I’ve changed settings on Facebook page
To “only me” egoistic regime
Didn’t mean to provide any visible change
I see what I always have seen
Anyway, my posts were unmarked
But I didn’t want to annoy
So on privacy mode I embarked
Of the public eye being devoid
The reason is that I used to post
Too many of aphorisms
And I reckon it seemed to the most
The embarrassing anachronisms
So I feel a bit confused
It was silly to preach the converted
With warnings, probably overused
Perhaps laughingly diverted
So I climbed back into my rescue
Though sometimes I look out with hope
Is there anyone now, maybe you?
But no miracle happens, nope.
Here I found my peace of mind
I’m a facebook freak
In dark waters of my time
I can swim or sink
No one watches me when I
Languidly pass through
Posts of groups to which I’m signed
And some posts of you
I’m a scapegoat to the world
So I don’t talk much
If they need to share absurd
I am out of touch
Sharing mostly pleasant sights
I’m a facebook soul
I believe in you, despite
You’re not here at all
Once upon a time there were
Two of us, now one
Then one day comes down a blur
And there will be none.
VERTIGINOUS VIRTUOSO-:-
whirling
wunderkinds
ingenuous
spiraling
paroxysmally
in a THRILL of EXACTITUDE
exceling
apogeal
moments
perpendicular
vanguards
of the ARTWORKS and CURIOS
galleries
sanctum
exhibitions
declivus
gradient
is a cheap hollow
chocolate bunny
that doesn’t even taste good
from the outside.
Living is not captured
in smiles or poses or
perfected moments
jumping on a beach
in white with all the relatives,
or partying and being bedazzling
when you are 20-some
for strangers and followers
whom you don’t know
and will forget you tomorrow
(or when you become redundant,
boring, older,
or just too real
for comfort
or probing publicity).
I want the pretty.
I want escapism.
I want to see
what I can’t see
from my lackluster
backyard, where the
bird feeders
are always empty
and the garden shed
is an eyesore.
Just write poetry.
Just keep writing
and dreams will come.
When your two bright eyes look at me,
I wonder what they seek to see,
when your face hosts mystery smile,
it lingers on for quite a while.
those whisks of greying in black hair
speak of stacks of wisdom to share,
face serene fresh as of a child,
hiding a prank, yet joyous mild.
when you share your deep thoughts with me,
you knock me down on to my knee,
wonder should I admire your charms,
or be enriched by words, be calm.
whatever is has to be love,
more powerful than God above,
i love the warmth of your being,
gives my world a whole new meaning,
Stop smiling at me from that photograph,
Join me in my life, let’s live, love and laugh.
half of the people on Facebook
are running a scam
the other half
are falling for it
and the rest
are watching cat videos
like monks chanting into the void.
everybody’s smiling—
teeth too white,
lives too perfect,
money falling from the sky
if you’ll just click here
and believe hard enough.
old friends message me
with the enthusiasm of used-car salesmen,
calling me “brother”
after thirty years of silence,
asking if I want freedom,
wealth,
or a miracle before Tuesday.
there’s a woman from high school
selling enlightenment for $19.99,
a man who never read a book
teaching success,
and a guru who can’t sit still
telling me how to find peace.
meanwhile
the real disasters
sit quietly in the corners—
rent due,
lungs hurting,
loneliness eating a sandwich alone
at midnight.
Facebook calls it connection.
I call it a bar
where everyone’s drunk
and lying about how good they’re doing.
still, I scroll.
because hope is a stubborn disease
and even a scam
looks warm
when the night is long
and the world keeps asking
for just one more click.
‘Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful.’
— Molly Ivins
I helped rescue your kid, a help just owed,
As cries that pierced the air near end of road.
His bone fractured, his mouth without some teeth,
My arm was bruised, the fall with pain beneath.
You sued me, lied the fractured bones my fault,
Your wicked lawsuit rubbed my bruise with salt.
A fly on the wall, your presence depicts,
Your aim, from Facebook friends a million clicks.
My children begged me to get on Facebook
Because they are girls and changed their names when they married
They knew their friends could spell my name
Few people have our last name
And almost no one spells Karen with a C
Like my mother did
I opened an account, not understanding it much
Looking up names of people I used to know was addictive
I spent hours sending friend requests
I also found other Carens with my spelling
I sent them friend requests
Got a warning from Facebook
There were complaints about this
If I did not stop contacting Carens, they were shutting my account down
I put my grandchildren’s pictures up
My children objected; apparently sex traffic people can use those photos
So, I took them down
Now I post photos of my dogs and my artwork. I feel safe so far.
You are like a restless butterfly
but you pick the flowers that are only true.
That's why I love you.
You are so joyful
but don't collect friends like a fool
and hunger for your own celebration
on the Facebook zoo.
That's why I love you.
You love your country and an artist of its art,
you are so possessive to protect
and always keep intact its real history
in your heart.
Your patriotism is vocal like a green parrot,
never backs down, never sad and blue.
That's why I love you.
You move around, speak around,
still like a child,
try to make everyone happy,
you build base everyday for the future,
like an architect, like a busy bee,
and throughout the day
you remain the morning dew.
That's why I love you.
Alas ! Only if you could love me too.
(01.05.2025)
We
live in
a new world
where a thumbs up
is the highest praise
we can hope to receive
A heart stands for excellence
and five minutes in the newsfeed
or receiving a single comment
will give a poet cause to celebrate
A few minutes ago I was outside enjoying the sun...
The saddest part about betrayal is that it never comes from enemies.
~The Cat atlas_chubby_paws
When a friend becomes an enemy I have to ask myself was that friend a friend in the first place?
In today's era, where Instagram rules the scene,
We hustle for the gram, to keep our life pristine.
Showcasing the highs, concealing the low,
Chasing the bag, as they say we must go.
In this digital realm, we only reveal the grand,
Painting pictures of a life that's oh-so-grand.
The gram captures moments, each filtered and bright,
Yet behind the scenes, the struggle's out of sight.
"I follow the bag," they say, the anthem we sing,
No matter how many likes, it's the joy we bring.
A pursuit of greatness, in pixels we define,
Yet the true story often hides between the line.
On the gram, we display the finest array,
But remember, real richness isn't just in display.
In this era of filters and picture-perfect lore,
Let's seek authenticity, a little more and more.
I saw a report on the news today,
about what Social Media did.
People were yelling and screaming how,
they’re not babysitting our kid.
If you can’t control what your children watch,
while you live with them all day long.
Why are you blaming Social Media ,
when something they might see goes wrong.
If you don’t want them exposed to some things,
that some evil people might say.
Perhaps you should not give them a cell phone,
As a gift for their 5th birthday.
Some people think that everyone needs to know their life story on a daily basis
~ How I Hate it That I Like You ~
O’ Facebook, keeper of the emoji
I tell the world that I’m better than you
I can’t waste my time on all your nonsense
I have more important things to pursue
But each morning I can be found searching
Going down the rabbit hole of news feeds
Looking for all of the latest gossip
To satisfy my secret wants and needs
I’m tired of all your negativity
I swore I was putting you to an end
I’d only use you to follow the kids
But now here I am clicking likes and sends
I wonder just who I’m trying to kid
When I tell the world how much I hate you
You and I both know without you my friend
I would never have anything to do
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