This century spins wilder than prior gyres,
Racing backward, ever more efficient and spectacular,
Study finds.
 
The weather today, like every day, is
Immense and incomprehensible.
 
Election week is soon, and the Salv-nation Party candidate
Would like to remind voters of the Party of the Mysterious Robe's Mysteriousness.
Representatives for the PMR gave no comment.
 
****** digital performer @JezebElsa
Went viral with her leaks. #HollywoodNewz
 
An impressive number of people we know
Demand justice for all registered unrepentant killers.
 
A Meteor landed not ironically atop Selfiecomplishment Summit early this morning,
Injuring only the most dedicated hikers.
Confirming folklore, the Meteor disappeared once photographed.
Don't go out trying to find it.
However, you may still purchase a tincture of the liquid it contained
From us at OrganicH2.Org.Headfeed.com
No meteorologists were harmed.
 
Us vs. Terror: Terrorwatch!:
The Monsters we've been ignoring
Have taken the City and consumed the last of

i've been texting people for a connection.
our bodies search for vibrations,
short and electric but its an elaborate show.
who are these folks behind the curtains?
and through these notes, i am certain.
i cant write anything of substance.
i keep seeing your name and i try to change it
into something insignificant.
but that which we call a rose,
right?
i keep trying to escape it
but my handwriting is no legible font.
no respectable medium to my professor.
i cant keep in between the margins
how would they know the amount?
did i plagiarize the way i wrote
"I miss you." ?
so, we type.
remove the writer. its about the content.
did i cite your absence right?
is this journalism, biography or *******?
it must not true, ****.
but my fingertips reach
short distances on the keys
of my devices
and we type.
hashtag notice us, hashtag test us back,
are we connected yet?

Statement
Query
Searching...
Starting Process...
404 Error - love not found

The internet, social networking, you, reading this, now.


It’s all about surface value, the judgment of likes and dislikes. It’s all about interests,


"Oh, you like this band?
this movie,
this painting,
this author,
this show,
this *******?"

"Oh, you’re so cool, you’re such an awesome person", obviously.

You will never know me, never know who I am, and with the way this world has shifted,
with the acceptance of this voyeurism of superficial attractions, I’m afraid neither will I.

You’ll rarely know when I’m genuine or when I’m plagiarizing, original or manufactured, real or phony.
But that’s alright, it keeps a distance, it keeps things calm, and safe, and clean.

That’s all we really want. A facade, a dream, the image of our desires, not the manifestation.
We want cold, hard, unbreakable, shiny plastic perfection.

No one wants the warm, moist, moving, ever changing mess that is life, and love, and humanity.

So stay at your computer, stay inside your factory, keep typing instead of talking,
keep pushing instead of feeling, keep staring instead of looking.

It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s now.

*circa 2009

Sitting on this addictive desk
Staring at the wonders of the world via the internet
From the modesty to the grotesque
It's funny how they all forget
The life outside of this intoxicating bottle of wires
But who am I to complain, for I am one of them
Lost inside these eccentricities that I admire
Wondering, conjecturing all about the beautiful eerie emblem.

What if just one day, one day we all stood and went outside?
Smell the breeze of the isolated air
Feel the earth, the dirt, that we denied
The earth we wear and tear
And yet, the ungrateful spends no time to relish
What we have, inexpensive
But all the care is for the wires; hellish
This is the mysterious truth
Of the brute
Of mankind and their neglect
Of a life that may never resurrect

-fir.m

A poem to make today meaningful.
Though I did something
It was nothing worth sharing
So you've heard before, no one's caring.

I'll write a poem to make today meaningful.
I'll be constantly reminding
You that you never had a good grasp of timing.
And it wasn't jealousy that forced me to quit responding
It was the fact that you would only text
me that I found alarming
...and you wrote a poem to make the end meaningful

You really must be my favorite author
I've bought your work time and again
I've your words stuck in my head
And you said
"You're reading too much into this" and had nothing else to offer.

I built a nest out of telephone wires
Waiting for a text message
That never came
          like the lover in the 1930's
          and the boy at war

   *He's never coming Home

I think, therefore I phone,
I phone, therefore I am.