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Yenson Sep 2018
Cyberbullies get a perverse sense of satisfaction (called gratification) from sending people inflamed materials, hate mail or fabricated poems taunting ot designed to torment. Inflammable materials or poems are writings whose contents are designed to inflame and enrage. Hate writing is hatred or obtuse poetries (including prejudice, racism, sexism or thinly disguised personal references or insinuations etc) in a poetry.

Serial bullies, whose behaviour profile you'll find in full at Bully OnLine, harbour a lot of internal aggression which they direct at others. This may include projection, false criticism and patronising sarcasm whilst contributing nothing of any value. It may also include a common tactic of "a number of people have emailed me backchannel to agree with me". This is standard bully-speak which I've experienced on several forums. In every case it's a fabrication or a distortion - usually the former. It's also a variant of the serial bully headteacher who says "a number of parents have complained to me about you...". When challenged, the identity of the alleged complainants can't be disclosed because it's "confidential". The purpose of this tactic is to wind people up. Don't be fooled into believing it has any validity - it doesn't.

People who bully are adept at creating conflict between those who would otherwise pool negative information about them. The method of creating conflict is provocation which bullies delight in because they know they can always coerce at least one person to respond in a manner which can then be distorted and used to further flame and inflame people. And so it goes on. The bully then sits back and gains gratification from seeing others engage in destructive behaviour towards each other.

Many serial bullies are also serial attention-seekers. More than anything else they want attention. It doesn't matter what type of attention they get, positive or negative, as long as they can provoke someone into paying them attention. It's like a 2-year-old child throwing a tantrum to get attention from a parent. The best way to treat bullies is to refuse to respond and to refuse to engage them - which they really hate. In other words, do not reply to their postings, and on forums carry on posting without reference to their postings as if they didn't exist. In other words, treat nobodies as nobodies.

The anger of a serial bully is especially apparent when they come across someone who can see through them to espy the weak, inadequate, immature, dysfunctional aggressive individual behind the mask. For instance, when serial bullies see themselves described at workbully/serial.htm they usually send me an abusive email.

The objectives of bullies are Power, Control, *******, Subjugation. They get a kick out of seeing you react. It doesn't matter how you react, the fact they've successful provoked a reaction is, to the bully, a sign that their attempt at control have been successful. After that, it's a question of wearing you down. The more your try to explain, negotiate, conciliate, etc the more gratification they obtain from your increasingly desperate attempts to communicate with them. Understand that it is not possible to communicate in a mature adult manner with a disordered individual who's emotionally *******.

The Number One rule for dealing with this type of behaviour is: don't respond, don't interact and don't engage. This is not as easy to do as it sounds. It's a natural response to want to defend yourself, and to put the person right. However, never argue with a serial bully; it's not a mature adult discussion, but like dealing with a child or immature teenager; whilst the serial bully may be an adult on the outside, on the inside they are like a child who's never grown up - and probably never will. Serial bullies and harassers often have disordered thinking patterns and do not share the same thoughts or values as you.

Although you may be the target of the cyberbully's anger, you can train yourself to act as an observer. This takes you out of the firing line and enables you to study the perpetrator and collect evidence.

When people use bullying behaviours they project their own weaknesses, failings and shortcomings on to others. In other words, they are telling you about themselves by fabricating an accusation based on something they themselves have done wrong. Whenever you receive a flame mail or hate mail, train yourself to instinctively ask the question, "What is this person revealing about themselves this time?"
Jack R Fehlmann Sep 2021
Yes! Given access
Yet again.
I've wanted or more so
Needed
This. An outlet.
Somewhere to place the emotions
Kept, felt, endured and enduring.
A place of thought and introspection.
For I live.  
In itself meaning highs and lows
Felt and known.
Sharing.
Poetic postings
GGA Dec 2014
Tilted heads stare into spaces.
Tilted heads around dinner tables.
Tilted heads walking down city streets.
Tilted heads as they walk on the beach.

Sitting side by side in street cafes.
Searching postings of weekend retreats.
Never bothered by voices expressed.
Self-absorbed and consumed but never suppressed.

