"nofilter" poems - Hello Poetry

Oh no, I didn'tstagram Don't want to share my selfies Don't want you to know what I ate last night Or what I did on Roofies I twitter at your followers And no, I won't "Follow you back" The only people I'll re-tweet, my dear Have all the things you lack Won't go in One Direction So hate on me, make a fuss Don't think they'll oust the Beatles Just because Harry does Oh, what's a SnapChat? Don't think I have that Oh wait a minute, I don't care Cos that app's neither here nor there Don't think I'll find an online mister Or reply to a "How about we.."? Yes, I'm cyber challenged So said my little sister Everyone's a super model But I mistrust Facebook photos You probably photo-shopped your flaws Or whitened your teeth with risottos #nofilter equals #somanyfilters Enough with all the fake Because in this unreal world This is more than I can take So, take a step back Post a candid shot Don't hang around for them likes Show them what you've really got Make it stop.

0

Jun 21, 2014

Jun 21, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC

Asunder

Inter-not

Oh no, I didn'tstagram Don't want to share my selfies Don't want you to know what I ate last night Or what I did on Roofies I twitter at your followers And no, I won't "Follow you back" The only people I'll re-tweet, my dear Have all the things you lack Won't go in One Direction So hate on me, make a fuss Don't think they'll oust the Beatles Just because Harry does Oh, what's a SnapChat? Don't think I have that Oh wait a minute, I don't care Cos that app's neither here nor there Don't think I'll find an online mister Or reply to a "How about we.."? Yes, I'm cyber challenged So said my little sister Everyone's a super model But I mistrust Facebook photos You probably photo-shopped your flaws Or whitened your teeth with risottos #nofilter equals #somanyfilters Enough with all the fake Because in this unreal world This is more than I can take So, take a step back Post a candid shot Don't hang around for them likes Show them what you've really got Make it stop.

33

The limited palette of the January riverbank, #nomakeup #nofilter just the burst capillaries and thread veins bare A tired earthy visage, still allures the blackbird and wren who never truly got the hang of saying when and feast past decency The idea is to recuperate and re-emerge fresh and green but truth seems more like this molasses mud that hold boots firm

0

Jan 3, 2022

Jan 3, 2022 at 9:24 AM UTC

drunkenkind

Socials

The limited palette of the January riverbank, #nomakeup #nofilter just the burst capillaries and thread veins bare A tired earthy visage, still allures the blackbird and wren who never truly got the hang of saying when and feast past decency The idea is to recuperate and re-emerge fresh and green but truth seems more like this molasses mud that hold boots firm

13

Remove my hands from my throat Let me escape the white inevitable screen Red upon blue wires strangles me Everyone else is already dead The white light ate them Split and obsessed with confirmation Impatient to get recognized Indistinguishable personalities judged by each other Because a heart per day keeps the Reaper away And hungry they wander the masses Brainless and forever starving Dissolving in their own expectations Layer upon layer they change, though, never evolve Eternally forgotten in themselves Who are they? Everyone alike Who am I? I fear; everyone alike

0

Jul 3, 2017

Jul 3, 2017 at 9:17 PM UTC

mikkel-mathiesen

#nofilter

Remove my hands from my throat Let me escape the white inevitable screen Red upon blue wires strangles me Everyone else is already dead The white light ate them Split and obsessed with confirmation Impatient to get recognized Indistinguishable personalities judged by each other Because a heart per day keeps the Reaper away And hungry they wander the masses Brainless and forever starving Dissolving in their own expectations Layer upon layer they change, though, never evolve Eternally forgotten in themselves Who are they? Everyone alike Who am I? I fear; everyone alike

18

I've always been bad at biting my tongue Since I was little everything seems to make its way past my teeth and my gums I think I've just always imagined the sting of rejection can't be as miserable as the tired agony of prolonged uncertainty This time I'm not so sure

0

Aug 6, 2013

Aug 6, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC

Unsentimental

#nofilter

I've always been bad at biting my tongue Since I was little everything seems to make its way past my teeth and my gums I think I've just always imagined the sting of rejection can't be as miserable as the tired agony of prolonged uncertainty This time I'm not so sure

7

Tooth stained catfish. Who wears depression like a badge of honour? Light brown hair downs your vile body as your ***** Yellow fingers rap on their already damaged window pains; Revealing broken nails and chipped varnish that barely covers your sins #Nofilter Cover up your dignit! Go validate yourself

0

Jan 23, 2020

Jan 23, 2020 at 10:14 AM UTC

jo-6

Ms Prufrock

Tooth stained catfish. Who wears depression like a badge of honour? Light brown hair downs your vile body as your ***** Yellow fingers rap on their already damaged window pains; Revealing broken nails and chipped varnish that barely covers your sins #Nofilter Cover up your dignit! Go validate yourself

7

The mind fills empty potential with ferocious fantastic notions noting naive possibility outside of future's foreboding But my image is quickly corroding, time's caustic nature instigating my painting's eroding and tainting the dreams I've been toting My illusive fantasy simply couldn't be, a fairly farce future that reality couldn't see, but I pressed for it so impolitely, now it revisits me nightly I know it's rightly dangerous thinking of things that might be but they push they're way inside me slightly slipping and sinking into my mind despite me fighting and frightfully trying to hold on tightly, Now I permanently face the incessant resurrection of my psyche's insurrection to reality's lackluster perception of this painting's perfection I never should have pursued this crude gesture I painted of her **** not of her body but of her thoughts, though maybe just as lewd, I expected them to be profound and without interlude but these are facts of existence the universe didn't include I wrongly thought of her as a partner for gleaning the meaning of particles and their organized convening to allow the formation of conscious beings But she already found her specific god of speculation, he has an appropriate deprecation of false idolization, I thought it was simply healthy appreciation, sadly after an eternity of intense anticipation I was met with the realization that she couldn't be the deity of my imagination, she couldn't understand my late night cogitation, much less save me from my suicide ideation, No one could, No one can, And it would be selfish for me to wish this loneliness on another soul, for me to expect anyone to fill that role.

0

Nov 1, 2018

Nov 1, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC

Dom13013

#nofilter

The mind fills empty potential with ferocious fantastic notions noting naive possibility outside of future's foreboding But my image is quickly corroding, time's caustic nature instigating my painting's eroding and tainting the dreams I've been toting My illusive fantasy simply couldn't be, a fairly farce future that reality couldn't see, but I pressed for it so impolitely, now it revisits me nightly I know it's rightly dangerous thinking of things that might be but they push they're way inside me slightly slipping and sinking into my mind despite me fighting and frightfully trying to hold on tightly, Now I permanently face the incessant resurrection of my psyche's insurrection to reality's lackluster perception of this painting's perfection I never should have pursued this crude gesture I painted of her **** not of her body but of her thoughts, though maybe just as lewd, I expected them to be profound and without interlude but these are facts of existence the universe didn't include I wrongly thought of her as a partner for gleaning the meaning of particles and their organized convening to allow the formation of conscious beings But she already found her specific god of speculation, he has an appropriate deprecation of false idolization, I thought it was simply healthy appreciation, sadly after an eternity of intense anticipation I was met with the realization that she couldn't be the deity of my imagination, she couldn't understand my late night cogitation, much less save me from my suicide ideation, No one could, No one can, And it would be selfish for me to wish this loneliness on another soul, for me to expect anyone to fill that role.

11