I Wrote A Poem On Social Media But Nobody Liked it

It was a post modern moment of a regurgitated soul but
I wrote a poem on social media and nobody liked it. I spent
the whole day ticking everybody’s status boxes but when I sat
down to write something seemingly significant and deliberately
poignant nobody gave a fuck –

On a level that makes me feel particularly small and insignificant
almost as if none of this is real and we are all simply staring blindly
into space through our desktop plasma screens our liquid crystal
OLED phone screens our smart tablet touchscreens at a world
that doesn’t exist beyond duckfaces and viral memes and
facebook events that nobody attends –

I’m trying very hard to get over myself in the light of more pressing
concerns scrolling briefly through my newsfeed – the endless death of
the bees from neonicothinoid pesticides produced by BAYER and
SYNGENTA – the Giant Specific Rubbish Heap that is getting more
and more specific with every plastic bag gadget trinket we
purchase during our ongoing role as modern consumers
for the petroleum meta-industry that rules the world
from The Vatican (where the second species lives
with elongated skulls hidden beneath their mitres) –

All the while trying to write a poem on social media without
the NSA getting in the way and subverting my thoughts
and planting terrorist subplots in my small business model
airplane so they can completely undermine my integrity
in the light of greater issues of more permanent importance –
like fracking and burning water and earthquake lights
in California like unmapped asteroids hiding behind the sun
like water on the moons of Jupiter or in the rings of Saturn
that we will never mine no matter how many science
fiction writers we shoot towards the moon –

And I wrote a poem on social media but all the comments
went missing suddenly like Malaysian Airlines flight MH370
that warped between cartesian planes astride the dreams
of Tesla who once upon a time powered the whole wide
world on a network that doesn’t require shares to run –

And I wrote with my tongue in both my cheeks like broken
teeth about bankrolled bullies who brought the skyscrapers
down in Iceland and Scotland and Greece and Italy
and Spanish Omelettes – And I wrote about disease in
Africa and multidrugresistantbacteria and our love
for antibiotics like skopas popcorn – And I wrote about
NATO encircling Russia like a swarm of tsetsiflies
and Nuclear Lullabies and lies, lies, lies – And I wrote
and I wrote and I wrote and nobody liked a fucking thing –

It was almost as if I was born too soon, having spent my
youth hunkered over dirty chunky 386 keyboards before
the internet was cool, gritty and sweaty and irreconcilable
and unshaven and full of godforsaken angst living the
miserable life of a true to jesus geek before guys
with beards came along –

Maybe they don’t like the poem I wrote on social media
because I don’t confess to owning a social consciousness
or a finger on the pulse or a finger up your ass every time
you jump up and post a selfie on Instagram –
Maybe it’s because I don’t give a fuck who did what at
The Cannes I simply wait to download all the xvids (oops!) 

Maybe it’s all beyond me and I wrote a poem on social
media and nobody even opened the note because I’m
simply not as cool or relevant as Jay-Z or JZ or Jimmy
fucking Kevin Carter Kasper Patrols I lived in a
basement playing 8-bit video games I was never
fuckingpopular and now all of a sudden I expect
a round of applause for merely plugging in
and smiling in your general miserable
direction –

It’s entirely possible that I wrote a poem on social media and nobody liked it.
In retrospect this would not be the first time I’ve supplicated myself before the
footstool pedestal of your magnanimous veneration only to find blankstares
and dissonance while the world outside rots to shit. This would not be the first
time the carbon monoxide emissions have gone to my head
while your omissions go straight to my fucking heart –

In retrospect I fell hopelessly in love with all of you the moment that first
email was sent and CIA agents highfived their genius selves in some secret
bunker where I’ve been living ever since – a misshapen gollum struggling to
grab onto an unnamable unfathomable unimpressionable precious that kills
kills kills without ever giving anything back – And I wrote, after all that
A poem on social media and nobody liked it but that’s OK
here’s a picture of a cat


grumpy cat tshirt terrorist propaganda post

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