A thought,
A feeling,
A change in my dreams.
The wind passes by slowly,
And I wonder if I should wait.
Does the wind have anything to say,
That I should understand?
The world may yet wait,
For this moment to pass.
A thought,
A feeling,
A change in my dreams.
The wind passes by slowly,
And I wonder if I should wait.
Does the wind have anything to say,
That I should understand?
The world may yet wait,
For this moment to pass.
My google news feed notified me that Mark Hamill has deleted his Facebook account over the fact that Facebook has refused to remove false or misleading news. That’s the context I found myself in as I pondered the social media problem. And to be clear it is a problem, and that’s not the solid condemnation that you might think it is on it’s face (heh).
Or maybe my soft condemnation of social media doesn’t come as a surprise to you if you found this post through twitter or Facebook. But writers with a far more solid critique of social media still use those websites–and the reasons really couldn’t be clearer, if you are a writer, you need Facebook and twitter to get your name out into the world. Ask the New York Times, or the Washington Post. Facebook and Twitter IS THE MEDIA.
And that really is the problem, social media has become the primary distributor of information. One of the reasons I started this blog was to move away from social media without fully rejecting it. Simple one liners and status updates simplify complex moments and ideologies. And reading the article attached to it is optional.
But time can be like a river, in that it usually doesn’t flow backwards–usually. All that is to say I don’t think social media is going away, and I’m not sure it should. I have made friends that I don’t think I would have made, and kept friends I think I would have lost without social media. And that really is a problem, we need social media, and it’s okay to admit that. And it’s okay to acknowledge that Facebook is not handling it’s power well without making like Mark Hamill and deleting your account.
But then what do we do about this? Well I don’t have any solutions for this right now. But I’m going to keep thinking about this and I’ll let you know if I come up with anything, but this post has already gotten longer then I thought it would.
Until we meet again.
Drifting though the clouds,
Of thought.
Meaning lost and meaning,
Gained.
The world lives and,
It dies.
People too find their,
End.
Just like thoughts,
So strange.
He’s dead now,
Gone now,
In a single moment,
A whole life,
Seems not to matter.
Everything he did,
Will be forgotten with time,
And this poems vague description,
Will not a place in history hold.
So when you find,
Yourself asking,
What this poem is about,
Remember all those,
Forgotten,
By cruel histories bias.
How much time,
Did I lose this time?
How shorter,
Will be my life,
From this?
Will I look back,
On this day,
At the end of my life,
And say:
“Why did I wast my time,
On something that meant so little?”
But I don’t think there,
Will ever be,
A good answer.
Again,
Creeping change,
Arrives,
At my door.
Why do I dream,
Of a static world,
When,
Everything beautiful,
Changes?
In the depth of the night,
I wonder out loud,
What the wonder of the moon might bring.
Its faint glow reminds me of home,
And its shinning shape makes me long,
For my family.
In the depth of nigh,
The shinning glow of the moon doth bring,
A strange lingering feeling of nostalgia.
I know you always say,
That I can do anything,
If I only just believe.
I’m not one to fight,
Against that idealistic strife,
But I thought maybe you should know,
Your not helping anyone,
With that kind of talk.
The world is far to complicated,
To be solved with cheesy one-liners,
And fortune cookie encouragements.
And yet when I need help,
Those sorts of things are all I hear,
Does it help you assuage your guilt,
Of not helping those in need?
If you really believe that you can do anything,
Then why have you not yet helped me?
Either you are more powerless then you thought,
Or you really don’t care.
As dawn breaks through,
Visions of a great lake frozen through by the ice in our hearts.
The shadows coalesce in a monstrous form.
We must face it at last.
But that is what our journeys have been for,
To prepare us for this moment.
“When I leave, don’t dream of me.”
She said in a breathy whisper,
As though I had such fine control of my feelings.
“I know you’ll be fine,”
She was right.
I will be.
I am always stronger.
But that’s never the point.