I lost it when the storm blew,

Wi-Fi, laptop, iPad too.

On my kindle, no bars found,

Oh lord, the internet is down.



My Facebook friends no longer poke,

I cannot tweet a single joke.

My iTunes offer not a sound,

Now the internet is down.



I finally fix that broken chair,

Clean my room, wash my hair.

Then I wander all around,

Now the Internet is down.



The library’s packed. And the theater too,

I need my fix. Can I sit here too?

Is Wi-Fi in another town?

Now the internet is down.



I’ll search the house and find a nook,

To finally read that Dan Brown book.

My thoughts are clear, my soul unbound,

Now the internet is down.



I’ll study French. Take up guitar,

I’ll search for wisdom, near and far.

To internet’s death, I raise my cup,

Wait. Never mind. It came back up.
:)

I stopped commenting on airy internet objects long ago
lest it be a needed praise of some starving artists’ work
or in response to a worded response of my own work

It’s just such a waste of time to tell a million view band
they “rock” or they “****”
All I will incite is defenders or refuters of my claim
who are just as petty as me

As an immature high schooler, that’s just what I wanted
The modern version of my dead grandfathers
with their white shirts, blue jeans, and duck *** hair
Driving from the city to hick school dances
just to pick fights

I once typed lines of **** talk on Elvis videos from the 1970s
just to see what would happen
- Nothing much
My grandfathers are dead and no one’s left to defend The King
I’m not so tough, but I felt scrappy then just the same

Now, with my lowly little job
my first world laptop and my glasses
Sipping coffee and mellowed out
I read some comments to see what people feel
about an article on my generation
How we’re more corporate than ever
bamboozled by a guise of fake uniqueness

Sure, I agree with the critique in the article
if you can even call it an article
People get paid for three lines of an opinion,
sometimes a link, and then the real entertainment's in the comments
Where can I get in line for this ******* job?
Not the commentors, their labor’s free
I mean the three lines guy, it sounds too easy

“Don’t ya get it yet, son”
My grandad chuckles
“His job’s just corralling all those comments,
inciting easy debate,
and getting advertising clicks”

He shook his head
went up through the roof
and his twenty-year-old jeans
ended in a wispy swirl
But I couldn't help noticing
they were name brand

convincing us we have "followers"
of what
our personality
our religion
our values
our way of life
there is nothing to "like" about inconsistent imperfection, am i right
trying to make each of us gods
before we have thoroughly proved anything to anyone about our worthiness
zero effort needed

Write everyday, too much
That's a commandment for a to do list
in hopes it will manifest into routine
I can store the text in the internet
It's safer that way, these days
Store it in a place that actually doesn't exist
How can it be lost?

There's too many spies making logs
and in the rare artful moment of an agent
maybe I'll get discovered

Not banking on it
I'm throwing all my eggs at random houses
and wearing the wicker basket as a helmet to protect from backlash
in hopes that, by then, my poet spirit could leap from treetop to treetop
to avoid hollow bullets

are you for real?
why would you do this to yourself?
he’s not even real,
at least not that you know.
all he is is a combination
of letters and numbers,
zeros and ones
that you haven’t seen in the flesh.
but he likes you,
and nobody else does,
so why wouldn’t you jump at the chance?
because you’re lonely
and so is he
and he says that you’re
the most beautiful thing
he’s ever seen,
and no one has ever said that to you
in your entire life.

Nothing is real;
They scream damnation
Behind computer screens
Expecting attention
Drawing face
To the problem at hand
Flames break loose
In the arena pit where
Witty strikes and fat love
Douse the dodgy daggers of
Misunderstood hatred
While apathetic eyes
Watch the wretched souls
Bleed their fake hearts out
Screaming a battle cry
For the sake of emotion
Because in today's world,
Nothing is real;
They all think they feel
Driven by passion or God
Or self-righteousness
When the motive is really
Vanity at its finest.
No one has all of
Heaven to say
No one is a prophet
No one walks the keyboard
Without a leash
No one can use a beautiful
Thing to mask the ugly
No one makes the void
Any less empty
Because at the end of today's so-called reality,
Nothing is real.

The real world is dying and no one understands why,
maybe because we are raised by the internet,
inspired by illusions,
focused on filters,
and think hollywood is the sky.

No time to look each other in the eye and talk about your perspective on life,

you only know how much they loved you when you die
#RIP