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"retweet" poems
Don't let this self-effacing exterior fool you I am meglo-maniac in the making Social media the perfect introvert's mask Reinventing myself daily Vanessa Ives, girl-about-town, quirky geek An attention ***** ******* in the digital wind For a like, a follow, a retweet.
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
******* in the digital wind
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
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
Today
I'm No born free I tasted the dust of apartheid My mother was hiding behind the trees screaming for help No one was there No time to sleep We were cursed for struggle My father never smiled when my mother would say "the baby is kicking" Cause he knew,it wasn't the kick of joy It wasn't a sign of being a soccer star It was the struggle! 1990 Mandela was out of prison 1993 I was born 1994 the Dom's were free No more Dom-pass,but not uhuru still Innocent souls were lost What was the fighting worth for? I can forgive but never forget When De klert called black fools He said they do nothing but barking We turned to dogs now This is for Steve Biko Chris Hani Hector Paterson Raymond mhlaba Let not my skin define who I am Let not the earth describe me I know my future because of my history I was raised in a town of fallen angels Where blacks were deceived Whites felt free Turn the lights off we all the same colour Don't turn them on I want my son to know the history But to not repeat it. They say follow your leader How can you follow corruption? Zuma this zuma that Its all illusion I'll only follow u twitter I want you to retweet all the ish I'll be posting about you,the Raping,The Nkandla part,The Cheating,The Art and the bunch of wives Yes I voted,I still don't know why I voted Helen Zille only speaks xhosa in time of elections Jacob Zuma gives free taxis only to the voting station Julius Malema will bring apartheid back it is said on radio stations Mandela spent most time in hospital All of a sudden his dead Was he even in jail before? Oscar Pistorius ran to **** His now a criminal. Mandela note on my hand But valueless Our economy is dying Our world is dying My Dear South Africa..No Power!
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Not yet uhuru
I'm No born free I tasted the dust of apartheid My mother was hiding behind the trees screaming for help No one was there No time to sleep We were cursed for struggle My father never smiled when my mother would say "the baby is kicking" Cause he knew,it wasn't the kick of joy It wasn't a sign of being a soccer star It was the struggle! 1990 Mandela was out of prison 1993 I was born 1994 the Dom's were free No more Dom-pass,but not uhuru still Innocent souls were lost What was the fighting worth for? I can forgive but never forget When De klert called black fools He said they do nothing but barking We turned to dogs now This is for Steve Biko Chris Hani Hector Paterson Raymond mhlaba Let not my skin define who I am Let not the earth describe me I know my future because of my history I was raised in a town of fallen angels Where blacks were deceived Whites felt free Turn the lights off we all the same colour Don't turn them on I want my son to know the history But to not repeat it. They say follow your leader How can you follow corruption? Zuma this zuma that Its all illusion I'll only follow u twitter I want you to retweet all the ish I'll be posting about you,the Raping,The Nkandla part,The Cheating,The Art and the bunch of wives Yes I voted,I still don't know why I voted Helen Zille only speaks xhosa in time of elections Jacob Zuma gives free taxis only to the voting station Julius Malema will bring apartheid back it is said on radio stations Mandela spent most time in hospital All of a sudden his dead Was he even in jail before? Oscar Pistorius ran to **** His now a criminal. Mandela note on my hand But valueless Our economy is dying Our world is dying My Dear South Africa..No Power!
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54
**** YOU HEAT..... You cause my *** to get burned by my seat! Every time my cheeks & the leather meet Feels like hot coals under my feet Right through my shoes.....fuck you too concrete & that's the sidewalk not even the street Swimming.... A refreshing treat With ice cream to eat Mission keeping cool complete Adios hot weather I won't be beat You're so sweet Thinking you could defeat ....instead you're running away in retreat Hopefully you don't attempt to repeat .....risking to become obsolete & I won't be discrete Leaving the seasons incomplete Then spring & fall can finally greet Erasing summer as quickly as CTL ALT DELETE .....this Facebook status was a rhyming top of the top elite & it deserves a retweet Flowing on a roll like tires on sleet Or wind through holes in a sheet If I want a retweet, I better go send out the first tweet **** this flow is neat When I finished & read it, I was like "awwww **** ***** *****
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
Good Old Valley Summer & .....the HEAT!!
In this world of socialness and social media there can only be one God. And he does not share, comment, like or retweet.
