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Carl D'Souza Jul 2019
I realise and appreciate that my joy and happiness
depends not on my work alone
but also depends on the work of thousands of people
in a well-functioning society surrounding me.
For example:
When I’m using the internet
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the internet company
are working to bring me internet.
When I’m using water
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the water company
are working to bring me water.
When I’m using electricity
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the electricity company
are working to bring me electricity.
When I’m shopping at the supermarket
I appreciate that thousands of workers at the supermarket-company
are working to bring me groceries.
When I need my garbage collected
I appreciate that thousands of workers in the government
are working to collect my garbage.

I wonder
what are all the social-processes working
to support and facilitate my joy and happiness?
Letter Box: ‘Why does nobody comes this way’?

Me: ‘Maybe, they prefer an email’?

Letter Box: ‘Really? That means I am no more needed’.

Me: Not really! Maybe, they need you for registered posts only.’

Letter Box: ‘Well, what is an email’?

Me: ‘It is an electronic message that is instant moving from one gadget to another’.

Letter Box: ‘Oh, so it is faster than me. It is instant that is why I am discarded.’

Me:’ You are not discarded. You are just less used these days’.

Letter Box: ‘It is instant and faster but can one feel the touch of the paper? Can a mother touch the words written by her son and feel the warmth of his affection? Can a father embrace the letters drenched in his daughter’s tear who is miles away? Can all this be possible in an email’?

Me: ‘No, not at all. But you know what the world has changed now. And maybe, you did not notice. There are more people on gadgets than in the garden, where you are place’.

Letter Box: ‘I know as there are no footballs that hit me anymore. There is no one who looks at me – waiting for that one letter eagerly. They just pass by me – as if I do not exist. Oh, it hurts, it really hurts so much’!

Me: ‘You are still needed, and that is why you are still here.’

Letter Box: ‘Maybe, but still I wait for that football to hit me, and that postman to unlock. I still wait’!
Penmann Jun 2019
The Kekropolis you built.
Just thinking about you makes me feel odd.
You always come as a psyop,
implemented and fake.
I scream a thousand voices to you.
Every time i see you, my knees clutch.
You are not for real.
I mustn't speak.
There are others here, on my mind, on my paper.
Leaving behind a ****** trail of despair and sadness.
I won't let it affect me.

I'd scream again if i knew you were here.
Not involved in psyops.
Not connected to cops.
Not handling guys.
Not wearing disguise.

I'd care if it wasn't all artificially implemented,
I'd come hadn't you texted.
The deep state of a messed-up.
Penmann Jun 2019
Do you ever Google?
I heard they call you "USERS";
I mean, do you care?

Our lives are now viral,
a flush of the toilet,
a death-summoning spiral.

Funnels of sheer torment,
Kirsten Stewarts pretty hair,
...it's like noone's even really there.

All locked in a block of info,
only CIA's aware.
Some weird files to share, locked up in a cloud.

Do these clouds rain on men?
Do they make them run?
Summon a sea of umbrellas beneath?

It's a sea of despair,
and was meant to be fun, worthy of a stare, here and there.
Now all gone.

But to have lives abolished in shame...
Is it a game? A Facebook event?
Do we just pretend?
No way to explain,
Not even a gain.
Here, internet. My contribution. Play your part. It's a data war.
Penmann Jun 2019
****** up by now?
I know exactly how you feel.
Visit our page and
become Helen Mirren
following
three simple steps.
No regrets.
Absent Smile May 2019
mannerisms containing grace and beauty vanquish
when conquering the internet's cruel anguish.
feeding sins with apples that bloomed in the evening
of february to survive in a fast world unreal to the underachieving.

in solitude, her essence blooms despite her
bruised virtuous soul that screams her damnation.
in isolation, the substance of his being thrives in the
waiting room of circumstances that bring prosperity.

reprise a revolution for the modern age of devils,
let them build e-tombs for the sensational forgotten.
encourage the death of language for the birth of a new culture
where the muted can still share words for the world to publicise.

beware of trolls lingering between the lines of text fonts
for a new plague has occurred with no treatment found to cure.
the heat of a blush from "i love you" absent from the screen,
the streets are a little too quiet for the comfort of elders.

do not be frightful for a generation
made from a future a past had conceived.
do not be hopeful for the undoing of the internet.
believe in amor fati, my dear, for this was inevitable.
the internet is a scary place
Brawlstarsmann May 2019
There once was a robot.
His name was Bo-bot.
He was a robot with two eyes,
Two arms
Two legs
Two feet
And his body went squeak.

Bo-bot loved books,
His favourite ones were about robots
And the way humans portrayed his kind
He lived in a house for robots

Each one had its own room.
Bo-bot's was filled with books.
He had even made a machine to pick them up and give them to him.
Bo-bot loved this.

One day he came across a book called
'When The Apocalypse Comes'
Bo-bot was very interested about this
He used a friend called Intynet to find out about it.
When he found out about it he gasped.
If this terrible event came, he would have no more books!
He became a Professor of Anti Apocalyptic Destruction.
(There is a simple course that you do on the intynet to do it.)

He even wrote a book about it.
He met up with the top scientists of the day.
They discussed how to stop this happening.
(under the official secrets act I can't tel you what happened)
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Then they put these measures into place and the Apocalypse never happened
Bo-bot is now at a secret location happily reading books.
He is now very happy.
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