Social MediaI saw you today,Social Media2 years ago in Free Verse
(on your tumbler,
on your Facebook,
on your wall)
(I didn't reblog
I didn't hit "like")
I didn't say "hi"
because I'm unable to reach out
because I believe,
(you want what you reblog
you want what you "like"
You're ashamed of me, on your wall)
that I'm not worthy.
Break from Social MediaI've got to take a break from the virtual world.Break from Social Media2 years ago in Free Verse
I need to give my eyes rest from shameful distractions.
I get a headache from reading the news and gossip.
The constant arguing, shaming,assuming, and complaining is so trite.
I am tired of the internal fight with the indulger and restrainer.
I've got to take a break. It probably won't get any better.
Social MediaShe turns on the TV today,Social Media1 year ago in Free Verse
Just like any other day,
To be brainwashed yet again.
Flashing into her mind of images
That are portrayed as 'beautiful',
Whether it's big cheek bones,
Tiny waists, large breasts,
Perfect teeth, tan skin, etc.
She'll never love herself.
He turns on his laptop today,
Just like any other day,
To be brainwashed more and more.
Flashing into his mind of images
That are considered 'perfect',
Whether it's to be very tall,
Pale skin, big eyes, muscular,
Blonde hair, perfect teeth, etc.
He'll never love himself.
She walks into a tanning salon today,
A plastic surgeon's office tomorrow,
Starve herself and pay fortunes for body modifications,
So her society will love her.
He walks into a hair salon today,
A plastic surgeon's office tomorrow,
Strain his body and pay fortunes for body modifications,
So his society will love him.
deviantART is a social media site.dA has made some significant changes lately, and I've been reading the comments from both sides of the fence. There are things I like, things I don't, and things I don't like but would like with some tweaking. But let's set all that aside for a moment. There's a complaint that I keep seeing pop up, and it bugs me. It usually goes something like this:deviantART is a social media site.1 year ago in Editorial
"deviantART is NOT a social media site!"
To be blunt, this is incorrect and displays an ignorance of what social media is. I blame Facebook - it's popularity has highjacked the definition of social media in the public consciousness. A quick Google search gives a succinct definition of the term:
websites and applications that enable users to create and share content or to participate in social networking.
This is exactly what deviantART is and does; promotes the creation of content, provides a platform to share it, and fosters connections. Anything thing else is just fluff.
A more relevant
Yes EveryNo, not every white person is racist.Yes Every1 year ago in Free Verse
But yes, every person of colour will experience racism.
No, not every man is sexist.
But yes, every woman will experience sexism.
No, not every straight person is homophobic.
But yes, every gay person will experience homophobia.
No, not every cis-gendered person is transphobic.
But yes, every transgender person will experience transphobia.
Enough with your 'not every's.
Because, yes every.
Loving The NightI fell in love today.Loving The Night2 weeks ago in Free Verse
I fell in love with the night and the moon,
with the stars, the ocean and the midnight's tune.
I fell in love with the flickering diamonds and silver eyes,
with the black and blue skies and life with no lies.
I fell in love with the wolf's howl and simple jewelry,
with my broken mirrors and poetic chemistry.
I fell in love with happy endings and art galleries,
with random reminiscence and eerie memories.
I fell in love today..
with life..and with me.
Because I finally know that what I want
in my life is worth fighting for.
Queens Always ConquerThis is my life.Queens Always Conquer1 month ago in Free Verse
My small piece of the universe.
I am the queen of my own world.
A goddess in progress.
I bow to no one.
If you don't like what you see
look away and carry on without me.
Darling..don't ever dare me,
don't provoke me and don't challenge me.
Because I am the queen and
queens always conquer.
Let It OutLet it out..Let It Out1 month ago in Free Verse
those screams that you try to hide.
Let them all out.
You feel used, betrayed, hurt
and emotionally abused.
Let it all out.
Release your feminine hysteria..
that madness and heartache.
Scream with the thunder and
cry with the moon.
This is just one of many
emotional storms, so let it out.
Roar, cry rage and scream.
Just let it out.
Viva the Social (Media) Revolution!Ladies and Gents this here is my brand new planViva the Social (Media) Revolution!2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
It’s guaranteed to take down the man
First up we list all his wrongs
In a protest album full of remixed songs
Step two is even better
Hit him with a petition and an open letter
For step three we’ll ruin his trip to Tahiti
By daubing his beach house in artistic graffiti
And when he’s reeling like a cat in the rain
We’ll move in for the kill with a human chain
And expose him as a man most bitter
With paint bombs and a ton of glitter
And of course we’ll be coordinating via facebook and twitter
The PoetThe Poet:The Poet3 years ago in Free Verse
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wondering -
Isn't there something that I can do?
Isn't there a better way for us all?
He looks back at her, sleeping peacefully;
He thinks about the future and sighs.
He wants a better world for her,
One where she would always be safe,
But unfortunately, he has no power.
He is just one man with little to his name.
He picks up a piece of paper, one found lyin
Ocean's TouchThere is this strange comfortOcean's Touch2 weeks ago in Free Verse
of being weightless in the sea.
Just floating there alone and undisturbed,
with your eyes closed and your mind at ease.
The smell of the ocean grounds you and relaxes you
while the gentle waves stroke your sensitive skin.
You feel safe and the options and life choices
no longer torture your brain.
You feel free, calm and sane
for that little period of time when nothing matters,
the pressure is gone and everything is fine.
The ocean's touch lingers on your exposed skin,
not like a lover, but a healer.
Love Is BlindWhy do you still want him after everything that he did..Love Is Blind4 days ago in Free Verse
You offered him your heart, body and soul,
and he damaged your soul and threw your heart like it was nothing,
he took the body and after he was done he threw it away it, too.
So, why do you still dream of him..why want someone like him..?
My Soul, My Dream, My TeamMy Soul, My Dream, My Team:My Soul, My Dream, My Team3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word
We are dreamers, we humans.
We reach out eagerly to that which lies above us
Tempted by its unattainable nature and egotistically;
We simplify the task that lies before us...
We climb without any forethought, without preparation;
Recklessly we charge head on for our goal -
And eventually, we lie broken by our failure.
I myself, Captain as you call me,
Am little better than a foolish dreamer.
One who dreams in a childish manner;
Unaware of his impotence, when left alone.
How many times have I been saved by others?
When I lack time, it is my officers who stand,
They keep the ship running smoothly,
Expending hours of precious effort.
When I fall, it is my co-captain who rallies me,
And reminds me of our responsibility -
One that we owe to our readers and friends.
When I write, it is my team - my uncles,
Who lay the path before me;
They give their time and their heart,
Supporting my work from its birth as but a simple idea.
And when I am dow
Practice Poem - Man In CagePractice Poem - Man in Cage:Practice Poem - Man In Cage3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word
When I was young I was taught that pain begets pain,
Anger and animosity, malice and cruelty;
So deeply inflicted, so lovingly gifted.
I tasted of its rotten core and dared to call it sweet.
But what do I have to show for it?
White hot scars that burn in my dreams.
Reminders of a fragmented bi-polar self;
Self inflicted propaganda, to reinforce the "truth".
Truth so lovingly fabricated by a weakness within,
So desperately crying out for vindication;
Openly denying all that might shed light upon me,
Seeking only the company of shades in shadows...
Within four walls I sleep in exile;
Quietly pretending that I am still sane,
Never noticing how it has all turned out;
Alone I remain the same...
Never reaching, never living; I am free within the cage
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st January 2012
Happy BirthdayThis is not a poem.Happy Birthday2 years ago in Emotional
It's not even a story.
This is a simple observation.
Today I was on Facebook, a dangerously common occurrence for me. Borderline addiction, possibly. I looked to the right column where events and birthdays are posted, and noticed it was a friend's birthday. And I hesitated in saying anything.
I hesitated to say happy birthday to a friend. Why?
Was it because we only had one community college class together a couple of years ago, so our friendship is little more than a past acquaintance that hasn't yet ceased to exist on a social media site?
Was it because I didn't have the time to type out those two simple words, perhaps even a dot of punctuation if I'm splurging on free time? The answer to this question is no, because even though I have a quiz tomorrow and two midterms next week, I was clearly distracted on Facebook nonetheless. Besides, I'm typing this now, and it's quite more extensive than a happy birthday.
Was it because I thought it would be awkward if he got
Onyx HeartIt's okay, I'm okay.Onyx Heart2 weeks ago in Free Verse
I'm just a little bruised
and a little cracked.
I'm not broken,
I didn't shatter.
I'm still me,
just a little sadder,
more aware version of me.
And the marks..the emotional scars
will stay forever
so I can remember to be
more wiser, smarter and colder.
I'll fill in the cracks
of my black onyx heart
with white roses, golden chains,
lover's touch and poetic hurricanes.
Woman's WorldHe wakes upWoman's World6 years ago in Free Verse
and notices nothing unusual.
He wanders downstairs in skimpy pjs, switches on the radio
The breakfast show, a witty host and her regulation male sidekick-
the butt of the jokes.
The news is going, that abducted boy found dead, sexually abused, throttled
A woman helping with inquiries
Bored of the chatter he turns it off
Eats his cereal before the telly, a music channel
Women in baggy jeans singing about how nice men look
in clubs, dancing topless around holes.
He unconsciously scrutinises the semi-clad men that surround her
Winding their perfect bodies in sync to the beat, hip rolling
Looks down at his own belly, thinks, I'll skip lunch.
In the shower he shampoos his long hair,
Fretting about baldness
this constant battle with his body.
He shaves his legs, his armpits, his belly
Scans his chest and thighs for regrowth
wonders when he should next visit the salon.
He shaves his jaw.
He dresses uncomfortably
Can't buy anything without some kind of
Your life is not a British television showPeople on social media sitesYour life is not a British television show2 years ago in Free Verse
tend to glorify things that hurt.
They brag about things
that people struggle with.
Mental illness is not a label.
It is not a badge nor a privilege
or something you have to earn.
they battle voices in their heads
that they do not even recognize.
People struggle to tame
their inner demons
and keep up an image
that the world expects them to uphold.
Mental illness is not cute,
being so anxious you cannot speak is not a quirk.
Relying on people to take care of you is not romantic.
Your life is not an episode of Skins
The idea of Effy and Freddie is fictional,
no one is going to save you.
We go home and muffle our cries
while dragging razors across our wrists
chasing pills with bottles of vodka.
Our thoughts turn on us
Like a loaded gun,
and we are stuck forever
in a game of Russian roulette.
We wear long sleeves,
and try to drown out voices with headphones.
We tremble at the thought of giving up the chemicals
we have become dependent
Glowing ScreenI’ve seen the worldGlowing Screen2 years ago in Free Verse
Through a glowing screen.
Yet, I still feel the furthest
I’ve ever been
To it all.
DeceptiveDeceptive3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern
Tempting with beautiful wings;
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
HumanDying sun and the birth of the moon.Human1 week ago in Free Verse
Foxes playing in the snow and ancient memories.
Receiving presents and getting drunk in the daylight.
Useless criticism and sad songs.
White weddings and pale funerals.
Kind words and happy endings.
Heartbreak, success, failure, death and happiness.
A good book and life in general.
Simple things like that can make you cry.
And that's okay.
You're not made of stone and iron,
you're not a cold, heartless machine...
You're just human.
And that's more than okay.
Un-Sociable MediaFace-book, loose lace-bookUn-Sociable Media9 months ago in Free Verse
tangle-tied mind crook
stole the truth
became a meth-cook.
Twitter-pie tangled lie
twits tweeting evil eye
sees thirsty ears
from its throne in the sky.
Lengthy weed-filled feeds
spawn darker breeds
sow harsh tones
and black unpicked bones.
time to wake
this rancid pie un-bake!
De-tox mind Clorox!
Pull up your socks
call the band
and touch your friends hand.