Ode to Facebook: A nonsense poem

You don't need to bring their lives,
To my front door.
I've got my share of trouble and strife,
Without you doling out a little more.

I don't care what A thinks of B,
Or who the day's idiot is.
I certainly don't need to see,
Who C would like to kiss.

And FarmVille now *that* is a game,
I sincerely do abhor,
And when on it I see a friend's name,
I now know who I'll ignore.

No black sheep or friend imitations,
No fortune cookies or pink underwear,
No private, secret conversations,
That two people do to publicly share.

And worst of all: the stupid requests,
And all them damnable 'cause' invitations.
That make me feel like replying (no jest),
With rather indecent suggestions.

So our tryst has ended, you and I,
Shall never be the way we used to,
The high road shall now be mine,
And the low road you'd better get used to.

And if we should meet accidentally one day,
On some lonely internet widget,
It is only proper I warn you and say,
My attitude'll be cold if not frigid.

The White Elephant

From the minute he saw her, he knew he was in love. Beautiful and intelligent, she was a rare combination that any man would have been proud of. Just weeks after their first meeting, he had proposed to her and a few months later they were married. He still couldn't believe his luck as he stood at the altar - organ playing that oh so popular tune - and waited for her to appear. It was then, as they both stood at the altar and the priest droned on, that he made a promise to himself: Nothing would ever be too good for her.

What was perhaps more astonishing was the degree with which he managed to live up to it. He spent a fortune and got a house in a nice part of town, with the white picket fence and the entire package. If she sneezed he would rush to the nearest doctor and drag him back home. There was obviously no question of her working, unless she wanted to, of course. But she didn't, so that was ok. And as for the housework, the three hired maids were busy at work as she lounged on the sofa and watched the telly.

Twenty years passed in pretty much the same way. The comfort of her life had taken its toll: obese, she had now lost most of the beauty she had once possessed. As he returned home one night after a gruelling day's work, to find not even the slightest glimmer of recognition in her eyes, he stood at the door and for the first time in twenty years actually looked at her. He saw her sprawled out on the sofa, fat and fair, like some great albino pachyderm - lacking all that he had once married her for. And as he did, he suddenly realised that there was nothing that he wanted to do more than get rid of her. But there was nothing that he could do less.