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
The Social Truth
I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast while my father built me a bassinet of series circuits with high, motherboard bars. I've got that artificial baby glow. But Mom put my ****** on Facebook at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended (forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months, but I want my downgrade now 'cause all I get are social invite excuses from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack our lives into little boxes that we're not even allowed to open. We drink to technology, keep our lazy eyes on our news feeds, and recycle ideas like their owners would even want to see what we've done to them. We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves with mangled Robert Frost stanzas. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue." Reblog, revine, retweet, FaceTime. Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn. White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden, and write John ******** or Tom Whatever. We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks? S    B          U               X B        S The cooler's too ****** music's too shy, and the sugar, no, not just the sugar. THE PEOPLE are too artificial. The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing on has pencil lead, sock lint, and receipt shred lapel pins. Even corporations play dress-up. But what happens when Y2K kicks in tomorrow? Lives will be lost even before the missiles **** us. And the planes that drop from the sky won't even come close to when the bough breaks your little girl's heart, baby, because your phone can't raise her anymore, so you have to. And based on your search history, tweets, and recorded dreams, she's better off in the warm embrace of a hard drive.
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Y2K Kicks in Tomorrow
I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast while my father built me a bassinet of series circuits with high, motherboard bars. I've got that artificial baby glow. But Mom put my ****** on Facebook at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended (forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months, but I want my downgrade now 'cause all I get are social invite excuses from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack our lives into little boxes that we're not even allowed to open. We drink to technology, keep our lazy eyes on our news feeds, and recycle ideas like their owners would even want to see what we've done to them. We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves with mangled Robert Frost stanzas. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue." Reblog, revine, retweet, FaceTime. Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn. White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden, and write John ******** or Tom Whatever. We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks? S    B          U               X B        S The cooler's too ****** music's too shy, and the sugar, no, not just the sugar. THE PEOPLE are too artificial. The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing on has pencil lead, sock lint, and receipt shred lapel pins. Even corporations play dress-up. But what happens when Y2K kicks in tomorrow? Lives will be lost even before the missiles **** us. And the planes that drop from the sky won't even come close to when the bough breaks your little girl's heart, baby, because your phone can't raise her anymore, so you have to. And based on your search history, tweets, and recorded dreams, she's better off in the warm embrace of a hard drive.
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55
Leave it for a day and the world forgets you exist. Not all followers, mind you, but most. Over 4,000 followers on Twitter and they'll retweet the latest tweet only. Most won't ask "Where's Kendra? Is she ok?" They won't go through my archives of posted poems to read or find some kinship. No. Only the latest & greatest, thank you very much. Is it my poetry? Does it throw people off? Is it because I don't constantly write about erotica & flaming *** Is it because I discuss domestic violence like an uncaged soul? Or is it merely the beast of social media, itself? These questions I often ask myself. I suppose it sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps that isn't too far from the truth. Not to put myself on some pedestal. I do the same thing. I simply find it sad. Thousands of poems posted between here, Twitter, blogs, etc. and it all goes unnoticed - except the latest one posted. Surely I'm not the only who feels this way but it wouldn't be the first time if I am.
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Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
ADHD of Social Media
It’s not enough now for my words to be written They must be pretty, and witty, and bright. The words themselves matter less each day With each reblog, retweet and like. It’s not enough now for my words to have meaning They must be relatable, heart-wrenching and fierce. The words themselves are being lost With each glance, dismissal and worse. It’s not enough now for my words to mean something They must be have rhythm, or rhyme, and more. The words themselves are unimportant With that truth I take flight and soar.
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May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
Words
How many likes am I worth? How many swipe rights can I get, How many super honest, friendly people, Have I ever met? Lights, camera, caption, trying to reach my goal, 40,000 subscribers! Take my instagram poll! Should I post this selfie? I might delete it soon, thought that I looked cute, but it sure wont make him swoon. I have refreshed my page, 50 times since the start, the want for more likes, is tearing me apart If I get 1,000 followers, I will feel complete, Does what I say matter without a single retweet?
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Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 4:31 PM UTC
Validation
It’s not enough now for my words to be written They must be pretty, and witty, and bright. The words themselves matter less each day With each reblog, retweet and like. It’s not enough now for my words to have meaning They must be relatable, heart-wrenching and fierce. The words themselves are being lost With each glance, dismissal and worse. It’s not enough now for my words to mean something They must be have rhythm, or rhyme, and more. The words themselves are unimportant With that truth I take flight and soar.
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May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
Words
In case my Letter had not been read Clear That for these Fourteen-Lined Girls I retweet Was never to demean you; Nor pout Fear But hope to contribute your Youthful Beat Killing this Concept of Bleeding Bat's Tongue Which asks nothing more but Maliciousness The Fabled Book, not just its Cover hung But Pages worded with the Prawn's Intent You pound the Hammer; My Thoughts stick my Claim Which only Un-Conditioned Fortune lies To Jolly remove your Third Condition's pain And bring that Heart back to you in Disguise. You are Raised well, with Thought and Prayers bear To Live in Great Response; And be Aware.
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Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - SEVEN - TOM DALEY
Not until you can see the pain in our eyes, the scars on our skin, the protruding ribs and distended stomachs of malnourishment, till you can gape at small black bodies disfigured by kwashiorkor and colonization, till you can gasp at people that don’t look like you being branded like cattle, like animals on their way to the slaughterhouse (and thank goodness we’ve come so far, things used to be so bad) Not until you can marvel at the mottled marks of a whip, the black and blue bruising only white hands can inflict, till you can shake your head at teens boldly drinking under a whites only sign, till you can cover your mouth and peek through fingers at the water hoses, the dogs, the guns, the blood— black blood on black bodies in black and white photographs (and you inwardly sigh, relieved that it was so long ago and so far away) Not until you can retweet teenagers face to face with riot gear and tear gas, till you can shake your head and show that you’re different because your black studies class told you so, till you can give a 40 character message about how sickening the violence is, but you keep watching the videos of him her him her him her him her him her them shot choked kicked punched beaten whipped slapped killed by government sanctioned executioners Not until you can see everything but understand nothing Always have to be ugly raw hurting bleeding suffering Why can’t we be smiling laughing eating dancing breathing Why can’t we be smiling Why
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Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 1:21 PM UTC
when can we see photographs of blackness?
Not until you can see the pain in our eyes, the scars on our skin, the protruding ribs and distended stomachs of malnourishment, till you can gape at small black bodies disfigured by kwashiorkor and colonization, till you can gasp at people that don’t look like you being branded like cattle, like animals on their way to the slaughterhouse (and thank goodness we’ve come so far, things used to be so bad) Not until you can marvel at the mottled marks of a whip, the black and blue bruising only white hands can inflict, till you can shake your head at teens boldly drinking under a whites only sign, till you can cover your mouth and peek through fingers at the water hoses, the dogs, the guns, the blood— black blood on black bodies in black and white photographs (and you inwardly sigh, relieved that it was so long ago and so far away) Not until you can retweet teenagers face to face with riot gear and tear gas, till you can shake your head and show that you’re different because your black studies class told you so, till you can give a 40 character message about how sickening the violence is, but you keep watching the videos of him her him her him her him her him her them shot choked kicked punched beaten whipped slapped killed by government sanctioned executioners Not until you can see everything but understand nothing Always have to be ugly raw hurting bleeding suffering Why can’t we be smiling laughing eating dancing breathing Why can’t we be smiling Why
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Standing in this sphere I seek communion with the Stars Heat and dust for hidden answers I wonder wonder where they are? Bursting into gates I dawn my robe like a heavyweight Wandering thru the distance I am guided by the Wake skim the outer rim clouds dissolve revolve or scatter but I'm focus on the mission I'm surfing streams of gray matter burn to shine walk the line define gravity : the Force untethered in this universe My vision on the course I fast devoid of sun or moon comet of the galaxy I'm bound to Windu I am Master of the unseen epoch I foreshadow the battle whether it   yet be not true You know like Yoda, I do I'm staring/speaking into the nebular what will birth from this mother nurse? As I transverse like silver surf  Don't act like I can't create Heaven on Earth I'm meditating on the cellular my midichlorian ***** is buzzing like a church! No alms needed I'm lighter when lit unified with this (galactic **** light sight like solo omni verse Re Y Me So far not tea grow VOTE The dark side outta Ben is Bern it's my turn speaking truth into these chicken boot tweens in Twitterverse PLUCK A FEATHER And make an ill quill Letter! A retweet beat writer Faux Father but a real goal setter Hope ya feel better OR A Curse I DON'T NEED A LIGHT BEAM! Less is more like an invisible burst I could cuttlefish but I'd rather soar With everyting I've learned! I am more than hate is worth No matter measure of endeavor light speed hyper space ever nearer to the source I Inhale Trees Exhale breeze Interstellar Squeezed Me out A Feat at first Then knees bows spout nose and cranium If i didnt know better id say my bones marrow vibranium One bout won! The night win some but they just lost one! If i couldn't make words then i guess I'd just hum! I was born with this voice and this voice has sung I was born with this force and with this force I run into Entwined and unleashed all is bound to the Force
