A poem about social networking

Social networking

I’d grow wiser if I watched
webcasts of the Dalai Lama.
But, no way I’m leaving Twitter:
I’m being followed by Obama.

What am I doing?
Do you really care to know?
I’m eating lemon pie
And dancing to “Jai, Ho!”

How’d you stumble upon me?
All these passwords; I’m confused.
They own all my content?
We’re the Users and the used.

Now, I won’t be a hypocrite;
I Tweet my time away,
change my status often;
check my blog stats every day.

But if people gave a dollar
for every single Tweet,
homes could be built
and cancer could be beat.

I like to be connected.
I’m not saying that it’s wrong.
But how’d we switch from
talking to texting all day long?

No, I don’t need to know
who your peeps are porkin’
but, no way I’m leaving Facebook:
I’m friends with Aaron Sorkin.

A Few Poems About Facebook

Five Thousand Friends

Just six clicks away
from five thousand “friends.”

No clue what today is,
or what’s on CNN.

I should really get dressed,
Or at least shave my pits.
But with all these new friends,
I can’t stop the clicks.

Glued to the screen
like some kind of affliction.
Welcome to Facebook:
the world’s
latest addiction.

Lolita

Her name is Lolita.
She’s got Double D’s.
She’s bold and she’s beautiful;
She’s eager to please.

She’s got five hundred friends;
She’s charming and wise.
They flock to her photos;
She’s so easy on the eyes.

Oh so lovely, dark, mysterious.
But that’s not just a fake tan.
That’s one fake old photograph.
That’s one smart old man.

Social networking

I’d grow wiser if I watched
webcasts of the Dalai Lama.
But, no way I’m leaving Twitter:
I’m being followed by Obama.

What am I doing?
Do you really care to know?
I’m eating lemon pie
And dancing to “Jai, Ho!”

How’d you stumble upon me?
All these passwords; I’m confused.
They own all my content?
We’re the Users and the used.

Now, I won’t be a hypocrite;
I Tweet my time away,
change my status often;
check my blog stats every day.

But if people gave a dollar
for every single Tweet,
homes could be built
and cancer could be beat.

I like to be connected.
I’m not saying that it’s wrong.
But how’d we switch from
talking to texting all day long?

No, I don’t need to know
who your peeps are porkin’
but, no way I’m leaving Facebook:
I’m friends with Aaron Sorkin.

All poems copyright Heather Grace Stewart, 2009.