"emoticons" poems
Subconsciously,
I replaced your emotions
With emoticons
Your eyes
With profile pictures
Your voice
With fonts
Falling into this technological abyss
How could I be so stupid
Thinking whatsapp
Could compensate
For your aura.
And now consciously
I suffer...
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
This poem casts a line from insomnia to morning
On the wind of a prayer that whatever bites, holds on.
See I have counted eleven score and ten,
with rainbow like curves of my neck -
contemptuous beasts leaping in formation
each bleating out a preach of vague platitudes;
A narrative for the night sky.
My hands clamour at keys for escape
until I tumble headfirst into a web so vast
it has ensnared the whole world wide -
millennials are living in-ter-net over in-the-world;
a new ultraviolence against humanity.
I beat my words into the screen until it breaks;
shattering scarlet emoticons like confetti
pouring over language as if it were a compliment.
My mind massages shapeless polypous thoughts
like tight constricted muscles aching for release.
3am casts these philosophies into horses,
whipping them into shape and speed
before the eyes of this statuesque ******
This anxious wakefulness begs my manic self to dance;
suggestively ********* tickets to ride like cleavage.
Sleep is fast becoming a neglected former engagement;
as my mind trips over fallen heroes
wades through my favourite mistakes
in a wonderland unfolding faster than I can fall
while the world beyond my window remains dark.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
Week One.
Possible reasons why she left you:
1. She was abducted by aliens
2. She turned into a mermaid
3. She joined a group of pirates
Week Two.
Possible reasons why she left you:
4. She won the lottery
5. She was a secret princess
6. She works for MI6
Week Three.
Possible reasons why she left you:
7. She met someone else
8. She doesn’t love me
9. She never did
Week Four.
Possible reasons why she left you:
10. She didn't feel loved.
11. She had enough.
12. She's emotionally drained.
Week Five.
Possible reasons why she left you:
13. She forgot who she was in the relationship.
14. She realised you were a boy and not a man.
15. You didn't support her growth as a human being.
Week Six.
Possible reasons why she left you:
16. She never got attention she truly deserves. She's fed up of "what's up" and emoticons.
17. Everything is all about you. Nothing is ever about her.
18. She loves herself too.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 4:09 AM UTC
We friended on Facebook,
Scrolled down our profile pages.
Lived together in a virtual world.
Our images and websites we shared
With Instagram incisiveness.
Meet all my friends.
Block any you do not like.
All busy we are, doing nothing.
Like if you agree.
Laptops were not enough.
Users subscribed to Smartphones,
Iphones, and God knows what.
Google them if you wish.
And if you like my words
Retweet them.
But beware!
I now use words like lol,
And even ***
Hehe.
Sometimes I multitask,
Flicking TV channels
Like a Subbuteo striker –
Gone virtual by now I guess.
Flicking and flipping while I scroll
My laptop page.
I make new tabs
As I message many friends:
Emoticons exploding
All along the way.
I’m Tivo-boxing clever
All the time,
King of my domain.
So get your VDU lit up
And monitor my words.
Download my thoughts
Into your memory banks.
I hope this all computes.
Paul Butters
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
Look around,
You will find all eyes down;
some expressionless,
some desperate,
and few smiling!
Both tiny and fatty thumbs
yearning for a rest,
after typing those texts.
Some consulting the Doc
for having a smartphone thumb
and some for lacking vitamin D!
Posts wanting more and more likes.
Kilograms of followers on Instagram!
Swapping stories on Whatsapp!
Unopened notebooks
when you have a Facebook!
Television screens consigned to oblivion
when you have a Youtube!
Discovering the veiled world,
missing the real scenes around.
Emoticons spreading fake feelings,
Stupefying infants swiping through the screens,
Kids imploring to their parents-
To drag out the patterns.
What is more satisfying?
Hitting play button on the screen or
Hitting a six on the field?
Carting products online or
Shopping on a girls day out?
Dribbling a basket ball or
Dragging down the newsfeed?
Watching daily soaps without a dish or
Helping your mother out to wash the dish?
Sharing the snaps of poverty and hunger or
Reaching out to them with eager?
A game of candy crush or
Gifting a candy to your crush?
I feel like whooping out to myself
and to people around;
To raise their heads and
Look around!
