"From the Apple in our lives, to the Apple of our eyes."

or

"From the Apple in our eyes, to the Apple of our lives."

We are absorbed
From one click of a button
To 5 hours of life
Reliving a cycle every day
Thinking it can’t get any better
The more followers
The better life
Only posting what you want
And not letting them see the other sides
Pictures only there for a moment
Then washed away never to be seen again
When moments could be spent better
Long lasting moments
With no worry of a time limit
Instead we are made robots
Dependant on 5 inches
Missing what life has to offer
Too afraid to leave them at home
Because you you may miss a notification
You never cared about anyway
Making life easier every generation
Thinking the only way to make friends
Is by chatting online
Getting a reply
But waiting 5 minutes
Because we are too afraid of seeming desperate
Walking right past someone
Who you could have shared your life with
But instead your head was faced to the floor
But of course
The floor is more important than a person
But this item smaller than your hands
Somehow gained a power to control us
Hooked us into this trap
That is too late to run away from
Forgetting the date and saying it didn’t remind me
Will be the only excuse
And family, friends, and people
Will no longer be an option
Soon we will all walk around with tubes in our ears
And goggles over our eyes
Seeing a virtual world that must be greater than what we were given
Meeting people but never seeing them
But it’s fine
Because we have all we need between 5 inches

Always have my notebook with me,
‘cause they say the pen’s mightier than the sword,
so I’m trying to cut through the tension & the red tape,
with the power of these words,

on the ledge of The Razor’s Edge,
resisting these suicidal tendencies to jump,
feeling like Darrell with these quarrels,
trying to catch some feelings before we all go numb,

on the leading end of the Cutting Edge,
going for the gold like Doug & Kate,
& I know it took awhile but I’m here now,
my only hope is that I’m not too late,

leaning out on the leading edge,
deleting friends and repeating trends,
with suicidal tendencies and telepathic technologies,
already wrote the whole message just need to hit SEND,

as we immerse ourselves in these alien technologies,
and submerse ourselves in Emotional Anthropology,
all this done as a Road Scholar not a Rhodes Scholar,
no PHD or GED just knowledge for free without the college degree,

a one man School of Thought & class is always in session,
which is why I always have my pen with me,
as I write instead of type these thoughts,
before they become digital originals on your hand held screen,

same way that cash is becoming cryptocurrency,

holding my emotions in the palm of your hand,
which is kinda why I write these diatribes,
to remind you I’m alive inside and not yet fully an Android,
even though I’m on an iPhone feelings like an AI,

& the machines still need me,
because The System still needs you,
& AI still hasn’t found a way to be AEI,
can’t create Artificial Emotional Intelligence moods,

can’t be you not even with YouTube,
can’t be I not even with iPhones,
can’t sing a song or hum a tune,
can’t write anything close to something like this poem,

and that’s the truth and I’m not trying to be rude,
but I want to smack that phone right outta your palm,
‘cause Palm Pilots have us all on auto pilot like drones,
feeling like Luke in Episode II: Attack of the Clones!

& I just wanna go home but the closest thing I have is a home button,
it’s just Me, Myself & I on CBS with the All Seeing Eye & my iPhone,
got me wondering if this is all an act and the whole globe’s frontin’,
as I die inside while writing these diatribes they never miss you ‘till you’re gone,

& that’s exactly why I write these poems,
that have that melancholy testimony feel,
because everything feels phony on these phones,
and I just want to connect with some one or something that’s real,

so I write these Melancholy Testimonies,
as a discourse of our crash course that occurs sans remorse,
without recourse either of course because there’s no reverse,
plus we dig our own graves so it only makes sense we drive our own hearse,

& you can dispute if you want to,
but can’t really argue with truth I’ve done my research,

I mean I’m at a restaurant right now,
watching two guys eat together without even having a conversation,
they haven’t even looked up from their phones once,
I assume they’re friends but you wouldn’t know it by their lack of interaction,

eyes & attention given complete to their iPhones or Androids,
stuck in an upright fetal position head down neck cricked back bent,
which makes me want to stand up & warn them that if they don’t change their ways,
one day they’ll wake up dead and wonder where their live’s went,

we’re almost there folks,
take over almost complete,
& yeah maybe it took awhile but just ask Kurzweil,
we should have Singularity by 2040,

and I’m still writing,
trying to figure out how to defend humanity against defeat,
feeling like Sarah birthing this poem like Sarah birthed John Connor,
& we’re almost all goners as we all honor The Rise of The Machines,

but before we go,
please remember one thing,
that these Creative Arts were/are/will be,
our Last Bastion of Humanity,

because a computer can draw maps,
but can not draw a painting,
a computer can write codes,
but can not write poetry,

and that my fellow human,
is exactly why I keep writing,
to remind us to stay human,
& take a stand as we defend this Last Bastion of Humanity,

& I do this by always having my notebook with me,
‘cause they say the pen’s mightier than the sword,
so I’m trying to cut through the tension & the red tape,
with the power of these words…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
10/11/17
∆