"iphones" poems - Hello Poetry

All of the dance moms are on their iPhones- All I have is my notebook. Pen scratching on paper, I am... Old school. An island of last century In a sea of modern marvels of technology.

0

May 16, 2013

May 16, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC

stuart-lee

The Technology Dance

All of the dance moms are on their iPhones- All I have is my notebook. Pen scratching on paper, I am... Old school. An island of last century In a sea of modern marvels of technology.

6

1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.

0

Apr 11, 2016

Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC

hutchinson

generation Z

1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.

39

Everyday I walk around. I don't understand what I'm seeing. There is Stardust in my eyes. It's fogged up my sight. I see how everyone is the same. With their Ugg boots, North Face Jackets, iPhones, and Coach bags. Just take off your empty frames and, Get Stardust in your eyes. See things through a vivid light. Get Stardust in your eyes, Be yourself and don't conform. Get Stardust in your eyes, And let your colors shine. I thought I was weird. With my off brand cloths, And no internet on my phone. With my black eyeliner, And my rhythmic soul. But my eyes are burning, I'm exhausted from hiding. I am who I am. I've got Stardust in my eyes. I see things through a vivid light. Get Stardust in your eyes. See the world as it really is. Get Stardust in your eyes, Be yourself and don't conform. Get Stardust in your eyes, And let your colors shine. Be yourself, you Are unique. With Stardust in your eyes, you see. Don't follow the robot hipster army. Get Stardust in your eyes, And Shine!

0

Apr 11, 2014

Apr 11, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC

Ah, the season of gifting. Antagonist of year-long thrifting. Tradition sadistic, Materialistic, Four quarters in pockets worth sifting. This year I hereby proclaim I shan’t be consumed by the game. Cycle of curse Purpose perverse The namesake, an oversight became. Christ’s birth did in fact begin, Holiday distracted by sin. Misguided it be To forget idly The sacrifice He made for all men. We naively regard generosity As holiday’s behavioral piosity. But if dollars and cents Are the tools of offense Over shadow favor luminosity. Water in Africa is ***** American child in poverty. Politics aside, Convenient homicide, To enable the ills of society. In the global economy we flaunt Wealth by comparison, bitter taunt. First world problems abound Pass the turkey around Central heating and air, what a jaunt! What if this season we decide To extend two palms open wide? Sacrificing ourselves Rather than stocking our shelves Dying whispers echo true: “we tried.” Don’t spend your money on me this year. Not iPhones, not tickets, not Blu-ray or beer. Instead know you can Distribute more than A snort, a lie, and a tear. (optional conclusion to assist interpretation of last line) Snort of derision, Lies of provision, Tears, even true, Hardly subdue Anguish deprived of tradition’s revision.

0

Dec 26, 2012

Dec 26, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC

daniel-fowler

Stewardship (a series of limericks)

Ah, the season of gifting. Antagonist of year-long thrifting. Tradition sadistic, Materialistic, Four quarters in pockets worth sifting. This year I hereby proclaim I shan’t be consumed by the game. Cycle of curse Purpose perverse The namesake, an oversight became. Christ’s birth did in fact begin, Holiday distracted by sin. Misguided it be To forget idly The sacrifice He made for all men. We naively regard generosity As holiday’s behavioral piosity. But if dollars and cents Are the tools of offense Over shadow favor luminosity. Water in Africa is ***** American child in poverty. Politics aside, Convenient homicide, To enable the ills of society. In the global economy we flaunt Wealth by comparison, bitter taunt. First world problems abound Pass the turkey around Central heating and air, what a jaunt! What if this season we decide To extend two palms open wide? Sacrificing ourselves Rather than stocking our shelves Dying whispers echo true: “we tried.” Don’t spend your money on me this year. Not iPhones, not tickets, not Blu-ray or beer. Instead know you can Distribute more than A snort, a lie, and a tear. (optional conclusion to assist interpretation of last line) Snort of derision, Lies of provision, Tears, even true, Hardly subdue Anguish deprived of tradition’s revision.

46

“T'was the night before Christmas ...” and Santa was busy. The reindeer were antsy the elves in a tizzy. The missus was tending the ovens like mad And turning out cookies to make children glad. The wood chips were flying the sawdust was thick The workshop was bulging with toys from St. Nick. Contractors from Sega, Nintendo and Sony Were working on games (and a robotic pony). Iphones and Ipads (with virus removal) Were packed in their boxes and stamped "Elf Approval". Last minute touches were added with flair While elf stylists tended to Santa's white hair. Elf tailors were making some last alterations To Santa's red coat and his waist tribulations. The weather was fair as the weather-elf stated The routes were approved and departure was slated. Bells had been polished and harnesses buffed While repairs were addressed for the hoofs that were scuffed. The antlers were festooned with ribbons and bells And the reindeer were covered with elf flying spells. The clock approached midnight as Santa was seated. The countdown began as the flight crew was greeted. H-hour neared and the tension was growing. Outside it grew cloudy and then, began snowing. But Santa just grinned as the weather-elf winced. "Don't worry, my friend. Our time has commenced." For the weather was nothing to Santa's conveyance. His reindeer and sleigh were immune to"delay-ance". With a whirl of his whiskers and a flick of his wrist The reindeer were launched in a flash of white mist. And I heard him exclaim through his teleport ray: "ALERT TSA. Tell 'em I'm on my WAY!"

0

Dec 22, 2017

Dec 22, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC

Cne

T’was The Night Before Christmas

“T'was the night before Christmas ...” and Santa was busy. The reindeer were antsy the elves in a tizzy. The missus was tending the ovens like mad And turning out cookies to make children glad. The wood chips were flying the sawdust was thick The workshop was bulging with toys from St. Nick. Contractors from Sega, Nintendo and Sony Were working on games (and a robotic pony). Iphones and Ipads (with virus removal) Were packed in their boxes and stamped "Elf Approval". Last minute touches were added with flair While elf stylists tended to Santa's white hair. Elf tailors were making some last alterations To Santa's red coat and his waist tribulations. The weather was fair as the weather-elf stated The routes were approved and departure was slated. Bells had been polished and harnesses buffed While repairs were addressed for the hoofs that were scuffed. The antlers were festooned with ribbons and bells And the reindeer were covered with elf flying spells. The clock approached midnight as Santa was seated. The countdown began as the flight crew was greeted. H-hour neared and the tension was growing. Outside it grew cloudy and then, began snowing. But Santa just grinned as the weather-elf winced. "Don't worry, my friend. Our time has commenced." For the weather was nothing to Santa's conveyance. His reindeer and sleigh were immune to"delay-ance". With a whirl of his whiskers and a flick of his wrist The reindeer were launched in a flash of white mist. And I heard him exclaim through his teleport ray: "ALERT TSA. Tell 'em I'm on my WAY!"

64

Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones, Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones, Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones, Now praise the Lord for the Web. The Apple phone’s connected to the Vodaphone, And the Vodaphone’s connected to the Google Zone, The Google Zone’s connected to the Web Zone, Oh hear the Lord of the Word. Well the phone’s connected to a browser And it fits very neatly in your trouser. The browser connects you to the Internet Faster than the fastest speed-jet, Just the place for a quick bet. Oh hear the Lord of the Word. It might get you onto Facebook Or teach you how to be good cook Find you some ladies for a good… Time. Now Praise the Lord of The Word. Paul Butters

0

Aug 20, 2015

Aug 20, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC

paul-butters

Dem Phones

Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones, Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones, Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones, Now praise the Lord for the Web. The Apple phone’s connected to the Vodaphone, And the Vodaphone’s connected to the Google Zone, The Google Zone’s connected to the Web Zone, Oh hear the Lord of the Word. Well the phone’s connected to a browser And it fits very neatly in your trouser. The browser connects you to the Internet Faster than the fastest speed-jet, Just the place for a quick bet. Oh hear the Lord of the Word. It might get you onto Facebook Or teach you how to be good cook Find you some ladies for a good… Time. Now Praise the Lord of The Word. Paul Butters

20

We friended on Facebook, Scrolled down our profile pages. Lived together in a virtual world. Our images and websites we shared With Instagram incisiveness. Meet all my friends. Block any you do not like. All busy we are, doing nothing. Like if you agree. Laptops were not enough. Users subscribed to Smartphones, Iphones, and God knows what. Google them if you wish. And if you like my words Retweet them. But beware! I now use words like lol, And even *** Hehe. Sometimes I multitask, Flicking TV channels Like a Subbuteo striker – Gone virtual by now I guess. Flicking and flipping while I scroll My laptop page. I make new tabs As I message many friends: Emoticons exploding All along the way. I’m Tivo-boxing clever All the time, King of my domain. So get your VDU lit up And monitor my words. Download my thoughts Into your memory banks. I hope this all computes. Paul Butters

0

Feb 5, 2015

Feb 5, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC

paul-butters

Today

We friended on Facebook, Scrolled down our profile pages. Lived together in a virtual world. Our images and websites we shared With Instagram incisiveness. Meet all my friends. Block any you do not like. All busy we are, doing nothing. Like if you agree. Laptops were not enough. Users subscribed to Smartphones, Iphones, and God knows what. Google them if you wish. And if you like my words Retweet them. But beware! I now use words like lol, And even *** Hehe. Sometimes I multitask, Flicking TV channels Like a Subbuteo striker – Gone virtual by now I guess. Flicking and flipping while I scroll My laptop page. I make new tabs As I message many friends: Emoticons exploding All along the way. I’m Tivo-boxing clever All the time, King of my domain. So get your VDU lit up And monitor my words. Download my thoughts Into your memory banks. I hope this all computes. Paul Butters

38

Money Diamonds Mansions Ferraris IPhones None of this would matter if I had no one to spend the money on No one to give me the diamonds No one to share the mansions with No one to drive around with me No one to call or text What's the point of being a queen if you don't have a king

0

Jun 3, 2015

Jun 3, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC

nikitam

Royalty

Money Diamonds Mansions Ferraris IPhones None of this would matter if I had no one to spend the money on No one to give me the diamonds No one to share the mansions with No one to drive around with me No one to call or text What's the point of being a queen if you don't have a king

12

Little girls with their hair in pig tails old men chatting away over a game of cards the endless clapping of heels on concrete madness business men in suits and ties faces melding to iPhones catholic priests ******* kids they know his name danger in a lightning flashed smile panic in a thunder clapped laugh they know his name but it never leaves their tongues he dances in the gaps of their teeth and chips away at our heart strings incessant whispers in our ears telling us what we want what we need he stands off in the shadowed corners of every forgotten room in every one time family home as we watch our worlds crumble around us if Christ lives inside of all then he has one hell of a roommate

