Subverted
A poem about poetry.
It's
Not
Real.
.
It's not real.
.
It's not real, it's not real, it's not real.
.
It. Isn't. Real.
But fuck...do I wish that it was.
.
I wish that this was a powerful thing,
A sweeping thing with venom and tide,
With the strong hands of the ocean behind it,
Pushing the water down my throat with silt and sand
And the desperation of thirty years of effort.
.
Fucking bury me.
.
Because none of this is real anyway.
It's a simulation of praise and pleasure,
Hollow words pretending they have substance.
A simulation of what it could be like
To have the world lend an ear
But it's fabricated by an algorithm
With no eyes, no ears, no soul to feel
The thrumming pulse of my desperation
And they are all ghosts, hungry for more.
More what? Praise. Glory. Words.
Not the ones I'm writing
But the ones that feed the line the smooth,
Silk pockets of the algorithm playing this game.
.
I'll be a headstone some day
And I wonder if they'll drop roses there
The same way they drop words here.
Shit, I hope not.
.
It isn't real.
None of the praise, the laughter, the emotions,
They're all fabricated.
Printed with the same hand.
Listen,
No, listen.
They beat to the drum of the algorithm.
These words are the same plucked six
That score high in the hearts of creators
And even higher in the game.
.
The game is real.
.
It's sour in my mouth.
Bitter in the soul.
.
Don't tell me I'm good.
Don't tell me I'm kind.
Tell me the truth.
That these words rip you open.
That they ache in your bones.
That you would bleed for them
And have already died for them.
.
The game is too good, too tangible, too real
For those sorts of sentiments
To be expressed because even when they come
They are brought in a sense
Of self-serving greed.
And that is no way to bleed
For a vampiric poet.
.
It isn't real.
.
But to hate the words,
To hate the game
Is to play roulette
With a loaded gun.
No empty slots.
No chance.
No shot.
It's the cold kiss of metal
To the side of my head.
It's spitting in the face of luck.
.
Fuck it, darling.
Spit in the face of good luck.
Oh, go ahead and
...Eviscerate...
The soul of good intentions.
.
All these voices
Will be but ghosts in two years' time.
And I will be alone in the courtyard
Before my own grave,
Dropping roses on a future I once gave
Anything to see, to touch, to taste.
But it isn't real.
It never was.
And I guess I'd rather bleed for my poetry
Alone
Than hear algorithmic insincerity.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters


Comments (24)
Wooohooooo congratulations on your Leaderboard placement! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Woohoo!! Back to say congrats on third most discussed story!! Well done SD!!
Congrats on top story…
WOW!! I'm not going to lie, at first I was only drawn in because I saw you used a pic from what must've been a single shoot by the photographer that I used on one of mine. This is amazing!! I wish I could remember the prompt for this photo, and find them all Here's mine from the same series of photos https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/ghosts-752620v73%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3Cdiv class="css-w4qknv-Replies">
Just to let you know, I did it! I was inspired by this to do this - https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/vert-sub%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E - only vague inspiration, but credit where it's due!
Ditto, darling—yet… do we live for these. Kinda like an addiction? I dunno.
nice poem
My only question is who gave you the keys to the monologue in my head?? Because this is totally what my imposter syndrome sounds like, some days!! I love the rawness and relatability of this poem, SD!! Ps. Congrats on Top Story!
Ooooooh this is raw. The imagery is there and it's constricting. But it has to, or else we don't wake up. We don't stop scrolling and we stop exploring. Even if you'd prefer not to 'hear algorithmic insincerity', this has so much power. And it will last.
This poem is raw and powerful, capturing the frustration and disillusionment with the superficiality of praise and validation in the digital age.
Wow. So much power in your words. Your words reach depths to haunt in their brutality and wisdom.
Captivating! This is only the second poem/content I have experienced on Vocal, and I very much enjoy the insight, the journey through the writer’s mind (and the writer!). Thanks for the opportunity 🙏 😊
Holy. Shit. Silver. This was mesmerizing! “And I wonder if they’ll drop roses there, the same way they drop words here. Shit, I hope not” is a genuinely clever and perfect line! The whole poem was chock full of power, emotion, and the crushing weight of powerless anger. I too loathe the concept of the algorithm. For some reason, it was easier to love the world when flawed persons were the ones deciding what appeared on my screens or the pages in my hands. Because there is an art in the choosing. Maybe that’s why I still love buying physical books, similar to loving museums. A person chose to put those artefacts in the world, and I chose to pick it up, or else pause to read its plaque. Brilliantly done Silver! It did, in a very real sense, tear open my soul and leave it bare for my explorations
Anger. I felt it.
The sheer amount of raw intensity and emotion I felt while reading this… amazing! Congrats on your top story!
EPIC!!! Felt like everything came unglued and spilled out into a fountain of truth! Not a rant at all, but an expression of frustration over the unrealism of that which is seemingly real... but the algorithms want us to stay. They want us to argue about what is really true. They want to falsely lift us up without caring if we breathe tomorrow. Stellar work, Silver. This line gave me the most pause: -I'll be a headstone some day And I wonder if they'll drop roses there The same way they drop words here- 😮
👁️Ⓜ️😶! 💣 💥 🤯! 👁️ 🥈👆! 👍 🗣️!
Wow - Angry and who would have known you would get top story for it. I am with Paul. however, congratulations on top story!! Well done!!
Hooooooooooooooooooooooo FIRE!!! Sure nuff! *I feel this in places I can't say out loud*
Wow; I have so many words, so many thoughts Silver, you seem...angry. If I've read this right. lol. This is stunning though. I agree with what I feel is what you are saying...the lack of reality on the platform and within this space. Well done and congrats on Top Story. It's funny, if you write something that sounds angry at Vocal...it often gets Top Story lol. (Not you personally...one...I mean, the royal you) Loved this. One of my favourites by you for sure!
That was intense, and relatable and so, so real. That part being alone in courtyard dropping rose on a future.... stopped me in my tracks.
Hmmmm, what am getting algorithmic annoyed Vocal vibes, LOL. Seriously I have thought what you wrote many times. 🫶🏻🤗
Wow, Silver. This was intense! Always love your work! 🌟💘
The situational irony is rich: things seem unreal, simulated, inauthentic, which strips the work and the words that constitute it of meaning, but that is the meaning of these words, published in this algorithmically orchestrated, unreal domain. A compelling work!