Instagram Poetry

Do we truly bleed upon that page?
Since there is no page, is
our digitized blood
just as phony? Pixelated poems,
scorched sunspots on
a bleached field find
no truth for lack of trying.

Simple sentiments of
a universal disorientation
feigned as
profundity.
The sure-shock, formulaic
tripe placed with
an ideal image to
influence.

We all sell ourselves,
some of us are just in
#denial.

Type nonsense for all to read.
Remain vague to
leave little slots for
the displaced, depressed
community to deposit
self-fulfilling fallacies.
Tell others how to
live their lives and
hope it goes
#viral.

I would not remove,
or disparage,
the words of anyone writing
their truth, but
I wish for those who read to be
more discerning.
Stop emulating
mediocrity;
it gets far too much
attention as is.

by Erik Shinker

Advertisements