"forums" poems
Kashmir Delirium
Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.
Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.
To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.
The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?
What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.
But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.
The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.
Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.
For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.
Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.
Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.
This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
97
The rainbow never tells me
That gust and storm are by,
Yet is she more convincing
Than Philosophy.
My flowers turn from Forums—
Yet eloquent declare
What Cato couldn’t prove me
Except the birds were here!
7k
Where are you Paul?
I'm in Cyberspace Mum.
My Pentium processor has broadbanded me
Into this wondrous realm.
A pixel powered virtual landscape
Peopled by avatars
Speaking Internet Slang.
FFS, *** are you talking about?
She asks.
In so many words.
I **** and ROFL at her incredulity.
It’s full of danger, that Internet, says Mum.
That’s true.
It’s full of paedophiles,
Spammers and trolls.
Hackers.
Chat-rooms and forums
Plagued by flame-wars
And spam enough to fill a trillion tins.
Sites full of viruses, Trojans, malware and spyware.
Cyber-bullies and loons abound.
But I just Love it.
A ****** addiction
Needing every fix.
A realm indeed of quantum singularities,
And imploding nebulae.
Paul Butters
(C) PB 3\9\2011 in Yorkshire.
Sep 5, 2011
Sep 5, 2011 at 11:09 AM UTC
What does it mean to be a man?
A hush quiets the room.
Seriously, what does it mean? I asked.
Because I've searched online forums and the trolls don't have much right to say,
I'd ask my father as if he would know himself,
I look at celebrities, friends, strangers, and yet I still wonder....
What does it mean to be a man?
Heaven help me because role models are hard to find. If God created sinners he must have made men with a special idea in mind.
Why do I desire something that is so hard to understand?
So tell me, what does it really mean to be a man?
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 6:30 PM UTC
he turned up a winning
ace on his arrival
he turned up an ace
the ace of revival
everyone engrossed
with all that he wrote
oh yeah there was a real
classiness to his tote
he'd arrived at other forums
not getting applause
those places weren't aiding
his penning cause
he turned up a winning
ace on his arrival
he turned up an ace
the ace of revival
when he found the site
where the mob noticed him
there stayed he to garner
kudos on his trim
of the adoring hordes
his arrival did infatuate
a diamond ace card
dealt him triumph's fate
he turned up a winning
ace on his arrival
he turned up an ace
the ace of revival
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
It caught me off guard, this sudden feeling of loss, this sense that something beautiful was gone forever. I didn't know what to do with it, this overwhelming idea that now, out of neglect or shame or starvation, a work of art had withered away into nothing.
I suppose that I'm beginning to understand that the world isn't a narrative, it's not a story by an author with a plot and a hero.
This is the essential fallacy taught to children with a streak of the hopeless romantic in them:
the desperate belief that somewhere out there is a place for people who live their lives waiting for King Arthur instead of Jesus.
And even now, with every word comes the terrifying truth that my babbling is going to change absolutely nothing, not a single atom is going to **** an electron on the completion.
I won't feel better, the situation won't change, you the reader aren't going to say EUREKA!!!! at the end of it, so what's the point?
Expression, that is the point of it, and to be be completely blunt about it all, I hope some one I love and admire will read this and say the typical things that are said when people are honest on public forums. Do I have a point? No, not really.
So what do I do with this loss, this empty fireplace in my soul?
I drink and smoke and **** it away, stay so busy that I don't have time to consider it, this knowledge that the fire has gone out. How typical of me, how unoriginal and bourgeoise to write another ode to the trials of the individual.
Who am I to feel loss and pain when my stomach is full and my needs are met?
Aren't I another servant of economic output?
Should I not donate time and money to a cause more worthy of respect than a withering example of excessive individualism such as myself?
No, and what's more, **** you society, **** you for taking away the only haven I ever had: my head. **** you for marketing my imagination,
for inventing a bunch of ******** about responsibility for the greater good,
for poisoning the little freedom I do have with feelings of uselessness.
And most especially **** you for your greatest crime of all;
implanting this feeling of guilt whenever I do anything with my own well-being in mind.
You have created a system that perpetuates itself on shame and output,
you have killed the desire to create for it's own sake.
