong, and
in the deep statecraft of my undoing I’m almost sorry for
what I asked for.
See, there are two of me and they are crowing
I know not which one bodes the ill intent and which one wields the cyanide.
but both are mostly indolent in their listening
to the building of the gallows.
Every breath is a fatality
Every hand full of dirt is a genesis
and I can hear the hangman at the gallows.
Let Justice Be Done, Though The Heavens Fall
and i’ll go see my brother on the water.
halfway up the sky he’ll build eternity outside of time,
and I will foot the ladder.
birds of hollow bone they herald my undoing,
planting white lilies in my heart.
by the building of the gallows I will foot the ladder
sometimes there are only hammers
sometimes all I see are nails.
where is the healing balm in this dreamscape that I invented?
he’s holding sulfur in his death hand.
I looked up and asked him for a bright lantern
I asked him to keep this pen alive and to fix me to his liking
I asked him for a bamboo raft worthy of the rapids.
I told him that when I was in California I was so sad I couldn't see the ocean.
I asked him that if I were to give penance
could he take these tumors in his hands.
all i saw were reflections of him smiling
like long eclipses on comanche moons.
I heard the gears of the clock all grinding but the hands were spinning loose.
I wanted to be home then, but he said I already was. And then he told me:
You are the gallows and the hammers
You are the black cat and broken brooms
You are the pavement and the worms and
the drowning and the nails
You are the lilies and the wheat
You are your brother and his dreaming
You are the cyanide and the birds.
but i’ve so much invested already in the crawling
in and out of beds
that all there is left to do is
foot the ladder till I'm no longer deaf to the horse's mouth,
to the screaming of the diad in their forgetting of their
Oneness
Of their Atonement
Of their dreaming of the dream.
20.Jan.2020
Geoffrey Adams Apr 2020
I often think of you, the one that got away.
The nights staying up until 4am
I regret nothing.
I wish you would let me stay
I thought to you my humor would mean something
But alas.
It is you after all, Mark zuckerburg.
I got banned from Facebook for 30 days. ******* Zuckerburg 😂😂😂
nick armbrister Feb 2020
Where were you when they assassinated Mark Zuckerberg?
I was having a crap and using Facebook
I was promoting this book in ****** groups
The ******* blocked me from posting
Because my book is a rude one
Full of well written adult poems
Which feature varied *** and intimacy
I guess my book isn’t for the Zuck
So **** the Zuck and all he stands for
I won’t miss him or his smug ways
I read that his death was a slow one
And that they cut off his *****
Then r*ped his **** wife and shot her
It said she enjoyed the ***
But don’t believe all you read
Is the Zuck really dead?
**** him and his site
I’m off for a beer
Tommy Randell Feb 2020
I'm not selling, I'm not telling
I'm not correcting someone's spelling
I'm not preaching, not out-reaching
I'm not book or CD releasing

I'm not dissing, or **** kissing
I'm not convincing or insisting
I'm not setting out to plague you
Evangelise or persuade you

I'm not bribing you into daring
I'm not chiding you into caring
In fact I'm doing nothing shocking
I'm not boycotting or mocking

I'm just saying hi... Still here... alive
You dont have to share... or actually even care
In fact I dont mind
If you're not even there

This after all is Social Media
I prefer it best low key & immediate
Throw away, blow away, meet & greet
Oh, and be polite, this is a public street
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