"msn" poems
When I was a kid we played over the park
climbing trees, building tree houses
playing football, sometimes gutters
challenge strangers to a game
Tag, bulldog, hopscotch, pogs and more
paper ball fights, pillow fights, play fights
when I was a kid we made friends and stayed in touch
playing outside
When I was a teenager we played against our friends
websites, bebo, myspace, msn, yahoo, chatrooms
listened to new music, bands we never heard off
photos all the time plastering the web
when I was a teenager we played games like snake
trying to hold on to our child mind as we got older
In my early 20's, things changed
Myspace no more, we moved to Facebook
Selfies, more selfies and even more selfies
Youtube, Twitter, so many ways to make friends
stay in touch
Edging closer to late 20's
Snapchat, Instagram, Tinder, Whats app, Vine
so many ways to make friends
nearly 30 years, I've experienced so many ways to remain social
I miss those days, climbing the trees
because I could
running without a care in the world
no worries, to problems, favorite teachers, best friends
so many ways to be social
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
Robot Kills Man at Volkswagen Plant in Germany
"BERLIN — Automaker Volkswagen says a robot has killed a contractor at one of its production plants in Germany. A spokesman for VW says the man died Monday at the plant in Baunatal, about 100 kilometers (62 miles) north of Frankfurt. Heiko Hillwig said Wednesday the 22-year-old was part of a team that was setting up the robot when it grabbed and crushed him against a metal plate." (source MSN, 7/2/15)
It begins . . .
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
It’s all over Weak Man’s MySpace
(might as well be on the news),
it’s in his MSN name;
he has no face to lose.
He’s always been so open,
(worn his heart upon his sleeve);
up pops his Facebook status,
so emotional, every eve.
Then a phone call to his friends
(tears muffling the line).
After listening for hours,
the verdict is “It’s fine.”
His jury is so kind
(one sided sympathy).
They do the trick for Weak Man;
they are what sets him “free”
He looks through some old photos
(sunglasses and a smile)
turns up his brand new ipod,
reminisces for a while.
Up gets Weak Man from his chair,
Looks out his bay window,
and on his face a nice new grin,
who’s the strong man now?
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 6:10 PM UTC
I don’t toss or turn in bed,
or even snore at all
I don’t wake you when I rise
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I tell you that I love you
once I see your eyes are open
I let you shower first,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I clean the hairs in the sink,
put down the toilet seat,
place ***** clothes in the laundry
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I double-check the kids
make sure they’re all prepared
then hug them all goodbye
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I make your *** of coffee,
leave your keys where you can see,
let you leave the driveway first,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I have your picture on my wall
that makes me smile every time
You love that diamond wedding ring
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I call you at your job
just to see how you’re doing
and let you know when I’ll be home
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I pick up our kids from school,
give all their friends rides home,
collect all the groceries,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I tidy up our house
while their homework’s being done
Feed the fish, cat, dog, bird, snake, and tarantula,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
I let go of all my friends
that I talk to on AIM or MSN
Excited to hear you come in!
But still, I don’t cook dinner
I have the children wash their hands
as I set up the table
Also, I turn off the television,
but still, I don’t cook dinner
Everyone sits down to eat,
expecting a delightful treat
Suddenly you look at me and say,
“Hey, where’s the dinner?!”
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
When I was little I was scared of things like sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark.
And I once choked on a cookie while crying,
And my babysitter used to let me off of my groundings if I promised not to tell.
And my aunt used to put m&ms; at the bottom of my bowl of popcorn, and everytime I was surprised.
When I was little I loved Hilary Duff and Mary-Kate & Ashley
I owned all the movies and cds.
I wanted to be pretty and skinny and blonde.
I practiced my signature to look like Hilary's
And tried to smile like Ashley.
I named my dolls Mary-Kate.
I wanted to be them.
When I was little I saw ghosts.
I would sit on the steps and talk to them,
Discussing movies and my favorite tv shows and how badly I wanted an msn account.
And they followed me and taunted me but mostly they were nice so they were my friends.
Now Im a big girl and Im still scared of things like
Sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark
And I don't eat while I cry anymore, because I once choked on a cookie and my mom ignored me.
And I don't have a babysitter anymore, but I never leave my room anyways.
And my aunt doesn't surprise me anymore.
I'm a big girl now,
And I know that Mary-Kate was a drug addict,
And that Hilary had an eating disorder
And that I look bad blonde
And that Im neither pretty or skinny
And that my smile will never look like Ashleys.
I know that I have an awful signature.
And that all those girls were sick.
But now I'm sick
Does this mean Im finally like them?
I'm a big girl now,
And instead of Disney stars, I idolize girls on tumblr
With thigh gaps and long hair
And ribs that stick out
I want so badly to be them.
Im a big girl.
I still see ghosts, but they aren't friendly anymore.
They pull my hair and dig at my skin and whisper nasty things to me.
We talk about death and blood and how good it must feel to be so skinny
That you can lie on your back and count your ribs
One
By
One.
They aren't nice anymore, but they're still my friends.
I'm a big girl now.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Hello my name is Roffle La Mau, and I live on MSN.
Me and Lol were born with the internet, so we've only been round since then
Lol and I alwsay get looked at, whenever we're out in a crowd,
as I roll on the floor laughing my *** off, and he's busy laughing out loud
Aug 27, 2010
Aug 27, 2010 at 6:12 AM UTC
This poem I write for the love of my life, who is so far away,
I speak to you on MSN, but you are still not quite so real,
I write this one for you my love, I think of you every day,
If you were to speak to me, my love I could not conceal,
And yet still we speak every night, how I wish I could see your face,
I wish that I could hold you tight, and never let you go,
I wish for a miracle to happen, and that I am there lost in your embrace,
I wish that I could see you, whether in Paris or Bordeaux,
But still you are so far away, to far for me to reach,
I pray that you and I will be reunited someday,
Whether I am on a mountain, or lying on a sandy beach,
For us to be together my love, for that I always pray.
Aug 25, 2010
Aug 25, 2010 at 5:05 PM UTC
Cross the neighborhood,
There's our old school.
Full of memories.
Ones we all we all wish,
Would've lasted.
Great friends then,
enemies now.
Lovers turned strangers.
Decisions found regrets.
You & I,
We'd be friends forever,
'Till we got our shades, that is.
Which wasn't much time.
But in between,
Lays beauty in our childhood.
Sitting in my seat,
I turn 'round,
at the smiling thought of you.
Only to find your welcoming eyes.
We used to laugh together.
Send notes in French class past our strict teacher,
Love notes soon to be; as everyone thought.
The times when my co-worker was away,
and you took the shift
to work next to me,
play 'MASH',
and do our mischevious things.
The time when we went trick-or-treating,
and our parents made us take the (ahem, gruesome-looking) photo together.
The time we both got cast as the main characters in a play (where eventually we found out we'd possibly have to kiss.) You were cool with it.
The almost daily embarrassing time.
Once, we were walking in the hallways to class, eyes locked.
So into the conversation, I bumped into a table and dropped all of my books. (Well, it was in the middle of the hallways!!!) You helped.
The time we went on MSN just to see eachother.
The time you (somehow got hold of my number) called me for the first time:
The time my heart raced to pick up.
Seemed everyone was right.
The time we'd gone to a music concert.
The time we'd talk on breaks.
The time we'd have lunch together.
The time we held hands.
If I was a mind reader,
I'd know you're curious.
Wondering why it isn't so anymore.
So am I.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 10:24 AM UTC
Jack: as so many of us yearned to know him,
Still knocking down 90% approval ratings,
50+ years dead: we still approve.
Dallas recognizing the event . . .
Cue Etta James: At laaaaaaaaaaaaast . . .
