What's your addiction?
Computer or television?
We're in a Gestalt on Google,
Like well trained poodles,
The land of Google glasses,
Is it a blessing to last us?
Is this the Prince of Air,
I read in the Bible somewhere?
Dimly switching on Google glasses,
Edited agenda, the mouse passes,
All like web trained poodles,
We're in a Gestalt on Google.

i don't want to flatten you out
put you on a frame in the hall of fame
where people would go just to gawk and stare at you
that would be so cruel of me, because you-
you
are so much more complex than that
you are the foundation of a house
something everyone takes for granted because they cant see it
how many times have you slipped out unnoticed
by those looking for the shiniest, brightest stars in the world
if you look for those
you miss the planets
you miss the way that you sleep with a shirt over your head to "block out the light" so you can sleep better
you miss the ridiculous, pleasurable conversations
"did you know that Louie Armstrong would cut off the callouses on his lips with a pocket knife?"
"we should write a comic strip about a starch that smokes **** and call it "The Baked Potato."'

let's keep away from the photographers, the paparazzi, the artists, the writers

you hate attention anyway
said you would rather "sleep on the roof for a week" than give a presentation in public

i have discovered you
but i won't ever tell

the books will not mention you
there will be no statues of us
but the ones we build with sugar cubes on the privacy of our own kitchen table
where messes like us can be swept away and kept in no other place than our memories
and the storage on my phone

i will memorize the lines on your torso and back
but children will never study you in geography, they will never be asked the year you were born or at what latitude and longitude your chest muscles meet your abdominals

a search on Google will pull nothing about you

you remain undiscovered
to all
but me.

Googleing your hello poetry name, and typing the word poem's after it,
I only found this out when a friend of mine,
typed in,
Cat Fiske ****,
and my name came up with my hp links
and in the images I was the first three and my **** poem was one of them,
this is kinda funny I hope u all try it.

but example:
Id type:
Cat Fiske Poems

and all my stuff would come up, the more you do the more that shows up in the images and on googles. and your followers pics come up too. I find that cool as well.

Where would I be
Without the Internet and Tellee?
Yes it’s telly I know,
With its glitzy glow.
They’ll be watching down there in Walthamstow.

X Factor, Big Brother and many a quiz,
They are the equivalent of ol’ Show Biz.
They say we are ruled by all this media,
That all those videos are a bad idea.
Without them though it would feel quite queer.

Newspapers now have become old hat,
There’s not a lot we can do about that.
I seem to live in Facebook Land,
But many say it ought to be banned.
They bury their heads in that golden sand.

The Google answers my every question:
Lots of info for my digestion.
Facebook’s full of gossip and chat,
There’s every scope for acting the prat,
So if you don’t like it, just Take That.

I’m on the net most every morning.
Sad to say, it never gets boring.
(Though it still might carry a Government Health Warning)!
Near Noon I have to drag myself away,
But not too many kids are out to play,
It’s video games for them all day.

Any kids about, they’re on their mobile phones.
They’re starting to look like devoted clones.
They hardly look where they are walking,
Busy reading and occasionally talking.
The traffic they are always baulking.

To real life they pay no attention.
They all deserve to be in detention.
I have to wonder how brainwashed we are,
Let’s go on a show and become a pop star.
It’ll soon be empty in the bar.

Social Networking is what they call it,
So very easy to install it.
Instagramming is now the thing,
It’s all about the imaging.
There’s nothing like that internet ping.

So there you are, The Media Rules,
Thanks to all these technical tools.
Soon there’ll be no need for schools,
But will we make geniuses, or a flock of fools?

Paul Butters

© PB 5\9\2015.

Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones,
Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones,
Dem phones, dem phones, dem iPhones,
Now praise the Lord for the Web.

The Apple phone’s connected to the Vodaphone,
And the Vodaphone’s connected to the Google Zone,
The Google Zone’s connected to the Web Zone,
Oh hear the Lord of the Word.

Well the phone’s connected to a browser
And it fits very neatly in your trouser.
The browser connects you to the Internet
Faster than the fastest speed-jet,
Just the place for a quick bet.
Oh hear the Lord of the Word.

It might get you onto Facebook
Or teach you how to be good cook
Find you some ladies for a good…
Time.

Now Praise the Lord of The Word.

Paul Butters

Godless godly engine
Dreams its fuel for
entertainment
and call it at
art

Tonight I missed a shot with nostalgia because of myself.
I've become such a slave to my phone that the flashing colours in the sky could not,
would not bother me.
Everything except for the device shining in my palms was blocked out like a voice I didn't want to hear in the first place,
Except I DID want to hear it.
I want know about everything that is happening around me without burying my face so deeply into Google to find the answers I'm searching for.
Nothing ever happens to me because I'm too busy in the comfort of my own home,
upon my own couch,
on my own phone worrying about the next Facebook status
and whether or not it will be entertaining
or in need of a dose of an opinion that is my own.

I recognize that I have my own personal "cell"-mate that will follow me wherever I go as long as I don't forget it on my kitchen counter.
I am shackled to my cellphone.
It takes me in handcuffs daily,
arresting me at my own free will.
A policemen of such small character,
yet so many brains.
And I already know my rights.
I already know my rights because I've researched them enough times with my mobile text book to have them memorized.
You have the right to post a status, anything you say can and will be taken out of context.
You have a right to an opinion, if you do not have an opinion one will be appointed to you by your desire to impress those whom share a friendship with you.

I am a servant to technology.
It's as though it is a part of my anatomy.
If it's not one item of electronics it's another and it has my full undivided attention.
As connected as we are, we have all become disconnected.
No one talks anymore.
Word of mouth has become word of texting.
Important pieces of information are shared via the internet because it's easier to get it out there all at once instead of saying it multiple times.
I sadly succumb to every chime I am beckoned with as it demands I answer whomever has interupted the surfing
and scrolling
and sharing
and liking
and commenting
and posting...
I put my phone down in disbelief.
Now tell me, "What's on your mind?"

Google isn't always the answer