"selfies" poems
We want to see ourselves
see ourselves
because we're afraid that nobody else will
ever want to capture us
in a camera flash- so we take our own pictures.
Click. Our front camera becomes
the one minute we had hoped our fathers had for us
when he wasn't busy on that same phone, speaking,
not clicking. Without us.
Or it becomes the one minute we had hoped
that our lovers would hold us
before they settled on to someone
with more likes,
more comments,
more friends,
more happiness...
than we could ever wait for.
We are impatient
like the frequency of data on our profiles:
here are our feelings now... here
are our feelings again, five minutes later,
performing for social algorithms
in place of photographers
besides ourselves who
see ourselves.
But our ignited pixels,
and overstuffed inboxes,
and masturbatory statuses,
and glittering timelines,
and social everything-
are popularity contests
that all of us are losing.
Yet still we want to see ourselves
see ourselves
even though we are afraid
of what we know is true...
...Because what difference
is a poem to a tweet
besides the number of characters
that we wish we had to populate our own stories?
Please let us be different,
just like everyone else.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
#Birdbox
by Amoy
I live on your social acceptance of me
You keep my face buried, my eyes blind and my mind occupied
You draw me in, I loose myself, trying to find myself
I can't hear the birds chirp, I can't see the sunrise
You are always here but yet I'm afraid and I’m alone
The happiest people living their "best lives" surrounds me
Telling me to see, telling me I need to be apart of it
Don't you want to be like me?
Live feeds, Status updates
Selfies, likes
Love me, don't scroll without a comment
Live streams, fake news, fake friends
Program-me, I need your feeds
It's not just a movie, it's real life get a clue
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
The era of social media and virtual interaction
Where it is so important to keep your reputation
And yet indeed it'll take you nowhere
Because you're just another particle in their atmosphere
No matter how hard you try to seem kind
They just can't bother to reply, they seem to be blind
No matter how many thousands of follows you've got
Your friends are still the same old scattered lot
Selfies galore, plenty of them
Show yourself to yourself, feel like a gem
You go with your friends riding a bike
Post a picture on FB and it gets many a like
You're all content about it, it feels so nice
After which, conversation turns to ice
At gatherings telephones sound
Ringing all day, a new friend was found
Introduce yourself, one more time again
And fall into oblivion, it's starting to rain
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Hide the scars,
don't let them see.
*They'll call you a ****
just as they please.
You drink Starbucks,
you take selfies.
You're a White Girl,
you see.
You're hair is red
with your Irish genes.
You are a ginger
with no soul in thee.
Your skin is colored,
your hair so dark.
You are a criminal,
that's how they see.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Selfies,
I can smell the desperation,
from here.
odors of worry;
rippling anxities of uncertainity.
two dimensional,
instantaneous impressions,
pixelated presentations,
and
Teenage frustrations.
up tilted camera.
held against the light,
Illuminating eyes ,
and eradicating spots.
that looks like a good one.
Vicarious representation;
of how good
one could look,
fallible and hopeful.
big bosomed dame
showcasing blessed cleavage,
pulsating the adolescent
bulges.
delivered to
metal passenger,
thereafter shown
among peers.
networked to unknown.
Friends who'd never
met eye,
or
touched skin,
or
even spoke.
self conscious
cropping of images.
fat and fearful.
wasted hours,
dying for love.
False dream of
captivating the messes with her selfie.
The very ugliness
of impressions.
Oh, how shallow we've became.
The denial
of the impact of aesthetics.
laughable,
torrents of judgement
Skinny,
fat,
ugly,
behold their desperate eyes behind the selfie.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Botox on the high street
A jab for flabby jowls.
Is it any wonder people
Exist only in their heads?
Social media selfies taken
From above in unnatural light.
Is it still shocking people
Hate the boring everyday?
It's not easy to like yourself
In a world obsessed with image.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
The self I saw in you
Was at the start an album
Of smiles next to
Expecting eyes
I was in constant
Flow
To try and reach
My open arms towards
You, A Fun Time
Shining in your white dress
Me in my hip pants
We cross the street
Like we know
Each others steps
The world among us
Is not the best
We both fear, cringe
But friend, you chose to love
Me, in my midnights
In my last songs
You gave me you
In every dance
Like the moments never ending
Time never said goodbye yet
Because my hand folds into yours
My Sister in a friend
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
This is for my generation.
A generation full of selfies, in short for selfish.
A generation of women murdering their own unborn babies.
Woman walk around half dressed hoping a man will grant them respect.
As they reclaim their lives, renaming it feminism at it's best.
This is for my generation.
A generation of men that rather play with their hands.
Rather than creating work out of their bare hands.
Lusting for women as if we were created for one night stands.
We are the millennials. We're full of worldly distractions.
Looking for our parents to be the lending tree.
Since we spend most of our money on ***** & ****
This is for my generation.
Can't you see we're slowly dying off? We are becoming too self involved.
While every pleasure keeps causing our own demise.
We're too stubborn to realize our ways are flawed.
We mask it and look for love in other people. Yet, we feel emptier when the love isn't reciprocated. Some call this "unrequited love".
This is for my generation.
I'm here to tell you that, you are loved, you are cherished, and you can be forgiven. You can be saved, not by your works or how much money you make.
If you only believe what He did for you on the cross.
The perfect blood Atonement.
We are the Godless generation. Most would say they believe in evolution, perhaps others would mention God.
This is for my generation.
See, Jesus didn't come for the religious people. In fact, he called them frauds. He's more than just a bunch of rules and laws. In reality, He only came to save the lost. Which lead him to be hated, beaten and killed on a cross. 3 days later, He rose from the dead something Allah never did.
Now that our King is risen, He's offering a free gift of salvation. That's why it's called Grace. Being coming Christian doesn't make you perfect, don't get it twisted. I'm just a forgiven sinner by His definition.
The choice is yours.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 3:43 AM UTC
Friday means parties
Friday is coffee
Friday means shopping
Friday is a netflix date with her pillow
And
Blankey...
Friday means long car rides, blasting music with your friends hoping to maybe get that one kiss
Friday is the breakfast club, twisted with easy A with a pinch of 16 candles
Friday means the late night skating rink
Friday is a messy bun with her pink piggy slippers, bringing out those old ugly black glasses
Friday means tight jeans
Friday is a sweater that covers all the way down to her knees
Friday means short shorts and raves
Friday is popcorn on the couch alone (yes, alone)
Friday means selfies
Friday is just a quote
nothing more
Friday means friends
Friday can't even remember her last sleep over
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
I.
“No doubt they’ll sing in tune after the Revolution.”
-Kamarovsky, Doctor Zhivago (film)
Everyone seems to clench his fist these days
In solidarity with ephemera
While setting fire to green recycling bins
Hurling someone else’s bicycle through a window
Armed with their undergraduate degrees
The comrades liberate a coffee shop
Wifi-ing the revolution of the day
Empowerment by beating love to death
Loudsplaining authentic victimization
Posing for selfies with a stolen ‘phone
II.
Their inhumanity seemed a marvel of class-consciousness, their barbarism a model of proletarian firmness…
-Doctor Zhivago, p. 349
Everyone seems to clutch his flag these days
In solidarity with a past that wasn’t
While setting fire to misspelled cardboard signs
Hurling someone else’s beer into a crowd
Armed with their lurid Confederate tats
The Something.Right liberate a dumpster
Bull-horning the counter-revolution
Empowerment by beating love to death
Bellowing their Reconquista of stench
Posing behind their cheap gas station shades
III.
“I used to admire your poetry...I shouldn't admire it now. I should find it absurdly personal. Don't you agree? Feelings, insights, affections... it's suddenly trivial now. You don't agree; you're wrong. The personal life is dead…”
-Strelnikov to Yuri, Doctor Zhivago (film)
Some few embrace civilization these days
In solidarity with humanity
While lighting one small candle as a votive
Whispering an Ave into the Light
Armed with wonder through pen and flute and brush
Recusants choose the liberation given
In singing of the eternal verities
Self-empowerment happily denied
With love, with poetry, music, and art
Celebrating life on this summer day
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
*Selfie pictures are such sad pictures.
Groupie, stolen, way better.*
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
And in the end,
You begin to realize who your true friends are.
The ones who stand by your side
Through thick and thin
Trial, error, and sin.
In this day and age,
Not many stand the chance
In nomination
For the sacrificial commencement of honour.
Nature plays its part indeed.
Because it is only in time
The veil is lifted.
Root by root,
Seed by seed.
Humanity reveal their true colors.
Next thing you know,
You've been cursed by a plague.
A whole school of fish
Swimming to discover their own island.
That is only for thyself.
You've been contaminated
By the human race.
Look at the social media blow up.
The narcissistic selfies,
The I, me, my's,
Gaining daily acceptance
All in disguise.
The public audience is their show.
It's needed for everyday approval.
Nobody really cares about you
It's all about
"Look at me!"
"Look what I can do!"
"You are so cool."
"Thumbs up to you!"
I'm going to abuse the word "love."
Forget the hoopla
Here today
Gone tomorrow.
Everyone feeding off of
Self loathing attention.
There is no more room for pitiful sorrow.
Truth is
Sheep lie among the prey
Victims...
Don't be another
"Nodding Acquaintance"
A distortion of the facts.
Don't get fooled.
Not by social grace
Not by exploitation of the face.
You'll just be a bargain commodity,
For their convenience.
Stand true
True to yourself
Because in the end,
Nobody else really cares.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
Society fears
Us looking in mirrors
And liking what we see
Posting 'selfies' online
Is a narcissistic crime
Because we're not allowed to be
Proud of how we look
'Cause in society's book
Insecurity plus jealousy equals pay
And when we cry
We're likely to buy
And the world wants us that way
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
There's an awkward thrill I feel
like wicked-wet rabies –
Oh. Ah. Oh.
To gaze over photos of the woman I created.
With my warped perception,
saturating and cropping everything into delicious
oblivion.
I am the knife as well as the ingredients
that sauteed her together in a camera flash.