The City of Big D,
Dallas in the Sixties,
Still wide open,
Still Wild-Wild West Wild,
Still string ties & Stetsons.
Hizzoner/Da Mayer–Now,
Recognizing the venue, at last.
Finally, it was time
To take ownership of the crime scene.
Non-stop memorial coverage,
On CNN and MSN, of course.
Fox, meanwhile,
Doing agribusiness updates;
This year’s Carolina turkey crop &
Wuzzup in the cranberry bogs?
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC
B.C 500 Child:Hey mama where is my flint? I couldnt find it...
Mother:Go inside to cave and search it must be under the stalactite
Child:Thanks mama...
After Christ 800 Young man: Hey mama where is my Crossbow?
Mother:You forgot again,open the chest its inside
Young man::Thanks mama
1800: A man:Hey mama where is my violin?
Mother:Search your cabinet ! its in it.
2000: Young girl:Mama where is my CD-player?
Mother: its under the table!
3000:Boy:Hey mom did you see invisible blanket?
Mother: You can use a powder to find it honey!
They are our best search engine but we dont know
Google,Yahoo,MSN cant find these ... They are our values...
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
Paradise painted on a wall, deceive
Media nation, the wall of sleep
Machine gun cut down wall of sheep
While my guitar violently weeps
MSN, CNN, Fox News
World Stage clues
Church is just a skeleton
We are all the aliens
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
I was going to read my friend’s play
during eighth period
I read the character’s page
then I saw Mike walk in…
and I got distracted
I was trying to do my equine homework
but MSN was on
and Mike was IMing me
I typed that there was work to do…
and I got distracted
Sitting in the senior lounge
I smell the French Toast
that they sell on Wednesdays
I try to pay attention
to what my friends are saying
but the delicious sweetness
wafts through to my nose
and I get distracted
FaceBook is an addiction
“you are a FaceBook *****
that’s me
I was doing my homework
on the computer
but there were ponies on FaceBook
and I got distracted
I try not to let it happen
I try to do my work
but there’s always that little detail
that catches my eye
and I get distracted.
talking to my friends
trying to have a serious conversation
never works
because I tune it out
and I get distracted
I sat down to think about
and write this poem
but I got… wait… what?
Aug 29, 2010
Aug 29, 2010 at 11:23 AM UTC
What doe's it talk to majesty a bit MSN cry?
How fast download the roast mist a MSN go
beforehand he really his gossip?
How management days mist a MSN present beforehand he films hid like storeys?
ALOT
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 6:45 PM UTC
It was the MSN message boards,
where I fell into accord
with a kind soul, known as Oscar.
Without him, I'd never have dared,
to venture out, my soul to share.
Writing of my tears and laughter.
Though, only seen upon a screen,
his words meant more, than it seems.
Encouraging me, in, writing verse.
His soft critiques and nice comments,
helping me to experiment.
Looking back, he really saw my worst.
Kind words for all who posted there,
we'd come from here and everywhere.
Gladly sharing a piece of ourselves.
Everyday, magically appeared,
the one I came so to revere.
Helping all to see within themselves.
His patience, humor and respect,
within my heart, I have kept.
With poetry, we formed a kinship.
I wouldn't be here, now, today,
writing in different forms and ways.
Had it not been for his friendship.
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 4:19 PM UTC
I miss you so much, my dear friend,
And though a hug you can not send,
Please write a poem and post to me,
On MSN, Facebook, or HP!
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 3:36 PM UTC
back in the day when msn was your ***** hipsters werent invented and you actually had friends that you hung out with...