0

Mar 14, 2013

Mar 14, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC

harry-j-baxter

Roommates in Hell

Little girls with their hair in pig tails old men chatting away over a game of cards the endless clapping of heels on concrete madness business men in suits and ties faces melding to iPhones catholic priests ******* kids they know his name danger in a lightning flashed smile panic in a thunder clapped laugh they know his name but it never leaves their tongues he dances in the gaps of their teeth and chips away at our heart strings incessant whispers in our ears telling us what we want what we need he stands off in the shadowed corners of every forgotten room in every one time family home as we watch our worlds crumble around us if Christ lives inside of all then he has one hell of a roommate

24

**** Tumblr. **** Facebook. **** thumbs up. **** Iphones and everything with an " I " before it's name. Even if it's an " Ivone ". **** Justin and Katy, teenagers and children. **** the children. **** GIFs and Instagram. **** the hashtag #. **** twitter. **** ‘selfies’ , ‘felfies’ and ‘braggies’. Put a camera in your *** take a picture, that's a selfie too, you ****** One you can brag about. **** you as well. **** this, **** that, **** you again. Especially you, yOU **** **** twerk and Miley. **** MTV. **** the 2000's. **** rich people trying to look poor cuz they're hipsters and that's " Indie ". **** Indie **** Everything's " Indie " nowadays. **** that! Not everyone is struggling. Make some noise, you don't have cancer. **** people who smile to every **** a **** does when they visit the hood to buy drugs, because they're stupid and soft. **** social conscience. **** you again for pushing a beard and a moustache because it's fashionable. **** John Lennon. **** the Beatles. **** **** as a trend. **** me, but at least i'm cool. **** cool. Everyone's cool currently!? I started smoking when I was 11. Now that i'm 25, i realize smoking is kid's stuff, so i quit smoking. **** cigars. **** having 25. **** sexist and feminist. **** the dikes who think they have an advantage on other women for not being a **** fan. **** LGBT haters. **** the LGBT flag. **** flags. **** Amsterdam. **** Vintage, used to be cool, now it's fake **** **** cars these days. Their shape and their drivers. **** TV series. **** this zombie **** What's with the zombies? **** FOX. **** people who hate on TV, because their to smart for that, but let computer/internet melt their brains into liquid **** **** stupid people. **** the army,everywhere. **** politics. **** you for trying to make me vote. I don't believe in it and i'll never will ,it's a ******* waste of time and i don't care. **** you for believing that's a choice. **** you for participating in that sharade, making politics who they are, you ******* ******* **** people who talk to much. **** people who don't listen that much. **** people who talk WAY to much and expect you to be as excited as they are. **** you! **** "LOL" in a face-to-face conversation. Laugh ************ **** random generation. **** " Likes " and **** " Sharing " because no one gives a **** And yes i'm a misfit, you genius. We all are. That's the truth... **** the truth.

0

Apr 22, 2014

Apr 22, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC

marlon-james

The misfit

**** Tumblr. **** Facebook. **** thumbs up. **** Iphones and everything with an " I " before it's name. Even if it's an " Ivone ". **** Justin and Katy, teenagers and children. **** the children. **** GIFs and Instagram. **** the hashtag #. **** twitter. **** ‘selfies’ , ‘felfies’ and ‘braggies’. Put a camera in your *** take a picture, that's a selfie too, you ****** One you can brag about. **** you as well. **** this, **** that, **** you again. Especially you, yOU **** **** twerk and Miley. **** MTV. **** the 2000's. **** rich people trying to look poor cuz they're hipsters and that's " Indie ". **** Indie **** Everything's " Indie " nowadays. **** that! Not everyone is struggling. Make some noise, you don't have cancer. **** people who smile to every **** a **** does when they visit the hood to buy drugs, because they're stupid and soft. **** social conscience. **** you again for pushing a beard and a moustache because it's fashionable. **** John Lennon. **** the Beatles. **** **** as a trend. **** me, but at least i'm cool. **** cool. Everyone's cool currently!? I started smoking when I was 11. Now that i'm 25, i realize smoking is kid's stuff, so i quit smoking. **** cigars. **** having 25. **** sexist and feminist. **** the dikes who think they have an advantage on other women for not being a **** fan. **** LGBT haters. **** the LGBT flag. **** flags. **** Amsterdam. **** Vintage, used to be cool, now it's fake **** **** cars these days. Their shape and their drivers. **** TV series. **** this zombie **** What's with the zombies? **** FOX. **** people who hate on TV, because their to smart for that, but let computer/internet melt their brains into liquid **** **** stupid people. **** the army,everywhere. **** politics. **** you for trying to make me vote. I don't believe in it and i'll never will ,it's a ******* waste of time and i don't care. **** you for believing that's a choice. **** you for participating in that sharade, making politics who they are, you ******* ******* **** people who talk to much. **** people who don't listen that much. **** people who talk WAY to much and expect you to be as excited as they are. **** you! **** "LOL" in a face-to-face conversation. Laugh ************ **** random generation. **** " Likes " and **** " Sharing " because no one gives a **** And yes i'm a misfit, you genius. We all are. That's the truth... **** the truth.

