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Arisa Mar 2019
To be a gentleman in a Chatroom,
One must always introduce themselves as a number.
As an age.
To inform the fine maidens of the Chatroom that,
'Yes! I am legal.'
So that way they feel obliged to tell you:
'Why, I am too!'

You must also accompany such a number with your gender.
Just so that they won't get confused,
And know that you are a
masculine
manly man
of manliness.

It is of the Gentleman's Etiquette to note your existence afterwards.
A simple 'Here' would suit.
Or spice it up with a
'You?'
Afterwards.

Make sure you always ask how your possible future **** partner is feeling, it's only polite. If they say
'I'm feeling wonderful, how about you?'
or
'My day's been ghastly. How about yours?'
- No matter what the answer, make sure to reply with a steady:
'Nothing much', or if you're feeling impatient, 'nm'
Just to show that no, you don't really care
and want to get straight into business.

- Which shows that you are a man with a clear goal in mind, and as we all know, women adore men with confidence!

The next step is the bargain.
You need to sell yourself to the feline with flair,
Ferocity,
Wit, style, charisma.

'Wanna ****?'

And if they reject your courteous advances, all you can do is tip your hat and carry on to the next lady in waiting.
"21, M here."
Chatrooms are hellholes full of people who want to ******* and nothing more.
Matt Mar 2016
I prefer the world
Of the chatroom

And so i am often there
Instead of at work

In the chatroom
I can be a ***** blonde

Or a powerful Arab man

This is my life in the chatrooms
Ryan Unger Jun 2015
Put down your **** phone when I’m talking and look me in the eye,
I know you think it’s hard, but you had better try.

All day long you sit with your face buried in that screen,
You do know there’s a whole world around you to be seen?
That world has actual people, and real things happening,
You’re missing out on all the joy that this world can bring.

Your Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, all of it can wait;
Social Media cast you a real long line and you took all their bait.
It’s exactly what they want from you, your complete reliance;
So throw them all a curve ball and show them some defiance!

Without them your life’s amazing! Just take a look around!
You’re on this beautiful planet standing here right on the ground!
There’s mountains, parks, and monuments to see, just look at a map;
And to see these you don’t need to download any app!

Instead of living in a chatroom behind your bedroom door,
Take a walk with a close friend; the satisfaction will be more.
You’ve been inundated with all of this technology for too long,
We’re losing connection with nature and it’s starting to feel wrong.

We should use the world’s beauty to give ourselves a rush,
Not spend 500 hours trying to conquer Candy Crush.
And is it so important to video record everything you see?
Just live in and enjoy the moment and trust me, you’ll feel free.

So look up I say! Look all the way up! And throw away the phone,
Learn to reconnect with humanity and don’t become a drone!
I miss thee, I hath to admit
I want to witness again thy stunning smile so sweet
And how th' sun always kindly, and generously, touchest thy dark hair
Then shalt thou breakest into endless jokes and childish wit
'Fore rising a tender smile, as we greet each other by th' circular stairs.

I bet thou art still remarkable and stupendous as usual
Thou whom I'th known since last grey fall
By th' ponderous sleeping lake; in th' midst of a burly night;
Thou stared through me with a pair of unfathomable eyes;
as though thou couldst makest everything in my heart-better and right;
and yon, yon colourlessness of th' night, shinest so beautifully as butterflies.
Thou wert, indeedst, not th' paleness I had dreamed,
thou wert not bleak, thou wert not mean.
Thou still shined brightly though chilled and dimmed,
thou wert damp, but sunny-just like th' nearby shuffling trances
to which I had never been.
At times thou canst seem lazy, ah-but thou'rt indeedst not!
As just I do, thou liveth thy life from dot to dot,
thou leapest from time to time in my story,
thou, though far away, somehow always seem near,
and be sitting here idly with me and my poetry.
Thou might be close not to my ears,
but I canst listenest to thee; as thou eat and pray,
and as thou waketh, to every single inevitable day.
T'is life, which canst somehow be bitter,
shalt at times corruptest thy happiness and thy laughter;
wringing thee into false devotion and meanness,
but be sure, my love, t'at I shalt be thy cure;
I shalt be thy unhealed passion and all-new tenderness.
I shalt be thy first salvation, honesty and satiation;
I shalt be a scarf t'at giveth thee warmth, and thy hated mediation;
hated and dejected by t'is dreadful world, my love,
t'is world which knowest not t'at love is everything above.
And I shalt be thy heaven, and holiness,
and thy greenest grass when it is too dark,
as t'is world hurts and drivest away from frankness;
and within its grim sacrifice, lettest go of its single spark.
Ah, thee, thy innocence is just like my own soul,
but it is what makest thee divine as gold;
thou art ever pure, and incessantly pure,
and thy jokes and ventures and preachings flawless and true.
And in t'is weary life-which is sometimes faultless but unsure,
thou always makest me feel honoured;
makest me feel brand new.

Ah, Kozarev, thou art my immortal twin star,
and thy lips my sophisticated fragrant moon;
thou art my umbrella in yon idyllic heaven afar,
fade away not, but thou drifted away too soon!
My love, but sketchest again our undying night,
t'is time with a new ***** of light,
and giveth me comfort within which,
and flinch no more, for I shalt not flinch.
Thy genuinity is my nature,
thy childishness is my cure;
for t'ere are no more lips as naive as thine,
though t'ey oftentimes seemest spotless,
and t'eir toughness, seemest fine.

Ah, Kozzie, only fate t'at shalt makest out paths eventually align;
fate who hath sent me sweet prophecies, and a truthful bold sign.
Let me be thy grace, and thy sole, immortal lady;
let me be such craze, so t'at thou shalt always be with me.
I shalt be thy doll, and thy very own addict;
I shalt nursest, and cherishest thee every day of the week.
And joy, and its miraculous delight shalt be ours alone,
fallen fast asleep by night, and renewed by upcoming morns.
Together shalt we teasest every passing minute and hour;
and treatest all 'em nicely, just like how we deemeth t'at laugh, of ours.
And when nightfall greetest, sleep, my love, sleep;
thy red, innocent cheeks shalt I kiss; thy greatest dreams shalt I keep.

Kozarev, and fliest me again to th' melancholy Sofia,
wherein our peace shalt dwellest, and be cheered and alive.
But let me first fetch my old, talkative umbrella;
for Sofia shalt be full of rain; but one t'at makest it safe, and thrive.
Ah, Sofia, our little haven like yon nearby oak chatroom,
old as it is, but still-tenderer t'an t'is ever lonely gloom;
I bet Sofia is still warmer t'an t'is fraudulent war of my heart,
though it is, of now, far and sat by a land wholly apart.
Oh, Sofia, in which our love shalt be adequate, but still-inadequate,
for our love is more benign, ye' at times-more capricious t'an fate.
And it is raw, but ripe, like a mature cherry;
it hath neither tears, nor hate, nor brave worry!
Ah, my love; but again fly me, fly me, t'ere-
for cannot I waitest to live my life with thee;
and so promise t'at I shalt not bend, nor go else anywhere,
so long as thou shalt stayest, and liveth thy future years with me.

Oh, and I shalt forsaketh thee no more;
and disdaineth thee no more-thou art my sonata!
My delight liest in hearing thy sonnets be told;
thou sitting by me 'fore moonlight, down on th' starlit piazza!
Ah, Kozarev, please no longer makest my heart sore-
I am sick to death, I detestest t'is grief to th' core;
Burnest my heart's cries, and indulgest me in thy arms,
I shalt brimmest in thy glory; and gratefully lost, in thy charms.

As th' world turnest so weak and rough,
we shalt be th' sole ones to fall in love;
but our idyll is one t'is envious world cannot gather;
as it growest bleaker, as it turnest worse.
But Kozarev, having thee by my side shalt be enough;
and my days shalt be no more sad, nor tough;
Thou art th' candle, t'at lightest up th' life within me,
thou art th' candy, t'at livenest up all my poetry.
Lia Nov 2017
well anyway the thing about punk music that i really relate to is the need to express base emotions
8 minutes
and the way that a lot of these artists try to change the world and make it a better place
7 minutes
i think that creative people always need an outlet for raw emotions
7 minutes
and i think that punk rock is a great way to express yourself and feel that there is absolutely no barrier between what you can do and what you shouldn't do
6 minutes
that's why a lot of punk artists throughout the years have done things onstage like cut themselves, *******, take drugs, etc
5 minutes
and i really envy that kind of artistic freedom and integrity
yeah in a way
3 minutes
i think that a lot of modern artists that are getting any attention are so plastic wrapped and over produced that they barely stand for anything and it's kind of hurting our society in the long run because people aren't being challenged to think for themselves
2 minutes
you have to go out of your way to find something that challenges your viewpoint artistically speaking
now
*...
A Feb 2018
Hello, Anonymous,
From my internet screen,
You might be a straight guy or a screaming queen.

Hello, Anonymous,
Person I don't know,
Can you tell me why the wind must blow?

Hello, Anonymous,
In the chatroom,
For all I know, you could be a vacuum.

Hello, Anonymous,
You don't know me either,
How about we stay that way,
And we continue our chat later today?
A poem on chatrooms and the internet.
Matt Oct 2015
I was watching
"The Pacific"
An HBO series
On WWII

It was pretty well done
I just don't really much care
For the violent scenes
Although I know its realistic

Then I went to a chatroom
A christian chat I joined
It's fun sometimes

Now I'm eating kidney beans
And maybe I'll look for another
Show to watch

If not I'll watch a
Documentary again

It was a full moon tonight
I thought of Elsa Angelica
I hope you are having
A good night Elsa
Circa 1994 Jan 2014
Don't laugh okay?
Swear.
Swear not to laugh.

Okay so remember that guy I was telling you about?
Yes the one with the puffin sweater.
Well we didn't actually meet at an Arctic Monkeys concert.

We met online.
Like in a chatroom.
We cured each other's loneliness.
And then we went from there.
AJ Enemie Oct 2011
Gutsy words
Facty tones
Make me want to shove your fist in your mouth, because I don’t care about your epic or what you’ve earned.  You’re a kid.  Just a kid,

Smiling, right
Insincere you’re
Defined by a definition of artificiality, there’s a smile over a brand that you sell and you sell it good.  I never would; you never should.

A crowd and
Girlfriend bought
With my looks and my humor. You’re not some gift from god, and if you are I’m more so. But I’m a female and I’m a lab rat.  It’s all I’ll never be.

What a kid
What a hoax
Your eyes are oval and your mouth is oval, like some plastic doll.  I hope you live like them, all the sheep and they never laugh ‘cause they never fall.

Matter of fact
You’re happy dead
Can’t you accept that the world isn’t shaped by those who can say, “You think too much”; the monkeys in their suits who are in such a rush, the people in their cage.

It’s not
It’s not about us being different from one another
It’s not even about me being different from you
I make the world while you go in play in it, or I mess it up
Because you are the world
and I’m just a human, I’m just a girl

Isn’t it ironic?
That you were the trouble maker
I was the good girl
You were once alive
Now you’re a lie
You’re just one lie
You coordinate
And cooperate
I’m irate
I disobey

You just want them and you just want they

But that’s it
Its just it
The world pays attention to all of your ****, just like they do with sitcoms and trash tabloids.  It’s so awful.  And you don’t respect me for being a human being.

But I’m something
I’m everything-
I’m everyone’s rage and somewhere deep where they care
I care
you just care about your picture on a chatroom
with bad music taste
and tight legs and a tight, but

I’m your only black mail
I am the black sheep
and I think

You’ll be that celebrity’s unknown brother; I promise

Sincerely, Freak
Matt Apr 2016
I wish this
And I want that

And bla Bla bla
Bla bla bla bla

Well, you're not going
To get it

You should have
Learned by now

I doubt I will
Get a female friend

And I don't much care
You saw me in the gardens
Walking over there

Look at me
Eating a crunchy pear

Try not to laugh
Try not to stare

People do
Terrible things
And everyone is like
"Who cares"

And people say
There is no judgement day
No one
To keep track
Of the times

Japanese soldier
Came to Nanking
And snapped
The old woman's spine

Something to ponder
Please don't spill
Your wine

I've done very little
For other people

I try to be loving
Try to be kind

This is a good way to be
You may find

Isolated
I stood
On the lantern
Of a church steeple

I observed and watched
The people

Lot of hustle
And bustle
Running here
And there

But I just stood
And watched
The fair

No no
There is no
Judgement day
No accounting
For the ages
You may say

Then I don't understand
What we are doing here
So many decisions
And I find it queer

What is man?
Some have asked
It can be
A difficult task

Neither inherently good
Or bad

I sit and cry
I don't know why
I'm all alone
I write these poems

Talking about ***
In a chatroom
Oh what a thrill

A masturbatory explosion
My seed I have spilled!
Oh what a shame
And what a waste
To spill it
All over the place

No female partner
Or family plans
I love myself
I am a man

A man who hardly works
At all
Welcome to my world
Oh what a ball!

Gardens, gardens
In my mind
This is how
I pass the time

Never stop dreaming
About things
You think
Can never come true

One day
They just may
Happen to you

And as I walked
Along that path

A beautiful red head
Smiled at me
With my shades on
I did not
Let her see

So lovely
And so fair

To another world
She took me there

A world with women
Loving and kind

Who hug me
And make me feel fine

But not this time
Not this time

I'm here to complain
Here to whine

I dream of things
That would make me content

They don't come true
I feel like
I am stuck in cement

Just a body
Attached to a brain
All alone
What a shame!

To hear and to see
Perhaps never to
Feel loved

How can this be?

People are distant

Work is boring
Life *****

I walk the gardens
Trying my luck

Hoping to find
A female friend there

Into her loving eyes
I hope to stare
I wander the gardens hoping to meet a female friend.  One who would listen to me and let me breast feed.
Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's filth is another's wealth
or that the true pleasures comes from
a magnitude of abnormal achievements;
anticipation of gray shades on human error
is our life's constant coefficient.
Perception betrays with its blindspot:
Fate tracks always meet, not here, but only
in the impossible mind's sight;
intentions beats recognition as we commence
on thin sheens crawling to overtake that lens
where highlight captures pretense cleansing darkness.

So we could stand up, move on, darling, you and I,
until the glare tick out the rest in the worst
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic style, but leading hands that move
forcefully from adorable to done.
We raise our arguments like a diluted depict
heave to a better angle for screen clarity
shake logic with escape of comfort
and contradict ourselves for humor;then pixels leak
raw wind dries our stand and we put on
the heights as an oath; love is a tinted gloss
who insists her associates play in the rain.

Now you, my sophisticated fading icon,
would you have me carry the dry lands  
Or swallow the future and coat consequences
to store them on a cloud, down
the server in one language:
Drawing vowels from a loop through the dark
we only left with [L.P] played at 3:33 am
should it overwhelm the almost awake town.
cycling phoenix never stops to frame
If it should, should it be real or
should it sketch drunks upon the vignette
and Rands spent in dubious doorways
Our Valentine habits, engraved decoders
dining close to burning candles with our expired heads;
I donate applauds, until the same cause attacks again
scattering image from imagination,
recovering from ghost shots of exposure.

The rise leans down to hook; the resounding leak
in the dustbin sinks and drowns; we consume
divine west and east and sigh
how do you do,
and then how do you do again
to a blind breathing routine
till our harsh melodies reaches
to call for a cut on our restored scenes;
capturing photocopied reflections,
shutter opens where black or white begins
and separate the film from focus:
the philosophy of absolute apertures
exposed in a retina of moralities
which idealist call absolute, and rationalist, myth:
an insight like the prism of mirrors:

The result that mangle direct gaze is flipped,
while knowing the secret of their glaucoma is going;
some day, to move, and drop,
trace a wound that heals collections
only to reopen as flash thickens:
So we shall walk barefoot on chatroom walls
build our bed as high as a dead silhouette;
Duplicating the pain in our own tears:
Today : we start to pay the optic with each infrared,
yet love knows not of perception nor reality above
the simple sum of collages.
my childhood,
beautifully messy.
living out the nineties
making pre-internet memories

i remember running around
in mismatched clothes
d.i.r.t.y bare feet
no mobile phone
so my eyes were on the sky
my eyes were on the grass, so green
my eyes were looking into yours
not on a vapid screen  

i remember daddy
bringing our first modem home
i entered my first chat room
at nine years old
believe it or not
i remember the chat feed
being considerably clean
the only time it ever would be
in online history

my childhood,
beautifully messy.
i made so many innocent
pre-internet memories

i remember 5 channels on my tv
i was lucky if i got to watch one movie a week
i don't remember feeling that i had less than what i need
i don't remember feeling as though i had to change me

i remember hating bath time
now i can't get myself clean
no matter how many products that i scrub myself with

i remember backyard performances
my sister was director
i could put on any mask i wanted
i was somebody else for just a moment

i remember a girl from high school
inviting me to join Facebook
if i could go back to that day
i would run far away from her

never did i think, it would become what it is
never did i think, i would become an addict

when i entered that chatroom
back in 99'
i wish i had saved those conversations
proof that it was once benign

my childhood,
beautifully messy.
i made so many innocent
pre-internet memories
i wish that i had saved those conversations
proof that it was once benign
Matt Jul 2015
I am part
Of the environment

At the gym
I become part
Of what the people
Are doing

In my room,
I exist
As part of the environment

On the suburban streets
I am a part
Of what occurs
On the street

And I'm always alone

I hoped to be a teacher
But it doesn't seem
Like I will

I used to enjoy talking
To the therapist

Now I go to a chatroom
To hear human voices there

Isolated and poor
Without a role
In society
A 21st century American
Luna Jay Jan 2019
Heathen cat,
Atop my Mac.
You’re feral
And losing teeth.
A fever from your scratch,
A heap of furry black.
Flicks his tail and tongue to greet me.
Meet me
In the chatroom.
A real cat-fish
I presume,
The squawk box amuses me.
Yellow eyes and painted ears,
He types away at all his fears.
I fell in love with a stranger;
A true online catfish he’d been
For years.
Matt Jan 2016
"Lonely_Christian

Do you have a mic?
Then we could both chat"

Said in a loving and kind
Female voice

I don't I thought
And I said that I didn't
In the chatroom

And she left

I was close
If only my mic
Could hook up
To my ipad

That beautiful voice
She is out there
Somewhere

What a kind lady

I am a young American
I do not know
Any women

I spent my time alone
Reading books

I dream of a female friend

I dream of a female friend

I dream of a loving friendship

Of hugs

And smoothies

Of loving each other

But not too deep

Of sleeping with each other

But not having ***

I'm kind and romantic

Hehe
Wands May 2023
When shall we three Snapchat again?
In hidden, closed, or public domain?
When the Slutshaming's done
When we've trashed Kardashian ***
Fair is troll, and trolls are fair
Hover through the net, we click, and share

Double, double, hashtag trouble
Forum feed and Facebook guzzle
***** about the latest ***-tape
In the chatroom stir up hate
Eye of catfish and bit of blog
**** of spammer and bandwidth hog
Bigot's breath, cyberstalker's cling
Hacker's mouse and tweeter's ping
For a charm of hater's trouble
We're gonna burst your online bubble

— The End —