stare, keeping staring, so cute, my little wiggle smile, perfect timing with that clothing/music change, they will love me, they do love me, do they? eye roll, you know, that i know, all that rizz in sixteen seconds, i’m going viral, will i go viral? do they care? wait a couple minutes, check how many likes, keep checking, i’m gonna be famous, i’m not obsessed, i’m obsessed.
Tag: Social Media
Instagram Influencer
watch me applying tinted serum or wearing snake skin heels, i’m on the gram, insta, & luckily you pause to watch me, because i matter, this matters, my feet, my face, my expensive complexion, i look good, toes covered in dead reptiles, you make me happy with your likes & i make you happy as you ponder buying products to be like me, symbiotic, our relationship, me, wealthy, well-kept, well-dressed, you, trying to keep up, keep trying.
I’m Writing To You
are you checking up on me? i hope so, that means i’m competitive, no, we both know i’m losing, instagram always wins, or tiktok, or, for a few outliers, maybe even facebook, or whatever elon musk calls his platform now, anyway, thanks for visiting the written word, i don’t have much to offer today, just black and white, nothing like that woman who moved to the italian countryside, the one who dated ryan seacrest, you know her, the one with lots of followers, anyway, you can imagine her, living the beautiful dream life, that’s why you scroll through her photos and videos, to catch a glimpse of something better, right? anyway, maybe you are in australia, or the united kingdom, or ghana, or topeka, kansas (loretta lynn reference), and maybe you don’t own any expensive products or travel on a yacht, maybe you are asking, is my life really that great if i don’t look amazing on instagram or go anywhere exotic? you heard it here first, yes, your life is great, the invariable mark of wisdom is to find the miraculous in the common, i didn’t say that, emerson did, but i agree, wherever you are, have a wonderful day, and by the way, i’m not saying you are common, what i really mean is that i hope you are at peace, i wish that for you.
Rembrandt & the Original Selfie
it used to be hours and hours of sitting staring into self, into a mirror, looking at facial skin, wrinkles, curved hat, tufts of hair, textured brushstrokes, somber color palette, a desire to paint that face, his face, my face, he thought, must be preserved, saved for the ages, or perhaps because it was always available, free model, he thought, whatever the reason, several selfies, over many years, and they took forever, each one, meticulous, now, we touch a camera app, press a white button.
Teenager After Airplane Flight
Don’t call it madness, there is a method, a way to best reconnect with my…..phone. Snapchat photos must be sent to dozens and dozens of people, this proves that i’m alive and have a face, or half a face, depending on my mood. Next, i check snapmaps, see who is alone, who is with others, who is traveling and where. 10 people in one place means a party i wasn’t invited to. That kid is in paris, i’ve never been, jealous, oh well, i will be in greece soon and then they will be jealous, karma. I don’t really know what karma means. Next, birthday wishes via snap messages, shows i care, although, if 80% of the people i snap with showed up at my house i wouldn’t know what to say, i mean, we are friends, sort of. Snapchat update complete, insta time: scroll, photos, videos, pause, beautiful dress, nice nail polish, that cat is so cute, like, like, like. If there is time maybe some tiktok, if not, back to snapchat, repeat, repeat, repeat.
The Screen Reaper
The screen reaper has taken all the books away. The ones we used to read by the fireplace, or on the rug, or in bed, or underneath a tree. The screen reaper doesn’t care about your memories or narrative works assembled on page after page, plots, characters, all those stories shaped in your head. No, instead it offers the everything/nothing, of videos, tv shows, movies, colorful clothes draped on dancing bodies, never-ending updates, snap maps, instagram images, and tiktok temptations. The screen reaper wants it all, all of you, your eyes, brain, mind, and time.
And most of us never fight back, we open the computer, clutch the clicker, scroll with our very own fingers, authors of our demise. The screen reaper has taken all the books away, and yet we let it stay, perhaps forever, it will be this way.
Let Technology Go
Sit in silence, with screens in another room. Wait quietly
for each word to arrive. Have faith
that they will, that the universe will guide you/me/us.
Alone, we feel detached from the world where everything happens.
Now someone is tiktok singing, now someone is
posting a photo, now someone is smiling on a screen.
But no one is here in this room, which could be an ocean or
the branch of a tree, free to be. Dare we separate from the
netflix masses and those who have lost their way?
I understand them, I too have been lost
but now found.
Artificial Intelligence
evolution, acorn becomes
the tree, caterpillar a
butterfly, soar into future
skies, on screens with
robotic machines choosing
videos that emerge to
distract us away from
here, the present day
always leaving the
past behind, and perhaps
this should be
until we finally
become like drawings
in the cave
look how those
humans used to be
so simple and so free
now we are all
just technology
When Instagram Spoke
no one wants the poems
give me the photos
no time to look at letters
on a page, and i don’t
really care anyway
about your abstract ideas
related to sound and sunlight
so forget it and paste
your iphone image
on the screen
get to it old man
the future is now
21st Century Moon
It only keeps track of everything.
Goes by many names: ai, alexa,
amazon, fitbit, iphone, social media,
gps. Records electronic visits,
transactions, steps, sleep, calories
burned.
Dazzled, we are, to attach
ourselves to these portable pieces
of cyborg technology.
We ache deep down for robotic
efficiency, perfection like push ups
and botox injections, owned by the
machine, until we are never lost,
never found, only controlled by
predestined patterns moving our
minds this way and that, a 21st century
mechanical moon making our waves.
Daniel W. Polk 