Over-share meals, feelings, and pangs,
GPS tells us your when and your where.
Pictures in mirrors, duck lipped eyes wide.
Never a moment too private, declared!

Be well, be good, and please keep in touch.
Juliana Jun 2013
This is the machine.

Tucked under necklaces, poppies and daffodils
calligraphic fingertip Xs
hurry across pockets.
Thursday morning job postings
markers on construction paper windows
exhausted by making parts.
Keep weddings in thunderstorms
to hide the sound of windmills in chests,
bittersweet directions to ticking clockwork.
Carbonated water can’t convince summer to stay,
musical breaths and tulip footsteps
remind me of the gears in my knees.
Always buy wallets used
daylily bank notes folded into stairwells,
the heels of my socks.
Blue collars in ochre wheelbarrows
soaking next to the white ones.

We are quiet machines.

With cogs in our wrists
battery powered bone and sinew.
Baby’s breath white in our hair,
tiny bunches piled into collar bones or concave stomachs.
You have stars in your hair
whispering in manufactured voices
to pull out your eyelashes.
Consumed by the concept of concepts
on ravine park benches,
marred with newspaper labyrinths
smelling of rolled up sleeves.
Hand held gummy bears
prompt me to check my fluid levels,
bubbly orchids in my left palm.
Sugar intakes and patterned pants
hide homemade pulses.

This is the machine.
Bunhead17 Jan 2016
Really..?  R or Top hat or Woody or James
who ever you really are.
.........
r commented on my poem ''Poetry'' and said....
''I don't usually respond to children or little nuts that fall from an oak tree, but since you addressed me specifically, I will. You are apparently clueless about the true character of your daddy woof. If you want to be a little fly buzzing around his piles of Chihuahua crap that he calls poetry, feel free. Leave me out of your juvenile postings.  You don't know me fallen acorn, so I choose not to respond.''
....................
You blocked me, cause I called you out and you knew that I was going to respond to your comment.
You called me a child, I'm 16 and I'm way more matture than you...
hint hint: fallen acorn..... Really...? Come on r you could have done better than that. Thats was corny and so unoriginal. :)
I really wasn't trying to get involved with this. But I was going to defend my friend and let you know what was good.
........I'm leave it right here. But come at me again and we (just me and you) are going to have some really big problems. <--thats not a threat either...its a promise that I intend on keeping.
I'm sorry guys. but this is my mood. I'm not trying to be hateful or anything...just trying to calm down.
Krystal Keith Oct 2014
I logged onto the free WiFi from a bathroom stall, to find information regarding the class I was to attend in half an hour. I found contradictory information between the contents of my backpack and postings on the internet. Now I am unsure of where to go or what to do. Now I don't want to leave this stall at all. I put on my **** it up pants today. Now I cant convince them to button and zip.
SUSAN EAPEN Sep 2012
O God ! O God! Why have you forsaken me?
Shepherds slaughter the fattest sheep.
They join and plot and mark the victim for their feast.
They have but one aim, to please the high priest,
Get postings to pastures with the wealthiest sheep.

We are special claim they and we
Are anointed by Jesus and stand for him
Beware of our powers which exceed the bomb
Our curses cause damnation fore'er

Afraid of the trappings, frightened by the robes
And stories of punishments to disobedient sheep
We cower in fear while they revel and plunge
Their knives and forks into our hearts for their feast

Organized religion has killed our faith
Yet we remember how You were slain
By organized religion which was the same then
As it is now
And repeat your cry
O Father,why have you forsaken me?
I have tried to live in your presence
And be honest in everything
I have put my trust in Your priests and Your Church
Only to find
That they
Secretly mock and plan to slaughter us
To fatten themselves.

