Towers burn and
the graves give up
their dead.  
Biblical science.
Too hot to protest about
climate change.
Good Friday ghosts
clank chains in Westminster.
Lady Liberty's ****
fondled by tiny orange hands.
Nail bombs, acid and
vehicular homicide.
Armed police guarding Starbucks.
The vanishing hope of
finding a cure, or
even getting a doctor’s appointment.
Bees disappearing and
rivers running dry.
Refugees vilified, oligarchs welcome.
Fox playing
the most gorgeous HD footage
of The End Of Days.
Rage and no rage.
Fake news and alternative facts.
The criminalisation
of irony.
Inevitable Quisling betrayal.
Nihilism as a punchline.

Time to birth yourself
from the
Womb of the Echo Chamber,
maybe?
Please stop trying to pretend
that anything about this
is normal.

our president is
waging Thumb Wars

pressing the button
another pinball appears

he pulls back the spring
and hits send

watching the vociferous orb
encapsulated with incorrigibility
ricochet across the continents

the hemispheres
the stratospheres

across every neighborhood
and nation

bing bing boing

the barricades throb
and eyes light up
as the points
begin to rack up

1
2
3
4

he    got-ta    new-high    score

wow

such big thumbs
for such tiny hands

I lost my mother

No, not to death
I lost my mother to technology
To social media
To that ******* Facebook
I lost her to the bright rectangular shard of glass that was her phone

There she could reconnect with her friends
See what they were doing
Reunite with long lost childhood buddies
And see cute videos of dogs and babies

I used to love going on dates with my mom
Just the two of us
Most would say we were like sisters
We shared clothes and stories
And life lessons in between
Sips of coffee and slices of cakes
And walks in malls just because we wanted aircon

But now when I'm sitting across her at the table
Her eyes fail to meet mine
If they do all she'd say was wait, I'm replying
Then her eyes would fall back to the screen of her phone
Never-ending conversations became conversations that never even started
Loud chatter above food became silence so loud I could hear myself chew
Laughter and smiles were all the same except they were done looking down, facing a phone

And now I would rather dine alone
Than dine infront of someone glued to their phone
And that says a lot coming from someone with social anxiety and fear of being alone
Because if instead of talking to me your talking to your phone
I really would rather just be alone
I promise you it's not that different

Social media was designed to make us all connected
Countries apart, continents in between
We could talk and call like we were together at that very moment
But now the people were beside
The people we can touch and feel
The people with us physically
We forget to talk to, we ignore
We become disconnected with
Yes, you are retying old ties with your old friends who are miles away
I get that
And I am more than happy for you
That you and your highscool friends talk again
But what's the use of making new ties if you don't keep the ones you have now

I lost my mother to technology
I don't know if it's too late
I know technology won't stop advancing any time soon or any time in the future for that matter
But I have faith
I know beneath my mothers eyes glued to the screen
are the same eyes as the ones that first laid their eyes on me
Who looked at me ever so lovingly,
Like the most precious gift in the world

I lost my mother to technology
And I hope it's not too late to find her again

Do you remember?

Do you remember, I wonder,
What it was like outside?

How we’d stand there,
Our arms around each other,
Our faces pressed against the thick, sound-muffling glass?

Peering in with longing,
Ears straining to pick up something, anything -
Any little clue as to what it was like to be inside.

Inside with them -
The eating, drinking, laughing ones -
The ones bathed in the warm golden light.

Outside it was cold. And it could have been lonely,
But we had each other -
And we huddled together -
And we made our own warmth.

But now, Golden Girl,
You’re inside.
You’re theirs.
You eat, drink, laugh -

You glow.

And once in a while you look up.
And you wave.

It’s wonderful in here, you mouth,
See how wonderful it is?
See how they love me?
How they want me?

I do see.

And I feel the cold.
And the loneliness.
And the lack of your arms around me.

Colder,
Lonelier,
I look for different routes to walk.
Routes that don’t take me past windows.

Blue jeans fused to the office chair
One foot tucked under the other knee
Stuck in place watching your dreams

Unfold through a dead eyed stare
Never felt so social, have you?
Have you?

With such strong connection,
Did you figure this condition
Could only get worse?

I've barely used my life
Since I saw proof of yours

"Pardon brevity"
says smart phone poet
just doesn't cut it
and they know it

with a love of words and
care for their composure
you are moved by one whose
craft gives you closure

so give us your muse
the essence of your stuff
don't hold back and know
when enough is enough

Where the tides of Magnus swell
And his thundering roars beat lightning to hell.

We've been living in a maze.
We've been digging up our graves.
We've been throwing up our brains,
Yet these quakes will still go on.

Sickles and hammers
And tall corporate buildings, portly businessmen.
The windows and towers they will smash because of the beast inside their heads.

Black and white
Good and evil
Are there two sides? Four, eight? Or are there billions of coloured pixels;
Each twinkling their own ideologies.
But once they blend, like watercolours,
The wars commence and their crimes they won't repent.

Our conditioned brains
Entertained by an electronic screen, or perhaps a print of lies on paper.
And we will curse, wail or put other opinions on bail.

Will we live a life of sepia, of black and white?
Or will we respect all sides of that rubix cube which becomes ever more difficult to solve.

The algorithms twist, intertwine, sever
But there is not one single lever- we can pull

to save our bleeding earth.

The quakes will go on
We will not have a break from them.
We are veterans of psychological corruption;
And our armour and weapons are destroyed.

I recently learned about
A Frenchman called Firmin Didot
Who invented the idea of replica parts
To speed up the accurate printing of newspapers
Its name entered the dictionary in 1850
14 years after Didot’s death
His name is now a webfont

I subsequently learned about
An American called Walter Lipmann
Who used Didot’s invention’s name
In criticism of the mass-printed newspapers
For influencing readers’ perceptions of reality
86 years after Didot’s death
The name of his invention:
The Stereotype

Loyalty and power,
I gotta take a shower,
My salary’s forgiveness
In history I cower.
Ahem.
The sharpest devils were created in wealth – in wealth
That money power getting bad fa ya health – fo yo health
I climb the lady of liberty
Holding the fire of infamy
**** girl, how tall ya. gotta. be?
How much a man gotta pay for a woman to be free?
If it costs him his life, the debt is paid
For just an hour a day, living death is the wage
I can’t even start about the water we wade
Constituting ignorance, no more to a slave.
I predict the government will feed on your hate
And product your anger to the tricks of the trade.
There’s more to the story,
I’m ****** and poorly,
Ganked and gory,
Just ignore me,
Cents and sore knees, forgetting my name is Jason? Lord, please!
They’re brainwashing with
trumping ******,
jumping ******,
crazy info?
Know what you’re in fo
When you
Turn on the telly, the venue, is
Just another place for kids, welcome,
We’ve got another ****** for your cerebellum,
Gosh!
You’re welcome!
Mosh! Jump up, jump up, and don’t frown, when
They murdered more babies in jars.
Again?
That is if your mother’s in a jam...
When?
I don’t know, half past midnight in the twilight zone,
Which means absolutely nothing when a dog is a bone
Under your house
When you mistake your cat for a mouse.
How many things do I have to get backwards
For you to realize I’m doing math with slick words
Calculating fascination, a concoction, a plantation
Of seeds so small they appear not to exist
Turn the page and out comes a fist
Rattling down the road is canned laughter
Wait up a minute I’m down in the rafters.

How does one get the medias attention?
You dont just do the ordinary.
One would go for the extremes.
All in all to make a statement?
To show how powerful one is?

Some create a new toy
Others release a blockbuster movie
Countries might hold elections
And a man will run naked in the streets.
Or maybe...you think bigger.

Destroy a historical landmark,
Run people over with a truck,
Shoot civilians,
Behead people online;
Blow yourself up.

And you managed toget our attention.
You've divided people.
You've also created alliances.
Inflicted hate, rage, anxiety, fear.
You've made your statement

But, after we get used to
The shock, the fear, the terror.
What will you do then?