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
Force Unleashed
Standing in this sphere I seek communion with the Stars Heat and dust for hidden answers I wonder wonder where they are? Bursting into gates I dawn my robe like a heavyweight Wandering thru the distance I am guided by the Wake skim the outer rim clouds dissolve revolve or scatter but I'm focus on the mission I'm surfing streams of gray matter burn to shine walk the line define gravity : the Force untethered in this universe My vision on the course I fast devoid of sun or moon comet of the galaxy I'm bound to Windu I am Master of the unseen epoch I foreshadow the battle whether it   yet be not true You know like Yoda, I do I'm staring/speaking into the nebular what will birth from this mother nurse? As I transverse like silver surf  Don't act like I can't create Heaven on Earth I'm meditating on the cellular my midichlorian ***** is buzzing like a church! No alms needed I'm lighter when lit unified with this (galactic **** light sight like solo omni verse Re Y Me So far not tea grow VOTE The dark side outta Ben is Bern it's my turn speaking truth into these chicken boot tweens in Twitterverse PLUCK A FEATHER And make an ill quill Letter! A retweet beat writer Faux Father but a real goal setter Hope ya feel better OR A Curse I DON'T NEED A LIGHT BEAM! Less is more like an invisible burst I could cuttlefish but I'd rather soar With everyting I've learned! I am more than hate is worth No matter measure of endeavor light speed hyper space ever nearer to the source I Inhale Trees Exhale breeze Interstellar Squeezed Me out A Feat at first Then knees bows spout nose and cranium If i didnt know better id say my bones marrow vibranium One bout won! The night win some but they just lost one! If i couldn't make words then i guess I'd just hum! I was born with this voice and this voice has sung I was born with this force and with this force I run into Entwined and unleashed all is bound to the Force
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Mourners of truth, now hashtag your pain. Retweet and like, righteous fury appease. Protests are trending, do not apathy feign. Fight and resist, till the next Marvel release.
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Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 3:11 AM UTC
Deadlines
I’d rather go have fun with friends outside Than be stuck on a screen waiting to die Searching for the latest retweet or like Just to find out no one cares about my life.
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Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 3:08 PM UTC
Social Medium
Okay New York here we go, today's the day. That we're speaking in memory of someone who spent their whole life pretending to be someone they never could be Loved by many but everyone who has ever loved you was a figment of your imagination What is a person without a spine to hold them up right? A snake in every sense of the word. You slithered around your whole life glorifying your misery for a retweet and a spot at an open mic What better describes the life of a starving artist than to sleep in your car but be found dead in the morning You said you wished she would meet you at the rocks in Montauk but you were at rock bottom the whole time and no one would meet you there. And you were down with abandoned ship that washed up against your loneliness And abandoned things should stay abandoned when they're full of black mold and pathetic I wrote this poem with my left hand because you felt like you were someone else And I used my left hand when I finally pulled the plug Time of death November 28th 1986
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
This is a eulogy but might as well be a subtweet
Philosophy. Elegance. Yet Sense un-done That Time-by-Time those Bantered ***** retweet Which - by Fair - smoke these Elements become Breathe Conscience into Sage; And thus we meet If only should your Fresh Convention wear Prune these Forceps to your Young Tridents fixed At least a Wee - and a Wee bit of hear Some Owl's Downey Feathers make to your Mix And what I offer - if Offer be Creed My Base Mortal Template bound to Annoy Was simply to Watch; And respond to your Need Though my Voice un-qualify to your Ploy. At least I Tried. Though surpass Dimension Usurper I be; Though Honest Intention.
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE PENANCE: WILLIAM DALEY AND BENJAMIN DALEY - MIND
A rumble of laughter not from an LOL in an SMS but a sound from a breathless child running in a field not scrolling through a feed two friends sharing secrets in a hide out only known by two not hiding behind a barricade clear yet mystifies the truth I see you smiling in front of me As you share old stories And dreams of what’s to come I don’t face a pixelated picture As I try to communicate Face to face? Or face to screen Or share winky faces As you tease me while sitting in a room two doors down What happened to the times when We were connected by the strokes of the words on paper Or the moments captured by film And not destroyed by a single glitch of a cellular phone There’s a ring to my name as you call A melody in your voice But now since when have IM ever been better than calling a name with your voice we know people more by the click of a finger than a stroke of a hand and from 140 words in an app expected to chirp our secrets like songs of birds sung to everyone We see connection As the strength of the wifi at the corner of our screens Dreams are shared with every retweet and reblog Shared to strangers Who care about you? Or care about the amount of followers or likes you get Of a picture you do not own Of an experience you have never done Or maybe yet to do life is not as beautiful through a screen it is not about those minutes you spend clicking that play button you cannot fast forward or rewind the wasted time sitting and waiting as the video loads just so YOU Can live their life I sit in front of a camp fire Hearing laughters from every side Smiles brightening in the dark What happened to these nights out? the fun nights where the stars and moon were the only light source and not the screen of the 3G phone or when beauty was only experienced and not captured
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
screen
A rumble of laughter not from an LOL in an SMS but a sound from a breathless child running in a field not scrolling through a feed two friends sharing secrets in a hide out only known by two not hiding behind a barricade clear yet mystifies the truth I see you smiling in front of me As you share old stories And dreams of what’s to come I don’t face a pixelated picture As I try to communicate Face to face? Or face to screen Or share winky faces As you tease me while sitting in a room two doors down What happened to the times when We were connected by the strokes of the words on paper Or the moments captured by film And not destroyed by a single glitch of a cellular phone There’s a ring to my name as you call A melody in your voice But now since when have IM ever been better than calling a name with your voice we know people more by the click of a finger than a stroke of a hand and from 140 words in an app expected to chirp our secrets like songs of birds sung to everyone We see connection As the strength of the wifi at the corner of our screens Dreams are shared with every retweet and reblog Shared to strangers Who care about you? Or care about the amount of followers or likes you get Of a picture you do not own Of an experience you have never done Or maybe yet to do life is not as beautiful through a screen it is not about those minutes you spend clicking that play button you cannot fast forward or rewind the wasted time sitting and waiting as the video loads just so YOU Can live their life I sit in front of a camp fire Hearing laughters from every side Smiles brightening in the dark What happened to these nights out? the fun nights where the stars and moon were the only light source and not the screen of the 3G phone or when beauty was only experienced and not captured
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58
Go ahead, Complain some more. Complain about how horrible your life is to everyone. Complain about how nobody gets you. Post pictures of yourself crying on Facebook. Retweet every tweet from @depressedkids. Brag about all your "appointments". Storm off in a fit because you just hate the world so much. Wear 17 bracelets on one arm to hide ONE little cut. YOU. You are the reason nobody takes depression seriously. Take a look around; maybe then you'll open your ******* eyes and see. YOU are not the only one.
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Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Ignorance
Hello Is anyone out there I'm trapped in a crazy world Social media has taken control Will you like my status? Will you follow me? Will you retweet this? Will someone just be my real friend Because at the end of this life What the hell do I need a like for I don't need 1m followers I need connection Attention that is more that 1's and 0's Contact that is more than a poke on fb I need a conversation face to face Hello?
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Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 6:51 PM UTC
Hello?
I sat on Facebook in the forest, birds tweet and retweet. I check my email again, birds tweet and retweet. there's an empty to-go cup lying in the ditch next to the trail DOI CHANG emblazoned across its tubular length, ethically traded subtitled below. I whip out my camera, the world around me solipsist phantasmagoria; the shutter closes and I don't believe I exist until I see the photo
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Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
foresty circular
pick phone up   put it down again take a selfie   no another one   and again   light isn’t right what’s on Twitter   scroll for twenty minutes   pause   basically PREGNANCY PRANK [GONE WRONG]   add to playlist oh how can he be the president   like   says it ‘coz he can love the warm weather   global warming maybe   but oh well Starbucks for breakfast   lunch   Spotify playlist like   red heart   blue thumbs-up   share   like that inspirational quote   you know   basically   I can relate CHEATING PRANK [GONE WRONG]   add to playlist election   couldn’t have told you there was one have we left it yet   like   what are we leaving again petty crime rise   stay vigilant something about Brussels   a royal up the duff   but did you see what Kim was wearing   like   did you hear what her sister did   with that guy   you know   that guy look  she’s uploaded   why we broke up   shame oh yeah   oh well retweet
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Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 7:06 PM UTC
Basically
Yeah, when it is about someone who means nothing to you... Why would you ever have time to call back? Why would you ever have a rupee to text back? Why would you have KBs to reply her back? When she's none to you - Why would it make a difference if she lives or dies? Why would it make a difference that she ruined her life for you? Why would it make a difference that she misses you? Why would it make a difference that she wants you? Why would her goodbyes make a difference, When she was not even, a friend for you.. I want you, I love you... But you do not... Ofcourse like her, I ain't intelligent I ain't hot. I won't pop up ever again on your screen - I won't ever communicate with you, with my voice so not sweet... I won't ever like your Facebook updates or retweet your tweet.. I'm going - am sure I'm going.. Bye love.. And I'll always remember that you didn't come to stop me... And you used to say that you love me! Irony! My life's irony...
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Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
My life's Irony!
Love drunk murderers subtweeting our inadequacies Opening apps to know how you feel. 140 characters but you chose to act like a ***** If I curse your name at the bottom of the ocean do you hear it? - Jason R. Johnson
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Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Retweet