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 sit in front of the tv
Brainwashed into thinking
That this monotonous existence
Constitutes living
I feel my mind screaming
For something more engaging
Instead of the useless stuff
Seeping from my screen
Sometimes the only breaks I take
Are just me looking from that screen
To another smaller version in my hand
I feel exhausted emotionally
Unable to engage in many things
But I refuse to give these screens
This kind of power over me
I am a human being
Not a lifeless creature
I need to find something better
To break this habit that's killing my creativity
It's killing my energy
My motivation
My attention span
And I will not have it
Not anymore
I will find something more satisfying
More promising in engagement

And then I wonder
Is this what it was like
When books were first written?
Or is this unique to electronic media?

When strangers sit together
they still exist alone.

When they wander in
the wet weather
without their friends
there is silence,

the same silence
that stares sullenly
at a tablet, or phone screen
without reacting
to any human being
in the general area.

There are always a few
who long to
break through
the silence
and speak with
others who have
no business
other then
sitting and waiting.

Spirits waning
from some
strange rejection,
not outright
but at daylight
when strangers
look right
at each other
then turn away
nervously
refusing
to speak.

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.