Here we are then, #UsGals and #UsGuys,
When our network's reach grasps even the sky
Like Prometheus Unbound in some old fable;
Here we are, in certain well-formatted tweets,
Of restless nights in hot-hash tag hotels
and #coffee tweet-ups that #RingtheTribalBell,
Tweets that follow like an #UsBlogs assignment
Of Round-up intent,
To lead #UsFolk to an overwhelming question
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let Us go and make Our visit.
In the room #UsFolk come and go
Talking (lately only) of MichelKloutago
A vile fog now rubs its back upon the HootSuite-panes,
A vile smoke now rubs its muzzle across the TweetDeck-panes
Worked itself into the corners of Our evenings,
Festered like pools of street water in drains,
Fell in some magnificent fashion as soot falls from chimneys,
Slipped onto #IfThen Island, trading nothing cheap,
And seeing it was a soft eternal night,
Took over the house and refused to sleep.
And indeed there seems to be plenty of time
For this vile smoke that stains our every tweet,
Running somehow across Our Twitter-tool-panes;
Plenty of time, Plenty of time
To improve our Facebooking the faces that We meet;
There will be time to status like and update,
And time for a blog post for every grain of sand
Sifting through the questions on Our plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a couple Skype meetings,
And for a hundred tweetings and retweetings,
Before the taking of #toastandtea.
But in the room #UsFolk come and go
Still talking only of MichelKloutago
And indeed there will be time
To evangelize “We should dare!” and “We do dare!”
Time to stretch out in our executive chair,
With a Klout score balding despite our fare--
[They will say: “How that Klout Score is growing thin!”]
The avatars beaming from Our collar to Our chin,
Our bio rich and modest, and asserted well on Linked-In--
[They will say: “But how that Amplified Following is thin!”]
Do #UsFolk dare
Disturb the Twitterverse?
In a minute there is time
For tweets and retweets that our Klout score could reverse.
For #UsFolk have known them all already, known them all:—
We have known the Branders', and Lead Gens', and SM Guru's tunes,
We have hashabled our lives with #coffee spoons;
We know tweet-voices scrolling as the tumblers fall
Beneath hash tag nomers in a farther room.
So how should We presume?
And We have known profile pictures already, known them all—
Profile pictures fixed as a formulated phrase,
We too offer our formulated gaze, tumbling in the spin,
So as We are pinned and tumbling on one's wall,
How then should We begin
To Flickr the butt-ends of Our days and ways?
And how should We presume?
And We have known the charms already, known them all—
Charms that get networks engaged and snared
[Buzz drenched keywords to reap the thorough-fare!]
***If perfume was a dress
I think we'd all be blessed!***
Charms that drive a lot of traffic, or amplify a call.
So what then should We presume?
When We know how to begin?
. . . . .
Shall We say, We have gone to lengths for relevant tweets
And hawked the bots that clutter our pipes,
No lonely men in work-at-home schemes send trash to our windows?
I imagine those bot-hands a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of polluted seas.
. . . . .
Now for the 24/7 water-cooler, sleep with one eye tweetly!
By smooth long fingers,
Though half-asleep...never tired...Tribe-talk lingers,
Stretching out more and more, Tribe grows beyond you and me.
So We, after #teaandcakesandices,
Should have enough Klout to force a moment to its crisis.
The world around Us weeps and fasts, weeps and prays,
And here's Our Klout-head [see there? slightly bald] served upon a widget platter,
But Who says We can't be prophets? Who says We don't matter?
We have seen the moments of All greatness flicker,
And We can kick now that eternal Footman in the pants, and snicker,
So, in short, why are We afraid?
Truly would it have been worth it, after all,
After the comments, and likes and retweets,
Among discussion, among some blog post by you or me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have engaged our audience with a smile,
To have squeezed this Twitterverse into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Twitter-Jesus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”--
If one, fixing an algorithm and shaving some points,
Should say: “That is not how you build Klout!
That is not it, at all.”
Seriously now, would it have been worth it, after all,
Worth this 24/7-while,
Tweeting at sunsets, within dooryards, while tripping in snow-mounded streets,
Quoting a novel, cooling the teacup, ignoring the skirts so to focus a bit more--
This act and art--what is it for?--
You know exactly what it is I mean!
We are playing with magic lanterns that change nerves by the patterns of our screen:
So, is it worth the whole while
If one, tinkering with a website and throwing Us a curve ball,
Gets to appear in Our window, and be allowed to say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not how you wield Klout, at all.”
. . . . .
No! We are not "Klout-wise", nor were meant to be;
But we are #UsLords and #UsLadies, and that will do
To swell progress, to start a scene and quite a few!
Advise any Principal who has yet a Twitter tool,
Deferential, sure, but always of use,
Relevant, Passionate, and Transparent too;
Full of 140-character sentence, no need to ruse;
These times, indeed, are ridiculous—
Klout Kool-aids the Fool.
Who grows old? Who grows bold?
Who will wear the mantle of immortal gold?
Can We leave Klout behind? Can we get on with the Peach?
I vision white toga parties, upon every beach.
And the mermaids singing? Is #UsFolk tweeting each to each.
Think grand #UsFolk and Our songs will be.
We are now wind, riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
The force we collect blows water white and black.
We have lingered at this cooler, but can change the sea,
If the world about #UsFolk is a smile behind a frown
Let's concert Our voices, wake them all and boogie down!
entered in Heidi Cohen's #BloggerLove Contest