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
we create worlds
here on the internet
connecting we those
we will never see
chatting over virtual
back fences about
children, cats, recipes
we meet those who
have similar views
and those who don't
discuss things of import
show sympathy with
sad faced emoticons
we wish each others pets
happy birthdays with
cartoon characters
we share our art, music
and photography
then there are us poets
who write our hearts
for others to see
it is a melting ***
of thought and culture
of the full spectrum
of ability.....
it is a place of secrets
or exhibitionist excess
it is in many ways a wonder
and many ways a curse
the internet, really
just like the bottom
of an old ladies purse
full of useless lint and
used tissues, but if you
ferret arond long enough
you will find a dollar
or a hard candy
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 2:22 AM UTC
Texting somebody close to you,
Gossiping,
Chatting,
OMGees are all flying around,
LoLs flooding your tiny box,
Yet you're determined to stay aground.
I always have wondered why to limit,
Why to cap English or inhibit,
Replacing good ol’ words with some wicked text,
Emoticons they call,
Insipid, dull, and sluggish,
Emoticons they’re called.
Although indolence has reached its bounds,
And although my vote is utterly trifling,
Admit it,
Concede it,
Conclude it,
Emoticons’ presence should be abolished.
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 7:30 AM UTC
i extract poetry from your facebook chats
and tenderness from your skype calls
this: the compromise of a romantic heart
in the face of modern ephemera
since i cannot scale your balcony
like i memorize your wall
(o sweet o lovely wall
thanks courteous wall)
nor can i woo you or ****** you
without google as my cyrano
i worry for the endurance
of a love without tree-carved initials
and sigh over perceived corruption
caused by emoticons over emotion
though i’m sure if mr wilde could text
or byron could bbm
they’d not forego their lovers’ notice
for the sake of pure romance
they’d embrace any fleeting mention
with disregard for rose colored glasses
not moon over the glare of history’s glance
they’d kiss them with x’s
and serenade them with youtube
and covet any moment not spent
with them on their mind
so my conflict is resolved
and my star-crossed thoughts soothed
when they caution most ominously
that anything on the internet
can never truly disappear.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 7:54 AM UTC
I made a list of all our kisses, starting with just ‘kiss’
Which in the heat of passion was italicized like this:
kiss, then emphasized in variations Kiss! and KISS and KISS
Which even though ethereal somehow added to our bliss.
And later in IM we found that we could really KISS!
I mean in theory still, of course, for physically we missed
The real touch of real lips and autres choses on that list.
And there were funny graphics, I can’t reproduce them here,
But you know the ones we used a lot, they all meant kisses there
The hearton built with < and 3, which always made you smile
And the asterisks and emoticons we used once in a while
And let’s not forget those x’s which a net of crosses wove
*** and xxxx, our ****** book of love.
Soon added to our kisses came words like longingly,
And tenderly, and lingeringly and gentle morningly
Sometimes we gave it lots of tongue, but loving nibbles too
Whenever I’d le pout or tears your lashes would bedew.
These are the ones I can recall, probably there are more
I’m sure you’re itching to remind me from your memory’s vast store
And you can tell me all about them in some poetry well versed
But my love, before you write it, you’ll just have to kiss me first.
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
1. If it doesn't take place at 4 in the morning, immediately change the setting.
2. You should center all your work. Centering makes the piece unique and improves readability.
3. You should invoke the idea of The Mask. Paul Laurence Dunbar didn't do it well enough.
4. One word lines improve readability and do a great job of making emphasis. Use them a lot.
5. On the other hand, really long lines explain points wonderfully. Feel free to be essentially prosaic.
6. The subject should be obvious and everyday, that way everyone can easily understand what you're trying to say. Subtext is dated.
7. Confessions and heartbreak are unique to you.
8. Not editing makes the work extremely human and relatable.
9. Emoticons and the ilk are the cutting edge of the English language. Feel free to use them without reservation.
10. Rhyme scheme doesn't need meter.
11. Making a word into waterfall letters tells the reader you're falling apart (See #3).
12. Journals, diaries, blogs and Tumblr are old news when it comes to venting. Write an angry poem about your day instead.
13. You're probably going mad according to the DSM-5. Definitely write about that.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Screen time
We need to have
Essential
Moments of mandatory misery
Grasping, tugging emotions
Un-liked, ignored emoticons
The puffed-green faces of ourselves
Dot
The landscape and portraits of
Screens
Screaming at, about, into
The refined, together
Socially happy selves
That we would be, should be
If we abide broadcast expectations
Joyful, complete, happy, helpful
Free…
We are not
Not always
Precisely completed
Or so
These moments
Remind us
With beautiful
Misery
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
I feel most lonely when sitting at my computer.
