Tag: writing101

Social Media…A Beast Devouring Countless Souls

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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.

A Quick Poem for the Nightlife: No Rest for the Wicked

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The sun goes down, and the moon conquers the clouds. The night sky blankets over the environment. At that moment, the floodgates of old memories are open and I find myself drowning in thought.

There were nights of old when we bombarded the streets in search of misadventures. We mingled among the general populous of lunatics. We were obnoxious brutes with alcohol pumping through our veins as we darted through the darkness.

Small embers from our lighters lit our path to next misadventure, the trails of smoke lingered behind us, and we realize on thing: we were born for this!

I have indulged in many fantasies under the dim streetlights, but things have changed. The nightlife is a different universe; it brings out the hedonism in people.

Regret Isn’t that Bad…It Builds Character

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I regret the hangovers from the years of partying,

            I regret mornings with the faint taste of whiskey and tobacco on my tongue,

            I regret my cynicism passing pre-judgement on every soul that crosses my path,

            I regret laughing at the kid that fell. I don’t regret that because it was funny. It wasn’t me.

            I do regret my impulsive behavior leading to detrimental disaster;

            my regrets play on the seesaw of wisdom and folly.

            A life without regrets…

            My regrets show I lived, learned, and soldiered on.

Kicked in the Nads: Things My Eyeballs and Grey Matter Retained from Society

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Down the infamous rabbit hole where madness and folly morph into psychosis, you realize it’s a strange, relentless world. We hunger for a place in this world; we cling to self-worth to balance out our despair. The world will continue to spin on its axis with ravenous junkies ransacking homes, cops versus vagrants, truth mutilated beyond recognition, and shrieks of banshees filtering through the atmosphere while crooked clergies from all factions spout venom at pariahs. This generation of swine, like the others before it, is roasting– the smell of burnt pork salivates the palate of the next generation rowing a coup. Enough of my rambling, I think you get the point.

  1. There’s always something or someone to piss you off.
  2. It doesn’t make sense how adults screw up children. We all know their offenses. They range from sexual abuse to outright murder. Mother of God! These ankle biters have a rough patch to cross soon as they are born into this world! The sane individuals of society would like for you to stop or die.
  3. Porn isn’t sex. It shows an illusion added with copious amounts of orgasms and hours jackhammering. Sex involves the mesh of flesh in a sensual passion: a euphoric ecstasy of explicit paradise! I hope you deviants will gain that experience.
  4. Pleasure and pain exist in life. One is not without the other. Embrace the light and darkness of life. There’s a chance it might kill you…we’re just decaying organisms.
  5. The media will continue to violate us. They catch us with our pants down then proceed to take advantage. Nothing like the “truth” ravaging us!
  6. Booze and drugs can offer a stairway to heaven then drag you to hell. Remember: Consequences are a bitch.
  7. The arms race between religion and politics is a dangerous affair. If you question these deities, you’re a heretic. As long as our happiness is kept intact, we’re fine with the mass destruction. “For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.” (Matt. 24:24).
  8. No one has any idea of what’s going on in life. Majority of what happens is trial and error. Out of the 7 billion inhabitants of this world,  walking trial and errors stumble across it every day. Many were conceived in the back of a sports car or at a grungy party. The problem is their hubris protects them from realizing this horrific reality.

“Speak the truth even if they crucify me;

free my soul even if they claim my body.”

–Big K.R.I.T.

Reasons Why I Write: A Poem of the Flame that Ruptures My Insides

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It’s another night when it all bombards down on me;

I realize the good humans out there keep the world spinning.

They don’t ask for much, but they get screwed over

by a barbaric fistful without any lube.

Where does that leave me?

My cynical, jaded ass continues to write,

my hope is that someone will understand the truth;

it’s my own personal burden that God gave to me to continue

until I slip six feet under.

I know deep within my mushy guts

lies something to shock the world.

It’s my fuel to type these words.

Hell, my fingers bleed on this damn keyboard!

These keys are pushed in and mangled,

documents filled with offbeat ramblings,

yet I still soldier on.

I post my “knowledge” on my blog;

the folks take a gander, like, and comment.

They say:

“You got potential!”

“Your writing is insightful!”

or “Your style is so free!”

It’s whatever to me,

I’m just fueled by the flames burning my intestines.

Sooner or later, it will burn out—

I will rise from my burnt ashes

like a Phoenix!