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"socialise" poems
***Imagine what would happen if suddenly All of our technology just vanished?*** I know that most think Life would become serene and peaceful With socialisation and healthy leisure All year round But if we stop and truly picture This new world What we will see Is chaos and confusion With no understanding of how To socialise besides our Digital devices And with no clue how To yield a bat and ball. Beyond this our drone-like minds Wouldn't be able to comprehend How to read or draw Magical talents belonging to An older world. How pitiful existence is With all of our life force Being ****** into these gadgets And how truly unlucky For the new generation As all their talents and mind are wasted.
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
Technology
You're tweeting Texting Face Timing Whatsapping SMSing Facebooking Skyping Yet you seem to disconnect yourself from the authenticity of the present She, he, them, us- are all gone Congratulations on your 'social media' Because now the only thing you can really socialise with, is nothing So think about the next time you decide to choose social media Are you willing to risk it all in return for a like, comment or message on a screen?
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Social Media
It's such a quaint notice to understand The very point on why Friendships are made And you in Cheer, though Special beforehand Was just a Concern I had to obey This thrice on Crop's Best; And opened before Such that Stubborn Mules fail to socialise They only eat grass - aloof and demure And a Good Partner most unqualified We shared the News once. That a Good Exchange Of Certain Facts the Telly won't disclose How frustrating when we need a wide range And once we did just adds to our Remorse. Freakish Things they are, Roaches in the Brain Unless we sweep this, infest they remain.
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Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE SUNDRY - SIXTY-ONE - TOM DALEY
Connection involves a reciprocal flow where being detaches from nothingness into an inseparable unity. So, let us acknowledge the colours and feel the vibrations as they transcend the parameters of compartmentalism, into an infinite and unified whole. Attempts continue to socialise us into the abyss of perceptual bankruptcy with materialistic carrots where the fabric is truly frayed despite plausible and intellectual argument. So, I want to talk with you as we swim in deep rivers of generational statements, which are released from the conglomerate of necrotic unions. I raise my glass to realms which lie beyond tangible and finite chords.
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Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
Mastered By A Servant?
Here's the story told to me about our glorious infantry. Louts,rapscallions,friends battalions arm in arm and full of glee marching off to join the infantry. In the rear lines drinking fine wines,hock,moselle,some burgundy and some drinking ginseng flavoured tea from some far flung idea of Empire while only half a mile along the road the whole world was on fire, were the fat arsed generals with their horses, waiting on their second courses, crepes and franzipans and to a man they didn't care that the war was waiting there, 'let the ******** wait',they'd say, after all that was the gentlemanly way. The bullets striped us left to right and falling into our own falling ***** we'd call for mum and dad aye lads aye lads war is bad but for the buggers at the rear who never so much as once came near the sound of a gun, war was fun a chance to socialise, society is full of lies and leaders they were not. But death's got their number on his shell,they'll soon be joining us in hell, so ****** them and sod the lot were in a spot,we'll not get home,splintered bone and mangled limb and corporal thinks it's still a sin to swear well ****** him as well,we no longer care. As we share a final smoke,Johnny tells his favourite joke about three generals and some place called,but I forget the punch line as the time has come for one more bullet,one more gun and silence. In Croydon,Roydon and North of Watford Gap,families are spoon fed some wholesome krap from drip fed Sergeants,battle,shield and argent,honour King and all the other little things that the senselessness of death brings home. Let them keep their fields filled full with glory,we know the ***** **** filled story, war is bad war is bad I'm glad that I cant fight no more.
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Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
Enemies make better friends
Here's the story told to me about our glorious infantry. Louts,rapscallions,friends battalions arm in arm and full of glee marching off to join the infantry. In the rear lines drinking fine wines,hock,moselle,some burgundy and some drinking ginseng flavoured tea from some far flung idea of Empire while only half a mile along the road the whole world was on fire, were the fat arsed generals with their horses, waiting on their second courses, crepes and franzipans and to a man they didn't care that the war was waiting there, 'let the ******** wait',they'd say, after all that was the gentlemanly way. The bullets striped us left to right and falling into our own falling ***** we'd call for mum and dad aye lads aye lads war is bad but for the buggers at the rear who never so much as once came near the sound of a gun, war was fun a chance to socialise, society is full of lies and leaders they were not. But death's got their number on his shell,they'll soon be joining us in hell, so ****** them and sod the lot were in a spot,we'll not get home,splintered bone and mangled limb and corporal thinks it's still a sin to swear well ****** him as well,we no longer care. As we share a final smoke,Johnny tells his favourite joke about three generals and some place called,but I forget the punch line as the time has come for one more bullet,one more gun and silence. In Croydon,Roydon and North of Watford Gap,families are spoon fed some wholesome krap from drip fed Sergeants,battle,shield and argent,honour King and all the other little things that the senselessness of death brings home. Let them keep their fields filled full with glory,we know the ***** **** filled story, war is bad war is bad I'm glad that I cant fight no more.
