#superficial
when did it all
become this superficial?
the codified human experience
and commodified aspects of life.
the more i connect,
the more i disconnect.
the more i take,
the less i gain.
the less the more,
the more the less.
maybe it is
just a part
of growing up.
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 6:02 PM UTC
Customary greetings
Mechanical responses
No affection
No obligation
When did human interactions
become this superficial?
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 10:57 PM UTC
Is it coincidence that anagrams of
OSTENTATIOUSLY include
SNOOTILY ASTUTE and
TONIEST OUTLAYS?
Or does Ostentatiously
have a superficial meaning
with ulterior motives
lurking inside?
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 4:25 PM UTC
"I see you in both ways-
not the optimist. He fails to choose naturally.
You are that one cake among the rest
that presents herself with multiple coats of frosting,
no one would dare cut you open after appreciating your beauty -
he's afraid to taste something suspicious."
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 5:47 PM UTC
I hated it.
Every single time
you called me beautiful,
I hated it.
I get it;
I have blue eyes,
long hair,
a thin body.
Everything you wanted.
But there's so much more to me than that.
I bet you wouldn't have liked me
if I had shorter hair
and a little extra weight.
That's why I realized I don't want a guy
who constantly calls me beautiful.
I want to be called
mesmerizing,
fascinating,
breathtaking.
Those words say much more about the real me
than "beautiful" ever will.
Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 1:47 AM UTC
i scroll through the contacts on my phone
and realise there is no one i can call
nobody i can text
people ive had for 7 years
maybe more
their care for me has gone void
and i can sense it
can't you see?
it's all superficial
every conversation
every look
it is all superficial
and i can blame anyone and anything for it
but none of that will change the truth and none of it
will gift me a new outcome
so now i sit alone
in a void room and i wonder
who will notice
who will care
when i am all but gone
for they will notice when i take my last breath
but nobody notices the moments before
not from afar
Aug 16, 2021
Aug 16, 2021 at 4:25 AM UTC
She wears the mask of beauty. Beautifully wicked.
She hides behind a face so perfect. Starry eyes and glossy lips. The beauty is in her eyes.
She covers herself with a body of a goddess. Great curves, nice round breast with thighs that match her amazingly. I wish I was her.
The way that flowing gown drapes around her body, showing off her outer beauty. Screaming fans all around her as she stands in this populated town as limos surround.
The lens of cameras shutters as women in flowing dresses walk pass, as paparazzi’s mutters and shouts.
The way she walks. She walks in beauty like the night. And every step she takes, they all meet in her aspect.
1 step, 2 step, 3 step, 4, magazines are photo-shooting her, she’s soon to be on the cover. 5 step, 6 step, 7 steps, 8, screaming fans and all they do is stare and hover. 9 step, 10. I want the heels of my stilettos to feel the dark red carpet of fame beneath, as she stands on that carpet with people in awe of her presence.
Women compete for the category of best eyes, best hair, best clothes and best bare. They are all beautiful. But she stands out even more, for her beauty is rare.
Beauty is her. The walk of fame has her name.
Beast is me. The category that I’m under is unknown to our universe, drifting through space of broken dreams.
Endless nightmares of a world, where I was beautiful, where I was fair, where I was elegant, with a beauty that can’t be covered with makeup. Because true beauty has no flaws.
I’m trapped in my head and there’s no way out. I’m screaming and crying, but there’s no-one to hear me. No doctor or pill can take the pain away. People will never understand.
I heard beauty is that which pleases and delights, but when I see beauty, I break down and cry.
Of course, I consider beauty for hours. In mirrors.
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 12:30 AM UTC
Darling, do not tell me that you are more beautiful with those drawings on your skin.
You've convinced yourself that they mean so much to you, and no one can even begin to understand, but I want you to know that the real beauty of an individual is more than simply skin deep.
That is why the ink on your skin does not impress me.
Everyone has stories and scars —I just choose not to wear mine on the outside.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 1:01 AM UTC
there are good souls in this world
shrouded in weathered skin
dry and cracked
with scowls hung upon their face
balancing on the scars of their brow
just as there are bad souls in this world
hiding under plush skin
their faces adorned with kind eyes and
cherry red lips made for kissing
or spitting with rage
picture a gorgeous brunette
with fair skin, bold eyebrows
and her hair in a subtle
yet nineteen-thirties style updo
wearing a red chiffon summer dress
the sun beats down on her
as she glistens with light perspiration
espresso in-hand cigarette in the other
her pale soft skin no match for
the thirty degree heat outside
of this café she nonchalantly finds herself
she is the epitome of carefree beauty
she kicked her lovers dog outside this morning
exiling him to a six hour long toilet break
after she "forgot" she had let him out
before leaving to go shopping
whilst her feller finished his shift
because the dog is old and smelly
and gets almost as much attention as her
she even saw his pensioner neighbour
struggling to take the bins out
as she walked to her car
and laughed rather than help
because she always
thought Mary was a no good Jew
she even called her Mrs. Goldstein
"Have a nice day Mrs. Goldstein."
but Mary's surname is Cohen
picture this beautiful girl a siren
leading good men astray
she can get any man she wants
and plucks only the finest
most succulent
I mean successful
and well put together men
from gardens of bachelors
maturing in the hardships of city life
she has plenty choice but she's fickle
you see, her man has to be almost perfect
for it to be as enjoyable as possible
to watch his life unravel and unfold
into everything he wanted it not to be
achievable only through toxic beauty
her joy is venom soaked insides
of lovers caught in a sultry web
of lies, ambition and ***
she loves a scandal
or a text sent to the wrong person
and she has everything to hide
but does nothing to do so
she gets by just fine
being beautiful and sickening
and sickeningly beautiful
you know the sort
she is a bad, bad girl
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 9:07 PM UTC
Queen Antonym of Superficial,
I wish the pseudonym of your official
name was just your name.
Your anonymity is so much more to pity,
as your antonyms
are only pretty,
and their anonymity is in their substance.
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 4:42 PM UTC
One day your looks will dissipate
Like the steam from boiling water
Gradually but inevitably
Your physicality will falter
Superficiality
Is joyous to an extent
When you're young and exploring life
But you can't always depend
On materials and shallow links
To bring you what a connection can
When you're on your death bed
Whether wealthy or simply meeting ends
Superficiality fades
When all you crave is to hold a hand
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 2:00 PM UTC
i met him at a masquerade, a silly place
where people do not need names.
wearing the mystery of the night,
dancing under the raw spotlight,
his honey lips, his indecisive eyes
were feeding innocent souls with lies.
but then i saw him, at midnight,
alone and hidden with his one light
-the lonely moon, the queen of dead
in front of whom his cheeks turned red.
he was just a tragic moonlover
when the masquarade was over.
oh, that poor disguised angel
made falling in love seem so fatal...
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 9:33 AM UTC
What happened to all the beautiful girls?
Ones with fire in their eyes and gold in their chest
What happened to the precious pearls?
Who flowed like the wind and shone like the stars.
Did the ocean take away their sweet treasures?
And leave behind these empty shells
Whose shallow exterior can never measure
To the gem that lay within.
Did they ascend from the Earth?
And leave behind their shed skin
Whose plasticity cannot worth
The firmness that they held within.
Did the fire burn out their light?
And in their place plant seeds dud
Whose bitter fruits cannot incite
The fiery passion they fuelled.
Did the Earth swallow them whole?
And replace them with thorns
Which cannot fill the empty holes
That they left behind.
Or maybe it was the work of man
Who took those girls for granted
Moulded them to suit their wants
And bred them to the expectations they implanted.
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 6:27 PM UTC
a cornerstone
of brown
was the
station here
as a
hemisphere was
the quest
that starts
with pastry
in a
morning of
wake up
the roses
are bleeding
yet there's
nobody to
cultivate blood
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 8:08 AM UTC
It basically goes like this
at the point of birth onward,
we are all seedlings encapsulated by a thick glass.
when we are all very, very young
our glass orb is our entire world
we have not filled the glass just yet
with out a passion, or roaring spirit.
Many days will be spent stagnant
inside our self absorbed orb looking at the mirror
what you see is dependent on
how far you are willing to look.
Have you ever stopped your youth
to look past yourself
and see the pain others go through?
To see there is more out there than this orb?
sad to say some don't ever see past their own reflection
have you ever really noticed
yourself becoming aware?
As we grow deep and develop
its only natural to fill those void within ourselves
our ambition becomes too big for our little world
a destruction of self,
but a creation of space.
Yes, we can actually reach this potential!
We can break our glass orbs!
and then you can see
this "Whole Big World" has all of us in it.
Together.
Humanity at its finest.
But there are some,
who are so mindless and content
with this space we all share.
For some
they never see past the mirror.
That is why you can meet someone
at any point in their life
whose still too conscious of themselves
and have never cracked the glass of their own little world.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 8:45 PM UTC
only answers when there's pictures
only picks up when I'm undressed
only tells that he loves me when
I'm looking at my best
I've stopped answering your calls
now I'm leaving you on read
I want to real love
not lust inside your bed
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 1:39 AM UTC
Where have all the good girls gone?
The ones who prefer brains to brawn.
Today's girls seem to like tattoos;
They like bad boys who bring bad news.
When I grew up the girls were classy.
They were smart and kind and super sassy.
But now they're shallow and superficial;
They're so covetous and artificial.
