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Carter Ginter Feb 28
When did things change so much?
When did I get so encapsulated
Into the world of technology?
When did I stop listening
To myself and my own thoughts
And instead add another view
To some article or YouTube video
Just to reach some spoon-fed "opinion"?

When did we stop engaging
In life and with ourselves?
When did playing video games turn to
Watching other people play them online
Numbing our brains to the world
And "filling" our social needs digitally?
When did watching television turn into
Binge-watching an entire series in one sitting?

With this much constant stimulation
It's no wonder we're bored so easily
And that no one goes outside anymore
And that I don't feel alive anymore
Because one of the first things I do
When I get home from work or the gym
Is turn on the smart tv so it can warm up
Because the apps on it take time to load
And I already know that my free time
Will be spent in front of that screen

Lately I've been nervous about
Eventually moving in with new people
Primarily because I spend a lot of my time
Passively using the television
I was concerned with how we'd balance our usage
Instead of considering changing the way I spend my time

When did I start placing my use of technology
Above my own self-care?
When I spend hours watching YouTube
But still forget to take a shower sometimes
And I truly wonder if my recent urges
To leave the state to work on a farm for a month
Are more indicative of some deep desire
To unplug and reset my energy and priorities
Than my interest in agriculture or
Learning to live off of the land

When did I start to feel the need
To take such drastic measures
To change something so simple
Something I could choose to disengage with
At the simple touch of a button?
Thom Jamieson Jul 2018
"Over here"...
but nothing.
The scene continues
unabated by my presence.
Plastic smiles and lustful eyes
bountiful but not for me..never me.
In the mirror' s unforgiving gaze
I am unrecognizable
Replaced with a crude rendering
of my previous likeness
fashioned by children
with lumpy imperfect clay.
Silence replaces loving laughter
that used to follow my witty banter.
Silence and stares.  Sympathetic stares
tinged with smugness and fear.
"Over here...over here..."
still nothing.
I recently received a message from a composer named joe drzewiecki who was interested in putting this poem to music.  Here are the results.  I didnt know my words could sound so good. Thank you joe drzewiecki, I am flattered.

https://soundcloud.com/jomama-2/invisible
Zoe Mae Jan 2018
Why am I always afraid
I can't figure why
Is it cuz this bed I've made
Feels like a coffin in the sky

Floating over crowds alone
I never feel connected
This place doesn't seem like home
And I always get rejected

I may look human just like you
With two legs underneath
Two arms that don't know what to do
Wrapped round me like a sheath

A mouth that opens, words come out
Sometimes in a faint whisper
Other times I scream and shout
In the mirror at my sister

Two eyes that blink but do not see
A nose that does not smell
A feeling I'm not meant to be
And that this must be hell

If so then why is no one here
And I'm the only one
I feel my heart swollen with fear
And I just turn and run

Why am I always afraid
I just don't know why
Is it cuz this bed I've made's
My coffin in the sky
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say?
Forget it—never mind,
You wouldn’t understand anyway,
Would you even know what it's like?
Inside a scattered disconnected mind,
Employed to go on strike?
Where indirect misdirect
The sincerity at play,
When sinusoidal chaos spikes
And past meets the future present day?
As paranoid points outlandishly connect
At intervals of broken lines,
Memory lost in recollect,
An array of misshaped bells
Internally infect the eternal confines
Of infinite distributional decay,
Parallels with no intersect,
Streetwise cells with empty signs,
Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines,
Littered all the way.
How am I to convey that all those times
You let your mind wander away
That I was reading, thinking, dreaming,
Teeming, never idle, never strayed,
Seeing, being, so far and away,
Even the brightest intellect beaming,
Could not grasp the feeling
In the slightest of highest orders reeling,
Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming,
Imperfect, even to the disarray
Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict
Could not predict the reflect,
For in this world, seeing is deceiving,
As the lamest reject, defect,
Increasingly decreasing,
In simplistic bliss obey
Crowned unsound fallacies
That contradict all meaning,
Hiding behind reality, the actualities
Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving,
Let me stop you if I may...
I must interject for I digress,
What nonsense was I weaving?
Forget it—I've lost my mind,
I best be leaving,
What more can I say?
It's periodic I must confess,
You probably don't care anyway,
Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay,
Until next time I guess,
I wouldn't want to be misleading.
I’m scattered but I’m on point.
unloved Dec 2018
How can i love you this much
         when a touch would mean so much
Alex Feb 7
Journal entry #2