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28
i get bored of using websites with only strangers on them, it's like trying to be a stage-fright actor imitating statues, it's almost but a too clear bewilderment; i wonder why the internet was never intended for the sole purpose of bureaucracy, trading, banking, and all those social requirements, the dark side of the internet isn't the dark web as such, it's the oddity of using the internet to socialise, the hindering, the crutch, when otherwise all benefits of the internet have proven effective, for example? the shrinking diversity of the high street; large and accessible world, yet no community in the vicinity, and then friendships 12 hours apart, and then you step onto the streets of suburbia and death's grinding grip of things, because, let's face it, the bright lights and constant social engagements will only appreciate you for as much time as necessary to feel over-confident and then you're easily recyclable - and then the pre cemetery: suburbia.
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Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
pre cemetery (suburbia)
(Before you read this, this is only applicable to my experience, I'm not judging you if this is still your life; it's written more because it was my life and I wasn't living.) At the time I thought it helped me socialise, now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes; supplied with a look over the shoulder guise. Bored of chasing a broken prize, smoke n lies I chose to thrive, pry open these permanently closing eyes. It was the bane of my existence, now my resistance is high instead of me. I better be the best pedigree of I. Instead of the guy flying with eyes far from wide spying those that despise trying to get inside my mind, to find they aren't real. Addicted no longer, uplifted, higher than leaves can carry, now you’re green with envy while I parry back your attacks and crack on. I blow-back your slow trap and reflect upon your affliction I’m best without your friction on my lungs, now I’m cutting you with the diction from my tongue, no grinder. Now my mind’s up to speed, no amphetamine, no dependency, it certainly seems that I’m living better than I could ever dream. I’m an evergreen standing steady for centuries. At the time I thought it helped me socialise, now it’s no surprise I look through anti-social eyes; supplied with a look over the shoulder guise.
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Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
I Stay Low
Human in thinking, doing and being absorb, resist and learn explore, try and teach tolerate, effect and apt dream, play and appreciate choose, empathise and endure protect diversity, past and future destroy, interfere and absolve observe, savour and respect relaxing, changing and evolving feel, laugh and cry theorise, invent and engineer aspire, educate and archive navigate, articulate and embody socialise, protest and survive be mortal, resilient and dependable shape, fill and transform lead, serve and follow make life worth living Love to be a human
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Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 6:06 AM UTC
Human, North of the 60th Parallel (Poem two)
The man alone sat in the restaurant as people talked about him. Somehow he had become a real loner nobody talked to him. He never spoke to anybody close by losing the will to try. The man alone had not always been like this he'd been married twice. Blessed with four children and socialised yet lacked something. He was not considered a long term friend lacking a chemical blend? The man alone began to feel more depressed watching others socialise. What lay ahead the past didn't cheer him up questioning his purpose. Isolation was becoming more of an issue his future not even he knew! The Foureyed Poet.
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Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 11:52 PM UTC
Become A Loner
Splinters, blisters. Losers, winners. Saints and sinners. "Come in for dinner" s It's where we learned to socialise. Our very own sovereign land zero politics and conflicts always solved hand to hand. Loud junctions juxtaposed against our little corner of paradise motorists peering in when they stop at that red light. Ringing on doorbells, buzzing on intercoms The anticipation to hear whether your friend was home or not. Colourblind kids with the most vivid sight. Retrieving footballs under parked cars was the extent of our plights. I didn't know where the world would take us or the type of people it would make us, but something I learned from a young age is that the rest of the world isn't like Gooseacre.
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Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 12:24 PM UTC
Gooseacre Lane
When I was five Miss M sat the Chinese new girl next to me and I made a face. Miss gave a sharp look like: empathy please, an ethnic discriminates against race? Even as a child I squirmed at being cast as Other. I wanted to be with the anglo kids. The natural fleeting first impression of a child who writhes at injustice. I was conditioned to socialise and be protector of those who I didn't want anything to do with. The brash Anglo kids I suppose were oblivious and weren't burdoned by ideas too mature for them. Ah equality.
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Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 1:46 PM UTC
I no longer believe in multiculturalism 1
Not since the plasmic glow of the Inflationary period, When the glorious Universe could be held in the palm of your hand, Has the Light prevailed; Ever-after, the Darkness has gained increasing ********** Forget those globular perturbations coalescing into Galaxies; Forget, too, the denser gases igniting into radiant stars; The cold, dark space-time only retreats temporarily - and grows all the while. The expanding Universe acts to isolate the Light, And the Darkness is patient enough to await its ultimate victory. When Matter has run its race, And complex Life is a distant echo; When atoms and molecules haven't the Energy to socialise, Then the Darkness will swallow the Light for good. The Universe will be dark and dead - And God will cease to exist.
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Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Triumphant Darkness
When festivals are in town I certainly feel down I too want to flaunt But memories haunt Avoiding to socialise Stay away from noise Choose to be alone In my way own Once life of a party It is all now history I wish i could mingle But still remain single Unexplained rejections Shocking deceptions Friends turned back biter One lone fighter Embarrassing moments Negative judgments Their unkind acts Willful neglects Loss of self esteem Intentional demean Turn the spirits off Made me cut off Couldn't fill the void Hence the festivals i avoid Although I never revenged But now i am changed!
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
Now i am changed
I'm sorry I'm not as outgoing I'm sorry I don't like to go outside everyday I'm sorry I don't agree to plans I'm sorry I don't socialise a lot I'm sorry I'm self-conscious I'm sorry I prefer to stay at home I'm sorry I feel unsafe I'm sorry people intimidate me I'm sorry I think people are suspicious I'm sorry if I am too selfish to accept the fact that we've moved The list will go on but who has time? I'm sorry     I'm sorry           I'm sorry I changed (c.r)
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Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 5:36 PM UTC
plans
I thought and I set of what life is to me Actually! I have a dream I have a dream to open doors and let my wishes in to survive I anxiously and I urge to make my life valuable and let the past be I have a dream, a dream to socialise I have a dream, a dream to express my talents, to society yes. I have a dream, a dream to brighten my future, to society yes. I have a dream, a dream to handle challenges and let my heart love and care Acquire the ability and stabilise the requirements of my thoughtful senses and hopes Resemble the minds of those who heal and let me breath out disgrace to suit grace I have a dream, a dream to diversify I have a dream, a dream to successful life I have a dream, a dream to see and individual stand and say, because of you, I've build an empire because of you, I never give up because of you, I'm singing a song and I say, thank you thank you for making me believe thank you for building trust in me thank you. I have a dream.
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 7:55 AM UTC
I have a dream
It's my day at home today And people ask what I will do But I turn to them and tell them That I really do not know Well I'll wake up in the morning Feeling like I've had no rest And the fear that lies within me Will rise and constrict my chest But I'll stand up and be counted I'll work hard, I'll try my best And if you're lucky then I might even get dressed. It's my day at home today Some people say I work too much But if they want me to socialise Why don't they keep in touch? Still I'll sit at home and surf the web And text them from my room And I'll look at pictures on the net Of people on the moon Sing **** the ashcloud with Miss Palmer She'll be Mrs Gaiman soon And if you're lucky then I might just pen a tune. It's my day at home today And people ask me why I'm here I say that's because I have no plans I play my life by ear But it's doing me OK so far I'm living with it well Even if sometimes it can feel like A flaming pit of hell Still I'm learning and I'm trying Poking out beneath my shell And if you're lucky and you're good then I won't tell. It's my day at home today Sometimes people ask me why I shut myself in yet seem so strong And never, ever cry And I tell them that I'm happy And that's why I don't look sad And I try my best to help them out When they are feeling bad But they don't know what I cannot say That I've been driven mad And if they're lucky then they will not understand. It's my day at home today And some people ask me why I prefer to sit behind a screen And watch the world go by I say the phantom of the opera Composed in a secret place For he never wished the light of day To fall upon his face Even if I'm sat behind a pane I'm running my own race And if you're lucky I might let you keep the pace. It's my day at home today And people ask what I will do But I'll turn to them and tell them That it all depends on you.