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:23 AM UTC
https://goo.gl/5zvwbM, sometimes a song pulls me through, while i scope around the perfect internet use & presence, this thing (called the internet) seriously needs a navigator, we're on a ship, the skies are pitch-black, we need to find new constellations to navigate; what is the equivalent of constellations in this enormous pacific ocean? i guess each other; because you obviously don't remember the times of MSN messanger, or hot-mail chat rooms... boy it was anonymous then, now it graduated to an identity - basically all social media outlets, like this are complex versions of hot-mail chat rooms, the only defence in this realm is acute authenticity - conrad is my second name, i like joseph conrad thought my surname to be a bit boring.
i found that puberty ended mid-way
through my twenties,
when i could actually hide my second
chin behind rough ***** hair of
a beard - i guess when you're a man
it's not when you hit twenty and loose
the 'teen bit of your age - all the science
has proved that a complete ****** hair
acquirement happens in your mid-twenties.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
The rock
Guarding the passageway
The desert
The hot sun
We
Ran from the tyrant hiding
Down that road
I
Who know your papa
As a gentle soul
I
Who love you
As my own
Please
Please understand
To ****
May keep you alive somehow
But
It's not what makes you a msn
But really
Who can say
Tiny creatures everyone
Centuries
Over and over and over
Lovers
Mothers and fathers
In the sun
The rock
Grafiitti covered
For the football game
Guards the passageway
To the cafeteria
We have come a very long way
Going nowhere.
Lost and afraid
I remember your papa
He was a gentle man
I've always loved you
As my own
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
Wake up time/ by me..,,, Your statued liberty will collapse oh dire nation! For where is your station? On CNN or ABC? MSN turned TNT! Explosions to come, children will run to tower's of pure inferno! Mourn them, mourn you, for you shall have a box nailed next to theirs! Do you not scare? To witness evil dignities? For all pains turn pity to doped hallucinations! Clean out your ***** tracks you smoked up and cracked out! For terror and doubt will be men's own making! Sinful lust in the making! No not Hollywood, only misunderstood to anthem of star spangled sinner! Unloosen your chain's you slave to what is! Whats wrong !? Not hearing clearly? Potent venom will stricken the veins of rich and poor alike, where no love yet all strife will come with your new order! Form shut up your bowels the same as your borders, the bombs are bound to cross in!!! Nations split to perplexity! No smiling, all grins! Wake out of the dust you sleepy time dreamers, you new age and young pheners, you protest the wrong things! For you will be startled as a thief to the night! Its happening already! No Freddy Krueger story, no living, all deathly!!!tensionatic visions have been for told, for copper does not stay gold in a world to be swept!
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
Poet Man’s own words in fighting fame
The value of Novel Man that’s only a name
No need in being lame
But when it comes to writing appeal Poet Man and Novel Man have their own conceal
It seems Novel Man has words in his plan in enterprise
Yet they both have a pull of surprise
But there is a realize
But Poet Man is on alert
Words together don’t always flock together
Under the Keen eyes of Poet Man is a sentence watch
Yet Novel Man and Poet Man are ready for a match
But that might be more of catch
However on the other hand, Novel Man is stuck on fetch
Poet Msn on the case with streaming words
To Novel Man, have you heard?
Poet Man has the voice and emotion of choice
Novel Man of course has the subject matter
But back and forth, Poet Man and Novel Man are full of chatter
However, writings must continue on
Novel Man is concentrating, and at the same time in a yawn
Each were in their own writing to look upon
But one thought about each other in who was actually the best
Yet, just let the reader to be the one to confess
It seemed more like a competition being a test
Determination at that
However, time to continue to move on, but Poet Man and Novel Man were both talented beyond expectations
But with the combined efforts, they were writing in appreciation
Each in their own presentation with representation
Does association apply?
I see that you ask why
Writing can come in many forms
It’s just a matter of create and perform
But remember from a Poet’s standpoint, it’s the deep down emotion from a raging storm
No matter when and how
But Poet Man and Novel Man both using time allowed
Writing itself made both proud
Competition being a strong possibility
Along with that comes commitment and responsibility
No one loss nor won
It was a mission to prove that Poetry and general writing are all number one.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC