This device in which they call, "phone," has now become a source of sadness every time I set my eyes on it and the first word that my eyes encounter is "Mummy" red green cut pick Which one should I do? I am stuck in the world between those two The green might bring joy or pain, for her voice most of time times makes me feel disdain Pick: my grades. Distraction, I face That's all she ever says and whenever any good words come out of her mouth, they don't last long because they come with warning reminding me that I can be foolish most of the times Red I pick, punishment I feel. Pain, I'm inflicted I guess she is my supreme being Never will she admit that from her mouth, but when I cut the call, I remember that she made love and I was the result so if not for her, I would not be in this world.
But then ... I'm stuck in the world between those two. No red No green No cut No pick I just let it ring and dance to the rhythm.
The opposite of end-stopped Poetry; the trick with enjambment Is to never complete a sentence, phrase, or thought Within a single line of verse; but instead allow The syntactic unit to run on Unexpectedly, like a distracted self-drive tourist Attempting to navigate a multi-lane freeway Without indicating
When I was sixteen I was told I was a ghost in the machine. This made perfect sense for I sought seclusion From fright in my mind; I was hunting a delusion. What was wrong and what was right Could never be far or near or protected with might.
When I was seventeen I was told I was a ghost in the machine. This made perfect sense for I hated my mind. Suffocating in a body howling with mistakes scared and lined. Escape was hollow and deprivation When a cold numb murdered little sensation.
When I was eighteen I was told I was a ghost in the machine. Laughter and warmth within and around, Let us take a photo to capture what was lost and found. Often I will reminisce about the night it all made sense But I cannot remember it all, let loathing commence.
When I was nineteen, I was told I was a ghost in the machine. Now, I did not understand For I could feel and touch and fall and land Without sorrow or destruction at what I could not achieve. Everything that happened, I knew now it was time to leave.
I am twenty six now, And I remember when I was told I was a ghost in the machine. Digital memory captured it all And a scroll reveals the forgotten, the joy and the fall. I didn’t realise at the time we place our spirits into devices so lean.
So let me tell you; Guess what? We are now all just a great ghost in a pocket machine.
using technology in the present will remember your past and can predict a future!