There is the promise of knowledge, creativity, friends, love, companionship, shared ideals and inspiration.
But the reality of constant connectivity is quite different.
Bullying goes on outside of school.
Oppressive people find each other and a platform to taunt and torment their victims.
Idiots band together and spread stupidity like a modern black plague.
Intelligent ideas are challenged and the people who thought them up as stupid.
Creativity is put down and judged.
People are separated instead of united.
And love? Love seems to be non existent as the ignorant people who turn on their computers to put down good and promote evil don't even realise that there is a real person on the other side of that screen, and even then some do.
My news feed is full of bad news.
Full of sexism, **** inequality, torment, animal abuse, war, ignorance, stupidity oppression, child abuse and ultimately hate.
I realise the collective imagination is dying when I can't even remember what it is I did before this accursed computer came into my life and took over.
My rewards are nothing but imagined friends and fake conversations over text, we're communicating but not connecting, something in me longs to be back when if I didn't meet my friends regularly we lost touch because that is how real relationships are supposed to work.
With care, effort, meet ups and real conversation.
Emotion instead of emoticons.
Care instead of clicks.
Laughter instead of likes.
When photographs were precious personal memories rather than a trophy of 'look where I am' 'look how pretty I am' 'look at how much fun we're having' and sharing them meant a coffee or a few beers and a trip down memory lane flipping through dusty photo albums and laughing at your awful clothes, make up, hair and the state you were in rather than scrolling back through your online albums alone and commenting on how horrendous your photoshop jobs on some of them are.
When people were living their life for themselves rather than living to try and impress others.
When it was face to face rather than facebook to facebook.
I feel most lonely when sitting at my computer.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Before bed,
first thing in the morning,
when you randomly wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep,
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
In the beginning it's almost like a new toy or a car,
the excitement when you first download it,
the careful precision with which your profile is created,
how into it you are all day all night,
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Then slowly a pattern emerges.
You get the insanely sporty ones,
running, jumping, swimming, lifting freaking weights,
and you think if I were looking for a personal trainer I would swipe right but no thanks.
Then there are the travelers,
on a world tour since the beginning of time with no permanent address, let alone any potential for a relationship, so you swipe left on instability.
Then there are the 6 packs and no heads,
making you wonder when muscles and treasure trails overrode eyes,
and cringing at the sight of those semi shirt lifted body shots, you swipe left.
Then there are genuinely you're not attracted type,
too much baggage type,
too good looking making you skeptical type,
standing too close to girls type,
reptiles as pets type,
really bad grammar or purging emoticons type,
alcohol is a hobby type,
no ambition or future type,
on all which you keep swiping left.
Every now and then there's the just right type, with the right amount of words and smiles,
sincerely looking for something more than *** or just good at pretending they are,
so you swipe right.
A match...
You never end up talking anyway so swiping on, all day long,
and you realize this is bull ****
The only thing that's getting anything is your right index finger,
and there are much better ways in which it too can be put into use.
You realize even after expanding the age limits to highly questionable numbers and including the maximum area in distance,
and proactively lowering your standards,
you still haven't swiped right on Mr. Right.
You realize you aren't looking but rather searching for that one face, that specific personality who already escaped between your fingers like that one cute guy you accidentally swiped left on a super drunk night while eating peanut butter out of the jar,
or that one guy who you thought was perfect so you super liked but never liked you back.
You realize you are searching for a specific person who doesn't have a Tinder profile but lives in the same building as you, who'll never swipe right for you even if he had the chance.
So you unmatch all those stupidly silent, mute, mistakes of matches, reset the preferences to more respectable limits and...
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
We live close to the people far
We are far away from the people close by
The network of people within net
Has its web links across the globe
We follow thousands people around
Giving them likes , emoticons
And sometimes comments!
Thousand pictures of others life ,
The stories , they have
All there to be viewed by people
Who care , who don't care
But people , do share
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
Dear technology,
You replaced my emotions with emoticons
Voice with fonts
Love with likes
Compliments with comments.
You make distance seem so close
But you have no sense of touch
For you overrode internet connection over soul connection
You gave me a list of friends, yet I feel so alone.