Should I pray- curse them to eternal poverty
Of Spirit and temporal wealth
Let them wander in hunger
Till they realize
That they live with pigs

But Your way Lord
Is to forgive
And pray- 'Forgive them, for they do not know what they do'.
Help me, give me strength
to conquer my weak mind and ego
And forgive, and pray.
Rockie Feb 2015
Not too long ago,
Facebook and Twitter and other Social Networks
All seemed a novelty
A truce amongst unimaginative
Teens and kids and adults too

Whatever happened
To romantic paper printed notes
The blotched ink that actually meant something

Now it is loveless postings
And fake marriages
And fake relationships

This is all thanks
To the brain-cell killing
'Media'
Well it's true, isn't it?
SøułSurvivør Jul 2016
I'm not a perfect person
I still have rough-edged vice
Although I've sought and I've been bought
By the Lord Jesus Christ

On my last poetry venue
I was sure a geek
I made many enemies
On the website Poetfreak

I was green as new-mown grass
On the internet
I also dropped my med therapy
Was as crazy as it gets

I posted several poems
Of suicidal bent
Not one person commented
Not one message sent

So I said I was in hospital
For suicidal thoughts
I even had an alias
Who said that I was caught

In a cycle of depression
That I needed help
I needed people loving me
Yes. I did this in stealth

Then I felt so guilty
That shame had so much clout
I posted an exposé of what I'd done
So the truth would come out

Most people were quite good and kind
They understood my pain
But some were mean and hateful
And my guilt remained

So I made another alias
His name was Steelrelease
I wanted for to be a man
So I'd have respect at least

And boy did that become the case!
You know how males are
They respect their stronger ***
It looked like I'd go far

But there were flies in that ointment
As it did ensue
I became so popular
The women liked me TOO!

I met a little teenager
Who was suicidal
A little waif of a girl
And I could not be idle

And so I befriended her
I had her full respect
I should have known the outcome
Due to my male ***

When I did discover
What she began to feel
I could no longer lie to her
And so the truth revealed

Again some stayed by me
For they understood
But others were quite vicious
In that poetic neighborhood

I knew that I would never have
Chances to write free
So I made up other avatars
Other people I could be

Again and again I was found out
And I became blamed
There was a poet "Lucifer"
Who thought I should be shamed

He made several postings
Detailing my sins
Had many of his own
But poets he did win

Though I was repentant
He hounded me no end
I tried to get away from him
But he posted again

Then all of a sudden
Some ****** SPAM APPEARED!
Under my own avatar
It was very weird!

Somebody had hacked me
And posted that foul spam!
I know I didn't post it
FOR I KNOW WHO I AM!

I guess it didn't matter
That I posted again
That I had not done it
But that poem did not trend
It really mattered not
I tried to make amends

I had written poems
For poets on that site
No less than 50 people
Got a special write

I did not do that out of guilt
For I found that I enjoyed
The gratitude of people
From my work so employed

In the end I left Poetfreak
For he kept up his stuff
Lucifer was ruthless
And I had had enough.

So that is my story
I have now come clean
Some folks are unforgiving
Some folks are downright mean.

But I was in the wrong, you see
So they still laid claim
To my very character
They still rail and blame

Here on this good website
I'm friend to age and youth
I don't do what I did before
And I tell the truth

But you all know that there is talk
By a crazy one
That I still have aliases
In many minds has won

I don't support this person
But neither do I blame
He is bold and he's a troll
But he's totally insane.

Please forgive me people
I want for you to know
Now I am quite honest
Wherever I go

I am a minded writer
And I am a part
Of the HP community
And I have a HEART!

So can you have compassion?
I want for you to see
I have a arranged to be so changed

Please folks. Forgive me.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/8/2016
Now I've come clean. Everything I said about it is true. Now. Can people start owning up to their own stuff? Please?!!
That's the only way this other situation on the site of Hello Poetry is ever going to change. It is only when people start to assess their own faults that they can see they don't have a leg to stand on with others business.

In the Bible it says character assassination is tantamount to ******. I don't know where that is. I'm not a Bible scholar. But trust me it is there.

Will folks just please forgive me so we can go on? I'm truly sorry for what I've done in the past. The past is the past. Let us bury it.

Thanks.

♡Catherine

.
Mark Toney Oct 2019
anyone know why
some poems are double posted
through no fault of ours?
I've noticed some of my poems are double posted. Anyone know the reason why? Is it just a charming quirk of HelloPoetry, or is it something I'm doing? Or both? - (A questionku is a hybrid haiku in the form of a question.)
"evening" falls upon the land
Here she comes.. The shallow trickster with someone Else's Love Band.
She made you believe you were something.
You "were at least a chance.."
Nope.
It was  a fancy picture of her,despair's linger, and laugh's dance.
You would have given her the world. If she wasn't so blind to take it.
However, I don't have a fancy picture, well worded postings, false teachings,
or the will to laugh at some else's tears as I stare and sit.
I don't have the will to string someone along and then "pose for the camera, My ''crush."
My father fought in the war... When postcards were sent.
No Picture or jewelry. Just a sweet and truthful card.
How this person would run to them, after the war, and save this unseen beauty from another worldly yard.
Those times are gone with a selfie and a caption...
"I might like you...If you meet my requirements.. Now don't make me walk away due to the lack of action."
Ottar Apr 2015
How  do  we  remember ...war,
victorious! or lost... or oh, the cost...
how  do  we  remember ...battles
the call!... the charge, or the silence ... the toll!
how  do  we  remember...soldiers, and when they are...older
scarred but not forgotten, MIA, KIA
after war
after battles
after soldiers
honor,
bravery,
scarred, not scared
loved,
missed,
by wives and mothers and all the others,
this one
battle
"defined
a nation" and at a cost of 10,000 men, who would soldier no more,
but take postings to peoples memories once lives turned from war,
and to war again
and war again and
to peace makers.

Vimy - April 9 - 12, 1917
My grandfather was a peace maker, my dad was in the Militia, he supported Military action, me I was in cadets, militia and Canadian Army, I do not think my position is as clear as I would like but "War is necessary to feed the greed of man" - I just said that, "but once started, finish knowing that no result will equal the cost, and as for peace and freedom, no result of war can compare" -done
If you have served in a theatre of war, I thank you.  If you have supported a war effort, I thank you.
Jia Ming Jan 2023
Forgiveness ties Regret in woe,
especially Today—
for shall a Foe toe through a Row,
express Itself not may.

And whence bewatched the timing spare,
Below should postings go—
but upside-down the Turtle's lair,
as only One would know.
personal poem about half-unreciprocated love, and a delusion of what could still be.
JMac May 2013
Ponds anew with animals
Fine young cannibals
Forest trees blossom open
Spies await behind every curtain

Display of affectation
Serenaded by dancing starlings
Capped vertical postings
Downed power outages

Falsehoods weep tonight
With triangular reasoning:
Past, Present, Future.  Vertigo.
THE QUADROCOPTERS ARE COMING!
Jordan Gee Dec 2021
I used to hang out in abandoned buildings.
Old machine shops with puddles of rainwater pooled up on the floor;
sun or star light visible between broken and failing rafter beams
and the holes in the ceiling and my eyes.
Sometimes there would be particle board hammered into the brick
where heavy glass windows once stood;
tacked all about with bright yellow and pink postings warning
people like me to stay out and to not trespass under penalty of law.
The warning signs made me nervous because I don’t like to get in trouble.
Sometimes I would notice abandoned spaces while
driving up route 11 - Scranton, Pennsylvania.
I would park and discern through google maps on how
to gain access to yet another relic of American industry before
Wall Street reinvented slavery and shipped the spirit
of the Rust Belt to Mexico and Bangladesh and China and
various sweatshops overseas.

I had a lot of spare time to walk up and down the Wyoming Valley, northeast PA,
looking for the abandoned skeletons of buildings
into which I could furtively enter and abide.
Friday night, long week, punch the clock, no plans - no problem.
It was me and my two feet,
a long walkabout winding through the annals of my memories,
maybe some take out for dinner and all is well.
Don’t get me wrong, I had friends.
I’ve been to many places and I’ve seen many things.
I’ve faced many hardships but I always found a
posse or a partner with whom I could abide in peace and cheerful community.
That is before I would up and leave them abandoned in the wreckage of
my slow motion odyssey of self destruction;
dusting the bones of my many friendships with the many
chem trails from the many jet planes from the many tickets booked
by my father to save me from the many demons gnawing on my neck and heart.
Goodbye florida. Good bye guam. Goodbye california.

Abandoned buildings are safe.
There is a comforting predictability in their steady dilapidation.
There are no standards of social etiquette by which to adhere.
There is no small talk through which manufactured smiles show their teeth.
There are no ****** expressions and body postures to monitor
and reflect back what adjustments in countenance and demeanor I must make.

My face was a Greco-Roman mask.
Stretched and dried out, suspended somewhere between a comedy and a tragedy.
My face is the furthest frontier of my soul song,
the outermost edge of my heart.
That through which sound passes.
my face is a tan hide
Mitchell Jul 2012
I took a trip down the road
And knew not where to go
I looked to the sun
To guide me through
But soon came the clouds
And there I was alone
And all without you

Down the path
I felt the wrath
Of life's sting of
Betrayal and forced solitude
I found a bar on the
Road made of wood and brush
I walked inside
And the bartender told me to hush

I looked out the window
As I quietly sat down
There was a funeral outside
And everyone wore a frown
A cool wind passed through
Every open window
Where then walked in
The bereaved wailing widow

Her eyes shown black
And her dress was white brown
As she walked with the gown
Her ind seemed not intact
She made her way outside
And out on the ocean
I could feel the changing of tides
They all gathered around the grave
To pay respects to the one man God
Saw no reason to save

I turned to my ***
And thought for a moment
"Should I run"
But the barmen came over
And asked, "You alright?"
"I've been better, " I said,
"This going on all night?"
He shook his head
And took out a book with
A binding colored red

I finished my *** and
Headed towards the ocean
There was no reason to wait
My blood was still flowing
Down through the road
My body felt cool and cold
The birds in their trees chirped
As my feet kicked up the road
Truth in the treble of
The sounds of the Earth
There was magic once in them
But now only hurt

I passed a few empty shacks
With no living souls inside
They looked decrepit and broken
With no postings or signs
And without warning came someone
Who looked like a shadow down the road
My blood ran cold, my legs frozen
I tried to run, but my time was chosen
As they came closer I began to see
There was no reason to fear
The shadow was a child, a little girl and dog
She wore her hair up as walked through the fog

She smiled at me as she passed
Wearing a golden necklace and
An old straw hat
I walked a few paces and turned around
She was gone without a trace or sound
Where are we now my lady?
Where are you tonight?
There are things going on here
That aren't exactly right

As soon as the day had been
The night had fallen upon me
I could only glimpse the stars
Glimmering through the tree leaves
Pale white and flickering through
I thought of the widow and her face of blue
Her husband in the ground
And the piling up of the dirt mound
I saw a bench up ahead
And laid down upon it
My body feeling as if made of lead

I closed my eyes and envisioned
The widow all alone in her room weeping
Nowhere to turn to
With life's pain winning and beaten
All games have their winner's
And no-one remembers the loser
We mourn and we sympathize and
In the shadows we secretly criticize
Life will and always be the winner
We fight the fight to survive
But in truth will always end up beginners

My eyes underneath my eye-lids
Darted and fluttered as I muttered,
"The whole world turns over and over
With nothing else to do but hover"
Sweat built up in my eyes
As the heat of the night
Made my head sizzle and fry
The little girl passes
Her necklace reflecting the stars in the sky
Love never lasted
Hat hung behind her back, knotted by gentle tie

I wake with the morning heat
The sky is clear blue, I look to my feet
Muddied and cut I search for the girl
I try to turn but my minds in a twirl
How long have I been sleeping?
Where have I wandered off to now?
I've got no food I should be keeping
The bartender the only man I know in town
Each worry and word left me like a shot from a gun
I looked to the sky for help
But was greeted with only the sun

My mind began to part
My body split right down the middle
I choked for air and in despair
Was greeted with life's clearest riddle

I woke again
And felt cool sand
Wash over my dried hands
To the right of me were palm trees
And to the left a salty breeze
At last I had died
Or was this only a tease?
As I came to my knees
A body lifted from the ocean
It was the barman from before
With a line of fish and an ore
He waved to me
And I waved back
The line hung tight
To many for any slack

He dropped his catch down
On the brittle white sand
He smiled at me
And from his shorts pulled a can
"Found you in the forest,
With no one around. You were
Talking to yourself about thieves
And everything they'd stolen."

"I got lost in the night, "I said,
"I took a rest on the bench and
Couldn't get up once I laid."
He nodded and took a drink
He looked on the ocean to think
"The funeral ceremonies over,
If you want some food there's some cover."
He pointed a ways down the beach
Death was so close, but life was still in reach
Richie Vincent Oct 2016
Hello, 4am, it's me again,
Hello, grandmother, I'm sorry I never called you again,
Hello, mother, father, I wish it was me speaking

How many times do I have to say it, Son? It's just your emotions,
Father, it feels like my emotions are waves, and I'm at war with the ocean,
Momma, I was kinda hoping that you'd listen while I still had the chance to say something

I guess this is all for boasting,
Maybe if I share it online, my name will get a couple of postings,
My twitter feed will grow famous,
My pretty and depressed Tumblr blog will attract the ones like them, the ones who use sadness as an accessory,
The ones who don't take it seriously, but really just "hate themselves more than anything",
I can't ******* take any of you seriously,
Seriously, there's a monster in my head and it's burrowing itself out to cover for me

I'm not even here anymore,
I might as well not even pretend to be,
It's hard to be bright when the dark is all that you see,
She, is all that I see,
He, is all that I see,
Them, they, are all that I see,
I don't want to ******* see anything,
I just want to melt the ice and see the roses in the spring

But don't mind me,
It's not like I'll make any of this apparent for others to see,
It's kind of hard to do something like that when the blue you see is black to me and the grass is grey, not even a little green

Trust me, I've tried the drinking,
And yes, I've tried the smoking,
But none of it is helping, not even a little bit, I still feel it, I still see it,
I still feel hollow
I don't want to be alone,
I just want to feel at home,
But I don't

I'm tired,
I'm tired

I called God to ask him if I could still get into Heaven if I killed myself,
The operator told me that God called in sick today,
Take this as a plea for help, yes,
Take this back to your home, yes,
Take this into consideration, yes,
Take my life,
I just want someone to take it before something else does
The ladies with the initials M,T,N and G
Keep a good eye on all the postings they see
Should they sight anything which is crook
They immediately put it into the chief's book

Luckily some have escaped the place
And now parade in a less controlled space
They can express themselves more openly
Without the strictures of the chief and his deputies
the purest form of sycophantic flattery
and kiss my *** ed ness
plagiarism is it?
now they tell me,
oh well,
I will grab some while I can.
"Fab write - congrats on the daily **"
Feels good to me
Enough postings in this mode
doesn't have to rhyme
or be an ode;
Why stop
Gets me to the top
My name in lite prose,
Sufficient unto the day,
Or something like that.
And
"Wow well done on the daily my friend - stunning write **"
How to describe this gem
A sound bite for all of them
The gift that keeps on giving
(just cut and paste)
This way nothing ever goes to waste

Now this bit below,
A gift for all time
In the blue corner and by the one and only…………….
The Englishman
Weighing in today just for one short piece
Will i am Sha ke  es peare .......................

“That strain again
It had a dying fall:
O, it came over my earlike the sweet sound
That breaths upon a bank of violets
Stealing and giving odour!  Enough; no more
‘Tis not so sweet as was before” **

Gosh he’s good

gives me time to copy some stuff
Well that should be enough
I’ll rest on other’s laurels
only the kisses, not the quarrels
Why not? and God wot
Post it quickly, who’s to know
A Daily Poem I’ll be all aglow
**Duke Orsino in Twelfth Night By William Shakespeare
Feel Feb 2015
Our ego limits us to speaking like normal beings,
But our hearts open up to our vague greetings,
Our ego too huge to handle social settings,
But our hearts softens to Instagram postings.

I saw the blue skies and the white sandy beach,
Through my fingerprint-infested mobile screen,
I saw the description of a struggling friendship,
But our egos forced us to ignore it with a grin.

But deep inside our hearts, I know, you know,
That this petty tussle could and should well end,
But you've your sense of self that needs protection,
And I have a self-worth that can’t take anymore bend.

I so wish it was that simple and easy,
Maybe it is; maybe we’re just lazy,
Maybe, heck, that posting was not even for me,
But maybe you wrote it for me so very vaguely.

It is so funny, peculiar and terribly ironic,
That we know in our hearts we’d like to be talking,
But instead we give in to our misguided strengths,
To be so willing to let go off this precious thing.

I guess I should be making the first move,
But I so ****** wish I didn't have to,
Maybe there is war raging in my head,
Talk to you – do I do or do I not do.

Perhaps time will tell and we shall wait,
Hopefully our fire will not dim a bit,
But if it does and it burns to its end,
Perhaps we were never what we need.
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2019
The Lost Generation
  now lost online
  Paris, a web of postings

Its cafes are fed
  fresh verses unread
   —new Seines left overflowing

(Montmartre Paris: March, 2009)
nivek Jul 2015
math I soon learned teacher
you can keep it

but even I can count minuets
the time between postings

and the beat of poems
is my game
For each of you are truly my Friend.
I thank God for you my precious Friend.
I appreciate each of you and your gifts.
You inspire and encourage others daily.
Not just through your gifts, and postings.
But through your Life and it's Light.
For each of you tell your story beautifully.
As well as your strength in never giving up.
I appreciate most of all that you are in my life.
Bob B Oct 2016
Social Media has changed our lives
In ways both good and bad.
Will it stick around or is it
Just a temporary fad?

Know people's current location.
Even see what they had for dinner!
Find out election results:
Who's the loser? Who's the winner?

Keep abreast of births and deaths,
Parties, weddings and celebrations.
Send your condolences,
Comments or congratulations.

Read up on current trends;
Catch the latest breaking news.
Share a joke or witty saying;
Find out people's political views.

Watch a video clip or listen
To a friend's brand-new song.
Post your favorite recipe.
(Hey, with that you can't go wrong.)

Read a poem or view people's
Photo albums on their wall.
Sift through scores of unchecked "facts."
Yes, Facebook has it all.

Sometimes there is TMI;
Sometimes there is not enough.
Sometimes there is powerful info;
Sometimes there's a lot of fluff.

You don't have to read my postings.
No, that would not offend me.
However, if you choose to block them,
I'd prefer that you unfriend me.

- by Bob B
Sam Temple May 2016
misrepresenting my joy quotient
as it seems I am living in a dumpster
coated with grime and debris
yesterday’s banana peelings
moldy coffee grounds
act like pepper flakes in my teeth
unshorn and raggedy
ripped jeans soot covered…..
it’s just not the case
as my cup
runnith over –
it is east of easy to ease into elation
at least for me
so when I find myself brooding
I embrace the experience
as an artist
as a sculptor
as a balanced human….
As I have a theory:
every atom that creates energy
which is anything in the known universe…
is made up of both positively
and negatively
charged particles
these particles are in balance
or the whole thing falls apart
(see nuclear fusion and fission)…..
therefore,
in order to be a balanced human
we must embrace both the positive
and negative aspects of life….
this marries itself to the idea
perception is reality
and what you perceive as
negative
for another,
might be the bee’s knees
in their eyes…..
which means all balance
is based off personal interpretation
or good or bad
plus or minus
positive or negative…
but Sam, what does this mean?
if it feels wrong to you, don’t do it….
if it feels right, do it…..
so long as these actions do not interfere
with choices of the other humans
you are guaranteed
heaven on earth –

I have lately been ending many social media postings with this gem:
But seriously, what the **** do I know –
error 500 has again*
reared its head
where all postings
were stopped dead

error 500 is the bane
of poets who want to write
flying its most annoying
notification kite

error 500 ain't
a fine anecdote
oft presenting
*the dreaded note

— The End —