Long Social media Poems
Long Social media Poems. Below are the most popular long Social media by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Social media poems by poem length and keyword.
Do you think you can win?
Do you even think you can contend?
When the tempestuous trolls come out to play...
1, 2, 3 to infinity with the vitriol they spew your way
These keyboard assassins will peck you into oblivion.
So, why bother? They know neither where you're going nor where you've been
They scroll incessantly in search of their next victim
It doesn't matter what the pronoun is: her, him, they, or them
The exorbitant amount of shade that's thrown while you bask in the sun.
Shade! So much shade that's meant to dim your light in your season
So, jumping into the ring for an online battle is futile
Because online hits come from all angles and the blows can be brutal
A prudent man knows to stay clear of this ring
He knows it is a place where many revel in sordid, tittle-tattle, and mindless things
So why enter a ring where it's impossible to win?
It shouldn't even be a second thought because you can't even contend.
"FAKE" assertions unstoppably
bandied with beef,
(sans doughty deeds done dirt cheap)
courtesy of commander in chief
trumpeted as a way to backout,
embarrassment analogous to the thief
of Baghdad, when culpable faux pas
woe philly pops thought balloon of mine
reckons with transparent "good grief"
within mind of yours truly,
who finds himself dumbstruck
aghast, and shaking noggin with disbelief
how people can be so gullible
who would just as lief
eat a pin cushion to deliver strep throat relief.
First amendment teeter totters on brink
of dissolution mainly by the rat fink,
whose defamation against journalists
risking life and limb, yet not shrink
king enlightening liberal minded, who think
similar to myself, imposter
hood drums utter rubbish
while feeling teed off puttering
along Mar a Lago,
or another owned golf link
resorting to silence protesters
whisked off to the klink.
Distortions, (nee outright
blatant lies) saturate
social media platforms,
which followers didst rate
as their numero uno slate
supposedly reliable sources
harkening back to papa retaliate
Tory Bush prez administration,
regarding patrilineal shogunate
where Iraq summarily
targeted for crashing Kuwait
violating, jeopardizing, and
compromising vital oil, literate
folks suspected, that critical
lubricant mandatory to resonate
greasing western civilization
particularly self anointed great
super power USA, hence
alarmists didst exaggerate,
whose military intelligence
industrial leaders got irate
contracting complex projecting
global economy would vacillate
and, perhaps take Kamikaze nosedive
hence procrastination could not wait
demanding based on sketchy accusation
Saddam Hussein, and his ilk ultimate
harbored weapons of mass destruction
despite lack of distilled proof,
would severely truncate
nary a trace sniffed out,
nonetheless damn the torpedoes blitzed
in an effort to triangulate
miscreant running amuck
eventually met demise
with Bush Junior delivering
permanently placating tete a tete,
no matter dispensing top notch
fighting soldiers, whose strong
lifeless bloodied bodies remain prostate.
Fear had all but a few intrepid explorers in its icy grasp,
And even they not resisting the right of fear to,
Lord it over the land.
Things looked bleak indeed for the human race,
With all means of advertising at fear's beck and call,
Social media spreading fear faster than the plague.
Journalists no longer free to print without fear.
Real estate agents fearing lost sales,
Police and the courts in constant dis-pear,
With all the rest fearing to get out of bed in the morning
And fearing to go to bed at night.
All seemed lost,
With none prepared to go down the road of hope,
Love struggling to detect a steady heartbeat.
Then the unthinkable happened,
With no new people to frighten fear became bored,
And decided to have a field day.
With all communication under fear's control,
No one should have missed an invite.
Yet not a soul turned up on the day.
The women stayed away for fear of germs,
The men afraid to miss the sports play of the day,
The children afraid they might have to walk across the field.
Despite what you may read in your history book,
This was the true catalyst that turned the tide on fear,
And tore them free of its icy grasp,
So, they could become the force they are in the universe today.
When none turned up to the field day of fear,
The fear merchants with nothing to peddle on the day,
Went bankrupt,
The advertisers afraid of being sued slipped back into the ground,
Social media became social once more,
Journalists no longer resided in the gutter,
The real estate agents could not sell the field at any price.
And had to adjust their lifestyle,
The police and courts went back to serve the people,
Who now had a germ of an idea that fear could be conquered,
It was safe to walk across the field,
And watching the play of the day in real time was more fun.
As for fear,
It is still about,
And enjoying the healthy respect,
It is due,
Which is heart warming indeed for the future of the Human race,
In a realm once pure, where stories were shared,
A new world arrived, yet no one was prepared.
Young hands that once worked with skill and grace
Now swipe on screens, lost in the race.
They dream of fame and riches untold,
But in return, their secrets are sold.
A click, a share, and trust is gone-
Privacy is lost as the web moves on.
The youth are trapped, yet they fail to see,
That social media is not always free.
Rumors spread like fire so fast,
Running lives that may never outlast.
Half-truths fuel anger; chaos takes hold,
Friends turn foes, their hearts grow cold.
Families break, communities fight,
Blinded by posts that distort what's right.
Women once strong are now silenced by fear,
Tricked by false words they long to hear.
Behind the screen, dangers hide,
Stealing dignity, crushing pride.
A shame unfolds, too dark to erase,
Scars of dishonor, a lasting disgrace.
Shadows of secrets unveiled in the night,
Echoes of words too bitter to write.
Elders warn, but their words go unheard,
As morals fade and truth is deferred.
The domain, once noble, wise, and bright,
Now drowns in lies, lost in the night.
Yet hope remains, a flicker of light-
If wisdom shines, we'll set things right.
The web is a tool, not a fate to decide;
Use it with care, and walk with pride.
- Phin Jiu
Papa's condemnation of prejudice...
and subsequent grim statistic one
(among millions, or more)
tragedy with feted kiss
Yarraka Bayles darling son
hoop fully experiences bliss,
yet more vehement rage
against machinations (think
with little effort cruel humans)
trumpets, tools, thrives...
wreaking psychological havoc -
case in point yours truly
wrenched, screwed, and hammered
psyche permanently amiss.
Despite outpouring drummed,
plumbed, and summoned thru
worldwide webbed support,
whereby global netizen (regarding
crowded house village people)
forced to apprise
execrable endemic damnation crisis,
nonetheless, I lament with inconsolable cries,
(methinks linkedin exacerbated
racist, misogynistic, bigoted...
commander in chief doth demonize)
devastatingly loathsome nasty meanness
viciousness super powers must exorcise
immediate mandates necessitate
more than $140,000
courtesy GoFundMe page,
plus good humor guise
Brad Williams (good fellow
celebrity little person)
raised commendable effort implies
Quaden Bayles overnight
social media sensational rise
to send aforementioned lad (din)
upon magic carpet ride,
cuz bullies of all sizes
did relentlessly terrorize.
Since time immemorial, ill legal
pestilential, tyrannical blight,
whereby quintessential, overpowering
maniacal kickass delight
gushed adrenaline spurring victim(s)
to fight or take flight
impossible mission to escape hatred,
no matter ascending topmost height
stairway to heaven no guarantee knight
in shining armor to thwart might
against painful, (pit charred),
promulgated pugnacious plight
aboriginal boomerang promises harbinger,
whereby unbearable insufferable agony
will beget suicide, and/or violent behavior,
which haint right,
no boy birthed with Achondroplasia
rails lame excuse for beasts to subject
with atrocious, ferocious,
hellacious, malicious... mercilessness
comeuppance for venal wickness
will curse devilish fiendishly
gloating hooligans if not tonight...
what goes around comes around...
good riddance I write!
Gail R DeBole
Written on 7/12/2021
The committee’s task was to remove
Word-fossils from dictionaries no longer used.
These were concepts no longer respected
By a society that was less introspective.
“Privacy” was a concept frowned upon.
Social media had turned the world around.
To be “private” was now a criminal offense.
Not being transparent made others quite tense.
Discretion was an idea that no longer applied
Since every move someone made was video-fried
Onto public storage and could be referred to at will
by everyone certified with an info-access skill.
Oh, there were a few protesters older than most.
The same people who still used a toaster for toast.
The upcoming genos – younger and hipper than most
Removed words representing concepts that were now ghosts.
Unspoken ideas are art galleries in ruin, frescoes on the walls of our weary minds,
From them were born the wars that tore humanity apart through infinite epochs,
Unspoken words melt into the air like musical notes you will never hear,
Yet they are there, scattered in your soul like dancing ghosts.
I turn back time to destroy peace, for peace is a beautifully wrapped lie,
A toxic illusion that keeps us in chains, a story long outdated,
I let fear drain from me and raise my fist to the sky with blind confidence,
As the flames I ignited begin to consume the universe.
The desire for destruction is the mute child of voices ignored for too long,
But is any of this real, or is it all just a season
In which we bathe, blinded by lies served daily on a platter?
Poisons masked as food, brainwashing in schools, a perpetual venom.
Open your eyes and look around at the isolated bubbles of social media that swallow us,
We are just puppets in an absurd theater, an infinite spectacle,
Reality has dissolved into collective hallucinations and programmed illusions,
But I... I am different, I am the puppeteer pulling the calculated strings.
Control flows through my veins like a spring of primordial power,
While the rest of the world dances to the rhythm of an artificial symphony,
For I am the director of this spectacle, the shadowy master who laughs,
Watching society unravel under the weight of lies that kill it.
Even in a dark world, you think there is light.
Every time I open my eyes, there's nothing but pain in my sight.
People are hurting, bodies deteriorating, minds going crazy.
Every morning, I wake up and ask God why this has to be?
Babies are getting kidnapped, taken from their homes;
Women jumping out of cars because they're being beaten on.
Families are losing their houses because of wildfires;
The government is making plans, taking food out of our mouths.
The African race is trying to go back to slavery days;
Now they want to end all black everything, taking away our pay.
Freedom is getting hard for illegal immigrants,
Being deported and rounded up by ICE back to their homeland.
It's a pain every day to watch social media or the news.
Every day, someone is getting shot and murdered for public views.
Young kids are getting lazier by the minute;
They just want to be on any platform, shaking their asses for pennies.
Make that venerable quill scurry, scurry.
Poetry as meanngless as bingo, bingo!
Shred classic poetry out the window,window .
Tiny comments, only, we, so terribly busy, busy?
We drool for only short poetry trophy glory, glory.
Create ant sized poems is our story, story?
Make your poems, crunchy, crunchy!
We only intend to be comfy, comfy.
11/11/2022
Similar to a mono-rhyme, I call this a duo-rhyme.
And, no, poetry through the ages, was never
meant to be a bedfellow, nor a twin of texting.
Neither, to be a twin of a post at a social media site!
*Thank you to all the talented poets here who write
with grace, elegance, plus extraordinary beauty.
You are greatly appreciated by this poetess!
Panagiota Romios
In the virtual realm, we craft our stage,
Dressing to impress, with every calculated gauge,
Selfies abound, a curated delight,
A masquerade of perfection, in the digital light.
The cost of fame, a daily toll we pay,
To maintain the façade, in a never-ending way,
We compromise our purpose, lost in the haze,
Seeking validation, in a sea of digital gaze.
We compete with others, in a never-ending fray,
Wearing labels, showcasing wealth, in a desperate display,
Our beauty's on parade, a commodity to share,
Yet, in this virtual hall of mirrors, we're lost, without a care.
I search for motivation, a spark to ignite,
But find instead a void, a hollow, endless night,
Many live a life of artifice, a carefully crafted lie,
Under pressure's weight, their true selves, they deny.
Social media's grasp, a stranglehold so tight,
Forcing us into darkness, where depression takes flight,
We've forgotten our purpose, our hearts' deepest desire,
In the relentless pursuit, of likes, of followers, we conspire.
Life's now a competition, a never-ending test,
Who dresses better, who drives the fanciest quest,
Who's beautiful, who's light, in a world gone awry,
We've lost ourselves, in the digital sky.
But what's the cost, of this virtual throne?
A life of emptiness, a soul that's overthrown,
We're chasing shadows, fleeting, ephemeral delight,
And in the process, our true selves, we lose sight.
Let's break free from this digital chains,
And find our true selves, in the beauty that remains,
Let's rediscover our purpose, our hearts' deepest fire,
And live a life that's authentic, that's truly ours, that aspires.
For life's not about likes, nor followers' gaze,
But about living true, in every moment's phase,
Let's rise above the noise, and find our inner voice,
And live a life that's real, that's full of heart, that's our choice.