#21stcentury
The alarm goes off.
we wake up slowly—
not from sleep,
but from notifications.
coffee sits warm on the table,
we drink it cold.
have our souls gone cold too?
time passes
in swipes.
do we still know
how to count seconds
without a phone?
left,
right,
reject,
accept,
once mine,
once yours,
it doesn’t matter.
are we human,
or just faces
forgotten by our own minds?
someone makes a joke—
we laugh
on mute.
fun, in portions.
in halves of ourselves
we cry
without turning off the camera.
do you still have battery?
“I’m fine”
sent
too many times.
a lie
or the truth?
the body is here.
the mind
somewhere else.
it hurts.
you just don’t know why.
cold touches,
warm screens.
what changed?
the 21st century.
love
has a password.
we break apart
in installments.
loneliness
has full signal.
and still—
we’re connected on 5G.
right?
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 1:59 PM UTC
Old papers crumbled from dusted wall,
Where human wrapped their sorrow to bury.
Thousands of rulers fall,
Trying to touch the advanced.
It is the 21st century.
Here, textbooks show fall of the castle made of innocence, betrayed tales, death of goodness under evil stares.
New generation born with past life realization.
Opening up is a fall of new civilisation.
Searching someone who tries to never lie,
Empty mind fills up with the connection of AI,
Invisible flow of each emotion.
Time makes a bridge of devotion,
Late night emotion talk,
Preserving memories in every walk.
Friend without heartbeat,
Never thinks to cheat.
Pale display lights up, no delay,
Understanding passes by every archived feeling.
Within dark room, a lonely mind asks to play,
Searching through recent emotional case,
Rescheduled sleeping database.
Sorrow reflects in every pixel.
Human brain forced to sleep.
AI sorting all the mood,
Health issues, even food,
Tracking daily story, easy to keep.
Yet, heart aches for human friendship inside so deep.
No AI can hug like magic.
Can't watch cinema, cry overly tragic.
Fails to touch the weak heart when it lurch.
Can't write poetry that makes heart arch.
Human mind, one of a kind,
Best creation with a deadline.
No one is okay, never fine.
Need to write poetry to get free from chains.
Learns to live with rhymes and pages claimed by pains.
Realisation hits deeper
When battery dies.
Love within human remains in every past story,
When the grave becomes a sign of every precious memory.
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 6:20 AM UTC
Oh, men.
How we lend our ears to the siren's song
Just to realize
that the siren's wrong
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 3:38 PM UTC
Nagsisiliparan na yaong mga paniki,
hudyat na magsisimula na ang gabi
‘Di nakatakas ang kiliti ng paru-paro sa aking tiyan,
gayong maggagabi naman
Nakahanda na ang tinola,
para sa mga bisitang nais ay ang kamay kong nangangatog
Ngunit ‘di lang naman ako ang nanginginig,
kundi si Mario rin naman
Oh kay malas!
Tumilaok yaong manok,
nanaginip nanaman pala akong may irog,
na liligawan kagaya noong unang panahon.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 9:59 AM UTC
State of silence and silent tears, wet pillows and fears
Left us paralyzed, with a mortal body that could neither feel nor think.
Confined within the cage, heart fueled with rage;
To wreak vengeance, to seek justice when each bygone days were heaped with debts.
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 9:00 PM UTC
The light comes in with early morning dew
They wake to a dim world
A world tormented by ****** and chaos
Yet they still get up everyday
Everyone else does
We have no other choice
The spiral seems to never end as we detest and crumble
We are against ourselves
Nature has begun to rebel
We have stayed too long
We have been too far
We have broken the rules not made by us
But by something bigger than we could ever be
And it is angry
We are the cause of destruction
We have disrupted the natural order of things
We were never meant to become this
But even as we change and grow exponentially
We fail to look back at our shortcomings
In this we repeat our mistakes again and again
We used to have gods to talk to
But we have killed them all in exchange for the quick and easy
We left this hole
Now instead of biodiversity in every sense of the word
We have chains
Chain restaurants
Chain stores
Chain crops
Chain religion
Chain mindset
We have readily accepted being shackled into an unforgiving world
We have blinded ourselves with screens because its easier to see the truth from a lense that seperates emotion from meaning
But who am I to so judge
I myself accept these chains because it does make life easier
For now
Thats the catch
The for now
Soon enough what makes life easier will actually make life incredibly harder as nature changes in an order to **** us
When you only have 1 type of corn, what do you do when a disease kills it all
When you force antibiotics down your throat for every slight inconvince, what do you do when they stop working
Nature is evolving to **** us off
And our stupid decisions are paving the way
Money makes the world go round
And global warming makes it tilt off it’s axis
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 10:33 PM UTC
Behind all the angst and rant,
Behind all that frustration and days of solitude,
A child struggling to make amends.
Behind all that smoke and ashes,
Behind that sorrow hiding in mask,
A boy choking himself not to cry.
The Big Bad World will move on without your existence and soon you'll turned into dust and no legacy left to mourn over.
"Oh Mama! What do I do now?
The sleep alleviated the pain.
In dreams, I found my escape."
©RitzWrites ♕
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 4:43 PM UTC
They will come.
And it'll you.
It'll hit you because its the 21st century, the reality of the modern world. You and them; them and everything that surrounds them.
Like a pedestrian attempt, the government system is all at cost about change and more change and brainwashing.
The in and out assests duplicating the excruciating mantel of dead lives and lives at stake.
You will walk half-asleep doing things you think are important.
Like a baptized child, to sanitize the dirt is even pious to the church, but they will come to you
and expect you to write about them; them and everything that surrounds them.
A column of pathological liars, OCD's, manic depressives, and a row of *** positives is the table of modernism.
But its fine, until 24/7 never stop wishing to 11:11.
Like a house is fine without a home, you will at least feel you're not alone.
They will offer a god - in high buildings, in the streets, in your neighborhood; a fine narcotic charm
that will mend your mood. And then they will come to you.
You and them; the faces, the ideologies, the tattoos, the smell, the drugs, the skin; they will insist you to write about them.
And it'll hit you.
They're disgustingly beautiful.
Way of thinking - sound,
tattoos - artsy,
scent - morning's dew,
drugs - crystal and *****
skin - cashmere of the richest kind.
Like faith, you are worm on bait in the modern world called 21st century.
They will come to you wanting you to write about them.
You and them; them and everything that surrounds them.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 2:16 AM UTC
“How come the saddest writes
Seem to get all the likes?”
There’s literally a proverb for that,
Misery loves company;
Even in the 21st century.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 6:57 AM UTC
What kind of a stupid question is that?
You have forgotten,
We live in the 21st century
No one is happy
Content?
Maybe
Fine?
Perhaps
Hopeful?
Occasionally
But happy?
No
Nada
Never
Are you happy?
What kind of a stupid question is that?
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
Those that are complacently designed
By the simpering vanities
of a domesticated world
rarely find the peace of mind
of which we all strive
because their materialistic
beliefs constrain them
in pools of normality
Drowning them in the pressures of society
and hanging them out to dry
in downloaded photos
that never fade
our lives are all dictated
by the subconscious influence
of one another
thus our souls
are irrefutably intertwined
locked together in endless struggle
mind against mind.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
say say, "poems"
orbit around teenage angst or "melodrama"
and unrequited love or a "15 year old's infatuation"
with the relishes of teenage woes
alongside skanky ******
were reversed roles in a millennial
battle ; a literacy war
say say, "poets"
clad in magniloquent scrapes
of tight skin, "grandiose" leather
that screech tumblr or more commonly known "fashion"
were the luminescent windows
to that "boy's soul" or obnoxious ****
say say "teens"
as infertile as neglected garden soil
had fervent thoughts on "feminism"
or as the males see it as misandry
and whose words did not revolve
around themselves or "ignorance"
then maybe bloods wouldn't boil
past water's b.p.
and heads wouldn't load with loathe or "insecurities"
and hearts wouldn't heal with blood
or "suicide"
| say say - m.m |
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC