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y i k e s Jan 2014
i'm going to instagram a picture of the sunset
because it makes me think of you
bright and beautiful
but it's like to everyone
isn't it?
so romantic and and cliche, but that's all i'm good at

perhaps i'll instagram a picture of a meal i'm eating
maybe you'll like that meal too
or you'll think i'm a total idiot
'she's one of thoooose girls'

or maybe even, i'll instagram a selfie of me looking dumb
you'll laugh, or maybe even giggle at my face
because it's so idiotic
maybe, just maybe, you'll like it
because that's what people do on instagram, right?

but you won't
Jack tierney Mar 2017
Instagram made me realize just how many fish there are in the sea
You always hear the saying but never believe it's truth within the heat of the moment. The question is, is this good or is this bad?
When you realize just how many beautiful people there it assures you, for a moment at least. That mr right or mrs right is out there and my are they beautiful. I see her now perfect from her lips to her nips. From her hair to the way she promptly sits in her chair. But something else happens, it shoots at your own ego and kills your self assurance. You start to think well maybe I'm not as hot as I think I am. How could I ever be with any of these people. Or worse, I don't like her because the women in front of me can't conspire to the women I see on Instagram, photoshopped to the waist, spray tanned out, teeth artificially whitened, makeup two inches thick and beyond reality. And we're caught, trying to play beautiful and trying to chase beautiful... I don't know it confuses me and makes me mad. I just hope to find someone real and someone more beautiful on the inside than they are on the out - as cliché as that sounds. But really it's something Instagram can't show. Which is why I should probably delete Instagram.
Madeline Thetard Apr 2018
Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
3. Today I smiled at someone in the hall.
4. They didn't smile back.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
6. Turns out I'm not invisible -- then why can't anyone see me?
7. Today I made a fake Instagram account under a trendy name from the 1960s to see whether I knew any people who had real Instagram accounts.
8. All of the accounts were private save for one.
9. Today I forced myself to be happy for a particular past crush who posted lots of pictures on Instagram with his new girlfriend. Hurrah.
10. Today I looked at everyone's smiling faces and wondered why I wasn't smiling with them.
11. Today I wondered why some people are complete idiots.
12. Today I wondered why my skin tone - white as milk - should make people believe that I can't handle spice, or make people believe that I am stupid.
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
13. Today I comforted someone who said she had no love life.
14. I didn't have the courage to tell her that I've never had a love life and probably never will.
15. Today I told someone I write poetry and they laughed at me.
16. Today I cried in front of a mirror while singing a made-up song that wasn't even sad.
17. Today I told people I was fine when I really was not.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
18. I wish I was invisible.
19. If I were invisible maybe it wouldn't hurt so much 'cause I know I'm here but people refuse to see it.
20. Can I please just be invisible?
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
Not in a fantastic mood right now.
judy smith Nov 2016
Shortly after 3pm on September 29, 31-year-old Olivier Rousteing strode through the shimmering, fleshy backstage area at Balmain's Spring 2017 Paris Fashion Week show. Along the marble hallway of a hôtel particulier in the 8th arrondissement, long-limbed clusters of supermodels were gamely tolerating final applications of leg-moisturiser, make-up touch-ups and minutely precise hair interventions from squads of specialists as fast and accurate as any Formula 1 pit-stop team. The crowd parted as Rousteing swept through.

Wearing a belted, black silk tuxedo and a focused expression that accentuated his razor-sharp cheekbones, Rousteing resembled a sensuous hit man. Target identified, he led us to the board upon which photographs of every outfit were tacked.

We asked him to tell us about the collection (for that's what fashion editors always ask). "There is no theme," said Rou­steing in his fast, French-accented lilt. "No inspiration from travel or time. The inspiration is what I feel, and what I feel now is peace, light and serenity. I feel like in my six years here before this, I have tried to fight so many battles. Because there is no point anymore in fighting about boundaries and limits in fashion. Balmain has its place in fashion."

And the clothes? "There is a lot of fluidity. A lot of knitwear, lightness, ponchos. No body-con dresses. But whatever I do, even if I cover up my girls, it is like people can say I am ******. So this is what it is. I think there is nothing ******. I think it is really chic. I think it is really French. It is how I see Paris. And I have had too many haters during the last three years to defend myself again. So, this is Balmain." And then the show began.

Star endorsements

Under Rousteing, Balmain has become the most controversial fashion house in Paris. Rousteing has attracted (but not bought, as other, far bigger houses do) patronage from contemporary culture's most significant influencers. Rihanna, all the Kardashians, Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Beyoncé, Justin Bieber – a royal flush of modern celebrity aristocracy – all champion him.

Immediately after this show, in that backstage hubbub, Kim Kardashian told me: "I thought it was very powerful…I loved the sequins, and I loved all the big chain mail belts – that was probably my favourite."

Yet for every famous fan there is a member of the fashion establishment who will sniff over coffee in Le Castiglione that Rousteing's crowd is declassé and his aesthetic best described by that V-word. The New York Times' fashion critic Vanessa Friedman reckoned this collection appropriate for "dressing for the captain's dinners on a cruise ship to Fantasy Island". At least she did not use the V-word. When I once deployed it – as a compliment – in a 2015 Vogue menswear review that declared "Rousteing is confidently negotiating a fine line between extravagance and vulgarity", I was told that Rous­teing was aggrieved.

The fashion world's ambivalence towards Rousteing is a measure of its conflicted feelings towards much in contemporary culture. Last year Robin Givhan of the Washington Post wrote of Balmain: "The French fashion house is always ostentatious and sometimes ******. It feeds a voracious appetite for attention. It is anti-intellectual. Antagonistic. Emotional. It is shocking. It is perfect for this era of social media, which means it is powerfully, undeniably relevant."

Since joining Instagram four years ago Rousteing has posted 4000 images and won 4 million followers. The combined reach of his audience members and models at this Balmain show was greater than the population of Britain and France combined. Balmain was the first French fashion house to gain more than 1 million followers, and currently has 5.5 million of them.

Loving his haters

As digital technology disrupts fashion, Balmain's seemingly effortless mastery of the medium galls some. Last year, the designer posted an image of a comment from a ****** follower to his feed. It read: "Olivier Rousteing spends more times taking selfies for Instagram than designing clothes for Balmain." Underneath, in block capitals, he commented "i love my haters".

Rousteing can be funny and flip – doing a video interview after the show, I opened by asking, tritely, how he felt. He replied: "Now I feel like some Chicken McNuggets with barbecue sauce, and then some M&M;'s ice cream."

When at work, however, that flipness flips to entirely unflip. The previous evening, at a final fitting for the collection, Rousteing had paced his studio, his face a scowl of concentration, applying final edits to the outfits to be worn by models Doutzen Kroes and Alessandra Ambrosio. The 30-strong team of couturiers working in the adjoining atelier delivered a steady stream of altered dresses.

"We are ready," he said from behind a glass desk in a rare moment of downtime. "This a big show – 80 looks – and I want a collection that is full of both the commercial and couture. But it's smooth too. All of the girls are excited about the after-party and interested in the music. And eating pizza." In the corridor outside Gigi Hadid – this season's apex supermodel – was indeed eating pizza, with gusto.

The fitting went on until far beyond midnight; Rousteing, fiercely focused, demonstrated the work ethic for which he is famous. When he was studio manager for Christophe Decarnin, his predecessor at Balmain, the young then-unknown was always the first in and last out of the studio. Emmanuel Diemoz, who joined Balmain as finance controller in 2001 and became chief executive in 2011, says that his hard graft was one of the reasons he was chosen to succeed Decarnin.

"For sure it was quite a gamble," says Diemoz. "But we could see the talent of Olivier. Plus he understood the work of Christophe – who had helped the brand recover – so he represented continuity. He was a hard worker, clearly a leader, with a lot of creativity. Plus the size of the turnover at that time was not so huge. So we were able to take the risk."

Clear leader

Which is why, aged 24, Rousteing became the creative director of one of Paris's best known – but indubitably faded – fashion houses. In 2004 it had been close to bankruptcy. In 2012, Rousteing's first full year in charge, Balmain's sales were €30.4 million and its profit €3.1 million. In 2015, sales were €121.5 million and its profit €33 million. Vulgarity is subjective; numbers are not.

Rousteing, who is of mixed race, was adopted at five months by white parents and enjoyed an affluent and loving upbringing in Bordeaux. "My mum is an optician and my dad was running the port. They are both really scientific – not artistic. So I had that kind of life. Bordeaux is really bourgeois and really conservative, I have to say."

After an ill-starred three-month stint at law school – "I was doing international law. And I was like, 'oh my God, that is so boring'" – he did a fashion course that he managed to tolerate for five months.

"I found that really boring as well. I just don't like actually people who are trying to **** your dream. And I felt that is what my teachers were trying to do."

Obsessed with Gucci

Following a three-month internship in Rome – "also boring" – Rousteing became fascinated with Tom Ford's work at Gucci. "I was obsessed, obsessed, obsessed. Sometimes the press did not get it but I thought 'this is like genius, the new **** chic'. Obsessed, full stop."

He wanted to work there – "that was my dream" – but applied to every fashion house he could, and found an opportunity to intern at Roberto Cavalli. "They took me in from the beginning. I met Peter Dundas [then womenswear designer at the brand] and he said you are going to be my right hand – and start in four days."

Rousteing counts his five years in Italy as formative both creatively and commercially, but when the opportunity came to return to France in 2009 he leapt at it. "Christophe said he liked my work and that he needed someone to manage the studio. So two weeks later I was here. I loved Balmain at the time, when Christophe was in charge. It was all about rock 'n' roll chic, ****, Parisian. And he was appealing to a younger generation. You can see when brands become old but Balmain was touching this new audience. I always say Christophe's Balmain was Kate Moss but mine is Rihanna."

When Decarnin left and Rousteing replaced him, the response was a resounding "who?". His youth prompted some to anticipate failure.

"It was not easy at all. Every season I had the same questions." Furthermore, Rousteing (who has said he thinks of himself as neither black nor white) was the only non-white chief designer at a Parisian couture house. In a nation in which very few people of colour hold senior positions, his race may have contributed both to the establishment's suspicion of him and to his powerful sense of being an outsider.

'Beautiful spirit'

As he began to build a personal vernacular of close-fitted, heavily jewelled, gleefully grandiose menswear – fantastical uniform for a Rousteing-imagined gilded age – for both women and men, that V-word loomed.

"They asked, 'But is it luxury? Is it chic? Is it modern?' All those kinds of words. But you know there is no one definition [of fashion] even if people in Paris think there is. And, I'm sorry, but I think the crowd in fashion are those who understand the least what is avant-garde today."

In 2013 Rihanna visited the studio, met Rousteing, and reported all with multiple Instagram posts. "You are the most beautiful spirit, so down to earth and kind! @olivier_rousteing I think I'm in love!!! #Balmain." :')"

Rousteing met Kim Kardashian at a party in New York – they were drawn together, he recalls, because they were both shy – and was promptly invited to lunch with her family in Los Angeles.

An outsider in the firmament of old-guard Paris fashion, Rousteing was earning insider status within a new, and much more influential, supranational elite. He points out that Valentino, Saint Laurent and Pierre Balmain himself "were close to the jet set of their time. What I have on my front row is the people who inspire my generation".

From them, he learned a new way of doing business. "I think it was Rihanna and the music industry that first understood how Instagram can be part of the business world as well as the personal. But in fashion? When we started it was 'why do you post selfies? Why do we need to know your life, see you waking up, see you working? Why don't you keep it private'. And I was like 'you will see'."

Rousteing cheerfully declares his love for Facetune – "I don't have Botox but I do have digital Botox!" – an app that helps him airbrush his selfies and tweak those ski-***** cheekbones.

Reaching new population

From his office around the corner from Rousteing's, Diemoz adds: "When Olivier first proposed Balmain use social media, our investment in traditional media was costing a lot. Here was an alternative costing less but bringing huge visibility. It has been successful, quite rapidly…we decided to be less Parisian in a way but to speak to a new population. A brand has to be built around its heritage but we are proposing a new form of communication dedicated to a wider group of customers."

The impact of that strategy became apparent in 2015, when Rousteing and Balmain were invited to design a collection for the Swedish fast-fashion retailer H&M.; Within minutes of going on sale – and this is not hyperbole – the collection, available at vastly cheaper prices than Balmain-proper, had completely sold out. In London, customers fought on the pavement outside H&M;'s Regent Street branch. "Balmainia!" blared the headlines.

You have to move fast to get backstage after a Balmain show. I was out of my seat and trotting with purpose even before the string-heavy orchestra at the end of the catwalk had quite stopped playing Adele.

Rousteing had taken his bow merely seconds before. Still, too slow: I ended up in a clot of Rousteing well-wishers stuck in a corridor blocked by security guards. A Middle Eastern woman against whom I was indelicately jammed looked at me, laughed, shook her head, then said: "We pay millions for a fashion house – and then this happens!"

In June, Balmain was bought for a reported €485 million by Mayhoola, a Qatar-based wealth fund said to be controlled by the nation's ruling family. As so often with Rousteing-related revelations, some declared themselves nonplussed. "Why Would Mayhoola Pay Such a High Price for Balmain?", one headline asked. Yet Mayhoola, which acquired Valentino four years previously for $US858 million, might have scored a bargain.

Clothes key to revenue

Despite its huge, Instagram-enhanc­ed footprint, Balmain is a small, lean and relatively undeveloped business. Most luxury fashion houses today – Chanel, Burberry, Dior, et al – will emphasise their catwalk collections for marketing purposes but make most of their money from the sale of accessories, fragrances and small leather goods like handbags and shoes. One of the big fashion companies makes a mere 5 per cent from its catwalk clothes.

At Balmain, by contrast, clothes bring in almost all the revenues. If Balmain had the same clothes-to-accessories ratio as its competitors, its overall annual income could be more than €1 billion ($1.4 billion).

The company is moving in that direction. New accessory lines are in the pipeline. "Now we have to transform that desire into business activity," said Diemoz. "Sunglasses, belts, fragrances, the kind of products that can be more affordable."

The first bags should be available in January, as will a wider range of shoes, and then more, more, more.

Six days after his show, on the last day of Paris Fashion Week, I returned to the Balmain atelier. Apart from two assistants, Rousteing was the only person there – everybody else had gone on holiday to recover from the frenzy of preparing the show, or was busy selling the collection at the showroom around the corner.

Rousteing sat behind his desk in the empty room, wearing slingback leopard-print slippers, sweatpants and shades. "I am not even tired! I am excited. Because there are so many things happening – and I can't wait."Read more |
Jonine Garcia Apr 2015
I love how people in tumblr and instagram managed to present a life behind those lovely photographs and beautiful writings – as if it was perfect. How they can present a perfect and attractive life with a great effort. Sometimes there’s a sudden envious within you, until you realized that not everything you see is true. Instagram or tumblr become the home of people who cover the truth with perfect photographs and beautiful words.

I could relate to a certain extent whenever I post something beautiful in social networking sites. People appreciate you and adore you, but there’s a whole part of your life, vsco could never saturate or cover and your audience would never know. Your life may look so perfect in the eyes of the outsiders, but you know that there’s a hole in your heart that photographs and words could never fill.
- J.G
dont be envious how the life of others may look like, because theres something you may not know.
Eugene Sep 2017

Anak: Tay, ano po iyong ingles ng gramo?
Tatay: Gram, anak.
Anak: E 'yong kilogramo po?
Tatay: Kilogram, anak.
Anak: May relasyon po ba ang gramo sa kilogram?
Nanay: anak ng kilogram ang gramo, anak.
Anak: Aaah! Ganun po ba? E 'yong tinatawag na instagram po?
Nanay: Madali lang iyan, anak. Ang tanong mo ba ay kung magkadugo sila?
Anak: Tumango ang anak.
Nanay: Ang instagram ay lolo ng gramo at tatay ng kilogramo.
Tatay: Umalis ka nga sa harapan ng anak mo. Na-bo-bobo ako sa iyo e. Dinadamay mo pa anak mo.
#jokes, #humor
Masuda Khan Juti Apr 2017
She took two photos of these elephant paper weights. He observed. He said something about how finely detailed they were. They smiled. He had grey eyes. “Where you from?”
“What brings you here?”
“Gap year?”
So many question. Two souls hungry to know more about the other.
“The south is really nice”
“Yeah listening closely, you do have a slight Italian accent! ”
They talked.
She pointed back at the elephants. “They’re for instagram.” She really hoped he was on Instagram.
“You on Instagram?”
He curled his lips. Regret it seemed.
“Well I’m on Facebook. But I also write letters.”
She said something like she thought that was cool or that that was awesome.  It wasn’t clear for her either. All she  was thinking sadly was that she couldn’t give him her address! They’d just met!
Her cousin interrupted. They were going to get icecream. She hastily said bye. It all happened so quick. She blurted out that she wished he had a great life ahead. He nodded. She wrinkled her nose. She left. He stood there. And like the movies she looked back. But as real life is not in slow motion, the last smile she gave was short and it didn’t give her time to change her mind. And maybe stay back. Not have icecream.

That she is I.

That he is that boy

I met at the shop

where they sell...

elephant paper weights.
sammyblory Nov 2014
Events Marketing
Inform your followers on the latest update of your business. Whenever there are business engagements, such as trade show or conventions, business owners can notify their followers by uploading images on Instagram. Taking pictures and tagging subscribers in the specific location can boost visits and sales. It is important to be creative in taking pictures. Photogene and ColorSplash are the two most commonly used editing application in Instagram. In event marketing, VIP discounts can be offered to subscribers.

People are looking for excitement and rewards. Holding a contest as an activity is an exciting engagement to attract audience.

Instagram users can use the feature of geotagging in order to tag a specific location as to where the images were shot. For business, customers can be more familiar with the location of the business with the geotagging feature.

Remember that today, the most successful people are known to take advantage of the social media.
Aaron LaLux Oct 2018
Gotta wash my socks,
just another random thought,
that and I’d like to return,
almost everything I’ve ever bought,

at a hotel in Melbourne,
Pegasus is what it’s called,
online searching for a good time,
wanting a real woman but still messaging these fake girls,

oh yeah and it’s my birthday,
not that that matters now,
because all that means is that my timeline is littered,
with well wishes from friends that I don’t even see anymore,

all this plus I feel like a *****,
like I sold my soul for some toys and attention,
and now the only time I feel anything at all,
is when I get an alert that I’ve gotten a mention,

and I’m 30+,
but still posting on my ****** Teenage Instagram,
still searching for some validation from strangers,
still not giving myself enough credit for who I am,

and where does that leave us now,
now that everything’s been laid on the table,
here in at this place in time,
between birth and death where we rest right in the middle,

no riddles,
yet everything feels like a mystery,
and I’ve got over 50 messages to reply to,
but I don’t want to reply to a single one of these,

I just want to log off and go climb a tree,
I just want to get lost in the green of it’s leaves,
I just want to feel something other than nothing,
I just want to not want a thing,

but I do want,
and right now one of my wants is to wash my socks,
because I’ve been living out of a backpack for too long,
and people think I’m living it up but really this reality really *****,

because I have no home and no friends,
a Self Isolationist that’s alone on his birthday,
writing to you like you still care at all,
when I doubt you ever even did in the first place,


I’ve gotta go because I’ve gotta wash my socks,
just another random thought,
that and I’d like to return,
almost everything I’ve ever bought,

at a hotel in Melbourne,
Pegasus is what it’s called,
online searching for a good time,
wanting a real woman but still messaging these fake girls…

∆ LaLux ∆

Melbourne, Australia
October 2018
Irate Watcher Aug 2014
Had you a viral video,
you’d watch it
more than once.

2. Instagram hearts
make you smile,
even from strangers.

3. Which would
you rather:
friending you
on Facebook.

No, this isn’t a Cosmo quiz —
it’s a social experiment.

Because no one ACTUALLY
answers these questions honestly
without looking like
that ****** at the pool
trying to get as MANY
high fives as possible.

Yet, we all do it.
Alone or in public.
Day or night.
LED screen spice up our lives.

It was probably
best embodied
by that girl taking
filmed for minutes
on the way to school,
the video soon posted,
by her dad
trying to teach  her a lesson?
Or trying to get attention?
Either way, he might as
well have hashtagged it

Like most humor
we laughed at her
because we are her.
We see a dripping
******* to
itself in public.

Wait, it,
sounds wrong
when you name it.

But there is
a name for it:

Digital *******,

You won’t agree
that you do it too.

But I’ll bet
most of you
get excited
thinking about
notifications too.

Why is that?

You’d never admit it.

You can say
I smelt it, so I dealt it.
Call me a preacher,
a hater, or a hypocrit.

But I'd rather you call me a
digital masterbater too.

And then remember the last
time you opened Instagram
or Facebook
or Twitter
and took a selfie
or hashtagged something
or posted a status
that your still breathing.

How long has it been —
a minute, an hour, a day?

Now try making fun of her.
my mouth was still stained
red from the
pomegranate seeds i ate from the palm of you hand
when i checked your instagram feed.
i had been lost in your underworld for
before the weight of your sorrow found its
way into my stomach
and to the marrow of my bones.
like some fish wiggling along the sides of a
tank i ate your emotional refuse
and felt myself
becoming heavier and heavier
while you lifted to the clouds
and found this beauty among them.
i still sat in the bottom of the pond
bloated and
envying the sky above me.
you are still swimming in my blood
like a nasty parasite
and i feel like ripping out my stomach
to pour the weight of you out
but you seem so happy that
i want to pretend that your sadness
never existed and
that i am a stranger merely browsing through
but the fact remains that i
am still here.
on my bed writing angrily
about you like i have written about
dozens before you
and for some reason
emma hunt david Dec 2018
shaved my head again last night,
watched empire records and saw deb and shaved my head again last night.
ate spaghetti, my best friend got into college
my best friend got into college and we ate spaghetti and shaved my head again
we shaved my head again cause we watched empire records and i saw deb and i saw deb shave her head and i thought that looks awesome
so we ate spaghetti
and she got into college,
she’s already in college but she got into a different college
so i made her spaghetti and we watched empire records
and we watched empire records
and ate spaghetti
and she shaved my head cause we watched empire records
and now she’s going to college
a different college
she’s already in college
she’s going to a different college
i didn’t text that dude
i didn’t text that dude, and he didnt text me
i saw his girlfriend on instagram
his girlfriend posted on instagram and i saw it
a picture of that dude
i was maybe going to text him
i was maybe
going to text him
but then i saw his girlfriend
on instagram i saw his girlfriend
his girlfriend posted on instagram
a picture of that dude
so i didn’t text that dude
cause i saw his girlfriend
i woke up and my cats were on me and my arm was asleep
my arm was asleep
my arm was asleep cause my cats were on me
my cats, both of them,
two of them, my cats
were on it, one of them, one of my arms,
both of my cats
both of my cats were on one of my arms
Paras Bajaj Oct 2017
I am alone.
With just some people I'm moving on.
Some talk less, some talk a lot.
I don't know if they are friends or not.

I am alone.
With some fears I'm moving on.
Some are scary, some are not.
I don't know if they are real or not.

I am alone.
With some deep wounds I'm moving on.
Some hurt more, some hurt less.
I don't know if they will heal or not

I am alone.
With a fake smile I'm moving on.
Sometimes looks good, sometimes not.
I don't know if it works or not.

I am alone.
With some burdens I'm moving on.
Some are huge, some are little.
I don't know if I will repay or not.

I am alone
With some secrets I'm moving on.
Some can save me, some can lead me to death.
I don't even know my remaining breaths.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Ryan Joseph Aug 2018
Millennial is what called in this generation,
Everywhere here and there,
There are always youths who really never care,
And never been worried about their future.

In Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Messenger,
Are contents of follower, liker, reader and including seener,
Loitering and using fake accounts just to gain a wholesome money,
Even though that it is notorious, they still embark their blunt journey.

Most millennials are undisputedly addicted to social media,
Their lives depends on likes they are going to gain,
They don't care if their faces might be inside of multi-media,
And they don't even care if it will give them a pain.

Some truly go beyond their limits just to have a lot of likes,
Perhaps they are fame *****, but they don't care if someone strikes,
Strikes every part of their body including their faces and such,
Yet they don't care if it will hurt them too much.

However, seeking attention in the cyber world isn't a good thing,
Instead they should focus on things that are essentially free like a king,
Because in this generation, too many people are unaware and careless,
And some they didn't even noticed that our environment is already full of fraud either hypocrite and genuine people are less.
millennial nowadays
Golden light falls down like dripping honey
Bathing the world with a melancholy light
My feet make no noise
Except when I see a pile of dead leaves
I bring up my inner child and step on them
The crunch of a noise
Brings a laugh to my lips
But the wind blows it away
Back into the leaves, so when they die
And fall back down to the ground
And someone else steps on them
My laugh escapes
It lives in the forest
With the trees
Slowly growing higher and higher
Looking all the way down to my house
And as I walk down the path
Stepping on more leaves
I see my face reflected in the bark
I see my eyes peering from an owl’s back
I see my own feet sitting on a stream
My essence being forced
Forced into a world I’ve never known before
An instagram picture
Of a life I wish I knew
AM Snyder Jan 2016
Thats how I will remember her; just as she was.  Laying in my bed wearing her rastafarian drug rug that twinned my own, holding my lanyard close and my brother even closer.  She laughed as she watched me drink lemonade that I later learned contained laxatives, and she avoided any type of emotional outburst that didn’t reveal that she just might not be okay.  As I started to exit my room and said “Goodbye”, she surprised me.

“Don’t say that Bean.”

I looked down at one brown eye and one eye colored fake blue with a contact lens, and I saw sadness in both.  So I smiled sadly and said,
“Instagram you later.”
Erin Joan Jan 2014
Why does my heart freeze up
 I read words you’ve written?

How is it that

I can read writing 

that makes my heart press hard to escape my ribs

But yours liquidates my blood
Until my fingers go numb?

It’s like this

You’ve got a canyon filled with knowledge

On how to hurt

You’ve got a library filled with textbooks

On how to make a heart drop 

You’ve got a sky filled with rain clouds 

That drop tears you’ve inspired
into the eyes of others.

Everything you touch
is sent into a whirlwind orbit. 

You’re important

You’re dangerous

You’re vital

You are never merely an effect.
You affect me. 

Never forget that.
judy smith Jul 2016
The 9.6 million followers who tune in to watch Miranda Kerr having her hair done on Instagram — for this is how models spend most of their time — were treated to a rather more interesting sight last Thursday: a black and white photograph of a whacking great diamond ring.

Across it was the caption “Marry me!” and a twee animation of the tech mogul Evan Spiegel on bended knee. Underneath Kerr had typed “I said yes!!!” and an explosion of heart emojis.

A spokesman for Spiegel, founder of the Snapchat mobile app, who is 26 to Kerr’s 33 and worth $US 2.1 billion to her $US 42.5 million , revealed “they are very happy”.

At first, the marriage seems an unlikely combination: a man so bright he founded Snapchat while still at Stanford University, becoming one of the world’s youngest self-made billionaires by 22, and a Victoria’s Secret model who was previously married to the Pirates of the Caribbean star Orlando Bloom (she allegedly had a fling with pop brat Justin Bieber, leading Bloom to punch Beebs in a posh Ibiza restaurant).

Perhaps the union indicates that there is more to Kerr than we thought. More likely, it reveals something about Spiegel — and the way the social status of “geeks” has changed.

Since Steve Jobs made computers cool and Millennials started living online, nerds are king. Even coding is **** enough for the model Karlie Kloss, singer and actor Ashton Kutcher to learn it. Silicon Valley has become the new Hollywood, as moguls and social media barons take over from film stars and sportsmen not just on rich lists, but as alpha men.

Being a co-founder of a company is this decade’s equivalent to being a rock star or a chef. And, if their attractiveness to models and actresses proves anything, then being a Twag — tech wife or girlfriend — is a “thing”. Sources tell me Twags are also known as “founder-hounders” because they like to date the creators of start-up companies.

Actress Talulah Riley was an early adopter. She started dating the PayPal founder Elon Musk in 2008. Riley, then fresh from starring in the St Trinian’s film, met Musk in London’s Whisky Mist nightclub after he had delivered a lecture at the Royal Aeronautical Society. I interviewed her shortly afterwards and she told me they had spent the evening talking about “quantum physics”. A month later they were engaged. Their on-again-off-again marriage lasted six years before she filed for divorce again in March. Currently Musk, worth an estimated $US 12.7 billion and focused on Tesla cars, is said to be “spending a lot of time” with Johnny Depp’s estranged wife, Amber Heard.

Model Lily Cole dated the Twitter founder Jack Dorsey in 2013. Later she had a son with Kwame Ferreira, founder of the digital innovation agency Kwamecorp. Actress Emma Watson is going out with William Knight, an “adventurer” who has an incredibly boringly sounding job as a senior manager at Medallia, a software company. Allison Williams, Marnie in the HBO television show Girls, is married to Ricky Van Veen, co-founder of College Humor website.

Could it be that these women are onto something? Dating a bro certainly has its appeal. They are innovative: how else would they invent apps that deliver cheese toasties or match singles based on their haircuts? They are risk-takers who must be charismatic enough to inspire investors and attract crowd-funding. They may not be gym-fit, but they are mathletes who can do your tax bill. They are animal lovers: every start-up is dog friendly. And they are fun: who would not want to date somebody with a ball pool in their office?

There is a saying about dating in Silicon Valley: the odds are good but the goods are odd. Nerds are notorious for peculiar chat-up lines and normcore clothes. Still, if geeks can be awkward, that is part of their charm. Keira Knightley, complaining that Silicon Valley was all men in hoodies and Crocs, described how one gave her his card, saying she should get in touch if she wanted to see a spaceship.

One Vogue writer recalled a Silicon Valley man messaging her via a dating app, in which he noted: “In 50 per cent of your photos you’re holding an iPhone. It may interest you to find out that I invented the iPhone. More accurately I was an engineer on the original iPhone . . .”

Most promisingly, some guys are astoundingly rich. It is suggested Kerr’s engagement ring is a 2.5-carat diamond worth around dollars 55,000. She has already moved into Spiegel’s dollars 12m LA pad. Between his money and her Victoria’s Secrets bridesmaids, no wonder sources claim they are planning an “extravagant wedding”.

It might rival even the Napster founder Sean Parker’s $US10m performance-art bash. He married songwriter Alexandra Lenas in a canopy among Big Sur’s redwoods decorated to look like an enchanted forest. Some 350 guests wore Tolkienesque costumes created by The Lord of the Rings costume designer Ngila Dickson. They sat on white fur rugs and were given bunnies to pet. Presumably rabbit babysitters were on hand when the disco started.

If such fantasies inspire you to become a Twag, the great news is you do not have to be a supermodel to be in with a chance. Such is the dearth of single women in Silicon Valley that one dating site, Dating Ring, crowdfunded a plane to fly single women to Palo Alto from New York.

Be warned, though: guys are single because they are married to the job.

No wonder most meet their partners at college or work — the Facebook chief executive Mark Zuckerberg met his wife, Priscilla Chan, at Harvard.

The Instagram co-founder Kevin Systrom met girlfriend Nicole Schuetz at Stanford. Melinda met Bill Gates when, in 1987, they sat next to each other at an Expo trade-fair dinner. “He was funnier than I expected him to be,” she said.

Kerr began dating Spiegel in 2014 after meeting him at a Louis Vuitton dinner in New York. You can bet he was networking. Shortly after Louis Vuitton showcased their cruise collection in a Snapchat story. Last season Snapchat went on to become the biggest new name at NY fashion week.

If you want to meet tech guys, you might catch them at Silicon Valley parties, which is how the Uber chief executive Travis Kalanick met his partner, Gabi Holzwarth, a violinist hired to play. Or they might be schmoozing clients downtown in a swanky Noe Valley club in San Francisco or a boring Union Square hotel in New York. In London you find them around Old Street, aka Silicon Roundabout, in bars, at hackathons, or start-up meet-ups. In the day they are coding at Google Campus or practising their pitching in a co-working space.

Some tech boys date the old-fashioned way: on Tinder. Airbnb founder Brian Chesky met his girlfriend of three years, Elissa Patel, through the app. When I interviewed Instagram co-founder Systrom he admitted that when he had been single he had signed up.

Dating agency Linx — presumably a play on operating system Linux — is dedicated to making Silicon Valley matches. Amy Andersen set it up in 2003 after moving to Palo Alto and being “flabbergasted” by the number of eligible men. She claims her clients are “extremely dynamic and successful individuals’’: tech founders, tech chief executives, financier founding partners of large institutions and “tons of entrepreneurs”.

Andersen says tech guys make “fabulous partners”. Romantic and chivalrous, they write love letters, plan dates, “even proposing on Snapchat!” If you want to marry a tech billionaire, she says, “you need to bring your A game.” Her clients look “for women who are equally, if not more, dynamic and interesting than he is!”

There are drawbacks to dating tech guys. Before Google buys your amore’s business, he will be living on *** Noodles waiting for the next round of funding — and workaholics are dull.

Kerr says Spiegel is “25, but he acts like he’s 50. He’s not out partying. He goes to work in Venice [Beach], he comes home. We don’t go out. We’d rather be at home and have dinner, go to bed early.” Which might suit Kerr, but is not my idea of a fun.

You had also better be prepared to share your life. When Priscilla Chan miscarried three times, Mark Zuckerberg wrote about it on Facebook, while Chesky used a romantic trip with his girlfriend to promote Airbnb - uploading a picture of her in bed, with a note saying “f* hotels”. Besides all of which is the notorious issue of Silicon Valley sexism.

It has a chief exec-bro culture that puts pick-up artist/comedian Dapper Laughs to shame. Ninety per cent of women working in the Valley say they have witnessed sexist behaviour, 60 per cent have experienced unwanted ****** advances at work, two thirds of them from their boss. Whitney Wolfe, a co-founder of Tinder, took Justin Mateen to court for ****** harassment. Her lawsuit against the company alleged that Mateen, her former partner, sent text messages calling her a “*****”.

Spiegel has tech bro form. He apologised after emails from his days at Stanford emerged: missives about stripper poles, getting black-out drunk, shooting lasers at “fat chicks”, and promising to “roll a blunt for whoever sees the most **** tonight (Sunday)”. After one fraternity Hawaiian luau party, he signed off emails “f*

No wonder some women are not inspired to become Twags. Especially when you could be a tech billionaire yourself. Would you not rather be Sheryl Sandberg, chief operating officer of Facebook, than married to the boss?Read more at: |
ConnectHook Sep 2015

A signifying monkey grunted
(keyboard-clever, morals stunted)

from his perch in a digital tree.
And next, did text (quite rapidly):

“Courtship rituals won’t suffice.
Face-to-face can’t break the ice.

Instagram me! Tweet me up . . .
friend me, like me, buttercup.

Sentences are so outmoded—
take too long to get decoded;

primate sexting hits me faster,
steers me towards your hot disaster.

Female monkeys: send an image.
(Ain’t got time for useless verbiage…)

if your snout just might unseat me
tweet me, greet me—don’t delete me.”

Then, unpeeling fresh banana,
searched his screen for Vox Humana. . .

Femi Jun 2014
Love does
appear at first sight,
our eyes met
in the dark
at midnight.
your piercing window
ignited fire in my frozen soul
now your body,
your mind,
I wish to know.
Josh Mar 2014
Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr

We use these technologies to pass the time

But the time we spend scrolling our fingers down an iPhone

is never fun or productive

and memories are never made

But whenever I have a spare moment in the day

I’m probably scrolling through some timeline,

looking at some random persons page,

and wasting the short and precious existence that

we are given on this earth
Redshift Nov 2013
little sister
the black mold in your heart is what makes you ugly
not the face that you take so many pictures of
Our society is obsessed with the cell phone
That ever present handy little device
If we could just leave it behind
Sometimes that would be nice

I've observed people literally
Walk into a door
While looking down at their cell phone
As if gazing at the floor

A call a text or Instagram
Excuse me I have to check my mail
O my God!!!my batteries low!!
Please my phone do not fail

I know we're here for dinner
But I must text a friend
LOL and ***
Now it's time to send

Cell phones have their place
I guess in today's society
But there would not be one in existence
If it were up to me

No one can communicate
As in talking face to face
This type of interaction
Has by the cell phone been replaced

I guess that's just the way it is today
O how I long for the days of old
When you had to find a pay phone
In the heat or rain or cold

Drop a quarter in the slot
Or maybe just a dime
Better say what you want
Your running out of time

I'm just a little old fashioned I guess
I like the way it used to be
When two would sit and talk
Without interruption from technology

Robin Carretti Aug 2018
E Enter In Out EIO
E-IE-I-O  the O- the outcome
Playing some Banjo giggly
Words are getting wiggly
Like everlasting Jello
The Old/ New Heaven?Hell

Meet the best
It's in our duty
Takes effort modern-times
Instagram pictures of Mcdonald
Don't bend yourself
out of shape over hot buns
Hunters bite of the hamburger
Amazing shapes of the Planet
to enter

Don't live like the pretender
Your the pilot absolutely laughing
to the end of the wing
Catching fresh air telling some dirt
Not everything is a
*Pink champagne
EIEIO Airplane he raised this pilot
Blue sky absolutely
looking too hard
People are starting to look strange
B-S Be Sweet I know what
you thought words get rearranged
What bull one boy to
have a coke with a smoke with
Is this the way it should be
Bye Bye Birdie Ann Margarita
Is this what life is about

He salutes to  my absolutely
knock out dress

Inside of his head, he's
looking mighty fine
Drinking Absolute *****
When its truly mine
Silk ties or Paisley Ties
Crazy love absolutely
Time traveler talker
Who is your caretaker
The burden to carry on
Girls want to have fun
Homemaker proud baker
Be on time yes absolutely
After I know what
happen before
One day I will find out
what this is all about
All ones or against none
Mr. Sexter in the City
The forever not to marry one

She's the absolute solitaire player
He's the homebody head ringer
Cut face band-aid
The band's and singers
Newsstands Jazz step swingers

American Bandstand
The time is hand full  such corruption
No freedom what happen for the
*Love of God Kingdom

Absolute insane asylum of maids
Absolutely I agree its hard
enough for one
E for entering I- I Phone OH!
Out of your mind
Get out I absolutely don't
need you in
the best time of my life
Chose your words wisely
Absolutely solemnly swear
Something is not
Kosher my Dear
We love to carry on
Not to carry someone over the
threshold do what you're told
Get up sleepy head you will
be late for school

Old Mcdonald EIEIO
E Exception I want that
E-Everything I Immaculate
O- Out of money
What *******
He's banging his drumsticks
You're the Oz good witch
Making more room with
your broomstick
She is absolutely the
spitting image of
her "Mom Mega babe'

So many Odd Moms
On speed racing for time
Coffee moms Business Moms
She is absolutely the prettiest
Mom I came across
Absolutely rarely do you see
Hollywood Housewife acting
like Moms
Her skirt got the heat like
A-Absolute what a cute "City Cat"
meeting the cat________??
"From Hell ringing the Liberty Bell"
A haystack don't turn your back
You absolutely got into his heat

Rekindled by the barn cat
How dogs and cats may
be disobedient
But we love them for
who they are
Even if they look
like their masters  
We are born like that
The artist absolutely
Graphically lined
Of the absolutely cool
deviant defined
She had lines of a lifetime
in her pleats
He didn't make his bed
wrinkled sheets
French bulldog has
more manners
Then his master
Hey Buster

Board signs on your body
But we all have to
make a living
So it's fading like an
Antique Queen malevolent
Too bright hurting
my eyes shining
Do you trust her or him
Expectations are getting slim
Losing time your gold trim
The double-breasted dress you
hear a
Robin bird symphony
You're the absolute epiphany
Going and tumbling back to
be single eating a triple
decker sandwich

Hey Mate?
Absolute Divine Date*

She is absolutely beyond herself
Never known a love to
be absolutely right

Were human or our beliefs fire out
Evidentially taking a flight
Make it the best fight you ever had
Writing an article we hours
of the morning smile and
tell the world
What you need to say
is as real as your heart will ever feel
We learn from the best the
spiritual journey
here's to a healthy meal
The Newsweek more moments
to remember absolutely our best times
Bird's eyeabsolutely so precisely
the eye for E-I-E-I let's catch up to O
Any mystery making history
Jane Eyre  
Life leads us on the "Empty
"Sad Doorway"
Make it a "Jumpy Glad on a Clear Day"
It's absolutely lovely to see forever
  Moreover, the rainbow don't worry

Make it heavenly birds
Absolutely our time is precious
have it your way

Absolute genius the
best cattle
Hot Moon lady from Venus
Absolutely this is not the drink of ***** but we can absolutely make this into anything you like its the absolute of all the things we need to laugh with or the tough tie to bear it don't fear anything make this time on our planet everything
Ezis Mar 2018
Social media
has ruined my life
my mom says it
was never like this
twenty-five years ago

You never saw
all your friends
hanging out without

Or the boy you like
be with someone else
or be caught in a lie

Social media lets lonely
people to act like they
aren’t lonely
and it allows people to
show off their lives
by hurting others

Show off your body
for all the old men
waiting behind a screen
instead of a tree in the park

Show off your friends
to the person you
left behind

Carry on all the
traditions that were
started way back
when they were
your friend

Watch your guy’s new girl
and see her photos with him
and imagine it was you

Social media
posting pictures
leaving comments
counting likes
has ruined more
friendships than
Instagram followers
I’ll ever have

It has ruined my life

And everyone allows it
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
a month's worth of a hiatus
no luck...
   i try to remember whatever
presence in the comment
  there was never any...
                how to stage a:
     dialectical experiment...
    none to my liking...
   will the fringe reading
the Dada movement
    of scraps of works of
arthur cravan, jacques rigaut,
julien torma or jacques vache
         to be honest...
listening to the fringe band
like percival schuttenbach
will not help either...
  how the **** did i find
wooden shjips' album V
in the Romford HMV
on vinyl: i will never know...
last time i heard:
there were only 3 HMV shops
left in London - metropolitan
& outer...
       Doug Putman:
you're on mate...
     a music store used to be:
a culture of...
  well... talk to someone
in a shop that only sells
  mobile phones, or trainers?
back in the day:
you'd be hoping for
a coffee: and all that culture
of the busy bodies...
             can i get the counter:
that buying vinyl looks
less sad, "out-of-tune"
  than buying CD?
i had to ******* move into
the realm of the vinyl:
to kick myself out of the house...
i don't like this prison,
of everything being:
delivered to my front-door...
well: i will always look less
like a loser or a sad bore...
if i buy for a medium
without head-phones...
   that i take care of:
no the gramaphone is not
a car...
   but, ooh, a crisp vinyl
for the 20th century of
the late 70s...
something else...
big news throughout the week
what news?
i'm trying to figure what
the news was...
i haven't heard the world
  it cried something
for about two weeks,
   and i was like:
   and if that sort of propensity
is to ever make me
outside the internet village?
it's a ******* village:
get over it...
people are congregating
in village-esque
whatever the numbers,
     but for people who've
never lived for a month
in a city no bigger than 60K
(60K is exaggeration
regarding the city i was born)...
the internet is no longer
a "world"...
  i.e. there's no da-sein worth
to it...
   there's only a da-...
imagine my glee when Heidegger
was cited in the 2017
film call me by your name...
i was like:
       the sort of nonsense
i understand! and when people
would rather:
or rather would rather not...
spend 2 years of their lives
reading sein und zeit...
    or as i like to call it: sein und "da"
      und nicht
niemand, aber ein leib,
                         heulend:     ja!
it was either that, or:
listening to people exhaust the video...
one eventuality was
coming, one eventuality
disguised as an: inevitability...
because what is writing
as a compensation:
oh not the number of any sort
to count according to:
ego, prospect,
                  conundrum, eject...
sure, it's stale...
but serious literature would
never even dare to appreciate
these intricacies...
just today i picked up
the Sunday print...
yes... a physical copy
of the newspaper...
notable articles?

rankin: selfie harm -
does anyone really want to see
my face in how i countered
      i just figured:
catch a fly on your face...
and say: Belzeebub took
a **** on your face,
embedded your skin:
and every time
you pinch an acne pore
from your face?
  maggots wriggle out...
you don't a ******* h. p. lovecraft
to make a cthulthu counter:
i just did!
i'd have to be...
really ******* good at
photoshopping a ******* fly
on my forehead...
should have asked me
how much patience it took...
to "ask" the fly
to sit on me, while i moved
from my bedroom,
into the box room,
turned on my computer...
sat there,
   and took the photograph...
the metaphor for Belzeebub
sending one of his minions
i.e.: ******* onto my face
so that i'd pinch maggots from
it was already there...

yet a physical newspaper
it was...
headline news:
   the suicide generation...
in under 15s: 17 in 2013...
                              31 in 2017 (an 81% increase)...
15 -19: 170 in 2013...
                       207 in 2017...
       my age category?
i.e.: 30 - 63:
                            4,322 in 2013...
                   3,842 in 2017!
well: aren't i so, lucky lucky?

am i still drinking?
and when r. d. laing was not,
i was feigning to sleep
in my reading schedule...
any interesting news from
the newspaper on
a Sunday?

            just a week or so prior,
in the sunday times style magazine...
a dolly alderton
citing being an app-Onan...
    while for the past 10 years...
i don't really know what
a mobile phone looks like...
i hardly call it: hunched in a chair
over a keyboard,
with a whiskey handy
on the windowsill:
   screen time...
   you mean the erotica of
the 1st 5 minutes of a horror movie
when i lie in bed,
in pajamas (sleeping naked,
not good, not good...
pajamas are the way to go)
     having just turned off the lights,
and the opening-crescendo-choir
lullabies me to sleep?

- to be honest i'm ******* surprised
i've written this much,
given the sour news...
but this sort of news is...
hardly even accurate in my world...
i am tired of having
to invest in having opinions
that... i probably do not even have...
that's the beauty of
not caring for a "freedom of speech"...
i wouldn't like to have to prop
   i might have them:
but as the fleeting of the day...
    i find it: actually hard to have
"freedom of speech":
   i already have that -
   when buying a pint of milk...
           i just find "freedom of speech"
to be a playground for
pseudo-dialectics these days...
           because: this is just pseudo-dialectics,
by the time a dialectical
moment happens,
the retort is prescripted, heavily edited,
and... there is absolutely nothing
of a friction, of coercion of
   the opinion, in argument,
toward a consolidation...
   what was a no-man's land to begin
with: is a no-man's land to the end...
     and if i fall prey to the lexicon of
the "culture war":
   i will simply have to re-state
my position...
    i am "manufacturing being:
and i do not have to even
     make a worthwhile concession
           whatever opinion there is...

within the existence of the internet,
i've had one, yes, one
dialectical experience in my life...
on "foreign" soil:
yes, not with my dementia-ridden
   who's always prone to opinions...
on a bench,
with also an elder gentleman...
    the delayed speech of his grandson...
and... about
rayleigh bicycles
and their cost...
     he supposed that his grandson
might be autistic...
    and might have to be medicated...
maybe: non verbatim...
i might have said:
   and no crushed pulp of
the vine is wine in the first
week of the fermentation process
having began...

            an old man might say this...
i have, no, contemporaries...
i don't have any...
primarily because:
i don't have a ******* video
camera and a mic.,
   just... itchy fingers and...
     of a comfort to not have
to hear myself speak...
                 which: god forbid i will
ever do...
                  only blind-men
would bellow for
            a freedom of speech...
                    perhaps then i am
inclined to appeal to deaf
          yes... all these conversational
   borrowed, or rather expanding
from what was conversational
overtones in poetics
as instigated by frank o'hara...
        but hardly a real conversation
in what has become:
   a connected world
but also a congested
                replica of: the village life.

here's to my face,
becoming the new horror...
of the Instagram photoshopped
   like the Cthulhu...
                i invite upon my face:
Belzeebub's ***!

p.s. oh... and there's only
something akin to
   da pacem domine (ensemble organum),
a templar chant
  in the background...

            a vision: less sinister,
and more... entombed
in a proud yet morose stupor.
Katie Biesiada Apr 2014
Hashtag done.
Hashtag I give up.
Hashtag tired.
Hashtag alone.

All we ever talk about anymore is hashtags and Instagram and texts and snapchat.

I'm done.

I miss the face to face contact.
The way someone's eyes light up or dim down in reaction to something.

I miss the way your hand feels when you place it on mine.

I miss your hugs.

And I miss your voice.

And I'm able to talk about anything with you over a text message, but I'm afraid that you don't want to talk to me, person to person.

I like to think that we have a great friendship, but I realize that we don't.

You FaceTime and call other people, but you won't do that for me.

I try to initiate more conversation than we have, but I feel like you hold back.

I pour some of my heart out into a message that I sent and your only response is an emoji.

I'm hurt.
As childish as it sounds, I'm hurt.

I'm broken and I feel like you keep taking pieces of me away.

I'm broken and I wish you would actually talk and listen to me instead of typing it out.

I miss you because there's no one else and I'm sorry that there isn't.

I don't mean to burden you with everything that's wrong, but when you say that you're there for me, I expect you to follow through.

I miss you a lot.
And I need you to know that.
Because you mean so much to me.

And I know I don't mean as much to you...
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
In the faraway land,
trees smiling and nails
Not the escargot snails
Booming business sails
His name Rusty nails
Super rich paper shredding
Destroying fine print
paper and nails affair

Those hot leads faxing
The heart opens up than bleeds
What a mess misleads to
More hoarders
Trying so hard to get
over the U-S-A border
When you least expect it
Being searched papercut body

Like Honey Bee without
Hair like a beehive
foxy lady
No Jive rock paper scissors
Twisted sisters also drying up
All lines and spot
like a dark romance
Not the Samson and
Deliah race
Millionairess place
Became a swamp
Forest of racers
Super moon Gump
Lady and the *****
I am Instagram Disney Pixstar
Getting looks by far
Superwomen nailed her
With Starwars
European fellows

Soft clouds daze-like fun yellow
Emotionally their crying
Broken one scattered piece
of glass, please I see something
to smile about
Super rich why do they get
the VIP pass laughing
He's the roundabout
Someone with love handles
Can we handle all this
Getting drinks and hot lady
winks hit or miss
Racing their motorcycles
Dark glove handles
What Harley Davidson cycles
Is that your best reaction trying
Mirror my mirror on the wall
I am not buying it super
rich mechanic
The only one chosen mirror
She feels ******
Love can give you tumors
Dissect you who will direct you
You don't feel this is your time
The sunny side of the street
Sunnyside eggs over easy

The Speakeasy
Your hair of ringlets **** wavy
Did he nail your darker side beat
Bird up your nest feeders heat
Don't break me up to fall
The phone rings dingaling
Spiritual candles witch is dead
Your mind is somewhere else
Just make your silk ties of the bed
Tied to your ankle I love you
How your hearts just dangle
"Having a nail full because you're single"
Were all linked into something
Yodeling, not the business
of smuggling
Knocking on heavens door
Super rich marble black and white floor
Hammering nails in the cabin
He's fishing the hooks how it fits together
Going up the staircase to heaven
What a big cliff-hanging nail diver

Zippety Zepellin*
Songs whole lotta love
How you've been nailed in
the blackout
Not a piece blackout cake
Canarsie at the pier
Out of nails, the darkness hits me
Bend over nails like the devil more rivals
Never to be resentful
Always pray to be needful
Her face value of her smile
Being poor her soul
stepped on

Too many men, not enough nails
But they got their thrills
New York City construction
He's wiped out being hammered
nails hot drills
Such poorly written emails

Her heels got stuck
No stars to shine *Rusty bar

Her mind was a
bulletproof vest  
"Jane and *****"
"Plain Janes" movie cut
Of paper dolls
Being Nailed Bunny hunt
of tricks
But all weapons he nailed her the best*

Blood stem thorns
Italian love horns
Robin Redbreast tweet text
What holds us together
French **** nails
Fountain of golden coins

Lion heads or tails the door
Back to spam ham of emails
Super rich we may never be
But New York will always
be my kind of town
He nailed it so
many times

New Yorker super rich talker
Like a perilous time super
rich food delicious
Pygmalion how we nail our nation
Super Rich, I rather have a rich blend of my coffee and savor all the rich tones  I tune who wants to hammer the nails that not a girl wanting to have fun flavor my music all sounds. So much higher than anyone with money I love my honey on my face to the Spa Tra La La that's super rich it sticks
Paras Bajaj Jan 2019
You stood by my side
when I couldn't sleep
on cold and lonely nights.

You stood by my side
when I was losing
everyone in my sight.

You stood by my side
when I kept over thinking,
felt scared and terrified.

You stood by my side
when I wanted to quit
and commit suicide.

You stood by my side
when I wanted to hide.
You became my best-friend
and that's how I feel inside.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
There are some rare gems in your life that stays no matter what you go through. This poem is a thank you note to all the true friends out there who stays in your ups and downs.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
From poem #27 of THHT3

...We all know what’s going on,
The Young & The Restless could be a list that’s forever long,
of confessions composed as a set list but not sung,
we all know They are attracted to the Innocent & Young,
because in the twisted logic, of their perverted minds’ tongue,
they think by being with children, they’ll stay Forever Young,
it’s disgusting, & I’m so ashamed of the city I’m from,
that I’m not even having kids, nope not even one,
because I already feel bad enough for those already born,  
wish I could warn every daughter & ever son,

& don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to single out Hollywood,
the problems are much more widespread just ask The Vatican,
or the over 800 Boy Scouts that say they were abused,
by the hands of those that were chose to lead as captains,

yeah man not much is mentioned but lots has sure happened,

lots of names go undisclosed in the drawers of the ****-Files,
Roman Polanski, R. Kelly, Brian Singer, Jeffery Epstein,
& those are just the ones that have been exposed,
we all know most crimes go untold,

& no please don’t take this the wrong way,
I’m not trying to say every celeb likes kids underage,
in fact most of those that act are kind, protect & fight back,
nor am I saying I always mean attraction in a ****** way,
I’m just saying I feel confused & it seems like everyone’s gay,
or at least strange & most don’t know how to behave,
& I want to care but these days who cares anyways,
I guess I don’t anymore, I just want to get away,

just want to escape, so I’m running away,

I’m leaving Neverland, never to return again,
I’m leaving Neverland, for real & forever man...

from The Hollywood Hills Trilogy vol. 3

I'm giving away 100 copies of my new book THHT3 for FREE right now on Instagram to the first 100 people that COMMENT and TAG a friend on my latest post. So go to my Instagram right now, @aaronlalux and tag someone in the comments so I can send you a digital copy of The Hollywood Hills Trilogy Vol 3 RIGHT NOW. No joke, for real, let's go! My instagram is @aaronlalux First 100 comments with tags ONLY. If you DON'T have Instagram just go directly to the Amazon page and leave a review of the book. If you review the book I'll also send you a copy for free, so there's TWO ways to get a free copy of my new book! Here's the Amazon Link:

∆ LaLux ∆
Shaine Fraz May 2014
You like to say love disappeared.
And I swear it never left, but she talk like Kanye "Ima let you finish"
shrug her shoulders; cut me off, Swift.
    Drinks on the table it was no one else's business, Henny in my system there was no one else who witnessed how she never took a breath like a run on sentence so I'm in the club flexing working on my fitness; arms out stretched on my chest crucifixion.
    I'm forgiven but could never get a word in not even one syllable I'm talking in synonyms I,
nevermore, words with friends.  Triple word how absurd you be trippin ****, on my Instagram insecurity I'm tired of it I'm with my Boys chillin rarely smoked but might burn a spliff; ease the pain so insane major Payne fatigue is in.  
    I got a glimpse of future, I use to, try to hit you up reconnect, bluetooth, I'm in her ear lying for the ***, I miss you, she on top giving me the truth: this all you.  But **** it though I'm not trynna be your man, but when she leaving out for work I be sleepin in
and when she home I tax that *** like I'm Uncle Sam nothing ever change so after head she be at my neck
    Flashback to the present
she still telling me how I don't get it
unproductive in her presence, you not even in front of me I'm still tasting lemons; Yo, my star player wants a trade should I let her go? cut too deep for bandaids should I let it flow.  
    Throwback to the past vampire clothes but the blood different I'm a sucker for that red though: she was floating 6 inches from the earth floor, you's a victim baby true blood, spoil us!  Show Me What You Got lil mama let your "Kingdom Come" dressed in all black spending money black republican?  Awesome and some; I was sliding home she was catching, clamping; say I turn her on like a touch screen, Samsung; with a touch of color you would disobey your mother as I slid under your covers
mid-day massages
"Midnight Maunders"
at least that's how it use to be, now Award Tour got her trippin almost frequently
we use to fight for love she said now she a causality!
        "and how you gonna make this bout you it's about me, phone ringing since 1am it's about 3
  thought you was slick huh,
thought I was sleep, you **** right love disappeared"
but she never leaves.
She's still waiting to exhale, but she never breaths.
© 2014 by S Fraz All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of S Fraz
rae luna Jun 2014
A bully is defined as a person who uses strength or power to harm or intimidate those who are weaker.
A bully was someone who picked on you to make you feel bad so they can feel good about themselves but the victim only thinks of them as a monster trying to get under their skin and trying to flick them off of the world that they have made their own.
This is still true...
But the interface has changed into something more.

From the playground teasing now to the email, the texting and Facebook and Instagram and all the pointless social media
that hurts
that hurts
that hurts
until you are torn down.
Why should me, you, them, and all of us be introduced to this new age of hurt that we never knew before,
that our parents never knew so they don't understand how a simple message could tear our whole world apart and shatter us like
The girl I knew.
She was in pain I could tell,
but I could not tell anyone because I was afraid.
I tried to stand up for her but she only beat down everyone that stood in her way and fought her and yelled
and told her to **** her s-e-l-f like it was just a phrase but it was a phrase that flowed out of their mouths like water rushing like a water fall and
I never said it. But I never said anything but that “you will be okay.”  
She wouldn't be…
I didn't want to be involved even though the catty girls who kept telling her to c-u-t and to d-i-e
They knew…
They knew it wasn't just online but at school the words "you're fat, you're disgusting,
You-- are nothing” made her look into the mirror and believe those words were true.
They weren't true.
She herself was a bully.  And she knew.
She told others these things too…
How could anyone forgive her, when she couldn't forgive herself, or anyone else?
They knew about the self inflicted abuse... and they knew about the thoughts that devoured her mind day after day after day until she finally wanted to change her life not for the better but for worse.
They knew that her mother snapped at her.
Or was it her aunt?
The story always changed trying to give the truth but how could she when she didn’t know what was going on behind her own closed doors?

I knew her through social media.  
We all knew her through the world of video making and video chatting and the video abusing.  
None of us had met her, or any of each other.  But we were all so close.
A closeness that no longer exists.
That is how we communicated, and met one another.  
That is how she tried to say goodbye.

A phone call was how I heard she said this.
A phone call was how I learned that someone called the police only to find her in her room crying and drowning in her sorrows.
A phone call was how I learned she was alive.

They didn't know that her parents had no idea and
They didn't know that she told others to hurt themselves because she thought it was right.
Weren't they doing it to her too?
If they could say it to her...
couldn’t she say it to them too?

Only now do I still see her pictures and still see her struggle to find herself.
I see that she still says these things to the ones who hurt her because she is still hurting.
And I…
I feel guilty for never saying a thing but that “you will be okay.”
Because she wasn’t.
Logan Paul Dec 2017
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Crippling depression
Is not good for you

Even though you think depression is good
The crippling makes it not very good
Jake searches up crippling depression
But then he finds that he is depression

You may think that this poem is bad
You probably wont live to see another day
So just be happy, and don't be sad

Go follow @devenpawarr on instagram to remove your possible symptoms of crippling depression
Lanox Aug 2016
Ang mutually exclusive ay tumutukoy sa dalawang pangyayaring hindi maaaring maging parehong totoo.

Di ito nalalayo sa kasabihang nasa Bibliyang “Hindi maaaring pagsilbihan ng isang alipin ang dalawang panginoon nang sabay.” Ngunit habang ang nasabing nagmula sa banal na aklat ay may mga binanggit din patungkol sa Diyos at sa pera, ang mutually exclusive ay mas malawak ang saklaw kaya’t maaaring gamitin para ihalintulad o paghambingin ang kahit anong dalawang konsepto sa matematika, pangyayari, pakiramdam.

Sa programming, may tinatawag na Boolean data type. Ang data type na ito ay maaaring “tama” o “mali.” Ang itinatalagang halaga kung tama ay 1 at 0 naman para sa mali. Kung may dalawa tayong konsepto, pangyayari, o pakiramdam, at ituring natin silang mga data types, ang mga posibleng values na makukuha natin ay 00, 10, 01, at 11. Kung ang mga nasabing dalawang konsepto, pangyayari, o pakiramdam ay mutually exclusive, maaaring makuha ang 00, 10, at 01 ngunit hindi ang 11.

Gumamit tayo ng mga halimbawang mas madaling maunawaan.

Data type number 1: ang pag-inom ng iced coffee, decafeinated, served in a mason jar with a paper straw, and with extra whipped cream, at pagpost nito sa Instagram, #stressreliever #compromise #freewifi.

Data type number 2: ang pagtulong sa mga kawawang bata sa lansangan na walang tsinelas, marumi ang kasuotan, at pinagpatung-patong lamang na mga karton ang natutulugan.

Madaling magpatuksong pumalakat gamit ang Facebook status at sabihing, “Ang daming mga batang nangangailangan tapos yung iba dyan pakape-kape lang, #pasoshalpamore.” Ngunit kung susuriing maigi, hindi mutually exclusive ang dalawang data types. Pwedeng si ateng nagkape ay pagkalabas ng coffee shop, binigay yung extra croissant nya dun sa batang nanghihingi ng limampiso. Habang si ateng nag-rant sa FB, na nasa bahay lang, kaya nga bitter dahil di makagala, malamang di rin naman nag-effort lumabas at mag-ikot sa mga kalsada para maghanap ng mga paslit na matutulungan. Ang dalawa pang maaaring posibilidad ay may isang ateng mahilig magkape at allergic sa mga bata at may isa pang ateng tumutulong sa mga bata at nagkaka-anxiety pag umiinom ng kape. Pwedeng magkaibigan sila, pero di sila nangingi-alam sa isa’t isa.

Naaalala ko tuloy nang minsa’y tumambay akong mag-isa sa isang kapehan malapit sa bahay.

Gaya ng inaasahan, may mga batang nag-aabang sa mga lumalabas na mamimili upang magbakasaling mabigyan ng mga barya o tirang pagkain—katakam-takam tingnan ang mga pastelerya roon.

Tiningnan ko ang makukulay na tinapay sa platito sa harapan ko.

Napagdesisyunan ko nang ipabalot ito at ibigay sa isa sa mga batang ngayo’y naglalaro na habang wala pang dumaraang kustomer.

Tapos ko rin naman itong kunan ng larawan upang ipost sa Instagram.

Kelangan kasi updated ang account ko.

Baka kasi isipin **** nawalan na ko ng sigla at nagmumukmok na lamang sa bahay simula nang tumigil na tayong mag-usap.

Baka tuloy magmistulang ang kalungkutan ko at ikaw ay mutually exclusive.

Na dumarating lamang ang kalungkutan sa tuwing ika’y lumilisan,

O na iniisip ko pa lamang na maaari kang bumalik, ito’y napapalitan agad ng kaligayahan.
Quentin Briscoe May 2013
How rude!
I stare at
all these people
and like.....
follow me @breezybrisk

— The End —