8

I wish I could be like the cool kids. Sitting in a car watching the night go by iPhones blowing up with snapchats, facebook messages, likes, texts, random flirts from people. Getting into places normal people don't. Skinny getting things I want. I wish I could be one of the cool kids. Sitting on the beach smoking a joint around a plume of smoking and fire. Wasting our lives peaking in highschool. I wish I could be cool. I wish I could be one of the cool kids. *** Drugs Money Friends Lives dwindling memories fond loving life. Dying fast. I want to be cool

0

Aug 31, 2014

Aug 31, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC

Azureskylines

Cool

I wish I could be like the cool kids. Sitting in a car watching the night go by iPhones blowing up with snapchats, facebook messages, likes, texts, random flirts from people. Getting into places normal people don't. Skinny getting things I want. I wish I could be one of the cool kids. Sitting on the beach smoking a joint around a plume of smoking and fire. Wasting our lives peaking in highschool. I wish I could be cool. I wish I could be one of the cool kids. *** Drugs Money Friends Lives dwindling memories fond loving life. Dying fast. I want to be cool

37

I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and, as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time, living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity; yet we suffer so much pain. Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies, stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed, through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low- cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over- promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all so unsatisfied. We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end, like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches @Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys, and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply, then superficially, without even wondering, for a zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any longer. We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners, shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives, chronically connected and severely distracted, in aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs at all this, and sobs, and so do I.

0

May 5, 2012

May 5, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC

a-de-carvalho

Chronically connected and severely distracted

I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and, as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time, living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity; yet we suffer so much pain. Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies, stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed, through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low- cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over- promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all so unsatisfied. We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end, like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches @Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys, and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply, then superficially, without even wondering, for a zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any longer. We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners, shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives, chronically connected and severely distracted, in aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs at all this, and sobs, and so do I.

40

concrete shades the yellow-lighted symphony. The peso-heavy take taxis; security valets motors steaming castle gates. I ask, which way is the 158? Indifferent, they say, walk straight neath the freeway — there is a bus stop two blocks away. **** **** **** Clocktower hands transpose Cindarella-brick to embers of electricity, a factory aside scrawled graffiti; fingers timidly ricket pitchfork fences. Palermo is 11 km north. Where is the north star? I look straight ahead, repeating what the travel blogs said like, Be lost, don’t look lost; flappy plastic maps scream vulnerability. Be lost, not rich; iPhones in gotham alleys are batman signals. Walk fast. Don’t pay attention to the eyes that pass. Careless ponytails and brass hair attract glances back. Two blocks deep into the homeless shelter beneath freeways, blankets in shopping carts toppled over, cars screaming away the symphony into shadowed silence between heels striking. Tunnel breath emerging on the other side, gasping past stacked Jenga towers, wired with antennas and empty clotheslines; families and crack ****** sleep inside. Safety’s herd thins as couples dart left down cobblestone tributaries that either lead to bus stops or parked cars. I walk straight ahead with sleeve-covered hands that swing like sticks in the wind. The symphony turns to heartbeats and footsteps plucking quickly; fearing the 180 behind, to zombies with sunken eyes, thirsty for a thirty-cent high.

0

Sep 5, 2014

Sep 5, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC

courtney-pruitt

cultural corridor

concrete shades the yellow-lighted symphony. The peso-heavy take taxis; security valets motors steaming castle gates. I ask, which way is the 158? Indifferent, they say, walk straight neath the freeway — there is a bus stop two blocks away. **** **** **** Clocktower hands transpose Cindarella-brick to embers of electricity, a factory aside scrawled graffiti; fingers timidly ricket pitchfork fences. Palermo is 11 km north. Where is the north star? I look straight ahead, repeating what the travel blogs said like, Be lost, don’t look lost; flappy plastic maps scream vulnerability. Be lost, not rich; iPhones in gotham alleys are batman signals. Walk fast. Don’t pay attention to the eyes that pass. Careless ponytails and brass hair attract glances back. Two blocks deep into the homeless shelter beneath freeways, blankets in shopping carts toppled over, cars screaming away the symphony into shadowed silence between heels striking. Tunnel breath emerging on the other side, gasping past stacked Jenga towers, wired with antennas and empty clotheslines; families and crack ****** sleep inside. Safety’s herd thins as couples dart left down cobblestone tributaries that either lead to bus stops or parked cars. I walk straight ahead with sleeve-covered hands that swing like sticks in the wind. The symphony turns to heartbeats and footsteps plucking quickly; fearing the 180 behind, to zombies with sunken eyes, thirsty for a thirty-cent high.

46

throw away all of our material ******** our iphones and credit cards and television sets throw them in a bonfire, take off our clothes and dance around the flames naked chanting freedom mantras we could do anything we wanted climb to machu picchu and try to feel the past drink ayahuasca and play shaman for a day be wild and open and part of the earth again for once in our lives we might feel important unrestricted, powerful like we have a purpose and even after the hallucinations fade maybe the plants will still whisper to us our destiny when we are sleeping in hammocks and eating bugs i guess i just wouldn't care if the guts got stuck in my teeth because you'd be there and encourage me to give up my ocd habits of always being clean because you'd make it worth it to not care i'd give you my soul if it meant we could always feel this way so wonderfully lost in each other that nothing else matters.

