and when i think of childhood
i think of all the time i spent looking at the clouds
all the moments made laughing up at the stars
the beauty of human interaction
and the way my mum smiled when i smiled
or the way my grandmother's face twisted when she told a lie
my jokes were never funny
but i heard her laughter ringing in my ears
do you hear that sweet music through your earphones?

i still have a mental map carrying me where google hasn't found
over and over again i follow the pathways
that lead me towards the treasure, that giant 'X'
my feet are ripping open, sore from chasing it
when will i find it again?
why can't i find it again?
reach out to me, save me.

the key to childhood is to be a child
but my days are gone, so why do i keep walking
why am i the only one walking?
why is everyone else stagnant?
where has childhood gone, not mine but yours
why can't i return to it?
reach out to them, please save them
they don't know what they have.
why are they letting it go unnoticed?

the treasure, i see it at their feet
the treasure i can no longer discover
it taunts me, it escapes them
why am i now paused? let them press pause.
don't keep them on fast forward
they're going too quickly,
but why do they look frozen?

is this the world without childhood?
the treasure at their feet disappears
this is the world with technology

reach out, please save them.

I write now, without ink.

I write without gripping any tool in my dominate right hand.

My finger points and taps a screen and is made so that I make no mistakes.

But I am human and I'll find mistakes here.

And I'll write without writing, and share all of me without your phyisical view of me.

You will view me inside, but not out.

Shall I be beautiful using the tool that I grip now with my left hand, as my right pointer, points and taps?

If I use a pen, you will view me messy and sensitive.

For my penmanship is horrid and my tears fall plenty.

I write now.

I use no ink.

I write now, hiding just a little of the pysical me.

I long for the days that my hand touched paper and the liquid salt gave my pages character.

Back when each written word lumped my thought and every tear ripped my heart twice as hard as this tapping.

But I shall write without paper and I'll use ink again, when I am braver.

In the end we remember what we
want,
We forget what we
need,
We mold the world around us,
And do so
Impulsively.
†

When those with power seek to rule,
The world becomes unruly.
When those with voices don't speak up,
Then the battle's lost, quite truly.
When fervent passions inside our hearts
Are treated with contempt,
The world is cast in darkness,
And no one is exempt.
We listen to the nightly news,
All misery and despair;
We ignore the looming shadows,
Unaware we're already there.
And we tell ourselves
These are not our problems-
These are not our fears-
That none of this will haunt us
In the coming turbulent years.
How can we turn such a blind eye?
Does it matter if it's our burdens we shoulder?
Or is it true what they say-
That misery lies in the eyes of the beholder?
Why are we so timid?
Why are we so meek?
Why must we hide our hands behind our backs
And turn the other cheek?
I fear that now
A call to arms
Would simply be lackluster;
For most will keep on hiding,
And will not stir to muster.
Stuck in our phones,
Our heads in the clouds,
Hearing so much nothing
And talking too loud.
So, to all a challenge;
A new mobile game to beat;
Open your mouths,
Turn around,
Talk to someone next to you on their seat
Ask them how their day is,
And watch their eyes go wide;
Sure, suspicion will follow,
But somewhere deep inside
That person isn't just alone again,
You've made their dark world bright,
If by doing nothing more
Than reminding them of the light.
For if we do nothing,
If we sit here all day long,
Texting and stressing,
Wondering why everything's wrong,
Then we'll miss out on the world around us,
We'll become weak, not strong;
For when we finally look up,
Our very world might be gone.
There is no winner,
No trophy,
No champions ring;
Just the chance to make a difference
To another human being.

All I ever wanted was to be a simple man.
Simple house, simple family, and work as hard as I can.
How come a calm life has become so complicated?
A time when technology takes tops over trees is discombobulated.
We leave behind the leaves and we take drugs to help us sleep,
The lonely anxiety of society that tugs us runs so deep.
Gone are the days when we just strive to survive,
But where are the days when we thrive while we’re alive?
I say just do you and keep it as simple as you can
Get a job, find a girl, or if you’d rather, date a man.
Life might be confusing but at least we’re all still free,
And a life of which I’m choosing sounds like happiness to me.

You told me
(As I laughed at you for
Your draining phone memory)
That you have 7,936 images
Because you photograph everything
You fear losing.
                            I can't help but notice
                            In all our 2,190 days
                            You never took a photo of me,
                            Once;
                           ­ I suppose there isn't room
                            In your memory
                            For me.

Marching on thru our circuital seas:
A moat lurking beneath tremendous Facebook walls,
delineating our impalpable fortress of solitude (irony).

We slog through the trenches like Lee's troops,
drudging on a fatal course
to an awaiting Grant in Appomattox (destiny?).

Soldiers falling at the wayside,
from wounds, starvation, disease,
hashtags for dog tags draped around cadaverous necks--
Perhaps you can identify us by what's trending.

Had we the strength to shout,
and tear down the walls of Digital Jericho,
would we have been able to do it,
in 140 characters or less?

So what some have bought the future today
We are scared the most today ever than yesterday
Others say a better today than the yesterday, so what,
Are we not scared the most ever than today?

Men seek pleasure from what yesterdays’ disdained
Greed we had but now ingrained
Take the trial of love, and see,
Are we, are we not sure, that we will be detained?

Geeks are making life elegantly comfortable
Innocent of the price that will be paid by our dependable
In the placates such as these, on the doomsday,
Can we be sure, so sure, we will be salable?

Instant messaging.
Instagram.
Facebook.
Twitter.
E-mail.
Texts.

Technology's heart
Has a billion beeps per minute.
Ding goes the notification.
Tap go the fingers, typing
Out the immediate response.
Can't seem to keep up,
Living life with my thumbs.
There is only one message
That I've never read.
I'll never read it.
It's the last one you sent,
And, there won't be a response.
Cell service doesn't work in heaven.