Often in the corner of our screens we look,
For love from others we seek.
Notifications come flooding in on Facebook,
After we post the usual critique or picture of our physique.

"You look so cute!" the girls want to hear us say
While the guys, "**** dude you were so wasted last night!" makes them feel accepted.
"So and so is going to this event. Why aren't you?" Facebook says; "Display!"
We fear if we don't, we'll not feel connected.

"I can quit whenever I want to."  we say.
Really? I'd like to see you try just one day.
"But my friends need to know what I'm doing and-"
No. Take your mind off the screen and instead lend a helping hand.

I fear the future;
What my offspring will be exposed to,
That instead of encouragement to have adventure,
They will be even more addicted, their faces to the screen ever more glued.

I grew up playing in the dirt out back,
Now, I am told that it's "friends" I lack.
With my brother I played,
We'd sit and drink lemonade.
Now at night I sit in a dark room,
Wearing an online costume.

I hope that instead I will be myself
And not have to prove myself
To the world that I am unique,
That instead I can make shine what was bleak.

I grew up with Legos. You could say, I was "addicted,"
But now by this computer I have been infected.
Yes Facebook can be a useful tool!
We can use it to get together and "act a fool"
With our friends and have a blast,
Or ask questions to our college class.

But if it takes us away from the outside,
If it takes us away from nature's sky,
Then I'd rather quit;
Then I'd rather benefit
From that which God made
And not to which we have become slaves.

That's my two cents on the matter.
I don't mean this to make a clatter.
I don't even want you to "Like"
Or comment on how our thoughts are alike.

Just read and go about your "Facebooking,"
And maybe as we, in life, keep looking,
We'll find the courage to quit overlooking
What we've spent hours on,
What we've sacrificed our short time upon,
That which will hopefully be forgone.

I heard once that life is but a window
That we as birds fly through.
That we are not in limbo,
But that our lives vanish in a time too few.

I've let Facebook take me away from that which is eternal,
I've let it take me away from writing in my journal
About what I've read in the Bible,
Or from how I've come to see how God is vital.

In "All Is For Your Glory" I sing,
"Catch me up in Your story
All my life, for Your Glory"
Yet I stare blankly at the blue and white
And so easily get distracted from "My Delight."

[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:

overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.

[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything

[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.

[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.

Singles in your area are dying to meet you.

You don't know them, they don't know you.

Knocking on your backdoor, peering in your windows.

They've surrounded your house.

Come out NOW.

Marveled over threads
Liked and posted
And even shared

Always controlling
The musty button that says
'Another tab, please!'

But then....
Your eyes wandered
Back to the task assigned

'Tic, tac' says the clock
Oh, now, you're in shock!
No more hitting the sack

Drifting
somewhere between sleeping
and waking life

Dipping
in and out of the fuzzy lake
of my subconcious mind

Straining
to keep myself on the surface -
losing grip, (here i go again)

Waves a blue and white
painted like the sky in that Van Gogh
Starry Night.

Paintied in thick blue tears
and yellow splocthes of infinity.

Snoring
snaps me back
to barely awake.

Tripping
up the stairs
I make my way to my bed,
Wrap my arms about my Love
and let myself fall into
Van Gogh's heavy tears

I would rather sit in the closet
behind an armor of blouses
scribbling on a page that will never
know what my eyes look like
when they cry.

I would rather fantasize about
slamming my head onto the desk
before me
while everyone watches


I would rather ***** my feelings
on an internet stranger
who did not ask to be my receptacle