Today I finally decide to truly let go.
I no longer want her friendship, just like she has countlessly rejected my love. It is cruel and unfair to expect opposite feelings of the other.
We found each other against all odds, she approached me with intrigue and decadence, hoped for comfort, but let it all go when the bell rang. Like holding an infant in your arms, looking for care and attention, begging for patience and vision to give it the chance to grow strong and beautiful. Instead left under a bridge too weak and brittle to keep it.
I think I made her happy, but her warmth dissipated as soon as I had to leave, the mistake perhaps was to tell her that I love you. But she never wanted a serious relationship, she just wanted a connection with a man who acknowledged her, made her feel good, desired, important and seek out thrill in her stressful mundane life.
My purpose was served, and I felt disposed of. It has been one long year since the day I had to go, hoping to return.
I don’t want to know anything about her life anymore. Any news will hurt and enrage me. She hurt me so deeply and profoundly she is afraid of what she has done, she feels guilt for not loving me and rejecting a loving man, while I now feel guilt for expecting and forcing feelings onto her fragile soul.
We are equally selfish.
I burdened her with emotional presence from afar, when all she desired was peace and repent in silence. I don’t want to keep hurting her by caring. Today she said, “as soon as you appear in my life it becomes too hard and painful that I will not answer you in return”. Being friends with me would make her happy, she wants to be friends. But being friends is all that it will ever be while we shared such passionate and intimate times together. Her friendship is not enough, I want her in her entirety. I am convinced at this stage there is nothing I can do or say to change her mind. You may think you’re not good enough for me or that you cannot be with someone who you cannot love because love is alien to you, or because circumstances make it so. If you just let go, I would travel across the world and catch you.
It is all in your mind…
Now… By letting go of you entirely. By letting go of the constant hum of your omnipresence in my heart, of wondering what you’re thinking and if you will keep remembering me. We let each other heal and gradually forget a little more each passing day. You will find a man, I am sure. But you will never find someone who loved you more than I do now. Never.
I cherish the time I had with you. I wish things could go differently. I may still decide to go to Russia, perhaps not so soon and for different reasons. But I would also like to deliver on my promise, the promise I made to you a year ago. “I promise to come back”. Perhaps as friends this time, if I’m ready. Oh God. If I become a new man.
To my beloved Nastya. I love you. Goodbye.
Ashley Chapman Oct 2017
Feel empty in your post apocalyptic City of Angels,
Where not even your pets are real!
An electric android, a sheep or a frog,
The whir-flutter of micro-electrical wings of a butterfly.

Good, and so you ought.

Now grab the handles of your empathy box,
And in a shared virtual hallucination –
Feel: empathy, depression, pain, delusion and despair,
The outré myriad gifts of consciousness.

Millions of discombobulated and disconnected wrecks:
Adam's sons; Eve's daughters,
And among them simulations too,
Fakes! androids!
A phony circuit of semi-conscious memories,
A hive of neural malaise!
Welcome to our world; know how dead, inside, I feel.

You, yes, you:

Need a pet to make you more complete?
Maybe you can afford
A Fake Fakir Flake like me who looks like Jude Law,
Sounds like Richard Burton,
And silently romances you like Rudolph Valentino.
Come and stick what’s left of your mind in here,
In hair, hear her: har, har, har…

A box of lies...

A voice, Mercer's,
With texture from an age you neither lived in nor dared in:
Al Jerry's, a TV actor,
Droning on in pre-selected tones.

The real thing, the men, the women, their animals,
Made in the wild, wild desert, in the green pulsing savannah,
On the open crusted sea; now too, washed, choked, and drained,
Too many spliced and diced mutations,
Iterating your image:
The thing that was my heart,
My Child, now its imitation.
This comes from my fascination with Philip K. **** and Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. In this, his future dystopian vision, androids are retired, a euphemism for terminated, when they have passed their legal age limit after four years. Humans, us, have by now ruined our environment and become enthralled to a false religion, Mercerism , a fabricated make belief, spun by an actor, Al Jerry. The empathy boxes plunge the followers of Mercerism into a shared virtual hallucination. I was also enthralled by Jude Law in AI by Steven Spielberg who gave what I thought was a mesmerising portrait of a *** robot, the ultimate Lothario and so tragically programmed to flaw.

Earlier this year Mercerism was the theme of The Tunnel, an art collective to which I am a participator, through poetry.

Blade Runner, the film, now Blade Runner 49, is based on this dark interpretation of where we could all be headed.
Osiria Melody Feb 14
We are more than sad people,
merely disconnected from life
Than merely sad people,
disconnected
People, disconnected
Are disconnected
Disconnected
My mind,
a room with a
door that opens
and closes

Door?
Happiness and sadness
When I am happy, the door
of my mind opens
When I am sad, the door of
my mind closes

Room?
Control over my
happiness
and sadness
When I am happy, the
room expands
When I am sad, the
room contracts

Some days?
Room expands
Feeling carefree and
invincible

Other days?
Room contracts
Feeling pessimistic
and
lethargic

Every day?
Room gradually contracts
Room walls close in like a
hydraulic crusher
I try the best that I can to
clean my room
Regain control over the
clutter of negativity
blocking my open door
As room gets smaller, I cannot
open the door anymore

Door remains closed
Remains closed
Closed
Trapped in my room, I
could try to learn
to clean up the clutter
of negativity
But I cannot
Instead
For different reasons,
different situations
Why does life still
breathe in me?
I chose to do
everything that I
can
to clear away the
clutter of
negativity

I chose to de-clutter the door
of my mind
I chose to allow my room
(control over happiness
and sadness) to expand
If you ever feel like your
room is contracting
If you ever feel like your
open door is blocked
Just want you to know
that you're strong
enough to unblock
that door



Melody
2/14/19
People with depression are more than just merely sad people.
ymmiJ Apr 23
ignorance is bliss
hard to miss baskets of gold
sprinkled around you
your blindness, tunnel vision
swiping right, as flowers die
Just observing families at lunch, each on their own little world, sad
Negra Jan 2016
You made me
And that idea baffles me all the time
Because you didn't make me at all.
Well it's arguable that your absence made some of me
But there's millions of people who aren't in my life too.
Has my absence made some of you?
The first time I was with you,
Half of me was swimming to my moms egg,
When we were together for the second time
I noticed I had built you up
I only knew the biology of our connection
It made me realize how disconnected we were.
We weren't that tall and still aren't.
Without you I am nothing
But without you I've been many things.
I'll meet you again sometime.
There's still time to grow.
Creator Sun Sep 22
Hey.
If you're reading this,
Which you shouldn't be,
I just wanted to say,
You don't need me.

You don't need me.
I don't need to be here.
I'll just drag you down,
With my flaws and I-
I'll cause you to drown.

In loneliness.
With me.
I don't want you to suffer.
I don't want to suffer.
With you.

Is it normal to feel like
Someone else's shadow?
Is it normal to feel like a ghost
An ethereal spirit, disconnected.
Lost.

I'm lost.
At a loss of words,
lost in this game called life.
And I don't even know why
I'm pulling out this knife.

To hurt myself.
Ghosts can't bleed, can they?
Ghosts don't feel, do they?
Ghosts shouldn't matter, should they?
I'm not making sense, am I?
A continuation of the previous poem, I'm not sure if I like this. It turned out different then expected. Oh well.
Robin Lemmen Nov 2018
Today I cried. I stood still for a moment too long. And with my breaking point knocking, heavy on my door. I laid my heavy body down. Sunk deep into the ground. And here is the thing. Tomorrow, when the moon of yesterday is done watching over, after she has sung me to sleep with the lullabies I find it her moonshine, I will wake up. Stand, with a little less pressure on my shoulders. I cried out the hurt and endless wonders, released the tension in my body.

Today I cried. And here is the thing. I am always just waiting, tick tock, I am waiting. For my friend, my breaking point, to come knocking once more. Tapping on my bedroom window. Standing over me. Making my breath come shallow, blurring vision and losing color, softly squeezing my heart until I am nothing. I am smothered. Until her shadow, drowns my sorrow and the tears come flooding. And I find comfort in the darkness. Lonely sometimes brings such comfort. Misery a feeling I wish to wallow in.

Today I cried. And here is the thing. I will smile. Joke around, my friend came by last night, we just had a long talk. I simply am tired. I am not vulnerable.

And here is the thing. This is a never ending cycle. And somedays, with salt sticking to my cheeks, body disconnected from the world, I don't mind this feeling. I simply feel tired.
Luz Hanaii Jan 2014
Many think, I used to think this as well, that to be happy you must fill exalted and exited. When good things happen to us we naturally feel good and elated, it's a natural human response. Good things make us feel good and what we consider not good, make us feel bad.  A natural child and human response.

The sense of  happiness I'm describing here is not the mere result of a reaction to some happy event but is rather the state of being of our spirit, the acceptance that there will always be things that we have not control of, which we feel are bad and make us angry or sad.  True happiness in my estimation is being at peace, not letting our emotions, either good or bad determine our inner balance.

How many times those things I considered  bad, latter where the very things which help me learn and grow.  Experiences such as, illnesses, poverty, abuse, ignorance, depression, anxiety, fear... on and on, are nothing more than teachers, though we may see them as tormentors, when they first strike at us.

We are taught to live in this world using our five senses.  Therefore we estimate that happiness must be having good things and good feelings. We are thought to judge in order to survive in this world.  And that is fine up to a point, if we don't look before crossing the street, we take our chances at getting hit by a car.

We are taught that happiness is outside of us, we look for entertainment, material things,  and people to make us happy.  We look for support and words from others to value who we are, it is the normal thing a child does. It is the normal process of the primitive survival geared mind.

Some of us have not have the blessing of having parents that were happy within themselves, we've been verbally and physically abused, publicly ridiculed,  beaten, not validated/ignored, minimized and made to feel sick and disconnected etc... we've come from broken homes and broken people trying to raise us as best they knew how.  We are trying to heal and grow. We are all seeking to be happy.  We are all seeking support from an exterior world and from people, it's natural.  But as we mature and awake, we realize that no person, entertainment or thing can ever truly give you the happiness you need. We need to stop comparing ourselves with others or taking to heart their estimation of us. We need to revise and update the old programing in our minds given to us by our parents, school, the world. We have to learn to forgive others, love and accept our selves to find true happiness.  

I once heard a good example of what happiness is, which I had not considered.
Example below
*******
Look at your hand and observe how each finger is happy.  They don't ask for anything, they simply are.  Now if you were to hit one finger with a hammer the finger would stop being happy.  It would start to throb with pain and depending on the impact the pain would go away or stay longer.
True happiness is simply that, just being.

Revised @9/21/16
-Luz Hanaii
I revised this, for growth is not set in stone, my way of seeing things changes as I move on with time. There are different angles and ways to look at things. I understand that we don't all use the same eye prescriptions, my limited perceptions may not agree with yours.  Also that by me judging your way of observation as wrong, would only limit me and my growth.
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
Be from the barren sea a cormorant rising
To the blind cliffs an echo of rich tidings

Let loose your ******* world-whirling storm
Brave these conditions risking all harm

Under disconnected stars an encircling dance
Not a poem merely telling such truths as enchant

Flow in the flesh you have made your preserve
From strange and deep intensify thirsts

Best ridden hard these potential abrupt seconds
Drag forth your wings while being lightness beckons

Draw on your bones in marvellous appetite
Be the dream of the harlot  whetting her life

Only then kindle freedom only then fly
Cutting the crap that makes cliffs out of whys

Exist that fall dancing being the Mother means
Survive prosperity       Quiver brilliantly      Sing  !
Kathryn Maurine Mar 2017
How horrible it was
to wake up to your cries for help.
I came to find you had fallen,
your oxygen disconnected,
the clear tubes lying in a tangle
on your bedroom floor.

At first, you had been conscious,
your beautiful brown eyes looked up at me pleadingly,
and then you were gone.

I was alone and terrified,
having dealt with this before
I couldn’t say it was anything new,
but this time was different than the script of
past events.

Wishing I could escape like a bird in flight,
I knew I had no power to save you,
The harsh truth of my reality
suffocated me. My walls closing in
as I realized what was happening
in this moment.

Prior to this,
you had always made it to the hospital alright,
arguing with paramedics,
but this time,
you were motionless and cold.

I’ll never forget the blue stillness of your lips,
or the way the light left your eyes
as you departed the material world
and finally found peace in eternal rest.
6.13.13
requiescat in pace
Lil Moon Moon Jul 26
There's this heavy feeling,
An unbearable lightness of being,
Like I'm mindlessly floating,
With no sense of belonging.

The world moves and changes,
And I'm left behind to wander for ages,
The memories mock and jests,
What once was makes me wish time regress.

I tried to hold on and belong,
But my connections don't last long,
I know I've done nothing wrong,
Still they left and didn't bring me along.

Now there's dread that lurks at bay,
And so I easily float away,
But for once, I wish I could stay,
God, I don't wanna stay this way.

So I'm just a drifter drifting,
Never staying, always searching.
Don't mind me, keep on living,
You'll forget me in the morning.

I'm just a drifter drifting,
Never staying, always searching,
But God I'm worn and tired of just surviving,
For once, I wanna try living.

I'm just a drifter drifting,
Never fitting, always lacking,
Please someone see me in passing,
Hold me there and say, just for once,

Come and Stay...
Andrew Rueter Oct 2017
We find multiple ways to disconnect
Where business and technology intersect
We kick one another for cash
When we need equilibrium for our economy
Our morals disintegrate to ash
And we trade away our autonomy
But we don't dare reflect
Instead we disconnect
We turn people into symbols and numbers
So we can more comfortably slumber
After causing heartbreaking pain
Through bureaucratic chains
Because face to face
Our heart will race
And we'll examine our submerged morals
That lie in the depths with the coral
But our reflection is too much to bear
So we cowardly choose not to care
The only way we can feel ecstatic
Is to turn people into demographics

The Internet connects us
But also satisfies lust
And imitates human contact
Which has a negative impact
The feeling leaves us sated
And we don't feel the need to change
Our armor becomes plated
And we shoot arrows from long range
Because we don't like the idea of being one another
We get used to the idea of not seeing one another
We disconnect so we don't have to try
We disconnect so we can slowly die

The ****** disconnection continues
As we find more violent avenues
We utilize fatal instruments
To ****** without the sense
Of physically feeling
The life we're stealing
We stabbed one another with swords
Until the bullets soared
But we still needed more
So we disconnected further
And became satellite searchers
Studying people through actions
Defining them by faction
We don't have any interest in their personality or flaws
All we're concerned with is if they're breaking the law
The law we wrote to tip the scales
The law that makes us too big to fail

A husband leaves his wife
Disconnecting from her life
She's left with a child
To raise in the wild
Until a drone drops a bomb
On the struggling single mom
She's not an investor
So we'll just harvest her worthless life
Who'll be her protector
When she's near someone we don't like?
We **** her from our computer
That's the way we casually mute her

We carefully cultivated a disconnect
To treat one another like insects
This mentality will infect
Until we interject
Once we finally reflect
Love will connect
Andrew Kerklaan Nov 2015
Don't expect a call this year

Or the next one or even the one that follows...

I'm hanging up

My phone is disconnected


(and I am too)


Good riddance
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