**** you, and I'm going to unplug from you if it's the last ****** thing I ever do.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Fall can be hard for me,
I remember school years at this time.
Back when things were hard yet simple
and my mind was more kind.
I remember a swinging boat
and colorful flashing lights,
A space ship spinning us round and round,
and feeling so happy inside.
I also have silly memories, but
the one I made them with is gone.
When I remember the hallway giggles
I run. I hide. I sob.
Things at home back then were hard,
My dad was rarely around.
My sisters would bring home friends to keep-
My mom never handled this well.
Our house would be full and I, alone
I'd find my peace in forums and games,
Chatting with men who I thought liked me,
My heart back then was full of hope.
As I grew and moved around,
I found I never really understood myself.
Why do tears bubble up so often?
I freeze, I fawn and forget but don't move on.
Autumn is beautiful but brings up so much.
I miss people I don't know anymore
or have the privilege of seeing
and I'm left to wonder if I ever knew them truly.
I watch the array of leaves change and fall
And wish to be one of them.
I could fall from a branch,
But be picked up in the wind, only to live again.
Oct 20, 2023
Oct 20, 2023 at 8:16 AM UTC
Drugs are ******* great man
Do another line
Or take a hit
Or take a sip of something
There’s enough available to us
That’s legal - or not
That freaking out is overkill
To those availing themselves
Of chewables or smokeables
Or pills or anything prescribed
By labcoat-wearing, overeducated
Pharmaceutical-reps
Masquerading as the answer
That you found yourself
By diving into forums on the web
Your doctor both agrees with
And now disavows
They can’t allow
This kind of undermining
Of the underpinning
Of their industry
And of what’s keeping people healthy
Even only as a byproduct
Of confirmation bias
They cannot acknowledge
If we want to be respected
In this new environment
In which our personal experience
Is more true than the objective
Information taught to more than like
One million doctors
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 4:45 AM UTC
Its 6AM again and the cigarette laced ashtray is smoking
There's a joint burned down to the roach
Through the foggy room, lurching, tired and choking
I sift through forums seeking a reproach
Harold Melvin and The Blue Notes from the speaker, I'm forlorn
My eyes are red and I am in need of rest
I peep through the dingy curtains, the world at peace and I feel scorn
The ******* keeps my heart rapid in my chest
Feral cats quarrel and screech through the alleyway, maddening
Gentle hum from a depression creeping
The abuse of my body on these long summer nights, is saddening
A shot to the arm and finally, I'm sleeping
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC
I was here.
A declaration of past, present and future
so simple,
but yet
so important
it must be important,
if people choose to carve it
into tables
and paint it
on walls
and post it
on forums that
no one will ever
visit again.
and I guess they have a point
what are we,
if we never declare
that we were here
we were important
that we mattered.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
There are many social networks
all around today.
Sometimes it is serious head work
Not to have to pay.
Facebook, Tagged and Cupid.com
Try to make a match
They must think we're stupid adnorms;
The people they dispatch.
Broken teeth and dreams and mindsets,
They all have their run.
I clicked on one who handled blind pets'
Said, she did it for fun!
They show up in secret forums
So you don't know they're here,
Some run counter to the norms
We trust will be there.
Bi's- and Trans- and other hyphens
Litter their profiles.
Like sifting sand you have to siphon
Way behind their smiles.
I'm so sick of private forums
On the Internet.
Despite all of their decorums,
It hasn't worked out yet.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 10:06 AM UTC
I posted an invite to my wedding on gaiaonline on forums.
I got you stupid, he wants *** he will cheat on you the whole gambit.
Beats the heck out of getting hitched in the real and he cheats.
He says he loves me and I love him so we try marriage online.
If it don't work wtfu did I lose? Losing virginity on the net don't count.
Or does describing *** count as real ***
Guys who want to do me say no and they tell me I will love it.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 6:22 AM UTC
Conversation has become
A chain of phrases, one by one.
Motions are rehearsed in song
Like YouTube Comments, in the wrong.
Trolls are lawling in their crypt
Of rocky couches. They’re the hip
Of fame for ten plus five, or
Replies so long you must ‘See More…’
People say:
‘Century twenty plus one—
Where things are thought and said and done
In Memes—We have epic skill.’
Say this, we always will.
Few have seen ROFLcopters
Fly between before and afters.
From ones who make no livin,
Not a single **** was given
About Chuck Norris being
A bible-thumper (or being
A terrible actor). Nah.
The Interwebs is home for all.
People might say:
‘Century twenty plus one—
Where things were dreamt and wished and done
In words—They had all the skill.’
Say this, we hope they will.
The fad of freedom is gone.
Forums closed. No statuses on
Facebook. Nothing has been kept
In life after the Internet.
How did this happen to US?
Z-Day and the Day Zero fuss
Released Mayan, canny ********
Our demise was writ, bit by bit.
People will say:
‘Century twenty plus one—
Where things were lame but lots of fun
For free—Then they passed the bill.’
Say this, we know they will.
The avunculicide of Sam
Reveals the brighter side of spam.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
Notice how the whisper dies
When strangers near a gathered few,
How laughter dwindles in the air
Where yesterday, free breezes blew.
Our public forums disappear
Like dominoes, they fall in turn
And each in turn consumes a truth,
Like ******* in a flame they burn.
And everyone’s opinion fades
As nervous glances flit the room,
A menace in the silence felt
As whispers hush, suspicion looms.
The banks call in the mortgages,
The Cops demanding hard
The language of the press subdued
And every one’s on guard.
And the failing economies
Across the whole globe,
And contrived **** happening
With oil price hikes disrobed.
Grinning cartel monopolies
Who manipulate fare
To cause catastrophic collapse
In the market elsewhere.
Government’s tone has altered
From homilies of home,
(God bless our land & honour the flag)
To harsh Corporate drone.
Big Money’s in the mix you see,
Pharmaceuticals and Big Oil
And the Military have the casting vote
In cashing up the spoils.
How has it all come to this ?
Where have our freedoms fled ?
If they ever really did exist
Were they... only in my head ?
Restricted private ownership
With travelling curtailed,
And the information black out
Shows the freedom press have failed.
But the repetitious broadcasts
Which they want us all to hear,
And the droll propaganda
Which confuses the ear,
Those brainwashing dogma’s
Which stifle the mind,
Oppressing the rational
To keep we souls aligned.
Why, my friend,
On this bright summer’s day
Should my heart be bleeding
It’s freedoms away ?
Who sanctioned oppression,
Who opened the gate,
To admit the dark forces
Who thrive on the hate ?
Marshalg
Feeling the vibe of what is beginning out there...EVERYWHERE!
AUCKLAND
20 February 2011
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 4:54 PM UTC
I don't want to be married in real life.
I do want a man who treats me right.
I'm trying marriage in a few weeks on a site.
I've read dad's chat logs and he says words that confuse me.
I've been reading mom's chat log with net boyfriends.
What she says to men nobody should date is totally disgusting.
Ok, ok so should I pretend to like typing about touching me?
Should I make his junk go limp and type I don't like that?
Should I fake ****** with mmm's like dad and mom type in chat logs?
People posting on gaia forums are mainly stupid.
soooo sick of all the lol's they drive me nuts.
Came on to chat with the lady who reached out to me.
She is long gone and I wish I knew her in the real world.
Dad's happy living in ignorant zone and mom is not home from her date.
*** should I do? Confused with nobody to talk to about life.
I really hate my life most days like now.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
We have become a society engulfed in static noise
Ineptly assenting to untruths of money-grubbing publicity seekers
Garrulous banter by self-promoting fame hunters
Disintegrating our already fragile minds
Previously destroyed by brain rotting internet forums and absurdities
We are at war with one another with comments and supporting “likes”
My opinion, better than yours because I am louder and angrier
Your opinion, better because it is thunderous and provoked
Execrating each other over the words of self-important personalities
Spewing hate with ads in between.
Let us return to three local channels and phones clutched to the wall
Let’s go back to less information
Go to the library and read more books
Sit and talk with our families
Play outside when it rains
Let us stop listening to news that is no longer news
Because it is all just loud judgment
Let us retrieve the miniscule quantity of hope we once had
Before this world is gone
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 11:04 PM UTC
♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗ ♗
Hopery, changery, stranger-than-strangery
tip the good vicar your hat—
as he sits with Obama, the global Gautama
indulging in neighborly chat.
Popery, popery, changery-hopery
grant the old Pontiff his wish.
Then summon a bishop to season and dish up
a kettle of catechized fish.
Changery, hopery—swing from the ropery,
garnish the Vatican stew.
The Cardinals compassed, the media rumpused
the Protestants joined in, too…
Fakery, changery, safety in dangery
lack of direction was lost
as it became clear that no concord was near
and the threshold of lunacy crossed.
Changery-hopery, soap-on-a-ropery,
buy the Obama a beer.
Let the Lord’s liberation enlighten our nation
as forums and quorums get queer.
Hopery, changery, babe-in-a-mangery
hail the immaculate mess;
until limbo is purged and repentance is urged
and the canonized con-men confess.
Babilo-mockery, roll with the rockery
kiss the pontificate ring;
til’ the old Argentinian wax Constantinian
causing Gods angels to sing.
Jiggery-pokery fooling the folkery
monkery second to none…
what was once sacrilegious is now a religious
conventional focus of fun.
Papacy, lunacy piping the tunacy
Father goose mothered the egg –
but it cracked in the nest while the stupefied West
lit a match to a gunpowder keg.
Yessiree/nopery—smoking the dopery
opiates dulling the masses
who bow genuflecting, with candles reflecting
the shine of their Latinate *****
Fakery funkery, pachyderm trunkery
hierophants never forget
but the clown and his trainer cut loose the restrainer
and cancelled the circus’s debt.
Piggery, smokery, tighten the chokery
offer the refugees bacon;
their mullahs may howl with a slaughterhouse scowl
but the empire’s free for the takin’…
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Their bed is a battlefield:
Sheets drenched with sweat,
The smell of renewed hope,
Pulses slowing.
Wide eyes pierce the ceiling,
Bright with what might be -
The thought of something forming
Deep within.
Hope fades at the lamp click.
Blackened silence fills the room
But neither one can sleep,
Not right now.
Lost in Google late at night.
The glow of false hope forums -
Stupid acronyms and
Fake concern.
Piss-soaked sticks in bathroom bins;
The clang of disappointment
Ringing through the house.
This stops soon.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th
why don't you talk to me?
I give you messages, loyalty, love
You gave me a broken heart
Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th
You never post anymore
You never come online
I wait for you, still hoping
Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th
No emails, no phone calls, no posts on the forums
You make me feel abandoned
You used to make me feel loved.
Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th
They tell me to give up on you
I tell them I would die.
But what cause do I have to wait for you?
Last Visit: September 3rd
Replied to this topic July 19th
Every day, I wait for you
Staring at my screen
Because one day you'll come online
Last Visit: Now
Replied to this topic Today
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
all the INTPs on the internet forums think us
ENFPs are crazy,
but the secret is: deep in your logical hearts,
behind the pretenses created by your ego,
and the smug superiority of the cold unfeeling,
you've blocked out the big picture,
so taken with the idea of analyzing that
you have not seen the layers upon layers of life
and forsaken cliches while forgetting,
there was a reason 'they' started saying them-
I am intelligent-
my emotions have been carefully processed
and approved, and the idea and truth
of emotions has been carefully processed and approved,
I have taken a look at life and poked around
in the bottom of it,
and determined my course of action-
I'm not here for logic or intelligence,
or to exist in a shell of my private world,
offering an occasional analysis of theoretical possibilities.
Logically, there is no real reason to do anything
fun or spiritual at all-
you can be completely alone and that is logical,
you can never leave the house and that is logical,
you can dislike most everything and that is logical,
look, if that's how you want to live your life,
and you're happy,
then fine; but the truth of the matter is,
you have a single life, and within it, you can choose
to be happy and live as fulfilled of an experience as possible.
it is illogical to waste the short years you've got.
it is illogical to spend them unhappy with your situation.
maybe it doesn't seem like wasting to you,
maybe you are happy disliking things,
but if you dislike something, doesn't that mean you
are unhappy with the presence of it?
it makes more logical sense to enjoy things and to
be filled with emotion,
(if you separate yourself and view objectively, that is)
a logical approach to day to day life kills emotion
but a logical approach to values makes you realize you desperately need it,
so if you can detach and apply to your existence as a whole-
there's a perfect reason to die and a perfect reason to live,
but the key is that living produces more endorphins.
so for my own sake,
and within my own values and truth and experience,
I'm here for the ride.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Get on the forums and make Spotty happy, NOW!! x)
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
I am not micro soft
I have full access
to excel
as a publisher
My outlook
does not sway
I am a hot male
Let's interconnect
Paint a picture
from my visual studio
It's in the works
do you see my power point?
I have more than one drive
There are teams of forums
that share one note
inside my power shell
Time to connect
at the edge
I azure you
Lets groove to the music
WORD!
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
Once, you told me I was your sun.
Once, we spent the sleepless nights that were stolen by our pasts borrowing time
Time to talk, time to cry, time to dream
All through the pinprick holes of a cracked screen phone that let me feel your voice and hear your heart
It was in those forums that we lay everything bare
Naked and unashamed, we approached one another in honesty and vulnerability fearing no judgement
Intertwined by the secrets that kept us together and pushed all those others away
Together we dredged through our dreams, no, not dreams, for dreams are bright and filled with joy and curiosity rather nightmares, for nightmares creep in the shadows of the night and display the worst of our subconscious no, not nightmares, for even they evade you in the day. These were demons. Demons that did not leave you or I, Demons that followed us through the day and through the night haunting and menacing. A constant reminder of our imperfections
Yes, demons that is what they were.
Together we dredged through the demons that filled us.
And together we waged a battle.
A battle neither fearless nor brave but merely a battle to survive
And it was in those moments that You called me the sun in your darkness
But If I were your sun, the reason you breathed and lived. The source of your strength and your joy Then you were my moon
Reflecting, the strength which I bathed you in to get me through the darkest of times. To keep me resilient when my Pandora’s box dared to open dared to bring out the evils I kept so neatly tucked beneath the surface. Standing beside me when it did.
But I am not your sun
The sun does not forget to shine
The sun does not disappear or fade away
The sun is constant, day by day, always and forever.
The moon
The moon waxes and wanes.
It is half, it is whole, it is nothing
Covered in the strength of the sun, even at its strongest, it reflects a mere dim glow to that of its counterpart
So you see, you are wrong, I am not the sun, I am not your sun
You kept my darkness at bay and in your darkest night; I was but a faint globe of light
Two celestial bodies forever entangled in time and space, we are eternally connected
Yet now we find ourselves in an eclipse
With Iong shadows that have created a seemingly cavernous distance between you and I
Shadows that have left me dark and cold
For what is a life without the sun other than lifeless
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
I'll never tell my passwords, to any family or friend.
I'll never even let them know, how they start or end.
Would my friends on forums know I've passed away?
The people that I've never met, but would miss just the same.
Online my life is secret, from those closest to me,
the poems that I write and post weren't meant for them to see.
I've hidden you a message in each poem that I post,
I write so much about you, the ones I love the most,
but there's a chance you'll never see this, there's a chance you'll never find,
that I write poems everyday, for when you're left behind.
If you knew that I wrote poems, and put them on the net,
I fear you'd hate the words I write and cause too much upset.
I'm leaving clues I loved you, for when I take a bow,
So read them, hate them, love them, they belong to you now.
So if, my dear, you read this, and you were once my friend,
well done, you win, you found it, I loved you 'til the end.
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 5:24 PM UTC
History may repeat itself
But tonight is a stake in the ground of time
Rooted in the day
Never to grow old
"We will never have tonight again"
Leave no thoughts unvoiced
Say whatever you are thinking
No regrets
After all, open forums are tough to come by
And here exists one
For a short while
So speak your mind
Invite all the elephants
Into the room
Indulge
"We will never have tonight again"
Find the words
You thought were impossible
But the world needs them
But I need them
But you need them
And there will be no more perfect timing
No second chances
There is only tonight
And the weight that needs not
Rest upon your shoulders
Mar 14, 2011
Mar 14, 2011 at 4:32 PM UTC