You made me believe in a world all of your own
Pictures to prove their existence
Status to update me on their life
And a message to make me feel connected.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
the dank hallway is filled with
the repercussions of conversations
that only she can hear
her dead phone rings all night
her lover stepped out for a smoke
ten years ago but hell be back in a moment
she loads her version
of disappearing
and a smile slowly fades onto her face
a deity of sunshine
her open vest sweating skin
is covered in particles of the dirt that
hides her eyes from seeing the dire face
of this long long year
like a blast furnace she keeps thouse thoughts
sealed behind the locked hatch
its battleship beginnings lend credence
to defensive posture she takes
when confronted by the ugly truth
he ain't never comin' home
guess my name
but you know my face dont 'cha honey
its the blackend end of all your burned down dreams
its the final chapter of all your unfinished novels
i am darkness within your own soul
her jagged edge feelings scare her
and she tries not to let them show on her sculpted features
but with rancid ticks and convulsions of the lip
they escape one careless emoticon at a time
don't all emoticons have screaming faces
bleeding eyes
she smiles for me
and navigates the narrow hall
past the groping old men
to a safe corner where she can disrobe her heart
and let the tears fly fast and furious
pills and molly
would solve she thinks
but holding my hand will do in a fix
if i can get her through the night
if i can get myself through the night
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
I never mean to be that guy,
But every time a friend uses another friend's Facebook,
The go-to gag will be a status saying "I'm gay," with
Eyeroll emoticons and LOLs promptly following.
Giggles and pointed fingers echo off the walls and
Into the ears of the suffering silent.
Those two words used as punchlines are the heirs,
The progeny of a past bathed in blood.
They are words weighted down by chains linked with laughs
And locked by the smiles and eyerolls.
The free ones revel in the fire baptismal they impress upon
Those left chained to the wall in the shadows.
Like children, they delight in the minor sting of the fireball that destroys those they mock.
Eyes sparkle and smiles flash at the fictional thrill that entertains them and murders the ones who dare to speak.
Their drums beat as the celebrate the chic
Game they get to play--playing Chicken with a train that isn't there
While others are strapped to the tracks by their shadows,
The darkside of the dance.
Songs and howls fill the skies and mix with the screams of the tortured to put the icing on
Their twisted fandango--a brilliant spectacle to distract from the cries for help;
A spectacle as brilliant as the screens of their phones as they type the jokes stained with sadness:
"I'm gay LOL haxored," with the laughs following
At the circus, while miles away a boy sobs into his sheets,
The cold stars his only company.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 3:00 PM UTC
ι'μ σεεινγ
αν ωπτωμετριστ,
ανδ ναι, α γρεεκ;
i had a cyrillic (
с-у-р-у-л-ьи-ч?
celery... celeriac kayak?!)
optometrist
once, but it didn't work
out;
back to celeriac kayak canoe...
the explosion
of acronyms
and emoticons [ :) :( ;) :'( ]
in the english
language sparked the frustrating
chaos
of optic carousels.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
1.
I wish I could have a walkthrough for life, so I can always get the ‘happy ending’ I’ve dreamed of, what I’ve been craving since the first time the prince and princess laid eyes on each other as they sang the a song the other knew the words to.
2.
There was a word I felt for you. Whether it was love, I’ll never know. I’m still nervous to cross the bridge you burnt down: using makeshift planks of “I’m sorry’s” and “take care’s” I’ve started to rebuild it, but I’m afraid that when I reach the other side, or half way, that you’ll be there to burn again.
3.
When a boy pulls me close, I want to pull away and retreat to a familiar, digital world where imperfections and anxiety can be hidden through words and emoticons; where I can pretend to be beautiful and confident
4.
People say not to romanticize sadness, but I do it all the same. I guess I’m a bit of a sadist for loving someone’s sadness but I want to be there to hold you close and kiss the tears away from your cheek, whispering: “it’s going to be alright”, like a mantra until you fall asleep
5.
There was a word I felt for you. Whether it was love, I’ll never know.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
No one writes letters anymore
We live in a world that needs more
Than fast messages with emoticons;
We speak our mind through funny fonts.
Tell me you could visualize
A tortured heart that slowly dies;
I truly wish you read the signs
Tears I poured while writing those lines.
In my handwriting, I revealed
In my letter, my heart I sealed
I made mistakes I can't erase
I am so sorry, I lose face.
You won't forgive me easily
Don't expect an answer swiftly;
My words came from deep down inside
One day, perhaps, you'll let it slide.
No one writes letters anymore
But I am the kind that is for
Face-to-face communication
From afar, words must move mountains.
In my handwriting, I unveiled
In my letter, my heart is sealed
I'll say sorry until you care
Was a letter enough to repair?
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
dead babies.
college.
music.
clean.
***** house.
*****
linda.
gabe.
gabe's teeth.
gabe's ***** teeth.
school.
friends.
leaving.
new orleans.
new orleans.
change.
change.
very worried.
adderall.
drugs.
more adderall?
shower.
clean.
clean.
emoticons are kinda lame.
sleep.
sleep.
want more smarts.
want more dumbs.
dumb dun dun.
tittle tattle rattle pattle goo.
************
attention.
attention.
more please!.
your dumb.
that's a defense mechanism.
air:
more of.
less again.
stop that.
stop stopping that. stop stopping stopping that. think about clouds. what will it be like in a year?
maybe people think I have weird hand gestures. maybe I'm thinking about them so much that they look weird. maybe I'm thinking about thinking about them too much too much.
oh god, hum. sing. play around the room. something already.
Don't look at me you ************
go. back. ***
I'm sorry. stay. look around.
I love it when your around. Your really amazing.
Do you like me?
Stop calling me so much.
Hey call me. Can I call you?
What are you thinking about?
I'm tired. I can't sleep. will you talk to me about my problems. problems are dumb. I have too many problems in my little head! I can achieve EVERYTHING
Hold me! Stop asking me to hold you. hold me? hold you? hold hands? Don't touch my hands. stop looking at them.
no, just no. sleep. shower.
clean breaks. will make me brake.
Feb 17, 2010
Feb 17, 2010 at 1:29 PM UTC
:-) We are the abbreviated people
Living our lives in short, loud bursts
On screens and through machines
Words are changed, made little, rearranged.
We are emoticons
Wearing a dead smile
Pretending to be happy
But *** and ***
We've lost so much.
Write with me
On walls and boards
And scented, silky paper.
Find your language, your voice
We'll rediscover what we were,
Articulate and complicated, full of words
If we write, we'll speak and feel
Indescribable, beautiful things
Unashamedly unabbreviated
More than a :-(
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 5:09 AM UTC
Texts and Posts and Blogs galore
I must read, reply, comment, or ignore
Symbols, Emoticons, Internet Slang, l33t
What I read and write I can't even speak
What Hero, What Color, What God, What Sign
Profiles, Quizzes, Lists, Fan of and Pages are how I'm defined.
500 friends, 100 requests, an invite and dozens of tweets
Day in and day out come and go on my phone and PC
Yet at the end of the day when the screens go dim
I sleep alone never having acutally touched or spoken to any of them.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 11:39 PM UTC
When she opened the door and saw him standing there
Her first thought was
Holy crap he's so obsessed that he swam the Atlantic!
Well, his hair was dry
So she realized this thought was not reasonable,
But she couldn't formulate a second thought
Because that's when the shock started to set in
And all she could say was
"You exist!"
Awestruck,
Reaching out to make sure he was solid.
It was just like she'd imagined.
His lithe, sniper-trained body stood less than an inch
Above her own over-worked and over-fed frame,
And his brogue-heavy voice tumbled out
Without a type-face to give it cadence:
"You exist, too…"
Palm to palm they stood there,
Staring wonderingly at the other,
Unconsciously twining their fingers as though,
If they didn't hold on,
They'd flicker out like a computer shutting down.
On her fifteenth birthday she'd told him
"I'll be eighteen in three years. Then I'll come see you."
And in those days
The Atlantic Ocean didn't seem like such a big thing.
It seemed that its breadth was just a story moms told to keep their kids from wandering off,
From sneaking out and stone-skipping across its waves
Until they splashed up on some foreign beach.
Dimly, she thought she could flatten herself out
And fling her body so that she'd bounce her way across the ocean
Right to his door.
In those days
She was leashed by a modem,
Bound by the words typed out in real-time;
"I can't wait until I'm eighteen. We'll finally see each other."
On her eighteenth birthday,
She no longer wore her computer collar,
And she wasn't thinking about him
Or the Atlantic.
But looking at him standing in her foyer,
She couldn't quite remember
When two screens and a modem
Became too fragile to bridge two continents.
Virtual hugs crumbled under real life kisses;
LOL couldn't replace actual laughter;
Emoticons couldn't replace ****** expressions.
For all that she loved him,
Something was missing,
Lost in IP addresses and chat rooms,
Only to be found again
Dropping its luggage on her bedroom floor.
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:42 PM UTC