She sits hot like heaven.
And I want to
stare at her picture all day until she comes to life.
The woman I created, I hang up like perfected rotisserie
and fall in love with her accidentally every day.
Looking into those precisely underlined
tiger-sex eyes of startling navy. Knowing their true dullness.
Hissing at the free-swinging curls
and the hours behind them. Loving the lie.
The flowy top and sleek trousers gliding down lovely as Niagara
over chaffing chub; all hidden. And thighs; unshaven.
And that topical smile everyone likes to see, waiting to plummet
into suicide like a kite hanging in one tight second.
Her image is my greatest
False accomplishment.
I hang my portrait up on a wall of the internet
for people of the world to migrate to
the photo exhibit, my little show-off room.
They make offers and toss compliments
with their “I like this. I like this." nonsense.
They don't know that the girl in the portrait, she
isn't organic. They seem not to notice
that she is something of a chemical flower.
Her face is my face, only with whiteout poison-paste
smoothed over twice.
And they want to
stare at her picture all day until she comes to life.
Gazing upon her believed-to-be beauty, as I hang my paintbrush,
she bites her body still as a painting,
bruised and needled
into perfect frame. She cries
like Jesus Christ, as she is stared at, but not seen.
I am the artist as well as the object.
And the woman in the portrait is
nothing,
but dot after dot of manipulated color.
And we want to
stare at her picture all day until she comes to life.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
'Look at Me', so self absorbed in outward looks and latest fashion.
With disregard for inner peace, selfless thought, and kind compassion.
Piercing ears, with holes so big they look like they're starting to melt.
Trousers about the knees; showing off pants, clearly in need of a belt.
Cheap plastic toys bought without thought, of which so quickly we tire,
Relationship failing to last without love and once all consuming desire.
Throw away gadgets and electronic connections, with all life's worth we trust.
But when they are broken, will never be fixed; just casually tossed to the dust.
Mealtime no longer a social or family affair, at a table with fork and knife,
Check-in's a must so 'friends' will know that you're having a really great life.
No album prints of family snaps and childhood memories that last,
It's all about selfies, and sharing on line with 'friends' that human connections bypass.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
As the light and shadows of overthinking roll over,
And the yellow raspberries start to doubt their realities,
I'll be here - owning nameless cats and refusing to buy furniture;
Lusting for the life I thought I had, green-eyed and sadistic.
Let's take a selfie. TRIPLE CHIN!
As you swipe for filters,
And draw a ***** on your friend's face,
I'll be here - fighting the urge to be useless;
Tapping and holding for fake friends.
Selfies. We've been afflicted with this terrible, god-awful disease.
And as you post a shaky video of your boyfriend driving?
And laugh at that joke you know you didn't find funny
I will be here - throwing my circles of seconds away.
Three, two, one.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
You’re a sycophant for a selfie.
selfish daily rants are of the plenty
up here.
(Up where?)
out there in the world wide-
who cares it’s everywhere.
There’s no room for you to hide.
so beware! and be wary of what you confide.
I’ve seen words on their heads and their intent on its side.
Your rambles are a gamble, every un-thorough thought
is a stance you take with pride
on something you were never taught.
Did you go find it out by yourself?
I doubt that. Just loud chat from those sat out around you
was enough to change your point of view. so will you choose?
Or will it not really be you? did you construe this opinion or did it construe yours?
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
People whom take pictures called "selfies"
are too easily dismayed.
A person who has true humility
wants not their image displayed.
Someone who has to put themselves
out into the world,
across the screaming gulf of the internet
really makes me want to hurl.
A true person with humility,
humbleness and jest.
Let's someone to capture their image
unprepared, and not at rest.
A true person's form
comes not from a mirror pic
but from friends and their smiles
preferably not when they're shick.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
It's like you jump out
Like high definition
Like they're all selfies
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
Instant.
Gratification.
A like.
A fleeting comment.
A bit of attention.
This doesn't last forever, need I mention?
We paint picture perfect lives
as if it were the truth.
Rarely do people post about times
when they're discouraged or feeling blue.
Our lives seem enviable, but you don't see what occurs behind doors.
The mundane moments no one wants to disclose.
With social media I find myself becoming more distant, yet feeling more connected in an instant. Making so called friends that I never talk to in person. Adding to a list of people that I pretend to know and ignoring the ones I say I care for.
Then there's the selfish gratification. It's all about me. Here's another one of my selfies. But somehow I find that I compare myself endlessly. And so do you and so does he. It's a game we aren't aware we signed up for. Yet the mutual agreement is we all score.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
A common reflection
exposes a section
of a section.
Mirror Friction
reveals
Mere Fiction
Your selfish selfies
are always ready, never messy.
A pocket mirror, antenna included
is a perfect filter, flaws excluded.
"Am I the fairest of them all?"
You ask daily.
*"I like you
more than most things in this world."*
"That's too bad", you say.
"I was looking for likes (plural)"
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Fragrant rain
legends of decaying days
pools of darkness
isolated moments
clean white skin
manicured hands
and stylish stubble
in an unmade bed.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC