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 Jul 2014 Dartris Stone
Poetic T
If
Death
waits
For
Me
He can take a number...
#death #ticket #me
Stranger that you are
Paraphrasing my dreams
Circumnavigating my thoughts
The Compass aligns towards Neverland
Meet me nowhere
I’ll be there

Sailor that you are
Running before the wind
The tide is turning
Time to walk towards the flood
Breathe underwater
Merge with the waves

Falling star that you are
Shooting though my universe
Bursting into millions of light beams and diamonds
Crystallizing reveries
While feeling you explode
Inside of me

Taleteller that you are
Reinventing fairy tales
Omniscient narrator of myths and fables
Shapes and colors animated under your breath
Transcending space and time
and gravity

Delusion that you are
Echoing through the corridors of my head
I keep your words as treasures
Your glance as a souvenir
Nonexistent memories reappear
Holograms form matter
Intercalating to reality
(Hive Wired)

As wires round the world get lighter and thinner
the autoscroll feeds you fourty-nine homicides
from desktops at noon to plasma at dinner
the auto-cue commits sixty-five more crimes.

Mad and red in the face, you picture yourself
pace by pace, walking the span of the kitchen
but the network fail to mention the other seven billion
who kept living their life devoid of such sinning.

Typhoonous winds and hurricane fever
head out the window, yell for your kingdom,
yell so we hear you ’til you’re hoarse and unkempt.
yell 'til your sad old neighbour get’s hell bent.

Step back to the desk and slam on your keyboard
tell all that you know that there’s more to life
than watching the ’strife of idiocy’ part two thousand
and something, there’s more to this world

than serving a system; there’s more to a system
than the buds at the top, the roots don’t need trimming
the buds must be stopped from dying and rotting
and killing the crop. Still glum? Relax in your favourite shop!

With a roof overhead and your screen polished down
forget the anger, the strife, and fantasist who yelled.
tip-tap the day away, earn and pay away that frown
forget how lonely you are and buy some new health.

Tip-tap-a-tip-tap-a-tip-tap away the evening and next day
Now you live vicariously through social media
you cannot stop networking, lonelier… lonelier.
Connections you make get quicker, and quicker.

You pick and you carve a residual image.
‘Life is the greatest’ on appearance
the best fools fool themselves, it’s addictive
post after post you build up a rhythm.

Second life, third face, prosodical features:
hive mind rewired you’re speechlessly grinning
Staring at screens you’re now silent at dinner,
your diary entries get sparser and sparser

you forget appearances are a farcical demeanour
sixth chord diminutive, false life fever: your square
-eyed and ill groomed head sits on a hunchback miser,
the hive mind keeps ticking you keep getting wiser.
http://youtu.be/c6Bkr_udado

'The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men - cries out for universal brotherhood - for the unity of us all... The rich free themselves but they enslave the people!'

Chaplin's Dictator (1940)
Three prongs, darkened wrinkled skin:
a weather beaten talon
perched firmly on a sticky background.
Tightened grip loosening,
the freeze and thaw of daily chore.
To catch a wind and stretch
then shrink; grabbing hold of extra hide.
Even the swan: pure, glossy
friend tires of morning, afternoon
evening end. What chance do these creaseless eyes
have against the hardened feet of
crow, stampeding, marched in footprint.
Disguise is all she can hope for on a rainy day
tears may dance and cause dismay
yet vanity lies and she is fascinating
premature crowing dances
should never slow a man’s advances.

— The End —