"newsfeed" poems
Scroll through the newsfeed
that feeds anything but your
starving human soul.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
I’ve never quite lived up to the expectations
that bombard every millennial these days,
the ones knocking and gnawing at my skin
until they find their way in
and search through each crevice in my brain
until they find the right residence to lay their bed
and plant the insecurities that end up
destroying my self-confidence
and gifting me with the inability to succeed
until I have to scrape every piece of residue from the inside-out
just to get myself to a place where I can breathe again.
Yeah, I don’t let those in anymore.
I’ve always been a little bit of a question mark,
a strange child who danced to my own beat,
even when I tried to walk in time with those surrounding,
and there is a small piece of me that -
when a new life event of someone my age
visits my newsfeed -
wants the same, tired story for my own life...
and then I remember
I wasn’t made for this.
Sometimes
I’m not sure what I was made for anymore,
and I just keep waiting and waiting
until it’s my time to be on my own,
or catch my heart on fire,
or simply take a step forward,
and, yet, it
never
happens.
There are things I know about myself
that I will never explain,
and I shouldn’t have to.
I have a key-shaped hole in my soul
that aches to find its perfect fit,
but I’m not allowed to twist it yet,
though my fist has been ready for years,
and all I can do in the meantime
when someone asks me
why
is answer with one simple phrase
that stings each time it passes through my lips:
It’s not my time yet.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 6:06 PM UTC
Look around,
You will find all eyes down;
some expressionless,
some desperate,
and few smiling!
Both tiny and fatty thumbs
yearning for a rest,
after typing those texts.
Some consulting the Doc
for having a smartphone thumb
and some for lacking vitamin D!
Posts wanting more and more likes.
Kilograms of followers on Instagram!
Swapping stories on Whatsapp!
Unopened notebooks
when you have a Facebook!
Television screens consigned to oblivion
when you have a Youtube!
Discovering the veiled world,
missing the real scenes around.
Emoticons spreading fake feelings,
Stupefying infants swiping through the screens,
Kids imploring to their parents-
To drag out the patterns.
What is more satisfying?
Hitting play button on the screen or
Hitting a six on the field?
Carting products online or
Shopping on a girls day out?
Dribbling a basket ball or
Dragging down the newsfeed?
Watching daily soaps without a dish or
Helping your mother out to wash the dish?
Sharing the snaps of poverty and hunger or
Reaching out to them with eager?
A game of candy crush or
Gifting a candy to your crush?
I feel like whooping out to myself
and to people around;
To raise their heads and
Look around!
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
kleptomaniac wearing thin
boots of ice and maggot flesh,
young in mind and old in body,
young in mind and old in *****
old in mind and young in *****
-body.. no boddhisatva, just a
***** to the whistle. not so much
as if a choice, only something notified
on the newsfeed amongst a horde of
cleavage photographed by paid
professionals as breast-feeding has
no sex-appeal. whoever I think I am,
thank you.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
insidious newsfeed.
apathetic "like"
(I guess they're getting married.)
assessing my worth
'friend' counts and Klout scores.
modify your post to be pleasant,
as to 'dislike' something
deems it unworthy of notice.
"Just got arrested, #lol-- free breakfast."
We are becoming a collective
of aging selfies and
isolated narcissists.
dissociative culture.
I am desensitized to my own
most precious moments
and have condensed their value
into how many people
care enough to click a button.
blending into the numbers
we are in the back seat of our own lives
and our weekly web-content
is drunk behind the wheel.
You don't need a machine
or the internet
to tell you
you're anything less
than beautiful
and a star,
inside and
out.
-r0
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
People come into your life as
Quickly as they come, never
Staying for long there are
Cases where they do stay,
Your closest friends, your
Best friends, your loved
Ones
But others just disappear and
Leave completely, dropping out
Of your life never talking to you
Again, lost connections of how
You became friends, the shared
Stories, secrets, good times
And memories. All you have now
Is seeing random Facebook
Statuses of you with new
Friends or Instagram selfies
With tons of new people
Do you remember us being
Friends?
If I sent a text, a message
Anything would you answer?
Would you talk to me again?
If I done wrong can I right it?
Can we be friends again?
Or am I just a random Facebook
Status popping on your newsfeed
And nothing else
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
after years of being told how good my body was
i went through puberty.
after years of being asked how much time i spent at the gym
i grew hips
and disconcerting looks from grown men who thought my fifteen year old thighs were too thick to be sexualized.
after years of wearing sundresses
and being applauded for being the first girl in my grade to grow *****
my metabolism slowed down
and i was made to feel like a cowbell in the least practical sense of the word.
i was thirteen and hunched over a porcelain toilet bowl when i told my friend i had purged and she called me gross as if it wasn't because of feeling "gross" that i was there to begin with.
and i'd grown used to my good-gened friends with their tiny waists and size 32 jeans telling me they wanted to join a gym in hopes i'd run along and lose some weight.
because when i was 13 and weighed little enough to turn heads i felt empty while looking whole.
and when you're fat you can't have an eating disorder, because illness can be seen so how good of a job my ana was doing depended solely on how faint i felt by midday.
in a world where nobody buys magazines it's easy to pretend we don't care for skinny bodies anymore, but when every smartphone is linked to an instagram page and every newsfeed is filled with "slim thick baddies" you can't help but wonder.
if i were to feel physically full why am i so empty?
i cheated myself.
she probably went and cheated on me because my body wasn't slim-thick enough to eat.
and it's easy to say this doesn't apply to me when you see the pictures on the beach but you don't see me scrolling through pinterest at 2 in the morning looking at "How To Lose 10 kgs in 3 Days" posts.
if i were so lucky i'd be a success story and could probably post before and after pictures of my body but you can not hear the ache in my belly screaming at me that it'd rather just be cut off.
when i was fourteen i could no longer wear shorts in public because grown men with wives would turn and watch my thighs clip-clap together as i walked with my dad.
i was asking for it.
i resented summer and the fact that i'd run out of clean pairs of jeans to sweat in.
but if i dare love myself, what then? do i apologise to the girlfriends of the boys who visit me for coffee? do i drink coke light with my whiskey? do i start writing poetry?
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Why do we ignore all these spoken words?
We've had
poets,
rappers,
artists,
and actors
*tell us as
it were.*
*Now I, myself, have spit one or two verse
and I need to let you know* I will be heard.
You call for a social media blackout and
there they sit thinking, " How absurd!"
But when it comes down to it
what do you do when there is
no reaction to your tear-filled words?
Is it because we have adapted to being so passive,
when there's **** murders, lynchings, and theft*
we just take it in passing?
Or is it because we can look the other way,
when the hands of a white man
take the life of a different ethnicity away?
Is it in relation to power?
*We close our eyes
and pray.*
But where is the action
for justice in this final hour?
What is it that you do to help this land?
Other than observe and comment snidely
on your fellow man?
It is no tragedy for a loss of life?
While you ponder your "newsfeed"
via social media
via your Iphone
via your wifi
....
Consider the point when you lost touch with real life.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
Labotomize these thumbs,
they scroll more than they strum.
I don't mean to be dumb,
but I can't respond back so I hum,
and you won't hear me.
No, you can't see the words that I write.
I'm sure you'd only
be tickled,
If you knew that I think of you all night.
Because I can't sleep, love.
And I can only touch me right,
Yeah, that's right.
Just me, love.
Hope I can keep up with this fight.
And I know you don't really care,
and you haven't got some spare
feelings left to share
and if there are, they're barely there.
So drop the pity,
I'm mad you got to hear me whine.
How unsexy.
I'm supposed to just be doing fine.
I'll compartmentalize,
put it in a box and tie it with twine.
while you're liking every post of mine.
I'll compartmentalize.
While I reread your every line.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 8:08 PM UTC
25...
When you were a kid you thought that you would be married by now
Have it all figured out
The career
The home
The car
The kids
Now you're here and holy ****
Do we ever really figure it out?
Adulting is hard
Your Facebook feed is filling up with engagements and baby announcements
but your reading the newsfeed in the liquor isle of Safeway
Beer or wine tonight? Hmm maybe *****
"Psh who wants to be a boring married couple"
That's what you think to yourself
Trying to convince yourself that it's okay
Drown out that little voice in your head saying "you're gonna be alone forever"
It's like walking on a tightrope
One side you have it together and the other side you still might as well be that 21 year old college student ordering shots at the bar
If someone has this figured out- hit a homie up
Until then, I'm just doing me and I guess I'm doing fine
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:30 AM UTC
Blessed be the civil war
brewing in the newsfeed
I just hope both teams
have fun
If it’s not our bodies tryna **** us,
It’s confirmation bias
with a gun
Cause we live in a society
stranger than satire
Doomscrollin’ infinity
For the next dumpster fire
If all the world’s a stage
Then my anxiety
is a crisis actor
When all the world’s enraged
I’m screamin’ CLASS WAR
in the theater
Blessed be these antidepressants
With side effects like
suicidal ideation
Heaven left all thoughts and prayers on read
Now thats what I call
getting holy ghosted
Full send to divine abandonment
In a digital sea
of arrogance
Your favorite God is smashing
The laugh reaction
While the body count rises
Achievement unlocked: death to empathy
Is this ******* play about us
Or are we all just NPC?
Cursed with Main Character Syndrome,
Glitching out behind the scenes-
playing the victim
Is the origin of your villain
Cause we live in a society
Stranger than satire
Doomscrollin’ infinity
For the next dumpster fire
Just to tell everyone you’ve been enlightened
Feb 16, 2023
Feb 16, 2023 at 2:07 AM UTC
I miss being on ur Page.
I miss the tags.
I miss u on my newsfeed.
I jus miss us.
I guess im used to it now.
Iv missed it so much..
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
Look how I care
Look how I pour
Look at what I share
Look how there's more
Look at the newsfeed
Look at internet ******
Look how people breed
Look at ISIS gore
Look at mirrors
Look for new wars
Look beyond years
Look at the poor
Look for your peers
Look inside drawers
Look behind you
Look down at the floor
Look nothing's new
Look at the front door
Look for the parts
Look inside your
Looking-glass heart
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
i wanna be a ******* superstar
on the late night news.
i want front page all to myself;
an old-fashioned penny-dreadful
surrounded by fairytales,
and auto-accidents!
i wanna pop up on that ********
newsfeed.
beauty is pain, not old-age like
the morgue extras. so lacerate my
ugly face, force lead wishes
into my skin like botox for prey,
and draw up my modeling contract
where i fall…
i wanna be the femme-fatale
that no-one wanted to save…
the star he couldn’t bare
to finish… the star he
meant to make me in to.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
You see and then connect
From rebound to rebound, it’s all in your head
these broken souls, and misfortunate events
are completely suppressed, once you take them to bed
trapped in a body of sinful debt
the beast accepts weak minds, cash and credit
The walk of shame has evolved into respect
Pictures of every person that has touched your lips
crowds your newsfeed
just like your esteem
Because a connection now is nothing more than
false affection, redirection, and copious rejection
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
i never wanted to be one of those girls who ******* about their ex
and i guess i'm still not
because we were never even in a relationship
you asked
i said no
because you were weird
and kinda creepy
and obnoxious
and you hated me
for a really
long
time
afterward...
but
you have always
made sure
whenever you
you got into a relationship
to text me
and let me know
that SOMEONE wanted you
and every time
i tell you
i don't give
a ****
at that moment, it's true.
but when you burst through my newsfeed on facebook
like someone exploded a firecracker in my face
rather indecorously
and i scroll through all your pictures
with that girl you claim to love so much
in all sorts of cute, make-me-puke positions
i feel really
alone
and like i'm the one
who was unwanted.
i don't really know if i regret my decision...
you seemed to get
un-weird
as time went on
and admittedly,
hotter...
i guess i am not jealous
in the sense that i want you
but in the sense that i want what you have...
Tim,
i somehow feel jipped by you
cheated
used
left for dead
even though
i am the one
who rejected you
for something better
i am the one
who is still
alone...
karma is
the worst of *******
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
i am the 1 am drunk text
i am the family pictures popping up on your newsfeed
i am the polaroid at the bottom of your desk drawer
i am the modern baseball song that you can't seem to skip
i am the candy wrappers in your car door
i am the cd stuck in your car radio that is just me singing a song i never should have written for you
i am the way a dorm room bed is always just big enough
i am the draft of a poem that was never just right
and
you are the space between the lines of the poems that aren't fixing anything
you are the dried up corsage in the back of my closet
you are the third step on the stairs into the basement where i swear i can still see stains of mascara on the carpet from november 8, 2015
you are the post card i never sent
you are the post card i sent but never should have
you are the phone calls i can't make
you are the nightmares i have where we are both running from something not clear to us
now that i've set the scene are you sure you want to delete your audition tape?
are you sure that your first try was good enough?
