"socials" poems
Under the bridge
Pills, muscle & back relief
Empty
Cigarettes, mirror pond pale ale
Sail away from consciousness
**** slowly
Socials Studies 10 homework
Conflicted cultures, transient economy
Fur hats
Exploration, exploitation, for
Fur hats!
Litter, candy wrapper
What are you underneath that pretty shell?
Hard heart
Soft heart
Fragile
Pencil
Potential
Lost hope, failed system
Failure
Still the stream runs on, runs away
A steady hum, a constant purr
Pure
Impure
Sinner
One day the stream will dry
And be forgotten, swept away into
Oblivion
Our memories, our ghosts
Numbed by the sound of water
Vanishes in time's cascade
Like pioneers and their fur hats.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
Depression, Depression the feeling of emptiness always a challenge to fill it with happiness. One of my favorite songwriters is Nick Drake his somber yet powerful lyrics about not be able to connect with people and depression really helped me in times of personal trouble. I was diagnosed very early on in my childhood with depression I started reading a lot listening to music looking outside my window watching the other children play knowing how I would not be able to connect socially. When my parents divorced I realized that my life began to go in a downward spiral then I discovered Nick Drake. I felt connected to him in some way as if I was a incarnation of him. When I listen to his music I feel the same sense of hopelessness the same feelings of isolation. At times I feel stronger for going through this permanent pain but then I think to myself what of my future. That question races though my mind it almost like its making me a restless ghost during those cold dark nights. Through my high school years I still felt the same isolation with people as when I was a child. But the big difference was that I didn’t place a big smile on my face when I knew everything was not alright. This time I expressed my feelings in a more mature and realistic way. I started to write a lot in my spare time I usually wrote a lot of isolated characters trying to find that source of happiness that would free them of their personal pains. Once I wrote a short story about a girl that I fell in love with being a huge fan of F.Scott Fitzgerald I described the main character as the girl all the boys want but can ever have. With a combination of Nick Drakes lyrical style and F Scott Fitzgerald’s plot structure I wrote a love story that defined my inner feelings that I couldn’t really express with verbal communication. Sometimes I believe when people socialize verbally it establishes a more meaningful connection but for me developing socializing socials wasn’t so verbal but it was with writing and listening to music where I developed a sense of identity that was a real morale booster to continue living life with the aspirations of success and personal happiness.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like
The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance
O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love We are the World's rejected kin
The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious
In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunk and red-handed by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more
*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken*
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
For gory guys and glamour ghouls
The Night hosts her socials for the monsters inside and out
In the moonlight we come dancing, clinking bottles, wandering about
We are goblins, ghouls, mummies, witches, zombies and misfits alike
Dressed up in our finest tuxedos, pearls, lace, bloodstains and the like
The Daylight wont have us, but the Night plays hostess to our monster bones
She slips into her midnight blue party dress and she puts on the Ramones
And we dance
we dance
we dance
O, we are the dark psychopaths, the feared, the soulless creatures
We companions by the moonlight are shaking, stammering vultures
We are friends in wayward trudges, we are spitting, foaming vermin
We are in love We are the World's rejected kin
The ghouls and the witches and our old zombie friends,
The World's most dark and repulsive in clear-cut diamonds,
We monsters aren't alone in the night, drunken, broke and hideous,
Charming and disgusting, we are the Night's beloved insidious
In the night, we are happy, giddy, wasted children
We are the Fiend Club, we are the monster brethren
Until we are caught, disfigured, drunken, red-handed by the Daylight
And we make our way home, to crawl under the floorboards and sleep until twilight
Until the Night's long fingers slip an invitation under the door
And we will put our party dresses and our tuxedos on once more
*O, the moon is out and the Fiend Club has woken
The Night is young and we are broken*
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
The limited palette of the January riverbank,
#nomakeup #nofilter
just the burst capillaries and thread veins
bare
A tired earthy visage,
still allures the blackbird and wren
who never truly got the hang
of saying when
and feast past decency
The idea is to recuperate
and re-emerge fresh and green
but truth seems more like this molasses mud
that hold boots firm
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 9:24 AM UTC
“What’s your name again?”
He asks me.
“Have we met before?”
He asks me.
Yes we’ve met.
I remember the first time I saw you up close.
I was too scared to look into your eyes so I just looked at your hands.
I could’ve looked at them all day.
They were beautiful.
Not in a soft and polished kinda way,
but a strong and rough way.
It’s like they told stories of your manhood and all I wanted to do was put them up to my face and listen to what they had to say.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
I guess you were all business.
Filming for your job and I was just a prop.
