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Various contentions commandeer the gossamer
threading of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it amateur
apertures
free loading and buffering to the hammer strikes
of daring digital darlings
raising stakes in the race
to the bottom

All our ever present neurons
raining clusters of chemicals into challenge videos
and lip-sync contests fray under the drip
of toxic positivity and special guests
with arcana wit and a pithy redress
to the hectic tempest control
of foreign fingers

These chance tragedies and reality puppet shows
commune and presume to know better than best
in show
about the circumstance of happenstance
when the fickle turn away
to gaze fiery into a rabbit hole
curated for those who
skew chaotic

No cogent tightrope margin tricksters
will condone the manic viral feel-good fixtures
hanging from the yellowed wind chime
keys which only lock up fever rituals
with dancing flame and ridicule
made wholly manifest from
distant voices

Suburban haze arrangements rot eternal
while withered updates wax nocturnal
failures
in feeds of fomented fragility
lost among our endless
search for an end
of searching

Planned spontaneity burns borrowed minutes
festering in the better world we prohibit
and all along the symptom was
buried with the cure
as we the ill incarnate
toiling with clicking tongues
red from cherry picked plights,
block windmills
and declare defeat
I saw Mammy yesterday,
Sitting, smiling and relaxed.
Idling wasn't her usual way.

Then your Dad walked into view,
Lighting up, talking loud.
He wasn't comfortable in a crowd.

Nana and Bub shine in glorious colours,
As do the constant sisters and brothers.

There's Marlene tucked-in on the couch,
With an infectious smile that leaves no doubt.

Jim's feeling his cups. He's crying out.
But can't explain what his pain's about.

Da's holding Eucheria in his arms,
Pretending to water our dead brown lawn.

Sweet Maura teases with a sharp handled comb,
Sneaks in the side door when returning home.

Sister Sheila in heels gives herself a lift,
For without them she's about four foot six.

And Kevin my older rebellious brother,
Tells biker stories that made us shudder.

Sean has all the talents and skills,
With looks and smiles that really ****.

Gerald too had similar traits,
But dwarfed us all when he'd read and write.

They laugh and cry,
Smile and tear;
It's as if
They're all still here.
I captured each
On video tape;
Healthy, alive,
This side of the Gate.

Yet someone's missing from these scenes,
Someone who's rarely seen.
A Son, Brother, Husband, Da,
Uncle, Nephew,
And Granda.
That someone's Me.
Quietly filming
With my camera.
All family members are gone until I load my Zip drive, and there they are.
And it's true. There might be five seconds of me on film as I scan the room, and see myself in a mirror.
Da: Irish word for Dad (just drop the final "D"
Granda: Irish for Grandad
Safana Dec 2024
*In the year of twenty twenty-five,
Pi Coin’s journey comes alive.
From mobile screens to blockchain’s might,
A new dawn breaks, shining bright.

Pioneers from near and far,
Gather 'round, beneath the star.
With wallets ready, hearts alight,
They celebrate this wondrous night.

Mining Pi was once a dream,
Now it’s real, a flowing stream.
Transactions swift, secure, and free,
A decentralized economy.

From nodes and codes, a network strong,
Pi Coin’s future can’t go wrong.
Empowering people, far and wide,
With every transaction, a sense of pride.

So here’s to Pi, in twenty twenty-five,
A symbol of hope, a digital drive.
As we embrace this new frontier,
Pi Coin’s promise is crystal clear.*

Safana Dec 2024
In the heart of nature’s grand design,
Lies a wisdom, ancient and divine.
From the whispering winds to the ocean’s tide,
Intelligence in every leaf, every stride.

Mountains stand tall, with secrets they keep,
Rivers carve paths, through valleys they sweep.
Nature adapts, evolves with grace,
A dance of life, in every place.

Artificial minds, we now create,
Learning from nature, we innovate.
Algorithms mimic the patterns we see,
In forests, in skies, in the deep blue sea.

Neural networks, like roots, they spread,
Seeking knowledge, where data is fed.
Machines now learn, adapt and grow,
Reflecting the intelligence nature bestows.

Yet, as we build this digital mind,
Let us remember to be kind.
For in nature’s wisdom, we find our guide,
To create with care, and not with pride.

Nature’s intelligence, a timeless art,
Guides our journey, as we start.
In every code, in every line,
Nature’s wisdom, forever shines.

