the smokey memories of Summer
fan on high, combatting heat waves
hair glued to the forehead from sweaty laughter
on the phone for one, two, three many hours
always laughing

but now the sticky fire is gone
noses are runny and temples are cold
dry knuckles chafe against a keyboard wanting to smell the same laundry detergent from a Summer back in time
drying eyes redden as rivers flow into the scorching season
a wet upper lip trembles at time lost
hours on the phone, or lying in bed alone?
always trembling

Big brother; surveilled; rat runs of pounds;
Instaweb orbs, tendrils confound,
Face timely chats across coded binary,
Clocked on, logged in let it begin;

Around and around the wheels about town,
The daily homage to tubes underground,
Whistlestop lunches, lanyards and passes,
Payslip available labour force saleable.

PIN, Password, Face recognition,
Upload, drawn down, robotic volition,
Subdural naked forced aspirations,
Chasing dragons of faked motivation.

Push and chug and push and chug,

The relentless surge of more from above,
Steady inbound for disembarkation,
Life's sourjourn of self realisation.

In a realm of two moons and three suns not
afraid to be besieged by everlasting brightness,
where everyone speaks from their heart spires
and devils and scorpions cavort with sprites,
magic coexisted with every day miracles.
People would cross on invisible bridges
as easily as Jesus walking on water,
on their way to their great soul’s quest.

Now as tablets led to handwriting and
then to thousands of computer fonts,
where seeking adventure becomes
short code for finding death and despair,
where sprites now dine on pixie sticks
and fairies no longer spread their dust,
where those who believe in magic are greatly
outnumbered by those who don’t,
where everyone’s top half exists
with their bottom self wandering about
and never finding each other,
where wizardry is replaced with technology-  
the common light bulb and automobile-
is when wonderment gets consigned to the
bottomless pit of foolishness.

Then magic waits in hidden castles,
patient not for those who have it
and don’t see it, but those who need
it the most and know that it reveals
the truth behind the disguises,
waiting for that old broken stead
to reveal that its Pegasus
and that spell they chanted
to lead them back home to
the magic of their parent’s’ embrace.

the metal river flows
into ocean city
with bright lights
human rights
no mercy and no pity
past the world before we came
now roadkill and genocide
become our main aim
the future is today
the living moment
we are on our way
without a clue
of a final destination

give us this day our daily bread
sustained life is better than dead

we fight our wars
oppress populations
make us a game of it
on console by playstation
killing our conscience
with technological brain washing

a game of thrones
and ideology
I can tell the time
in over two thousand years
but I still can't tell
what day it is
people come and people go
the metal river
it flows and it flows

It's funny how easy it has become
to break someone's heart.

Mere seconds of fingers flying across a keyboard
is enough to shatter their world,
and the only warning they get is
three little dots...

Then there's nothing but silence...
and they're left to pick up the pieces
of the cracks that go deeper
than just the screen.

Cracks that can't be fixed by a kiosk or by mail-order replacement.
No. These cracks...
                                                                ­             they're permanent.