0

Sep 12, 2010

Sep 12, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC

ivoryrowes

let's just say **** it and

throw away all of our material ******** our iphones and credit cards and television sets throw them in a bonfire, take off our clothes and dance around the flames naked chanting freedom mantras we could do anything we wanted climb to machu picchu and try to feel the past drink ayahuasca and play shaman for a day be wild and open and part of the earth again for once in our lives we might feel important unrestricted, powerful like we have a purpose and even after the hallucinations fade maybe the plants will still whisper to us our destiny when we are sleeping in hammocks and eating bugs i guess i just wouldn't care if the guts got stuck in my teeth because you'd be there and encourage me to give up my ocd habits of always being clean because you'd make it worth it to not care i'd give you my soul if it meant we could always feel this way so wonderfully lost in each other that nothing else matters.

20

Kids playing, guys chatting, cars running. There she goes. An infinite scroll, it could last forever. Who knows where the data heads? CIA? China? Pentagon? Your mom? Flood of notifications on how pretty you are, When not on the phone.

0

Jun 12, 2019

Jun 12, 2019 at 6:49 AM UTC

Penmann

Pretty Girls spend twice the time on their iPhones

Kids playing, guys chatting, cars running. There she goes. An infinite scroll, it could last forever. Who knows where the data heads? CIA? China? Pentagon? Your mom? Flood of notifications on how pretty you are, When not on the phone.

8

At the party, I saw faces painted passionately In smiles and laughter; Eyes sparkling like Crystal In every hue of inebriation; Hands clapping Extended waves Of cheerful celebration; Lips smearing lavish layers of Love on captive ears; Friends toasting The Life With Ciroc, Moët and beer; Hollywood wannabes rocking Bootlegged Ray-bans In the dark; Buzzed ex-lovers waging battles Of the heart; 15's smashed into 10's, Flashing rolls of flesh; Uncle Johnny in his Walkin' glory Stumbling way past 'when'; '83 Hustlers in furs and fedoras Feasting on free treats; Soul Train rejects moon-stalking On two left feet; iPhones and Samsungs Making memories For the curious web; PotHeads in the smoky loo Getting bloodshot red; At the party, The living colors of life Piqued my creative core... And I saw poetry in motion... ~ P (#AtTheParty) 3/3/2014

0

Mar 3, 2014

Mar 3, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC

james-g-paul-sr-aka-pablo

AT ThE PaRtY

At the party, I saw faces painted passionately In smiles and laughter; Eyes sparkling like Crystal In every hue of inebriation; Hands clapping Extended waves Of cheerful celebration; Lips smearing lavish layers of Love on captive ears; Friends toasting The Life With Ciroc, Moët and beer; Hollywood wannabes rocking Bootlegged Ray-bans In the dark; Buzzed ex-lovers waging battles Of the heart; 15's smashed into 10's, Flashing rolls of flesh; Uncle Johnny in his Walkin' glory Stumbling way past 'when'; '83 Hustlers in furs and fedoras Feasting on free treats; Soul Train rejects moon-stalking On two left feet; iPhones and Samsungs Making memories For the curious web; PotHeads in the smoky loo Getting bloodshot red; At the party, The living colors of life Piqued my creative core... And I saw poetry in motion... ~ P (#AtTheParty) 3/3/2014

51

what am I... if the mere color of my skin smears fear, suspicion and dread in the heads of perfect strangers...? what am I... if I feel the need to recede to a sanctuary within my very own black skin allowing the familiar stranger sharing the elevator to exhale and set her bundle of apprehension, perceived and imagined, aside for the ride...? what am I... if I instinctively hide my black eyes in the screens of iphones and ipads avoiding icontact when isolated with nervous strangers lest I inflate the balloon of anxiety to panicked proportions....? creating that space of comfort for all nervous strangers in my life becomes my obsession... and I switch lanes by night crossing to the other side of streets with dim lights lest I collide head-on with trepidation personified in the eyes of perfect strangers... and I ditch the hoodie for a crew neck sweater by abercrombie and fitch lest some slug with a 9mm gun profile me as a **** and defy order, rhyme and reason to exercise his license to **** in the still of a rainy night in florida with no credible witness in sight... what am I...? ~ P (7/18/2013)

0

Jul 20, 2013

Jul 20, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC

james-g-paul-sr-aka-pablo

I Ain't Shit!...by Pablo

what am I... if the mere color of my skin smears fear, suspicion and dread in the heads of perfect strangers...? what am I... if I feel the need to recede to a sanctuary within my very own black skin allowing the familiar stranger sharing the elevator to exhale and set her bundle of apprehension, perceived and imagined, aside for the ride...? what am I... if I instinctively hide my black eyes in the screens of iphones and ipads avoiding icontact when isolated with nervous strangers lest I inflate the balloon of anxiety to panicked proportions....? creating that space of comfort for all nervous strangers in my life becomes my obsession... and I switch lanes by night crossing to the other side of streets with dim lights lest I collide head-on with trepidation personified in the eyes of perfect strangers... and I ditch the hoodie for a crew neck sweater by abercrombie and fitch lest some slug with a 9mm gun profile me as a **** and defy order, rhyme and reason to exercise his license to **** in the still of a rainy night in florida with no credible witness in sight... what am I...? ~ P (7/18/2013)

47

parked like a limping jalopy on an amputee park bench. watching young soft girls sell hard against the boulevard so they can do smack out back with the white trash boys who size me up. hats crooked and backward like their mothers teeth and their own beliefs. slouching and leaning in their stride like two drunken penguins shuffling home from the ice bar, fighting over fish sticks--no real threat to any one but themselves. their drawn out skinny arms with bad backs and barroom tattoos already turning blue. this is our future--or part of it. while a young couple breezes by both with their noses buried in iphones. oblivious to anything outside their happy little bubble.

0

Oct 27, 2013

Oct 27, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC

david-badgerow

Blvd

parked like a limping jalopy on an amputee park bench. watching young soft girls sell hard against the boulevard so they can do smack out back with the white trash boys who size me up. hats crooked and backward like their mothers teeth and their own beliefs. slouching and leaning in their stride like two drunken penguins shuffling home from the ice bar, fighting over fish sticks--no real threat to any one but themselves. their drawn out skinny arms with bad backs and barroom tattoos already turning blue. this is our future--or part of it. while a young couple breezes by both with their noses buried in iphones. oblivious to anything outside their happy little bubble.

11

We as people should try our hardest to be our best. Our generation is fading... We are stuck on stupid. Not to be offensive , but yes, we are. We are surrounded by things that eat at our knowledge like vultures on a carcass. Tweeting, Facebooking, Myspacing, and IMing. I admit it, I am a victim of this social crime, but I am beginning to realize that we are not using our brains like those before us had to. What happened to reading and writing? Why do we think we can just do everything on our Iphones now? I know we are now becoming a technological era, but do we really have to do EVERYTHING this way? Ok. On to the next rant. Why is it okay for everyone to speak like they have not had any home training? Excuse me, some haven't but, you could at least try to improve yourself. I don't think I'm better than anyone because I have a better vocabulary or even because I was raised to speak with correct grammar and enunciate my words. I do admit I don't speak "proper" all the time; I joke around, but that's the keyword: "joke" I don't care about the idiots that say "Oh, she's 'trying to be white' " I am content with that, even though I'm not trying to be anything but myself. I am content with them saying that because at least I will have an opportunity to do something with my vocabulary and my way of speaking. Maybe some people should try it. Hmm.. What else? *Oh! Boy don't let me forget about the "hood" life thing. Okay, "little gangster" , is your "mob" going to help you get a job? Believe me, writing "crip gang" on your job application is NOT going to help you. Those people do not care what hood you are repping when you come in for an interview. They barely care about your name... Get with the program people!! Also, ladies, it is not cute to try to be in a gang or even trying to do "hood" things... LIVE OUTSIDE OF YOUR STEREOTYPE! My black people... some of you, about 59%, are making those stereotypes stick. I am sooo tired of seeing black people gang banging, fighting, killing each other, skipping class, smoking, drinking, getting pregnant, and etc. Come on guys, we are a great nation of people.. We should improve, not get worse. We are already a minority. Our people DIED to get us where we are today. Take advantage of what we have.. Education, rights, freedom(somewhat), and opportunity. Don't blame the whites or Mexicans because you can't get off YOUR *** to do YOUR job. Please...*

0

Sep 6, 2010

Sep 6, 2010 at 8:04 PM UTC

deshanda-frazier

Rant #1

We as people should try our hardest to be our best. Our generation is fading... We are stuck on stupid. Not to be offensive , but yes, we are. We are surrounded by things that eat at our knowledge like vultures on a carcass. Tweeting, Facebooking, Myspacing, and IMing. I admit it, I am a victim of this social crime, but I am beginning to realize that we are not using our brains like those before us had to. What happened to reading and writing? Why do we think we can just do everything on our Iphones now? I know we are now becoming a technological era, but do we really have to do EVERYTHING this way? Ok. On to the next rant. Why is it okay for everyone to speak like they have not had any home training? Excuse me, some haven't but, you could at least try to improve yourself. I don't think I'm better than anyone because I have a better vocabulary or even because I was raised to speak with correct grammar and enunciate my words. I do admit I don't speak "proper" all the time; I joke around, but that's the keyword: "joke" I don't care about the idiots that say "Oh, she's 'trying to be white' " I am content with that, even though I'm not trying to be anything but myself. I am content with them saying that because at least I will have an opportunity to do something with my vocabulary and my way of speaking. Maybe some people should try it. Hmm.. What else? *Oh! Boy don't let me forget about the "hood" life thing. Okay, "little gangster" , is your "mob" going to help you get a job? Believe me, writing "crip gang" on your job application is NOT going to help you. Those people do not care what hood you are repping when you come in for an interview. They barely care about your name... Get with the program people!! Also, ladies, it is not cute to try to be in a gang or even trying to do "hood" things... LIVE OUTSIDE OF YOUR STEREOTYPE! My black people... some of you, about 59%, are making those stereotypes stick. I am sooo tired of seeing black people gang banging, fighting, killing each other, skipping class, smoking, drinking, getting pregnant, and etc. Come on guys, we are a great nation of people.. We should improve, not get worse. We are already a minority. Our people DIED to get us where we are today. Take advantage of what we have.. Education, rights, freedom(somewhat), and opportunity. Don't blame the whites or Mexicans because you can't get off YOUR *** to do YOUR job. Please...*

5

I slept last night With no thoughts on my mind Because its the easiest method to sleep But as i dreamt of castles, Of suburbs, of theaters Of other relationships (Of other people) It brought this revelation That WHAT if. What if: We were next to each other When we woke up My face would turn red like a tomato And i would just start laughing Because of the realization that I'm with the person I love What if: We would talk for hours on an end And fill up the memories on iPhones And our minds with talks of gossip Talks of science, talks of hangouts Your friends would envy it so much They would become angry at us What if: We were together in the school Holding hands and the people knowing That we are together It would be so **** amazing For me, knowing I did it I ventured into unknown and came back Victorious What if: We walked home everyday Sat together on the bus Those little things which people say Have no significance will never fathom The signficance the little things have Because little things make something big I truly cannot fathom the beauty The joy, the love That I would feel from someone Who isn't a family member But someone else, who genuinely loves me For what I am I will be so proud to say "I did it! I braved through!" If only this were true.

0

Nov 23, 2014

Nov 23, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC

sebastien

A what if:

I slept last night With no thoughts on my mind Because its the easiest method to sleep But as i dreamt of castles, Of suburbs, of theaters Of other relationships (Of other people) It brought this revelation That WHAT if. What if: We were next to each other When we woke up My face would turn red like a tomato And i would just start laughing Because of the realization that I'm with the person I love What if: We would talk for hours on an end And fill up the memories on iPhones And our minds with talks of gossip Talks of science, talks of hangouts Your friends would envy it so much They would become angry at us What if: We were together in the school Holding hands and the people knowing That we are together It would be so **** amazing For me, knowing I did it I ventured into unknown and came back Victorious What if: We walked home everyday Sat together on the bus Those little things which people say Have no significance will never fathom The signficance the little things have Because little things make something big I truly cannot fathom the beauty The joy, the love That I would feel from someone Who isn't a family member But someone else, who genuinely loves me For what I am I will be so proud to say "I did it! I braved through!" If only this were true.

47

They cry turmoil thru my web-pages, pages on pages of Tribunes and Suns and Times and Quarterly "Free Burma!" it's all turkey and pig-latin to me, just "dunno!" like a dunce-capped miscreant, inept of their vitriol as i was not so great at geography i got by before junior high. Where-the-tarnished-nation is it? "Free Burma!" Notice the elephant in the room like a whale named ***** attempting to escape brothers of all of ours engulfed in war some ocean somewhere someone is dying; notice that elephant in our laptops ivory and blue tooth and iphones telling me, showing us to care i do / want to we should and we must yes "Free Burma!" will i need to donate a dollar, two, three? will i receive a correspondence of a child i am saving a face of a country i'm ignorant to... will it's big sad puppy eyes be commercialized? i am no less as educated for not following the strife of thousands my own is as heavy here as an orca's leap "Free Burma!" what cage, bear or mouse trap have they gotten themselves and ourselves into? if it's anything like Yayo or Martha business i have a better "good thing" to do but if it is like famines in Africa, Mendelson, or Tibetan Monks on strike with kung-fu skills i will join U2, (and if she's aware) with Oprah power activate! (fist to fist) "i will be a well of spring-water!" and she a holy cow, a worshipped saint "Free Burma!!" free water free of fear free everyone, i pray, under this sky wipe away all tears free you of your worries free of all chains free of mines free of lies and borderlines. Free to be together free to live and choose to see A planet a place A peace "Free Burma!" Freedom as one community. For you, for me. Home. Free...

0

Dec 14, 2015

Dec 14, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC

butch-decatoria

FREE BURMA! (Spoken Word)

They cry turmoil thru my web-pages, pages on pages of Tribunes and Suns and Times and Quarterly "Free Burma!" it's all turkey and pig-latin to me, just "dunno!" like a dunce-capped miscreant, inept of their vitriol as i was not so great at geography i got by before junior high. Where-the-tarnished-nation is it? "Free Burma!" Notice the elephant in the room like a whale named ***** attempting to escape brothers of all of ours engulfed in war some ocean somewhere someone is dying; notice that elephant in our laptops ivory and blue tooth and iphones telling me, showing us to care i do / want to we should and we must yes "Free Burma!" will i need to donate a dollar, two, three? will i receive a correspondence of a child i am saving a face of a country i'm ignorant to... will it's big sad puppy eyes be commercialized? i am no less as educated for not following the strife of thousands my own is as heavy here as an orca's leap "Free Burma!" what cage, bear or mouse trap have they gotten themselves and ourselves into? if it's anything like Yayo or Martha business i have a better "good thing" to do but if it is like famines in Africa, Mendelson, or Tibetan Monks on strike with kung-fu skills i will join U2, (and if she's aware) with Oprah power activate! (fist to fist) "i will be a well of spring-water!" and she a holy cow, a worshipped saint "Free Burma!!" free water free of fear free everyone, i pray, under this sky wipe away all tears free you of your worries free of all chains free of mines free of lies and borderlines. Free to be together free to live and choose to see A planet a place A peace "Free Burma!" Freedom as one community. For you, for me. Home. Free...