Love should be about heart and soul.
About the truth that makes us whole.
Forget Facebook and Instagram;
Just talk to me: I'm an old school man.
©canadian_cowboy
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
People called him
short, stout, comical-looking,
but I felt compassion for him
and I wondered
what experiences
would give him
joy and happiness?
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 2:44 AM UTC
She was more than her skin color. She was more than her features. She was more than just her appearance. It was about her soul. It was about her pure heart. It was about her mind. It was about her passions. It was about the beauty of who she was and what she did. It wasn’t just about intimacy or appearance. It was about her moral beauty more than physical beauty. It was about exploring the depths that made her who she is. She’s the one you could explore the corners of your mind, the one you get lost with during deep and soul enriching talks. She was more than just her skin, she was the ocean. She was a Kalon – beauty that is more than skin deep. And only the ones who who look beyond skin deep will see her for who she really is.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 4:45 PM UTC
they ask me nothing of myself,
nothing of my mind,
nothing of my values,
nothing of my morals,
but speaking of themselves is easy,
my appearance may be part of who I am, but it does not define me
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 8:11 AM UTC
You, you are a
Thermodynamic
Buoyant
Force
******* like the
single-minded
Octopus
that takes and takes
Strong energy,
mild energy
Inhales the organically-grown
Petals
of all flowers, regardless
Good intentions.
that sure is nice
What humility,
Artificial
Plastic
Egotistical
Manufactured
Trademarked
Birthed
Regurgitated
and
too thoughtfully acted by
You.
But I see it.
You have
not landed.
The world needs your
footprint but
it does not need your self-indulged
hunger.
Be humble.
Your success is not
marked if
You are not humble.
Keep your tentacles
in your depths and
Be
Poised
Poised you seem to be and success is your process but
Humility is my truth.
We float on
neighboring clouds of
public service
that have not the same hue.
Take a step back.
I see you mean
No harm
like a dinosaur with no arms
Good intentions.
Take a step back.
You desire to envelop others yet
You do so
so
mindlessly
I see it.
Let your brain rest from the throne.
the world does not serve you
It serves nothing
and no one as
We are all lucky.
You say that you’re lucky
For all
to hear
just to endear
And that is the problem
My dear, be poised.
Publicize your life for
documentation?
No
Take a step back.
We need your
love
compassion
independence
ambition
Real
not fake.
Transform this and
Good intentions.
The world is not yours
You walk on its leaf
and repeated, recycled
identities
Take a step back.
The world is not yours.
Cameron Bell, Copyright © 2019
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC
Filing errands makes you drowsy and nautious.
The tube dampens your senses.
The highrises make you feel down.
Your values are re-prioritised.
You become the binmen’s *****
but all is not charred.
You have the chance to remember before,
and you grasp redemption as sand now sifts through your fingertips.
The stars awaken the you beneath the superficial.
The water nourishes your ignored thirstiness for passion.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:52 PM UTC
If you give me long enough
I could paint a vivid portrait of myself
with every blemish and pore behind a brush,
and hush the voices that would criticize
unsubscribe and dance it up over in wonderland with the sycophants
put on my bedazzled pants
let the local singles know I'm a dancer
just a beating heart away
From being another square upon a lattice
a writhing mass of hair gel
and cologne working up the ladder to fuckboi status
Imma walk the line between
a marble arch eclipsing the sun
over an angel statue kneeling in prayer
and a black leather boot clad
bad *** with bad habits
but he's so cool he doesn't care
Look at him go
all on his own
with only a thousand or so, little paintings
that are equally as photo shopped or filtered
just floating around waiting to see the show
and letting other people know they liked it
or not
What a spectacle destined
to leave us senseless and restless
what a test of the patience to be a slave to the masses
to see my juxtaposition against the rest of the best of us
and think "I should go with clever with glasses."
What a brutal twist of civilized life
to have an AI made for driving my car
so I can shimmy down and sneak another **** pic
THROUGH SPACE, to some guy who works at taco bell's wife
Laura something or something
I'm so social
What a medium,
Exchanging ideas,
and hunting body heat from out of the ether,
to have the pleasing distortion
of the speakers
drowning out all the wearisome noise
of our contortions
"You gotta learn to love yourself"
She says, and posts another photo
buried somewhere under 60 layers
of dog noses and rainbows, and angel wings
Oh **** this isn't boyfriend material let me change some things
-
You don't ever need to change girl,
there ain't anything, in this world
That I wouldn't do, to be with you.
And the Brief exchanges we had,
didn't reveal any red flags,
that I am willing to skip on *** over.
So somewhere down the line,
when the filters start to fade,
we'll just kick that can down the road,
and neither of us will change.
And the picture's that we painted of our Love
will degrade.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC