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Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
Sharp nose,
just a hint of
his wide open smile
in the screen light
maybe its unromantic
maybe its just plain weird
but his profile in the screen light
was one of the most beautiful things
I've ever held sight of
as if the real him
was coming out
and
only
i
could see it
but it burned me
his face in the screen light
it hurt me
that profile basked in blue light
simply
because
it scares me.
dang those projectors. they make me all feel-y and poetry-y.
Lilly Gibbons Jan 2015
There is no more mystery, no hidden gem,
No unfound treasure, no rock unturned,
No land untrodden, no holy ground,
#unfiltered all around.

No want for tomorrow, no story to tell,
No chinese whisper or wishing well,
No unheard tick of a clocks pointed handle,
No unchartered water or unlit candle.

No patience to bare just one more day,
No unscripted plays, leaving nothing to say,
No route unmarked, no map undiscovered,
No unbeaten tune, no songs uncovered.

No sitting, wandering what might never be,
Why bother wondering when google is free.

No crime unreported, yes, a marvelous thing,
But if crimes become nothings is war a greater thing?
No boundaries obeyed, as cultures melt together,
Empty replies downpour with "whatevers"

And we stand back to witness,
Life moving with such speed,
Unable to slow it, barely able to breathe!
Chloë Fuller Jan 2015
I'd rather be alone
for the rest of eternity
than spend one more minute
waiting for you
to call me back.
LiviKawa Jan 2015
What is living
If our eyes don't gleam with excitement
If laughter isn't constantly escaping
If we never make mistakes
If we don't tan in the summer
Or have to wash dirt off of our feet
From those long walks in the woods

What is living*
If we are constantly worried about our sizes
If money is always being counted
If we always are hiding behind technology
If the only thing we fill our bodies with
is alcohol
Or drugs because depression is the only color we see


When did living become something that we have to be told how to do?
Nature has been forgotten
And so has our love
MysteryBear Jan 2015
In the vast corners of the room was a telephone that read broken. Poets are really deep because they can turn nothing into something. To me, the telephone meant that us as our generation have broken communication. We get rid of our problems over text like ending a relationship or quitting a job.
karen dannette Jan 2015
venom trickles down his thigh
droplets splatter against the earth and sink
Poisionous saliva from one of man's admirer's
and all he can do is lay ther, afraid to even blink

Corrosion of this time has come and left us now
Left to eat away the edges of oiur every fear
Even while we fight this natural existence
Torrid weather beats our skin
The rage is within the human soul
Loaded on terrorism, humanity cries out
Evil deepens, while goodness remains somehow.
Point out the flaws, instead of the even ocean tides rythym.
Souls that still search for salvation
Amidst this momentary place we live, created by belief.,
Slithering like a snake, someone tries to fool you
Lash out with faith of something better, someone better.
Forging through the open mass of tyranny
Breathing in the seething, ******* lust of some
Bitter to only the ones who taste sour
Only to hope and pray my heart is not devoured
If only the painless bright light would come into play
I will go to sleep at the end of today
As I wake up in a pool of sweat,
All my nightmares play over in my mind
Keepng me trapped inside the shell of pure emotion

Blast off.,  Technloogy has come
Open to any feedback.. thanks
Gwen Pimentel Jan 2015
we aren't mute
we aren't shy
we aren't strangers

yet we remain with not a word escaping our mouths, staring into little rectangles of light.
Audrey Frost Dec 2014
There’s this weight on
your soul and it brings
out the worst in you.

The more you go
against it all the closer you
come to imitating it. So
individual and yet so alike.

Force fed ideas of hope
and life eternal, so ingrained.

We are immortal through
mementos on screens
wrapped in webs and data.

Hollow bowls feed empty
souls strung out on fantasy.
Vanity, it’s in your veins.
Mark Ball Dec 2014
The past has past,
and from it I have decided to flee.
I no longer care about what
happened then.
So, don't wave your history at me.

Technology is supposed to
lessen the load,
and somehow make us feel free,
But all I see are chains and rooks.
So, don't wave your gadgets at me.

In the educational system I trusted,
through it the world I could see,
But now I know
it's all a show.
So, don't wave your grades at me.

Poetry is an acquired taste;
As dead as it can be,
But write we still,
As words can ****.
So, don't wave your lines at me.

In love I used to trust;
the one and only key.
But then I learnt,
and caring was burnt.
So, don't wave your happiness at me.

You came unexpected and briefly;
Like the sun on a cold winter's day.
You dived and soaked in the waters,
and caused ripples through and through.
Changing the surface for a brief moment of eternity.
Now you've bathed and done;
had your fun.
For this I decree:
I am the errors you left me
So please do not wave at me.
Sort of inspired by Keaton Henson's Poem- 'Don't twitch your curtains at me'. Go look him up. He's a great renaissance man.
Rick Warr Dec 2014
screen obsession
has taken possession
our lives are not our own
we spend all our time
looking down
at laptop or smart phone
why do we need
the data feed
at every living moment
perhaps we could learn
to ditch the phone
and just think of what the day meant?
A thought also inspired by Susan Greenfield in "Mind Change" and others.
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