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
It's my day at home today
It's my day at home today And people ask what I will do But I turn to them and tell them That I really do not know Well I'll wake up in the morning Feeling like I've had no rest And the fear that lies within me Will rise and constrict my chest But I'll stand up and be counted I'll work hard, I'll try my best And if you're lucky then I might even get dressed. It's my day at home today Some people say I work too much But if they want me to socialise Why don't they keep in touch? Still I'll sit at home and surf the web And text them from my room And I'll look at pictures on the net Of people on the moon Sing **** the ashcloud with Miss Palmer She'll be Mrs Gaiman soon And if you're lucky then I might just pen a tune. It's my day at home today And people ask me why I'm here I say that's because I have no plans I play my life by ear But it's doing me OK so far I'm living with it well Even if sometimes it can feel like A flaming pit of hell Still I'm learning and I'm trying Poking out beneath my shell And if you're lucky and you're good then I won't tell. It's my day at home today Sometimes people ask me why I shut myself in yet seem so strong And never, ever cry And I tell them that I'm happy And that's why I don't look sad And I try my best to help them out When they are feeling bad But they don't know what I cannot say That I've been driven mad And if they're lucky then they will not understand. It's my day at home today And some people ask me why I prefer to sit behind a screen And watch the world go by I say the phantom of the opera Composed in a secret place For he never wished the light of day To fall upon his face Even if I'm sat behind a pane I'm running my own race And if you're lucky I might let you keep the pace. It's my day at home today And people ask what I will do But I'll turn to them and tell them That it all depends on you.
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59
unfastidious relief my throat burns like a midnight afterglow crystallised in fleeting harmony jaded reflux relishing in others memory piecing the night together from bed from outside windows under cars and in apertures tiptoeing on one foot drinking my third segment of tonight black, snotty wine drying in blue destroying my thirst and cracking my lips i tumble onward stewing in false pretense irregular unimportant conversation fabricated pissy and ********* struggling to capsize their ego finding oneself in black bin bags filled with a need to socialise for the sake of it my bones are empty the road bends and my back is wet first one to go home tonight is dead
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
21
*Entitled one might feel To attention yours Inability to grasp Just too evident The idea itself Of getting attention undivided Is wrong at its core Objectifies you it does This wish to possess It demeans you so much Patriarchy and dominance Just seem to be oozing all over the place You are free Free to associate free to socialise Free to live your life The way you like Can empathise with the seeker The world moulds people in that way But still reason it is not To shackle yourself Even after all this I just can't discard the thought Only if you could be mine*
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Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
Two Faces
Most of the people in my story Have disappeared into a far away mist There are only a few I can say I genuinely miss. One in particular That I wouldn't if I could Because altho paradise has faded She is the thing which made paradise good. Decades have passed and I still                                  drag my cross                                    Thru the quicksand Dreaming of when it was held high                                   in the clear sky By Wendy Ann Too many people invited into our life                            Took away what life is Too many people hearing too many secrets To socialise with Too many displays of vulnerabilities (Or is that too many self-protecting excuses?) Most of my life I've pretended to accept things \but memories hold too many tombs                                   Of relationships blending over                                      To loss of dreams. I'll never return to Utopia However, I experienced it so intimately I can rotate fiction to fact But I wouldn't believe that If a miserable monument of pain Sold me it.
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
CLEAR SKIES IN MARCH (1995)
Nowadays, I am a particularly content person. I write, I study, I watch, I socialise (but only on Wednesdays) and I am alone. I have officially finished with the nasty business of a relationship, in fact, I don't think I'm relationship material at all. All in all, I'm okay with where I am in life. But at night, I have to close my bedroom door. I have to close it as soon as I turn out the lights, so the ghosts of my past regrets don't come sneaking in and come creeping into my head while I sleep. I must keep them out of me, it's not my fault you see. I tried so hard to help them all but I'm not as strong as I seem. I accept my life of sin and solitude. I'm happy this way, honestly, it's the truth. You have to believe me, you must.
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Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
The Curse of having a Memory
Its getting harder to laugh a while Its getting harder to happily smile Its getting harder to put on a mask Its getting harder to just walk past Its getting harder to go socialise Its getting harder to look into their eyes Its getting harder to see the right choices Its getting harder to ignore the voices Its getting harder to keep secrets up my sleeve Its getting harder to find reason to live Its getting harder to not submerge Its getting harder to suppress the urge Its getting harder to say “I’m alright” It’s getting harder to see the light Its getting harder to run after Its getting so.                           much.                                              darker.
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Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
Its getting harder
Men and women around the globe Mothers, grandmothers and aunts Fathers, grandfathers and uncles All parents from all over the world I have written this poem to state Simple facts about children That have been dismissed With a wave of a hand Or ignored with a turning of heads Children sometimes need space Don't tell them to socialise All of the time They need a break Just to be on their own They don't need to do things All of the time Sometimes they want to rest Or to simply do nothing Don't go at them about everything Sometimes they can't help it Things can be unpredictable Like hurricanes or death Help them when they need it Not every time They'll never know how to do it All on their own otherwise How do I know this? I am a child I was a child I will always be a child I know that you need space That you need a break That you need to have an escape From the world sometimes
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Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
Simple Facts About Children