I yearn to exist in a space where the stars all but blaze
Where “stars” aren’t celebrities their plaster faces plastered
on magazine covers lining the shopping aisles
But where they bask in the night sky unpolluted
And exist radiantly

Where the culture ceases to revolve around
the newest latest fashion or video
And instead revolves around the ripening of figs
And the blooming of chrysanthemums
And the migrations of the swallows
Where we look like awestruck children
to those unpolluted stars above us
and this great earth around us
to tell the time and pass the seasons,
Living then in harmony with the revolution of the very soil and air
from which our life flows
It’s easy to forget

I crave an environment
that does not depend upon phone screens
Where my peers and myself do not walk through life
in an addicted daze
Unaware of the haze that descends as an effect
of such technological dependence
We are walking around with our eyes unconsciously searching
for the stimulus that society constantly feeds us
We are tripping over ourselves just trying to keep up
These electronic signals flashing upon thin panels of glass
And This is what we call Living

The dopamine flooding our brains
when that text vibration brings our popularity to attention
Capturing our attention holding it captive
We are prisoners of our own purchases
Stepping into voluntary chains
Producing our wrists for shackles
Rusting our humanity away enchained
in a web of unsocial media and notifications
We neglect to make space for our own existence
Disconnecting from our own physical experience
We don't even feel our fingers typing and swiping
Hoarding gluttonous over likes and comments and click bait headlines
Consumed by our own consummation  
We never have any silence

I yearn to exist in a space where our eyes like stars all but blaze
Awake with acute awareness of the present moment
Where we break shackles and push comfort zones
Basking in the raw beauty of an exuberant life we are conscious to experience
I yearn to exist together as radiant as the stars in the vastest galaxy

i am a robot
machine
i was conditioned to believe
success is documentation
standing in line and sitting rows
write down sentences
regurgitate
regurgitate
survive
blindly
now i am successful,
what is there to do

Avert your eyes
from looking directly
at the monster.

Look only through
that reflective shield,
that glowing rectangle

that parades a
distorted vision of
the objective self,

that which in
dark moments may
suddenly shut off,

revealing one’s face:
inverted, expressionless, petrified—
like when the

mirror of Perseus
at last revealed
Medusa’s horrifying visage.

A table for two,
For you and me.
Food on our plates,
With cups of tea.

We chatted and laughed,
Till night turns to day.
But never once that you did,
Without your phone, you speak.

Beneath the palm trees,
On a bed of snow.
Laughter, Tears, full of joy,
Feels like time had never flowed.

Again, you reached for your pocket,
And whipped out your phone.
Texting, calling, and gaming,
What about me, am I all alone?

At my favorite concert,
A theatrics of shows.
Singing, dancing, cheering,
Not a single sad soul.

However, it's not just you,
Everyone was on their phones.
Recording, recording, and recording,
Crowds became monotone.

It led me to think,
Can we truly exist,
Even just for a day,
Without a phone's assist?