Welcome to The Nature Being Intelligence Centre

By
Dr. Diviney
(Carol Natasha Diviney Ph.D.)
Sara Barrett Nov 2024
In the glow of screens,
we gathered,
Farmville requests from aunts,
a world of laughter,
simple joys shared like sunlight,
photos blooming like flowers,
each snapshot a moment held close.
But shadows crept in,
voices grew louder,
arguments ignited in the digital crowd,
once a haven for stories and cheer,
now a battleground,
where fear and anger drown out connection.
Oh, to step back,
to mute the noise,
to cherish the small moments,
to find joy in simplicity.
Can we learn to listen?
To hold our space with care?
To share our truths without fear of judgment?
Imagine a world where we pause,
where empathy reigns and understanding flows.
Let’s reclaim the joy of a simple post,
the warmth of shared memories,
the bonds that matter most.
If we could remember how to talk again—
to share our lives without the weight of expectation,
to celebrate each other’s stories as our own.
Maybe then we can find our way back,
to laughter and support,
to kindness woven through our words.
And maybe one day,
we will step into that light again—
not as warriors in an endless fight,
but as friends seeking connection,
hearts open to the beauty of being together.
This poem, “Rekindling Connection in the Age of Social Media,” reflects on the dual nature of digital communication. It captures the initial joy of shared experiences through social media, contrasting it with the growing discord and disconnection that often arises in online interactions. The poem calls for a return to genuine connection, emphasizing the importance of empathy and understanding. It invites readers to cherish simple moments and celebrate each other’s stories, ultimately envisioning a world where kindness prevails over conflict. This poignant exploration resonates with anyone navigating relationships in a digitally dominated landscape.
Luca Scarrott Oct 2024
[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0 and repeat]

We
fit toge
ther seamlessly
like the numbers on
a digital alarm clock,
moving without hesi
tation, from one figure to
the next, a movement of time transi
tioning,  unsettling, unnotica

bly building on and constructing ourselves
within the construction of time
itself. We are the only
static constant, the on
ly reliable source:
time keeps moving
forward, and
so will
we —
Last night, when I couldn't fall asleep, I was staring at the numbers on my alarm clock, and I saw the numbers change. The numbers go past so frequently but it's only when we're paying attention that we see them. Yet they move and change whether we are watching them or not. We all do the same.  We are all still moving forward in our own ways beyond the scrutiny of others. This thought of inevitable movement and passing of time provided me with enough of a sense of security to fall asleep. I hope it offers you a similar peace.
nvinn fonia Oct 2024
Digital Watch
Digital Watch
arsonpoet Aug 2024
what makes us beautiful? printed notes sanctioned by the government? three layers of plastic that attaches to the skin. electricity that runs in your spines, blue rays invading your lonely night. a night where jasmine’s weep because you’ve lost sight of their existence.what makes us beautiful? pixelated rays emitting diodes of dopamine. colours and colours of chrome attached to screens. what makes us beautiful, then? 360 degree surveillance across borders and borders of human civilisations. what makes us beautiful then? maybe a solitary ray of sun as it wraps around your face at dawn? but how would you know that, as you’re doused from the pixels of yesterday, making you numb enough to make sleep through the morning.
how many years would we waste stuck inside our screens?
Oskar Erikson May 2024
download instagram, download twitter, download what’s-app, download flickr,
update I-message, update linkedin,
restore photos from iCloud bin
back-up Tinder, back-up Scruff
X’d twitter, doomscrolled enough
access Pinterest, access Ring,
screenshot snapchat, Grindr ding

face-id open, passcode close
settings, delete find your iPhone
close friends, bank app, sort code,
messenger, poke, block, link, follow, repost livestream selfie be real location tag pin dropbox camera notes volume up siri off
Wi-Fi on,bluetooth disconnected 3G 4G 5G
which account do I logon?

safari, google, duck duck go
buy apple, by android,
huawai’s cheap though

forget this for you page
forget this Alexa home
forget this algorithmic poetry
forget this phone
Jeremy Betts May 2024
Wether recorded digitally or with a pen
With or without hitting send
Questioning the subject matter, real or pretend?
They're all just thoughts that don't bend
The only ones I have over and over again
Not even hinting at an end

©2024
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