"webpages" poems
Reality can keep the glamour and it can also take the glitz,
cause nowadays we discover ourselves on computer chips.
We see how others live in all kinds of far places
then try to be individuals in books full of faces.
And lets face it these days our lives are being recorded;
information on your likes and activities stored and sorted.
You ignore it; never get hurt by what you don't know
more concerned about how you'll crop your next photo.
Gotta make sure to fit in all your clothes logos
cause it'll for sure make haters go loco.
When they see how you live life with the motto 'yolo'
it will make them all wanna examine their livesand say 'oh no'.
Man I swear this yolo fad has gotta run into the ground
cause if you lived twice your second one wouldn't be spent ******* around.
But nowadays we become a grown up on webpages
with profiles full of pictures and landmarks to chart phases.
Some might call it art in the way that we all make it
but, its a mirror to ourselves til the minute we all break it.
Can't shake it - the feeling we've crossed realities borders
into a digital realm ruled by coded orders,
with back doors and corridors,
and plasma screens and lots of cords,
USB's and PC's,
Web Cams, and DVD's,
terrabytes and touch screens,
reach out and you can touch dreams.
but all that you touch it just seems
without the intention to be.
Because locked inside the screen is reality invested
you wouldn't waste your time if no one else was interested.
It's been suggested that staring at the screen is bad for your eyes
but I do imply that being glued to it is bad for our lives.
Now when we meet face to face we cannot even socialize
we apply on dating sites and get further categorized.
So now it's like who we are is only what does appear
to others on all these sites we might never even come near
some attraction that was natural pulling in with real excitement,
so I guess romance is gone in the age of social enlightenment.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
There’s nothing I remember, so I shall invent a life.
It all starts with a dichotomy. Speech, lack of speech.
Logos, preceded by the lack thereof.
A heartbeat, maybe, echoing to form a vowel.
And then a sigh, with inexplicably twisted tongue.
“I”…
I…
I’ll tell you. Raising a finger from my desk.
I’ll tell you how it began. I was in the dark, and decided I had had enough of it.
I flipped on a lamp at my side and began to write.
There weren’t any words yet, but there were symbols for sounds, and that was close enough for now.
I pressed enter, and the message flew to a compatriot.
Or an enemy. This flush dichotomy of forms abounds!
I hold my breath and wait.
Waiting, for a response.
Waiting, to imagine words I’ll never hear.
And the light hums.
I…
What is it, inside that filament
which speaks?
What is every minute morsel of matter telling me about my beginning?
I’m not sure I want to read it, when my phone shakes.
But that’s what that behavior dictates.
A laugh, a cold analysis, a response.
This could go on indefinitely.
I don’t even know where you are in the world.
I’ll never see you.
I think of a more advanced dichotomy, I read about.
It was attributed to Freud.
A baby masters the objective universe through two utterances
in a ball game.
Fort… gone.
Da… there.
For now, these words are silent, but if I were in a crib
You would be the breast I long to devour,
The meaning I would choose to fill my mouth with
Muffled exclamations:
DADADADADADADA!
And I cry. But I don’t know what this all means to you.
Because I haven’t told you with electronic signs.
I’m not sure the word “to cry” carries any meaning.
It just stands in for fear.
Fear of being alone in the world, with the dark,
And no logos.
But I could go on for days reading walls of text on webpages developed by people
who have long since died.
I can summon the likeness of every celebrity onto a screen
rubbing my ***** while I look at them.
I can hear the music—
I CAN HEAR THE MUSIC—
Of all the world, vibrating. Rhythms contracting, like vulvas after birth.
And the silky, black discharge is this emotion in my brain after I think of you.
I created you with my words.
I illuminated my world with the thought of you.
And now I have nothing to say to the creature I created.
I am in horror before you.
Fort, fort, fort, away!
You have left me, without ever being present.
You were here, you were gone, I had no control.
And when I weep, the fear drowns the sun’s luminescence
The clouds hide the sky
The air sculpts my lungs
With emptiness
after words have come out.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
Sometimes I find it amusing
that all our ***** laundry
is aired out on two webpages
for all to see, if only they
could connect the dots.
But then, this is far
from an ordinary clothesline.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
I lit a fire tonight
upon my grandfather's old typewriter.
I kindled it with all of his old pencils,
his favorite ballpoint pen,
his yellow-paged novels,
his newspaper cutouts of his past successes.
Hell, I even threw in the bookshelf.
And, just like that,
it was mortal history.
I did it for the **** of it.
I mean, if it was REALLY important,
it would be sprawled all over webpages.
Sprawled all over online searches and
digital databases.
Trust me, grandpa,
the future looks much better in High Definition.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 8:23 PM UTC
If these webpages could talk
They did it a decade ago
These ancient posts jut up
Rotting like titan bones
Every comment another grave
Born and dead the same day
Our ancestors built this place
Nine years ago
They blew away one by one
But for a few huddled remainders
The words are relics
A rome and its ruins
Echoes and ghosts, lingering
As the forum quietly fades
Oct 29, 2021
Oct 29, 2021 at 7:47 AM UTC
Every morning, I check the pages
lonely or in love
I'm lost and only want your hug
I stare, at these empty web pages
You've done it again
You've vanished into thin air
Depressed and delusional
Did you find your way through prayer?
When you return will I still be beautiful
Will you be the way you were
Depressed and delusional
This won't be a blur
While I'm at your funeral
Don't die on me now
I can't stand this anymore
Lets make love not war
These web pages have been torn
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
it is not my life
just digital code
affixed to cloud storage
floating the interwebs
lost in cyberspace…
gone are the days
of lamenting wordsmiths
huddled in solitude
cleverly crafting expressionistic ramblings
on the hide of a favored sow…
no longer are pompous poets
hobnobbing with royalty
or giving nations a moment of quiet pause
or reflection
as they brilliantly turn the social and cultural
idiosyncrasies of the day
into a new movement or meaning
through masterfully reorganizing the current truths….
No, it is just we few
bent on purging randomness
diligently posting to webpages
in hopes our peers will give us
a little validation. –
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
With my voice I scream at what I call injustice. I pound my keyboard and cast words into cyberspace. I look at images of people I do not know and places I cannot be, but I feel a connection to others I have never met. In a chorus of voices I join a protest that makes no noise. With the force of a tidal wave our anger and resolve races across blogs and webpages. In a silent riot, we demand change and push for our place to be recognized and for our voices to be heard.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
There are nights
That I think of you
All of you
It starts off as an idea in my head
I think of your face and the way my tongue wore your name so comfortably
I think of our relationship and in these moments I only think of the good
The good on how happy I felt to be with you
To be seen by you
To be wanted by you
And these memories lead to what some would perceive as creepy google searches
I start with your name and click on every link that has anything to do with you
I look at your old Facebook pictures when you were an insecure high schooler
And I smile and my heart softens
Because I knew you
You were apart of me
Sewed into my everyday life
You were my friend, my companion and maybe even my renegade lover or the object of my desire
And for a moment my heart longs for you
I long for what we had, whether it was a relationship deeper and more complex than the ocean or as shallow as a lake
I think of where we could’ve been today
What we could’ve been
And I think about who you are today
I wonder what you’re doing, how you’re doing
And who has the privilege of knowing you like I knew you
And for a moment my heart is saddened
And with that
I close the webpages, my thoughts of you going into hibernation
At least until another night
That I remember the idea of you
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 4:57 PM UTC
I flip through webpages
All of them, so amazing, unique
I forget all of them the next day
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 2:29 AM UTC