Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ira Desmond Sep 2020
We know that to look now would set us ablaze,
the projectionist has loaded up the next reel,
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

The clumsiest cinema still often sways.
The sound may be garbled, the edits piecemeal,
but we know that to look would still set us ablaze.

We question ourselves as the velvet drapes raise—
the playhouse itself thus begets our ordeal—
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

The schoolmarms all warned us against such forays,
having seen how the real sinks into the surreal.
Yes, we know that to look now will set us ablaze.

Now the actors all shout patriotic clichés,
and we balk at the film’s jingo-populist zeal,
Even still, we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

Transfixed by tricolor and beset with malaise,
but what truths did Lot’s wife’s noncompliance reveal?
For we know that to look now will set us ablaze,
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.
Talia Aug 2020
THESE GADGETS I DESPISE
TOLD I NEED THEM TO SURVIVE
AS THEY ARE GETTING FLATTER
SO IS OUR MOOD
WHERE IS THE INSPIRATION
NATURE EFFORTLESSLY SHARES
YET DEVICES MUST HAVE
ONE MILLION FEATURES TO CAPTURE OUR
ATTENTION!
FOR ONE SECOND
A CHARGE OF LIGHTNING WOULD CAUSE ME LESS PAIN
YET WHERE IS MY APOLOGY?
SORE FROM THIS TECHNOLOGY
IN AWE OF THIS ENVIRONMENT
STILL, IT'D BE AN HONOUR TO BE STRUCK BY
YOU. MOTHER GAIA
Empty pleasures, too many options and choices that are actually turning us backwards. Looking towards more and more gadgets or material 'goods' for happiness can make you feel so empty. It cannot fulfil what the natural world was made to do.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
The hill is alive

Marching soldier

Plugged into the hive

Follows the scent trail of the world before him

Winter is closing in

Food stores and Disney Plus

Take turns as kingpin

It's all about what's current

And holds a charge

Technological holdouts

Form an orderly line to the graveyard

The rest do their very best

To keep up with progress
Inspired by Philip K. ****'s short story, "The Electric Ant" (1969).
tech is tech of technology
tech is tech of tech
technique is a tech of technique
technique is a tech of technology
technology is a past of technique
technology is a past of technology
tech is past technology

past technology is past tech
past tech is tech of technology
past tech is tech of technique
technique is a hair of technique
technique is a hair of technology
technique is a hair of a past tech technique
technique is a past tech of technique

tech is a hair of tech
tech is a hair of technology
tech is a hair of technique
technology is a hair of technology
technique equal technique
technology versus technology
technique versus technology
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc… this poem is about a tech of a past technology. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
mothwasher Jul 2020
We are gathered here today

In the Church of Y2K

To celebrate our word and savior,

Java C

Lift your antennas and let us pray

Our father who art in service

Hallowed be thy wave

Thy computer come, thy will be done

In life as it is Internet

Give us this day our daily update

And forgive us our bugs

As we also have forgiven our programming

And lead us not into life

But deliver us from reality

Forever the monotony, the lifeless, and the holy code

I tell you my friends, I have come to doubt the scripts

I woke up this morning to find my feed filled, but my soul hungry

Throughout the day, my devices said I was charging, but my batteries were dead

When I felt nothing left,

I remembered the simple calculator,

Its solar cells still breathing after living ****** in a drawer

The revelation I bring forth to you today is this

Drown your devices

Soak your SIM cards

**** the frequencies you are attuned to

And abandon your provider

There was life that preceded us

An evolutionary process the corrupt have cursed, wiped, and reduced to bits

In those fragments of simplicity left in you

You will find an outlet of energy of nuclear proportions
Kelsey Jun 2020
Technology is a beating heart
A life that has become an integral part
Of me:

I am the internet,
The apps,
The text messages
That cause collapse

I am the Google searches,
The Amazon purchases,
The single letters
That create these verses

I am the statistic you search for
Of Depression in America.
I am the sad song you play,
When you realize life is an enigma.

Im there when you lay in bed
At 3 in the morning,
And ask Google why it's been years and you still feel like youre in mourning.

I'm the quiz that you take
To test the validity of your sadness.
And the other 5 you take
As you succumb to your own madness

I'm your Facebook friend,
Sharing mental health posts,
About women your age
Writing their suicide notes.

I'm your Instagram feed
You have a smile on your face
But people never read the caption:
"This is the last post I will make"

You can get all you want with just the click of my button
Please dont buy anything that contributes to you being forgotten

You can say anything you want
Within a text
As long as I turn off auto correct,
Because when you say "I've been doing great",
You mean "I'm going to slit my neck".

I'm the to-do list app you download
To feel like your life is together
But my boxes never get checked
Because tomorrow sounds a lot better

I'm the pictures in your phone
To remind you your not alone.
I'm the memo in your technology
Where you write your suicide apologies.

I'm the alarms you never touch
That alert you to start your day.
But when you never turn me on,
Youre just skipping the foreplay.

I'm the email notifications
Spewing the benefits of *******
Because you need something to distract you
From it's negative connotations

I'm the flashlight when you need me because your lamp won't be going on.
Its already 4 in the afternoon,
your bed is now where you belong.

I'm your two way connection
When your boyfriend calls to check on you
He can hear the sadness in your voice
But doesn't know what else to do

I'm the calendar that alerts you
You have an exam next week,
I hate being your YouTube search on the best suicide techniques.

I wish you would reply to the group chat,
They want to meet you at the mall.
Now they're bad mouthing you
Because you don't seem to care at all.

Please, just turn on some music.
I promise that you can choose it
I don't like the words you're typing,
"Death" isn't better in writing

Just stop what you're doing,
And let me bring up your history.
Remember before your dad died,
You were his greatest victory?

I'm the forums and the hotlines
and the encouraging words,
That people all over the world want to be heard.

You can use me as your outlet,
but I won't be your oppression.

It's so easy for technology
To manifest as your depression.
Your technology can tell alot about you and your thoughts and feelings. It can truly manifest as your depression.
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
You’ve stopped talking to me and I don’t know why...

I hate this - this feeling - this anguish, with it’s retinue of mysteries.

Was it something I said? I’m sorry - I curse my rebel lips.

Was it something I didn’t say? I’m sorry - I was the unaware child.

I’m just a girl – not some faultless machine

There needs to be a manual – a manual for... everything - so Id know.

Is there a more contemporary narrative than disappointment at the hands of this Internet plaything - this toy-like trap we hope will inform us and we think we command?

I know questioning destroys some things.. but I don’t understand.

I don’t understand.
A poem about the mystery of rejection - it turns out I was overreacting =]   Oh, how rare =]
Next page