"flashier" poems
I despise social media.
It's ugly, to state the obvious
Our lives are posted, retweeted, altered, reblogged, perfected, and photoshopped to exactly how we want to be perceived
We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be.
It starts with a few edits doesn't it,
pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed,
that would seem most acceptable right?
Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist.
More reassurance for brighter colors.
Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends
Another like
Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to
Another like
We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success,
Another like
But what are we enjoying?
Another like
Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view.
Another like
Events pass by swipe
Another like
and swipe
Another like
And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp
We always come back
Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab
Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in
To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings
For without this world, maybe eyes will open
We will step past the boundaries,
and start to love our beings
unfiltered
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
I
I SAW a staring ****** stand
Where holy Dionysus died,
And tear the heart out of his side.
And lay the heart upon her hand
And bear that beating heart away;
Of Magnus Annus at the spring,
As though God's death were but a play.
Another Troy must rise and set,
Another lineage feed the crow,
Another Argo's painted prow
Drive to a flashier bauble yet.
The Roman Empire stood appalled:
It dropped the reins of peace and war
When that fierce ****** and her Star
Out of the fabulous darkness called.
In pity for man's darkening thought
He walked that room and issued thence
In Galilean turbulence;
The Babylonian starlight brought
A fabulous, formless darkness in;
Odour of blood when Christ was slain
Made all platonic tolerance vain
And vain all Doric discipline.
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment or a day.
Love's pleasure drives his love away,
The painter's brush consumes his dreams;
The herald's cry, the soldier's tread
Exhaust his glory and his might:
Whatever flames upon the night
Man's own resinous heart has fed.
2k
To be alone
Is to be complete
They say
No man is an island,
But isn't everyone?
We're all stranded on islands of self-interest
Connected to others
Through flimsy bridges of temporary alliances
Mutual interests and gain
The more connected we are
The more isolated we become
Pictures and blog posts
Nothing more than facades
Anomie is the word of the decade
The individualistic
The self-sufficient
Is reviled
For refusing to play the game
To participate
In the masquerade
To jump through the hoops
Of social niceties
Somehow
To sit and squirm
Through ******* contests and gossip
To flap and flutter
In the howling gales of hysteria and contrived laughter
Is preferred over
Sitting alone
Revelations and epiphanies
Splayed out before oneself
Playing solitaire with one's reflections
In peace
Baby showers and mixers
Celebrated
The impenetrable silence
Of one's hermitage
Eschewed
The people-pleaser
Preferred
Over the lone wolf
The team player
Over the independent agent
I suppose
In an age of open doors
A locked one
Raises a few eyebrows
They'd knock and rattle
Then bang and kick and shout
Before leaving in a huff
Authenticity is now the rarest commodity
Valued over saffron and platinum
So people settle instead
For knockoffs
Alcohol-plied sincerity is better than nothing
A China-made Rolex still looks better --
Flashier, if nothing else --
Than a Timex
No man is an island,
They say,
Smirking
Frowning
Clucking with disapproval
Peering behind perfectly schooled masks
Nary a hair out of place
Looking at me
In all my artless imperfection
Paper, pen, and cigarettes for company
Well
Which of us here
Is truly alone?
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
I
I saw a staring ****** stand
Where holy Dionysus died,
And tear the heart out of his side.
And lay the heart upon her hand
And bear that beating heart away;
Of Magnus Annus at the spring,
As though God's death were but a play.
Another Troy must rise and set,
Another lineage feed the crow,
Another Argo's painted prow
Drive to a flashier bauble yet.
The Roman Empire stood appalled:
It dropped the reins of peace and war
When that fierce ****** and her Star
Out of the fabulous darkness called.
II
In pity for man's darkening thought
He walked that room and issued thence
In Galilean turbulence;
The Babylonian starlight brought
A fabulous, formless darkness in;
Odour of blood when Christ was slain
Made all platonic tolerance vain
And vain all Doric discipline.
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment or a day.
Love's pleasure drives his love away,
The painter's brush consumes his dreams;
The herald's cry, the soldier's tread
Exhaust his glory and his might:
Whatever flames upon the night
Man's own resinous heart has fed.
1.5k
The old red car
sat alone in his garage
pondering his likely disposition..
Odometers don’t lie
and his said he’d
seen some miles.
There was some body rust
defacing his red paint.
He was out of warrantee
and as he could plainly see
there were newer, flashier
models now about.
Still, his battery was strong,
plenty tread left on his tires
and his CD/stereo still
sounded great..
Would he be sold to another,
less considerate owner
who would make him
spend his old age
on the street?
Would he be towed off to the
dump?
his parts salvaged by some chump?
Would he end up crushed and
melted by the man?
If so, when the metal cooled,
would he find himself retooled
in a showroom ready
for the road again?
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 9:52 AM UTC
I despise social media.
It's ugly, to state the obvious
Our lives are posted, re-tweeted, altered, re-blogged, perfected, and photo shopped to exactly how we want to be perceived
We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be.
It starts with a few edits doesn't it,
pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed,
that would seem most acceptable right?
Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist.
More reassurance for brighter colors.
Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends
Another like
Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to
Another like
We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success,
Another like
But what are we enjoying?
Another like
Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view.
Another like
Events pass by swipe
Another like
and swipe
Another like
And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp
We always come back
Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab
Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in
To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings
For without this world, maybe eyes will open
We will step past the boundaries,
and start to love our beings
unfiltered
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
Have you ever noticed that friendships are like books?
A new Friend is like a well acclaimed book that you just can't put down, as you wait to see if it is really all it was cracked up to be.
An old Friend is that trustworthy favourite with bent pages and peeling cover that you turn back to year after year.
A good Friend is the book that always brings a smile to your face, making the hard, dull parts of life seem worth living.
A best friends is that one book that you can inexplicably never part with. It's less exciting, less acclaimed, less popular than the other books on your shelf. But no matter how hard you try, you can never replace that well thumbed treasure with the newer, flashier releases everyone else seems so taken with.
My heart is a library full of well thumbed or ignored stories that fill the pages of my daily existence.
Even the forgotten titles of friendships past fill an essential part of my being.
Without them I would be an empty page.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 4:42 AM UTC
My boy said "dad, we need to talk"
"There's something you should know"
I thought I know just what he'll say
Let's see where this talk goes
I'd practiced in the bedroom
What I'd say when this time came
How I'd use big words like respectful
But, it still sounded kind of lame
He said "Dad. I've lived a secret life"
"I've been in the closet for some years"
I swallowed, and I tried to speak
But, I was fighting back the tears
He'd always dressed ....well different
A little flashier than most
It was a good thing Ma was gone
Or...this boy...he would be toast
He said "Dad, I like Willie"
I felt myself go weak and shake
"In fact I like Johnny too"
I knew we'd made a big mistake
We took him to a broadway show
When the boy was only ten
Now, here he's liking Willie
And he's now, well...one of them
"Paisley"..."that's a favorite"
Why couldn't he just like blue?
"Sugarland"....that's a given
what the hell was I to do?
When he said "Don't worry"
"It's not as bad as it may seem"
I thought my son likes Willie
This is surely a bad dream
I knew the talk was trouble
It was the same back with my Dad
But, when you hear 'bout Johnnies willie
Well, this talk was going bad
I sat down and I smiled
I said "you know I love you all the same"
"But., there never was a sign at all"
"it's all on me....I take the blame"
He said "it's not that big a deal"
I thought ...he must be nuts
But nuts, well he'd like them too
But, the boy...he has some guts
I told him I'd support him
And would accept his lifestyle choice
He said, "Dad. what do you mean?"
I said...i accept that you like boys
He laughed and said, "you're wrong there"
He laughed...was nearly sick
I'm telling you ....though it is hard
I like country music
I said "but you like Willie"
he said "yeah, and so should you"
"I like Johnny Cash and Sugarland"
"I like Brad Paisley too."
My heart was back to normal
I said "I'm glad we had this chat"
He said, "it sure was different"
we shook hands...and that was that
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 8:15 PM UTC