Giant cable webs from the skies,
Stare at me in my eyes;
Messy wires that crisscross out there,
Are sending transmissions everywhere.
And they make us sit in our homes:
Hooked up to laptops and mobile phones.
And should we step out to meet outdoors:
We quickly look for docks on floors!
In our lives, everyday -
It’s high-tech that we survey.
And though it’s distracting and slows us down;
Keeps us from exploring the reality around;
Can you imagine what it would be?
For us not to be using technology!

I wish you could see me behind the screen
Who I really was, who I really am
If I could see you face to face
Know more than just your name
We could be friends in real life
But you're hundreds of miles away
So I'll dream of meeting you one day

It was a random like
I didn’t even think twice
Just typed it out and pressed send
To start the heart break again

It was a random like
You didn’t even think twice
That little (left hand) heart broke mine
With a random like

I’ll be ******
The internet suits you fine
But I’ll be ****** if I let this chance pass me by
Ill be ****** it seems your life is going well
And if it’s not there’s no way anyone could tell

That was a random like
You didn’t even think twice
That little heart broke mine
With a random like

The downward momentum is clear to me now.
The engine has built up a full head of steam.
I’d try to stop it, if I knew how.

The fires of industry must burn on somehow;
they tend to burn brightest when fuel is extreme.
The downward momentum is clear to me now.

When currents are surging, we shouldn’t allow
the jingoist fringe to swim in the mainstream.
I’d try to stop them, if I knew how.

Civility means more than I can avow,
but poems can only allude to a theme:
The downward momentum is clear to me now.

Each click of a mouse that shouts holier than thou
is a cog in a treacherous clockmaker’s scheme.
I’d try to stop him, if I knew how.

We worshipped the circuit and forsook the plow
in search of a false technological dream.
Our downward momentum is clear to me now.
I’d try to stop us, if I knew how.

The howling maelstrom of wireless
Haunts the air unseen
Blue toothed demonic
It whips up white caps of restlessness
And drives sleep onto the rocks

Blowing through keyboard tickers
And screen flickers
There’s a digital mosquito hum in the rigging
And the sheets fill with an endless cacophony
Of Arabica bean buzz

Your physiognomy is a book
Rolled up like a chart in a tube
The cabin cricket in its cage
Twittering nonsense
And lusts of cute and food
And anti anti anti

Both bullies and victims at the masthead
Squeal and rage and defecate
Raw sewage dribbling down the bow
In a million billion ones and zeros

Sailors lost in foreign climes
With no purpose on land
The motley crew self-gratify
Thinking
Come the dawn we’ll all be back at sea

Not realising
That with the globe at your fingertips
Both night and day are constants
Lash yourself to the mast
Else be washed overboard

All the stars you used to sail by
Have become little more
Than dead pixels on a screen

© 2018 Steve Kelly aka kellyocs

High on'a farm,
make a needle biscuits
water-up sits creek
jostle potatoes,
pan-*** boiling
-with carrot cake.

Purple sky,
tractor runnin'
time of day,
sun low.

E'er body say,

"Why dou'a on'a farm?"

entered-dat du da future;
not Ford'ed fields.
Face it dou'a future,

"Dat future know it's place."

Sweet devils singin' to me,
sweetened tongue a' beautiful place. . .

"E'erthing set in place, ***** wit I say,
-dinner on-ma tray."

my humanity is slipping
as i become my numbers
give me one more like