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC
She felt a pang in the pit of her stomach
Like getting punched hard in the gut
Because there was his picture in her newsfeed
Again smiling at the camera like he used to
Smile only for her
Six months, seven months, ten months gone
It's stupid and pointless to miss him.
Like the Ring of Fire he won't be back
In this life time even though she never
Even got a deep look at him
But loath curse love those firsts
Those scars that fade with time
But never totally disappear
Even when no one else can see them
They'll always be there
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC
let me be her
that girl;
the one you have to block from your newsfeed because even the sight of me; even the thought that I still walk around unfazed burns your skin
I wanna be that girl that you see walking on Queen West and think:
“that will be the girl I starve myself for”
I strive to be that girl who tears out all your organs and pickles them in jars,
your kidneys and spleen and gall bladder –
and shelves them on display for all to see
“these are all the hearts I’ve stolen
are you sure you want to climb into my bed?”
I am that girl whose shampoo you buy and sniff in between gulps of Jameson
I am the girl whose grin makes your bones shatter
I am the girl whose eyes make your whole body dissolve into a river,
and then you’re swept away by my laughter
finally I’ll get to be the one who ruins all your favourite places for you
I’ll be the one who makes you put barriers up, guards and gates around your heart to prevent its inevitable breakage
I’ll get to be that girl who makes you weep at the thought of anyone else loving you
I will be her
that is my goal
I don’t want to be that girl who extends her pinky and then her hand and then her arm and then is thrown forward into your arms and is held by no one when you leave
I can’t be that girl who spins tales of you and me and my cousin’s wedding or you and me, doing the lap dance from Death Proof for you, or you and me smiling for a picture in front of an aquarium with the hashtag #thisguy
I am no longer that girl who becomes a ghost when you don’t say a word to me
I am not that girl who tells you how cute you are and how ******* smiley I am when I see you
I am not that girl who gets left
no,
this time:
I get to disappear
I get to walk away and leave you for an Asian guy (girl)
I get to unfollow you on Instagram because looking at pictures of you at the ocean makes me feel guilty
I get to be pretend that I am unharmed;
that I lit the fire but I’m not becoming ashes
I get to have people tell me they want to take me out for coffee, or sit by the water, or hold my hand at that ******* aquarium
I’m that girl now –
her:
the one your fear most
because I am
a caterpillar,
a peacock,
a fox,
and you are the forest floor,
and the desert sand,
and the thinnest branch,
and I will walk all over
and break you.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
Litrato mo na ba ang susunod kong makikita?
Hawak ang kamay nya,
may ligaya sa ngiti mo habang inaalalayan sya papalabas ng dambana?
Larawan niyo na ba ang susunod kong makikita sa newsfeed ng aking social media?
Ang umani ng maraming likes at puso galing sa iba?
Larawan niyo na ang susunod kong makikita,
magkalapat ang mga labi at marahang pinikit ang mga mata.
Larawan nyo na ba? Ang susunod kong makikita sa primary nyo tuwing lilitaw ang mga pangalan nyo.
Larawan nyo na ba?
Ang magpapaalala sakin ang sarap magmahal,
kapag sya ang kasama kasi pinaglaban mo sya,
na parang sya lang ang mimahal mo ng ganyan.
Bibilang din ba ako ng isa,
dalawa,
tatlo.
Hangang makarating ako saan?
Ilan?
Sabihin mo, hanggang ilan?
Hanggang kelan?
Hindi ako magaling sa numero tulad nya dahil yun ang propesyon nya, pero alam ko..
Hindi natatapos ang numero at kung matatapos man,
hindi ako sigurado kung kelan.
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
I think about meditation, positivity,
and breathing my worries away.
I think of opening the blinds
to see a monk on fire
so I pick up a pen and write instead.
I think about the birds out my window
and feel the earth shake as they
fly for higher ground.
I think of students picking
one path to fly and die on
Then I think about the value of money
and what it's really worth
I think about comfort and security
then I think of a prison made of meridian sofas
and melted credit cards.
I think about getting wasted.
I think of social networking
dissociative isolation
and aging narcissism.
I think about the homeless man
and his house made of boxes
outside of NPR's building
"This American Life."
I think of turning up the noise
and smoking an 8th of ****
I think about the magnitude of our universe.
I think about *** and image.
I think about power and guns.
I think about how blind we’ve
allowed ourselves to be.
then I think of how I can condense these thoughts
into a single sentence so it holds
your
fleeting
attention
amidst
a
*******
newsfeed
I think about it
I do
That you should start to think too
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
I'll often go on Facebook
to while away the time
my friends are there,
we have a laugh
share music, pics and "smiles"
but lately things are changing
there's trouble in the air
with ugly hearted bigots
posting hatred everywhere.
I will not hate my fellow man
how ever hard they try
I really couldn't give a ****
if the blushing bride's a guy!
I will not fear a Muslim,
nor any other creed
they're not all bad, they're not all good
They've done nothing to me
So a word to all you fascists
please take your evil deeds
and stick them where the sun don't shine
not on my newsfeed!
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
I'm constantly lamenting zero notifications on the newsfeed because I live in Plato's cave as nothing but a living shadow. I never see myself being happy, just euphoric, and the difference is an obvious jut between the peaceful Bodhisatva making eternity his home in the calm moon-lit night of China-like hills in Oregon, and ****** pressed into a varicose vein and kablam, hello peace. Hello, peace.
I'd say I'm manic. As in I'm elastic, and life makes my brain muscle so ******* spastic, I can't help but wonder if I've wandered to far into the realm of happy-sadness because everything I do is spoken word in ad lib, I'm not so sure about this
self-help stuff, this
self-improvement, the idea is soothing, but I think I was late to whatever point was made in its benefit
*** I still feel sad, and that's it.
and somebody telling me how to feel good just makes me feel worse *** why don't I feel real? why does it feel like everything I do is a near-life experience, I'm just waiting to wake up and as far as I can tell, it's the same as waiting to die-- I'm not trying to be depressing.
I'm just looking for the lesson to lessen the mess on the desk of my head.. cluttered with butter, shattered and muttering my final dictates to whatever half of me knows it's all okay forever and ever.
I'm still in love with everyone I ever said I was, I try to pretend her blood-soaked departure isn't the reason I fake a British accent at parties to make myself seem more attractive to everyone including myself, but who am
I
kidding?
what kind of trick is it to wear this mitten, even if I admit it and it's just a part of me indulging in the holy trinity of my father, my son, and the holy ghost.. who IS the holy ghost?
I'm the holy ghost because I have never met myself beyond mirrors and photographs and it's not quite the same as the way I knew you. I know all of you better than I know myself.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
We get it ok,
You're "in love"
Whatever that means,
Flamboyantly displaying PDA across my Facebook newsfeed,
Great,
For you,
But seriously,
Give me a break,
For I got no arm to hold, no kiss to have, no compliments to receive,
Or a "Baby I miss you,"
Yeah that's not for me,
I watch it everyday and wonder why I'm not this way,
Probably because the rhythms in my heart are not as dysfunctional,
I can get on without a "I love you"
For that's like ropes or more like chains on my ankles,
But I don't mind waiting…
Just tired of watching of every so called friend fall to love,
When I'm resistant to all it's evils,
Maybe because I know how evil it can really be,
How attachment strikes the heart and turns a person into one neurotic zombie,
Barely even living,
I say life alone is more worth preserving,
And heartbreak is not worth having,
I feel more easy to breath with just me
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 10:15 AM UTC
You and me,
what do we see?
Is it just a newsfeed,
or a platform from which I can speak?
Or a healthy host to spread disease?
Or something inconvenient like a nosebleed?
I should be reading about Meiosis,
or following a dream.
But I'm here at this desk
staring at this screen.
And I'm blank
and in pain,
and totally not serene.
Is it okay to not know what I mean?
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC