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#selfies
a week has passed and since then, my love for you found refuge in my close friend's list -settled for knowing that you saw it, saw me, perhaps, even through me. -settled for knowing that you, are there for me. -settled, for knowing you.
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Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 6:49 PM UTC
sun-k1ssed good morning, Paolo
We used to have the Drive thru Fotomat booth Made our own coffee at home Now we have the speedy Drive thru coffee house And make fast photos on our own Merge them both and Give us the drive up selfie booth For pics with our instant coffee
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Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 10:00 PM UTC
Fotobucks
You can learn a lot from a Facebook page just from the pictures shown what things a person collects what kinds of things they own their likes and dislikes vacations that they've taken how many kids how many pets even what time they awaken but mostly I like to notice how many "selfies" there are sometimes it's quite amazing you'd think they were some kind of star headshots would be another good name for those poses oh so hammy smiling, grinning, grimacing goofy, questioning, campy those infamous pictures on Facebook shots showing a craving that everyone look!
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Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
Craving a Shot
Tourists touring temples taking #selfies, body’s there but souls not, like Techno Ghosts back from the future, not here to save the world just here to take a few shots, but my body is my only temple, and true enlightenment comes from the absence of Self, so selfies seem silly to me, in the same way as trying to wear pants 2 sizes to big without a belt, or I guess a better analogy would be, trying to wear a heavy belt without a buckle, and that thought’s deep better yet heavy, like Axel Rose those thoughts are heavy metal, which makes sense especially if you’re an alchemist, and believe what the Kyballion says about how everything’s metal, yeah that’s heavy, heavy as Heavy Metal rock, being played by the US Army, in Baghdad with the volume all the way up, all the while spraying heavy metals, in order to weigh down moral, but what does any of this have to do with #selfies you ask, well listen and I’ll tell you, narcissist egos created this mess, force used to push an agenda, because when we’re too focused on our “selfs”, we lose sight of the big picture, like taking #selfies at temples, and not seeing the beauty around you, like drowning out the sounds of nature, with the playlist on your iTunes, it’s all kinda ironic isn’t it, it’s tough having morals when complicit in any empire, so I try and escape to exotic landscapes, like Malagasy rainforests or Tibetan Temples, but when I get there I find, to my disappointing surprise, a bunch of tourists on their phones, only remotely living their lives… ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
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Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
∆ Selfie Absorbed ∆
Tourists touring temples taking #selfies, body’s there but souls not, like Techno Ghosts back from the future, not here to save the world just here to take a few shots, but my body is my only temple, and true enlightenment comes from the absence of Self, so selfies seem silly to me, in the same way as trying to wear pants 2 sizes to big without a belt, or I guess a better analogy would be, trying to wear a heavy belt without a buckle, and that thought’s deep better yet heavy, like Axel Rose those thoughts are heavy metal, which makes sense especially if you’re an alchemist, and believe what the Kyballion says about how everything’s metal, yeah that’s heavy, heavy as Heavy Metal rock, being played by the US Army, in Baghdad with the volume all the way up, all the while spraying heavy metals, in order to weigh down moral, but what does any of this have to do with #selfies you ask, well listen and I’ll tell you, narcissist egos created this mess, force used to push an agenda, because when we’re too focused on our “selfs”, we lose sight of the big picture, like taking #selfies at temples, and not seeing the beauty around you, like drowning out the sounds of nature, with the playlist on your iTunes, it’s all kinda ironic isn’t it, it’s tough having morals when complicit in any empire, so I try and escape to exotic landscapes, like Malagasy rainforests or Tibetan Temples, but when I get there I find, to my disappointing surprise, a bunch of tourists on their phones, only remotely living their lives… ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
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I'm waiting with certain trepidation Assured my reality Is in for something big. The eleventh dimension Can't assuage my dread. There's something happening, As big as Dead. The cellphone's our new Nativity, Destroying my old myths; Where's the white salamander hurrying, Spirits hoovering, aliens lurking, Hairy bipeds in the forests, Yetis in the snow. Nothing soon forthcoming. It all looks like Alberta. I can't snap inside the sun, Nor freeze-frame a revolution; Or the moment one feels love; But truth is self-evident. And the facts are yet to come. All the best stories, My life-changing beliefs, Need one still, a black and white will do; Til then, I'll suspend Disbelief, And sustain credence, Close to the dark room. Then we'll be the Magi, Bowing, grovelling, Awed and surprised.
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
I Selfie, Therefore, I Am
celine wrote some thick books 'Death On The Installment Plan' 'Journey To The End Of Night' my plan was to read them but i never did i got as far as the titles then got stuck they've been packed away in boxes for the past 5 years, i had no need to unpack them maybe if they had been  thinner what can i do what can i do i just don't want to i just don't want to everyday i feel so unheld together life after life
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May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 3:56 AM UTC
goodreads
Baby's ******* i need to go to hospital but first : "let me take a selfie" Baby's crying I need to feed him but first "let me take a selfie" . . .
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Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
selfies ****
Boy meets girl, Gives her a whirl, Log on, take selfie, Update fakebook, Thumbs up, look! Had breakfast, look! Update fakebook, Went to the gym, look! Update fakebook, Now we're gym junkies, Upload selfies, Update fakebook, Thumbs up, look! Now we're wed, Enough said, Update fakebook, Thumbs up, look! Shall I kiss the bride? Not fair, fat and wide! First, update fakebook, Thumbs up, look! Now we've got kids, Marriage on the skids, Oh, man, that's bad, Divorce selfies, too sad, Update your fakebook, Thumbs down, look! Our 21st Century, Celluloid selfies..........
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May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
21st Century.......
When I've written something deep; When I really want your attention; And I need you to read it with emotion, With my feelings and my voice; And I'm hoping you get my meaning, Because I think you need help, I use asterisks. Asterisks. Ever look closely at an asterisk? Draw one. Enlarge it on your screen. Notice any resemblance to anything you own, Anyone you know? It looks like the *Selfie of an *******
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Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Picture Perfect Self Portrait
Botox on the high street A jab for flabby jowls. Is it any wonder people Exist only in their heads? Social media selfies taken From above in unnatural light. Is it still shocking people Hate the boring everyday? It's not easy to like yourself In a world obsessed with image.
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
Selfie Obsessed
My poem is my true selfie, An X-ray of the inner me, A snap-shot of reality, A close-up of what's really me, Un-shopped pixels of beauty. Me.
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
My Poem is My True Selfie
The geosynchronous Geppetto One With us orbits Round our sun; Blinking down, Ringing up, We're on lines Like marionettes; Transmitting selfies, Receiving otheries. Time to be Pinnochio, Cut some ties, Get up and go, See eye to eye When toe to toe, Watch how small Our noses grow.
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Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
Geppetto One
I have memories That could be mine, Selfies of other times. Gray matter shots That morph and shift, Blur and smear Yet shine. My phantom snaps Have smoke and mirrors, Spectres with borders. The smell of bacon, A rising sun, A carpet hill To lay upon; A door that swings To past future, A window to see through. My astral albumn Haunts my nights, No light can dim my view. I think my thoughts Are photoshopped. These memories of you.
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Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
My Photoshopped Memory
We want to see ourselves see ourselves because we're afraid that nobody else will ever want to capture us in a camera flash- so we take our own pictures. Click. Our front camera becomes the one minute we had hoped our fathers had for us when he wasn't busy on that same phone, speaking, not clicking. Without us. Or it becomes the one minute we had hoped that our lovers would hold us before they settled on to someone with more likes, more comments, more friends, more happiness... than we could ever wait for. We are impatient like the frequency of data on our profiles: here are our feelings now... here are our feelings again, five minutes later, performing for social algorithms in place of photographers besides ourselves who see ourselves. But our ignited pixels, and overstuffed inboxes, and masturbatory statuses, and glittering timelines, and social everything- are popularity contests that all of us are losing. Yet still we want to see ourselves see ourselves even though we are afraid of what we know is true... ...Because what difference is a poem to a tweet besides the number of characters that we wish we had to populate our own stories? Please let us be different, just like everyone else.
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
Selfies.
There's an awkward thrill I feel like wicked-wet rabies – Oh. Ah. Oh. To gaze over photos of the woman I created. With my warped perception, saturating and cropping everything into delicious oblivion. I am the knife as well as the ingredients that sauteed her together in a camera flash. She sits hot like heaven. And I want to stare at her picture all day until she comes to life. The woman I created, I hang up like perfected rotisserie and fall in love with her accidentally every day. Looking into those precisely underlined tiger-sex eyes of startling navy. Knowing their true dullness. Hissing at the free-swinging curls and the hours behind them. Loving the lie. The flowy top and sleek trousers gliding down lovely as Niagara over chaffing chub; all hidden. And thighs; unshaven. And that topical smile everyone likes to see, waiting to plummet into suicide like a kite hanging in one tight second. Her image is my greatest False accomplishment. I hang my portrait up on a wall of the internet for people of the world to migrate to the photo exhibit, my little show-off room. They make offers and toss compliments with their “I like this. I like this." nonsense. They don't know that the girl in the portrait, she isn't organic. They seem not to notice that she is something of a chemical flower. Her face is my face, only with whiteout poison-paste smoothed over twice. And they want to stare at her picture all day until she comes to life. Gazing upon her believed-to-be beauty, as I hang my paintbrush, she bites her body still as a painting, bruised and needled into perfect frame. She cries like Jesus Christ, as she is stared at, but not seen. I am the artist as well as the object. And the woman in the portrait is nothing, but dot after dot of manipulated color. And we want to stare at her picture all day until she comes to life.
0
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Selfies
There's an awkward thrill I feel like wicked-wet rabies – Oh. Ah. Oh. To gaze over photos of the woman I created. With my warped perception, saturating and cropping everything into delicious oblivion. I am the knife as well as the ingredients that sauteed her together in a camera flash. She sits hot like heaven. And I want to stare at her picture all day until she comes to life. The woman I created, I hang up like perfected rotisserie and fall in love with her accidentally every day. Looking into those precisely underlined tiger-sex eyes of startling navy. Knowing their true dullness. Hissing at the free-swinging curls and the hours behind them. Loving the lie. The flowy top and sleek trousers gliding down lovely as Niagara over chaffing chub; all hidden. And thighs; unshaven. And that topical smile everyone likes to see, waiting to plummet into suicide like a kite hanging in one tight second. Her image is my greatest False accomplishment. I hang my portrait up on a wall of the internet for people of the world to migrate to the photo exhibit, my little show-off room. They make offers and toss compliments with their “I like this. I like this." nonsense. They don't know that the girl in the portrait, she isn't organic. They seem not to notice that she is something of a chemical flower. Her face is my face, only with whiteout poison-paste smoothed over twice. And they want to stare at her picture all day until she comes to life. Gazing upon her believed-to-be beauty, as I hang my paintbrush, she bites her body still as a painting, bruised and needled into perfect frame. She cries like Jesus Christ, as she is stared at, but not seen. I am the artist as well as the object. And the woman in the portrait is nothing, but dot after dot of manipulated color. And we want to stare at her picture all day until she comes to life.
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47
Swooping through the city streets, the alleys, the corners, every crevice and crack. Education and language never to be seen, dissipating with the past. Ingrained in the brain, the common normality, placed on the famous track. Morality has diminished, human beings are finished. No curative for this disease, a disgusting devious deceit   Two dozen selfies left behind,   just you, old and decrepit all your doing, your design,   a silly lie.   A ***** disguise. Alone with a wasted life.
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
The Plague Of Narcissism
Selfies, I can smell the desperation, from here. odors of worry; rippling anxities of uncertainity. two dimensional, instantaneous impressions, pixelated presentations, and Teenage frustrations. up tilted camera. held against the light, Illuminating eyes , and eradicating spots. that looks like a good one. Vicarious representation; of how good one could look, fallible and hopeful. big bosomed dame showcasing blessed cleavage, pulsating the adolescent bulges. delivered to metal passenger, thereafter shown among peers. networked to unknown. Friends who'd never met eye, or touched skin, or even spoke. self conscious cropping of images. fat and fearful. wasted hours, dying for love. False dream of captivating the messes with her selfie. The very ugliness of impressions. Oh, how shallow we've became. The denial of the impact of aesthetics. laughable, torrents of judgement Skinny, fat, ugly, behold their desperate eyes behind the selfie.
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Shame of the selfie
Oh no, I didn'tstagram Don't want to share my selfies Don't want you to know what I ate last night Or what I did on Roofies I twitter at your followers And no, I won't "Follow you back" The only people I'll re-tweet, my dear Have all the things you lack Won't go in One Direction So hate on me, make a fuss Don't think they'll oust the Beatles Just because Harry does Oh, what's a SnapChat? Don't think I have that Oh wait a minute, I don't care Cos that app's neither here nor there Don't think I'll find an online mister Or reply to a "How about we.."? Yes, I'm cyber challenged So said my little sister Everyone's a super model But I mistrust Facebook photos You probably photo-shopped your flaws Or whitened your teeth with risottos #nofilter equals #somanyfilters Enough with all the fake Because in this unreal world This is more than I can take So, take a step back Post a candid shot Don't hang around for them likes Show them what you've really got Make it stop.
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
Inter-not