75

busy pitter patters of feet, at least pretending to be busy these humans, these flesh sacks, place their bags laptops their unconsciousness on this barnes & noble’s coffee tables whose chairs aren’t comfortable yet, here they sit, beside me amongst me and an old ancient, it seems now, version of me would’ve cursed them silently while pretending to associate to relate to give a **** for doing so, for raising my anxiety, for reflecting what i truly was, at least pretending to identify with that narrow window of my self some collide physically, cosmically, spiritually, intuitively, whatever the hell you brand it we all seek connection, always elsewhere, never with our miserable anxious selves and if we can’t connect we, at least pretend to do so much like our riddling iphones desperate for battery for a sort of charge for life elsewhere somewhere else anywhere else rather than within to be alone, amongst the crowds, without our phones, our books, our lovers, our seven dollar coffees, our ******* egg white breakfast sanwhiches almost as if these things are essential to the unsavory cravings and desires, or dare i say ourselves we pretend to work, to live we read, without reading we speak, without thinking, we speak, without speaking, “to be, or not to be.” we don’t care for intention anymore how could we? we’re just so un-fucking-phadomably busy doing nothing, at all just, pretending. -melanholicreator

0

Feb 24, 2024

Feb 24, 2024 at 6:46 PM UTC

melancholicreator

pretending in unison

busy pitter patters of feet, at least pretending to be busy these humans, these flesh sacks, place their bags laptops their unconsciousness on this barnes & noble’s coffee tables whose chairs aren’t comfortable yet, here they sit, beside me amongst me and an old ancient, it seems now, version of me would’ve cursed them silently while pretending to associate to relate to give a **** for doing so, for raising my anxiety, for reflecting what i truly was, at least pretending to identify with that narrow window of my self some collide physically, cosmically, spiritually, intuitively, whatever the hell you brand it we all seek connection, always elsewhere, never with our miserable anxious selves and if we can’t connect we, at least pretend to do so much like our riddling iphones desperate for battery for a sort of charge for life elsewhere somewhere else anywhere else rather than within to be alone, amongst the crowds, without our phones, our books, our lovers, our seven dollar coffees, our ******* egg white breakfast sanwhiches almost as if these things are essential to the unsavory cravings and desires, or dare i say ourselves we pretend to work, to live we read, without reading we speak, without thinking, we speak, without speaking, “to be, or not to be.” we don’t care for intention anymore how could we? we’re just so un-fucking-phadomably busy doing nothing, at all just, pretending. -melanholicreator

79

Swamy Downey was passing by The table where SIRI was lecturing about love To her friends on a meal Suddenly, You know why Love is said to be the positive force? Asked Swamy Downey Because people buy iPhones For the love of Apple Replied SIRI Haughtily Thus spake Swamy Downey Love is composed of light It lights up the souls It removes darkness When darkness disappears You can see the right path

0

Feb 11, 2015

Feb 11, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC

gitacharya-vedala-1

Love is Light

Swamy Downey was passing by The table where SIRI was lecturing about love To her friends on a meal Suddenly, You know why Love is said to be the positive force? Asked Swamy Downey Because people buy iPhones For the love of Apple Replied SIRI Haughtily Thus spake Swamy Downey Love is composed of light It lights up the souls It removes darkness When darkness disappears You can see the right path

16

No one ever looks up unless they're desperate for someone to be looking down. From a secular point of view, the blue resembles passive disappointment, while ******** clad oaks scream at business on the sidewalks. Five-hundred dollar spectacles don't christen sin-wrought oxygen, pure, spring water is perfect as the grey sog seeping from the seams, benevolent ******* makes every trouble white sand and iPhones can only do so much for a borrowed morality. Bright eyes fade with the morning wind.

0

Dec 7, 2013

Dec 7, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC

nemo

a culture breathing through wide pupils and pretty youth

No one ever looks up unless they're desperate for someone to be looking down. From a secular point of view, the blue resembles passive disappointment, while ******** clad oaks scream at business on the sidewalks. Five-hundred dollar spectacles don't christen sin-wrought oxygen, pure, spring water is perfect as the grey sog seeping from the seams, benevolent ******* makes every trouble white sand and iPhones can only do so much for a borrowed morality. Bright eyes fade with the morning wind.

11

Pencil and paper turn into stylus and screen; our world is industrializing like we've never seen. Manufacturing products out left and right, and soon enough our prototypes will join in the fight. Are we possibly producing more than we can consume? Do we understand that technology could lead to our doom? Convenient, oh sure, as we just sit here and get fat. We have iPhones, and iPads, but no eye contact? The air is getting dirtier and unhealthier per day, and we believe the government when they say it's okay. Do we not realize how much harm we're actually doing, even though a better world is what we're pursuing?

0

Apr 29, 2016

Apr 29, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC

hawkspath

Industrialization

Pencil and paper turn into stylus and screen; our world is industrializing like we've never seen. Manufacturing products out left and right, and soon enough our prototypes will join in the fight. Are we possibly producing more than we can consume? Do we understand that technology could lead to our doom? Convenient, oh sure, as we just sit here and get fat. We have iPhones, and iPads, but no eye contact? The air is getting dirtier and unhealthier per day, and we believe the government when they say it's okay. Do we not realize how much harm we're actually doing, even though a better world is what we're pursuing?

12