A nameless
plain
unimportant
prop.
You had to edit over an hour of footage with me in the background.
Twirling the ribbon in my Bible scared that if I looked up I would just stare at you.
You had to type my name.
First and last.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
I thought of us before even laying eyes on you.
I remember the first time I saw your face.
We’ve only been going to church together for three months now.
I’ve only been staring at you every Sunday for three months now.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
Your profile popped up on my Facebook and I thought it was fate.
I wasn’t looking for your profile.
I didn’t even know your name yet.
I lost sleep because of you.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I said your name in my sleep.
I checked your socials like an old man checks the morning paper.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
Don’t worry about my name,
if you don’t know it now you will never learn it.
If you wanted to remember my name you would have.
So don’t waste my time with asking me now.
“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”
My name is worthless
unlovable
invisible.
But I don’t say any of this out loud.
I tell you my name while I feel my heart tighten.
My name is…
But once I tell you my name you repeat it like it’s a question.
It’s like a song I want to play on repeat until I get sick of it.
I want to hear you say my name over and over and over again.
But you won’t.
You have another girl’s name to say.
While you forget mine,
I remember yours like a bad song I wish I never heard.
A song that’s so bad it’s good.
What’s my name…
Maybe my name isn’t worth remembering.
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 10:02 PM UTC
if you miss me, close your eyes you'll see
me smiling at you knowing it's you I need
always be around, whether you are feeling up or down
to you I'm forever bound, queen to my world
you own the crown, enchanted I'm spellbound
whipped our love profound
with me
you'll never shed a tear or frown
glad you I found
my love circular you it surrounds
carrying you to a higher plain beyond the clouds
like EM we space bound, soaring on wings of love
Osbourne
elated we soar, if you need me
knock on my door
text, call,
dm on socials, be there in an instant
so that you don't miss me for a second
when you call nothings more important
we courted today forever together you worth it
we deserve it, we'll go the distance in the
clouds by angels its written
nothing we are lacking
fun fact is we meant to be
our love reminiscent
of energy, that powers the sun its glowingly
lighting up our lives as each other we breathe
lovingly it's the oxygen we need together
we ascend it how we feel
feels with you the perfect hand i was dealt
Nov 8, 2022
Nov 8, 2022 at 3:09 PM UTC
they all got that new phone
that just came out last week
and with that and their cars,
they have noodles to eat
updating their socials
while at work at their job
and living so "healthy"
so wealthy
top shelf
with a case of Top Ramen
and e-books on self-help
a whole nation arranged
not to think, but consume
if this is our future, I'd say
we're all doomed
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel the dry air on my parched heart feel the faith in hope and love streaming out from the delta the fingers crossed timbers lost in the hurricane of hail Marys and weak end roller coasters, so many saccharin socials and UN I'd ent if ied flights sauce erd threw the night what will it take to cure me right? Fallow friend and hallowed brother dreams are where we reunite but I wish that fog would clear and I fear that rest just might your mother seems young at gaze but those bones are weary from the fight and I am weary too so I said all that just to say where the havens are you?
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
I sit here on the side
Of my own long road
Listening to the memories
Of crickets and toads
As I remember back
To years of childhood
Spent feeling lucky
To be in the wildwood.
No car horns honking
No neighbors screaming.
No jarring realities to
Waken me from dreaming.
The breezes and the stars
The city kid changing gears
Creating a landscape that has
Resided in me through the years.
Ice cream socials and songs
Sung in the church nearby
Bringing tears to my eyes
But I did not know why.
Why did these simple folks
So very glad to be alive
Smile through the foment
Then go right on to thrive?
They had no television,
Some had radios to hear
They relied on Farmer’s Almanac
To help them through the year.
They made their way themselves,
Knew when to plant and to reap.
When to harvest and store food;
Early to rise and early to sleep
They had a car and a tractor
But seldom had to leave home.
They bought this farm
When they lost the urge to roam.
We didn’t go to movies then,
But weddings and funerals
Brought friends together;
Cousins aunts and uncles.
At summers end I went back
To the city I knew so well
And got used to being there
After a rather touchy spell.
The water tasted differently
And Grandma was a great cook.
So, a whole lifetime later
Those days deserve another look.
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
Dear Grandfather,
You are missed more than a thousand Chinese lanterns,
but I know you are not lost, nor are you off track,
I'm sure you float among the stars
sipping sweet red wine on mars
& play cards on the dark side of the moon
I still hope that one day God will grant you with furlough
to escape the bony handed captivity of reapers,
so that you can sit next to your loved ones,
and we can have coffee party's at 6 am
and ice cream socials at 9
I'd apologize for weeping even when you told me not too,
I'll always remember that you are the diamond glints on the snow,
and that you don't sleep so we can watch king of the hill and HBO all night long
and when your furlough is over
I'll know that when I wake up the next the day that you did not die,
I'll just call it going on vacation,
I've always wanted to go to space,
and one day I will see you there,
and we can surf meteors or make memories in the constellations.
but over all I'll always think of you when it rains,
and I'll try my best not cry when I visit your grave.
Always know I love you,
You're Granddaughter,
Emily.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
The overlying theme of this generation
Is veneration for people practicing subjugation over other nations
Private socials are the new public places
Where they run from other faces
Just to fake feel the safest
While they make racist statements
Acting out like cavemen
But somehow claim a falsified sense of sophistication
Irony resulting from a lack of education
Little white lies to fill the empty black spaces
Over saturated pale faces for replacement
The only history they have lacks origination
Dissatisfied with their own situations
They'd buy your black skin if it was worth their down payment
Hypocritical to a sense literal
Coincidental how the long arm of the law
Tends to bend the rules
And grade the 'colored' on a curve
Being vain, with their emotions hues change
So it's easy to see who has the nerve
Claiming ties to land they've never been from
Accomplishing feats and mastering the weather was one
Makes you wonder how'd the pyramids ever get done
While shedding skin, getting burnt and turning red in the sun
What a creature...
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
galactic eruption
interrupts a stroll down the memory lane
linear meta brain
meticulously performing the act of
self restraint
selfless worships
now, lesser in terms of quantitative hints
the never ending path
that circumvents the colourless
conscience
it contravenes the limitless scenes of a liberating regime
trust plummets into the hands of perceptive fiends
taken in
taken instead of countless numbered pills
a train of exaggerated kin
tracks back to those with highly assumed authorities
amidst the group of avid anti-socials
vividly varied in opinions
from a sword to a pin
essentially assembled to speak against the ancient ones
a neoteric synchronization
scaling screaming lexemes
the scathed silk screeches
soaked in acid
flamed till the ashes can be smelled
but never seen
seemingly insignificant statements
covert and pristine
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 4:22 AM UTC
Okay but do we ever really stop loving them ?
Stop thinking about they way they made us feel ?
Stop thinking about them before going to sleep ?
Stop stalking their socials ?
Stop thinking if they miss us ?
Stop thinking about how it would have been if we never broke up ?
Is there a line somewhere ? Anywhere ?
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 2:26 PM UTC
Empathic
I feel the worlds suffering
I feel the sadness of lost souls
I feel the love in stangers hearts, a flame that will never burn out
I feel the anti socials anxiety
I feel
I feel everything
I feel everything so passionately
I burst in to tears
I bust out in laugher
The energy is just too much to ignore
I feel everything
I feel everyone
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
little rich boys follow orders
attend prep school, learn a dead language
put on your suit and tie young man, tuck your shirt tails in
wash your hands, throw your opinions in the bin
little rich boys follow orders
they do what daddy says
then there was richard cory
eighteen years old and handsome as could be
the one who preferred his own company at socials
his time spent fending off vampiresses
and writing poetry on cocktail napkins
"father," he said, proud and puffing out his chest
"i wrote my own book of poetry, and i think it's the best
i know that the bank is waiting for me
but in my heart i'm a poet, oh can't you see?
i want to be a poet, father, oh please just let me be a poet."
little rich boys do not disobey orders
and from the time he could comprehend
richard cory knew that being a banker was at his road's end
but if richard cory couldn't write poetry
he knew his heart would never mend
father's fat face flooded deep crimson
"listen, boy: you are my only son
and you shall be a banker when the deed is done
just like your grandfather, me, and his father before
you have not lived unless your life is a bore
i will not have a dreamer for a son
head in the sky as the world passes him by
while my business is fated to slowly die
no, if a poet my son chooses to be
then no questions asked, i will put you in the army."
that could never be
fainted-hearted fair skinned richard cory
would not last a day in the army
surely he was doomed to receive a bullet in the head
into his lungs he took a shaky breath
paler than pale, his lips formed a false smile
with a nod, he returned to his room
his words, his poetry-
it was everything, they were everything
without it he was to be another rich boy
following father's orders and saying, "yes sir"
who would grow to be a rich old man with no hair
who would always wonder what he might have done there
one thing was for sure:
if richard cory wasn't able to write poetry
his heart would never mend
this was the end
shaking hands, tears in his eyes
when he was a little boy he said he would not tell lies
a metal barrel in his perfect mouth, so foreign and cold-
father, this is what you asked for-
fingers fumbled with the release-
oh lord, eighteen years young and soon to be dead-
it was no secret to the people living in the town
when richard cory put a bullet in his head
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 7:05 PM UTC
One day
I will stop looking at your photos
I can finally delete them
Forget about them forever
One day
I will stop looking at places
I can stop romanticizing them
Stop thinking about dates
One day
I will block your contacts
Your socials, your emails, your texts
So I can stop checking everyday
One day
I will smile again
Laugh with friends and family
No need to fake it anymore
One day
I will throw away your things
Toss away the gifts, the letters
Clearing up my home
One day
I will meet someone new
Who will love me, accept me
Better than you could ever have
One day
I will stop loving you
I can finally let you go
So it can stop hurting
One day
Someday
Just
Not today
Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 1:12 PM UTC
i poet
writes about suicides
impulse cutting
you get misunderstand
you need polarized
we am writes about depression
you so emo
me so emo
need u to reads
more socials justice
more racistism
you were rights
for me to reading
american poetries
because read a poetry
spewed out by
bot software
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
Why would I do this
What was in my head
My charmed life of bliss
Perhaps irreparably dead?
Yes I'm a fighter
A grifter of old,
I deserve a fate brighter
But on this I've been rolled.
Politics such a foul game
They claim I'm the one crooked,
But these hacks put me to shame
With actions deceitful and wicked.
Still you know what they say
When you're in the arena riding that bull,
Hold on tight and don't sway
The harder it bucks the stronger you pull.
Melania's not happy,
The kids out of sight,
While I may sometimes get snappy
It’s when I’m alone in the dead of the night.
Truth socials' my outlet
Where I vent and I rage
An invaluable asset
With my fans to engage.
For despite all my troubles
I'm still leading the pack
Supporting my struggles
They all have my back.
Biden is scheming
When the guy remembers at all,
In most polls I am far leading
Now he's praying I'll fall.
The media is gloating
With me as their lead,
In money they're floating
When Trump is their creed.
So maybe it's worth it
This journey of pain,
The path to outwit
And put these connivers to shame.
With me as your President
The US will be great
My abilities so undeniably evident
I’m clearly your best Head of State.
Jul 19, 2023
Jul 19, 2023 at 12:08 PM UTC
When the scent finally fades
From the pillows and covers
When I can't find strands of hair
On my clothes and carpet
When I redecorate the place
To fill empty spaces
When the profile is deleted
From all of the subscriptions
When I buy fewer groceries
Just to make meals for one
When I change the locks
Carrying the only key
When I stop checking
My phone and socials
When I stop saying goodnight
Because there's no good morning
When I stop hoping
For a dream long gone
When it finally hits me
Of how different life is
That's when I will realize
You are truly gone
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 8:37 AM UTC
I remember...
shorts, barefeet and bare chest
crawdad fishing, bike riding
creek wading, rope swinging
and
flower picking
Wild gallops on the ponies
hide and seek among
(I can almost smell it)
sweet corn stalks
kick the can and tag
sitting under the apple tree
eating ("they'll make you sick")
green apples
fish fries, carnivals
and
strawberry socials
making ("my turn to crank")
homemade ice cream
thunderstorms
rainbows
making mud pies
catching grasshoppers
and
fireflies
staying up late
and
sleeping on the floor
evening drives
and
honeysuckle
hours of make believe
running like the wind
and
freedom!
August
August comes
turns up the heat
August comes
with no relief
the summer air lays heavy
encasing all nearby earth
even fireflies' frolic
has turned to more a dirge
everything moves sluggishly
slowed to snail's pace
the languid cat's indifferent
to the moth
he'd earlier have chased
Augusr comes
turns up the heat
August comes
with no relief
Serenade
Sweet voices of the evening
delight of summertime
do you sing to make the sun rise?
or to make stars brightly shine?
enchanting summer concert
echoing all around
do fireflies keep your rhythm
as they dance and flit about?
do you usher in the dreamtime?
do you croon the flowers to sleep?
and
where is your song in winter?
does it rest in slumber deep?
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:12 PM UTC
I Keep being weak and checking your socials onece or twice a week
Just to watch my moods drop from highs to lows
I don't know what makes me look back
I guess it's the memory of being loved to blame for that
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
i guess when i check socials it feels like i need someone to tell me im doing something right, well, correct, even if it comes in the form of a like, share, comment. what im really craving is someone to give me real advice, real compliments, real talks. its easy to cover one up with the other, but it is not easy to confuse. i know i can see the difference clearly.
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 10:21 PM UTC