Tag: social media

Social Media…A Beast Devouring Countless Souls


When it comes to the realm of social media, I’m repulsed by it. I gather no inspiration from Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or any other string of debauchery we’ve created. It pains every nerve in my body to sell my soul to a beast that will devour society. It’s like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun with your finger on the trigger: a quick, brutal suicide. Scary, isn’t it? Too many attention whores invade the waves of social media. They’re ready to sell their assets on the corner for a few followers.

Cheap makeup makes these floozies desirable, so idiots fall for the clickbait. I reckon there is something about the joys of social media human trafficking. Honestly, I find it rather disgusting. I want to wash my hands of this weirdness; my hands are too filthy to become clean. I’ve become an attention whore myself. I try to promote my blog through the grimy streets of the internet. Once in a while, I’ll get a customer then the action begins. The hustle becomes repetitive, my eyes are bloodshot from staring at the computer, and my fingers might have carpal tunnel.

Somehow, I continue to press on to deliver the message of truth without drowning amongst the rest. This upcoming generation has a one track mind—establish yourself with selfies! Damn, how did we get here? We have to blame ourselves. Our massive egos to improve our lives caused this fiasco. I doubt nothing can change it. I feel we’re detached from using the tool between our shoulders. I’m afraid books will become ancient relics of the past, our vocabulary will be strictly internet speak, and we’ll just go with flow. Yep, I believe we’re screwed with the next generation coming up.


Truth: The Gritty Realization of a Crapsack World that Spins Madly

I take a glance at my keyboard and ponder what to type. It’s a barren, war-torn wasteland that reigns over these tainted keys; there’s blood smeared on them, a couple of keys are missing, and my laptop has a virus. I guess my minor mishaps are a drawback of typing out the Truth. Somewhere beneath all the muck, gunk, and feces lies the Truth. I’ll let my hands get filthy, my brain defiled, yet I still manage to grind out the day in search of the Truth.

Wolves in sheep clothing preach the gospel to all that will listen; false prophets perform miracles to deceive. This pile of scat should infuriate your nostrils. Hell, it should make you sick! Nevertheless, you lap it up.

Don’t you realize these beasts will devour you? They smell your weakness, vulnerabilities, and deepest fears. They’ll always tell you what you want to hear because they know what pulls your strings to make you move. Somehow, regardless of all the shit in your face, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself…why?

History justifies that people will change their minds about anything. From values and religion to the clothes they wear. When it comes to the opinion of themselves, there is always a confidence of self-worth.

So, where is your worth when it comes to the Truth? 

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Tainted In the Bowels of Social Media

I woke up this morning in a hazy daze. Barely able to walk, I make the mistake of tripping over my own two feet. Another average morning in the haze of disenchantment. I know being disenchanted is the norm nowadays. Social media cultivates this mentality without any assistance; it’s the infernal monster at the end of the book. We’re sucking on the tits of Facebook, bathing in the cesspool of Twitter, and consumed by the vanity of Instagram. I’m in Barnes and Noble soaking in my environment. I believe books will become ancient artifacts. Mere phantoms of the past because it’s easier to download, but we like simple alternatives. I notice a woman stroll by with her soul being sucked away by her iphone: an impish demon with hypnotic app magic. My eyes witnessing small incidents of a diminishing culture. I feel the distance from my fellow man; consequently, it pisses me off. Polite greetings are now awkward taboos, yet greetings acknowledge you’re still thriving in this crazy world. Human interaction is a lost art. Like moths to a flame, we’re attracted to the illumination of our phones—blinded by the light.

Nostalgia taps on the window of my childhood. I was born in the late ’80s, but I grew up in the ’90s. Passing a note in class was a death sentence, your giga pet kept you up at night, and Saturday morning cartoons became a religion. Children were forced to tell time on analog clocks and letters were handwritten. Letters! Does anyone write letters? A handwritten letter expresses emotions from the sender to the receiver. The sentimental aspect the written word can cultivate. Handwriting is just as recognizable as a voice and takes place when the voice is unavailable. These letters are cherished because you know they were held by that special someone. We can always Skype! We can text, email, and tweet! We’re in touch all the time, but letter writing is extinct. A few moments ago, a teenager asked me to borrow a pen. He needed it to fill out a job application. Wait…Aren’t most applications filled out online? Like them on Facebook? Follow them on Twitter or Tumblr? I thought the gods of corporations prefer the easy method. I see the old ones still have traditions in this world. More importantly, the kid is filling out applications and turning them back in. In the generation of apps, I guess some things haven’t died out. Interestingly, I’m blasting social media while using social media. How funny is that?

Technology (Social Network), You’re Cruel!

Communication is a personal exchange

maintained between two individual people,

technology crept in to lighten the burden

to lessen the awkwardness of conversation;

rarely are random chats initiated,

diminished away is a pleasant greeting;

emoticons and lols became our voices,

we’re occupied by a phone’s illumination,

we’re enchanted by the social media.

Connection lies in our personal networks

it seems we’re disconnected from our fellow men.