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William Robbins Sep 2015
Passing stream of neon light
A multi colored dream.
Techno night
An energy fight.
All I see is beams.
Underground
Ravers, dance
Blitzed on LSD.
To escape robotic wits, through transcendental hits, is
  trading true life for a dream.  
Flashing signs
Outshine the sky
But stars sparkle bright in high minded eyes.
Disco boogeymen twinkle the streets
And Metropolis glistens.
There's music in the background
From a small electronic boutique
Between a novelty store, and a smoke shop
That house a strange and rare mystique.


On a city night, I'm looking across a busy street, and I feel the most powerful of feelings. In awe, all around, I see the fantasies of generations before us. The future itself, as it slowly descends.
Francie Lynch Sep 2015
When the phone's at home
I'm a dog
Without his bark-collar on;
Off the leash,
Off the property,
Snapping at gulls
On the beach.
I'm digging up old bones,
Lifting a leg,
Barking and chasing
What crosses my path.

Back at home
I loose my dog brain;
I'm tethered and yanked
By a cellular line.
The yelping,
And begging
Have me pining
For the freedom of
My inner canine.
svdgrl Sep 2015
Sweet knight.
Sweet, silent knight.
I see you when you don't look at me.
You have tired eyes in a castle,
and though you call it salvation,
that blue light wont protect them.
And those hands gloved in mail-
they are not only meant
to grip cold connection.
You may have forgotten
amongst the digital clutter
but your sword is pen.
Quit confusing it with distraction.
Drop your devices and mechanisms
that you use for isolation.
Hold this plea as your new prayer,
even if it's only a whisper.
Make something.
I don't expect greatness,
but when you dress your wounds
in hesitation and use your insecurities
as your armor-
all I can ask is that you make something.
Harness your fear as your steed-
and ride it with ink as you need.
Please just make something.
There are hours in the day spent on
words never said because
those tired eyes are at a stand-still
on a sheet of electronic nonsense,
and you tremble with your shield
of self-doubt.
A block's only a battle,
Don't lose the war to online addiction,
cell phone conversations in meaningless text,
there's more left in your creative conviction.
I see it when you don't look.
Sweet knight,
you are the one in my mind
that is there to save me with your speech
I beseech you,
*Make something.
Bek Blanchard Sep 2015
Disconnected the more we’re connected
Our children are affected and feeling neglected
While our rights to privacy are no longer respected
An idea our ancestors never projected
The transgressions of technological progression
An obsession creating social oppression
A Millennial’s iDol, a prized possession
Lost Sep 2015
The sky was weeping,
Her face stained  black,
His fingers receding,
Down her back.

She pushes the grams,
To forget the time,
When Instragram,
Was not online.

He thinks back,
To the days of old,
Where they couldn't keep track,
Of one's household.

What an age,
Since the revolution,
Setting the stage,
For mass consumption.

Data snorted,
She fades away.
Stored and sorted,
*For another day.
The technological age
Jessica Evans Aug 2015
My generation is the technology generation
We are connected 100% of the time
My generation is the "selfie" generation
A generation of self love and positivity
My generation believes you can love someone
Even if they're thousands of miles away
My generation is the download generation
Music from every era is at our fingertips

They'll tell you all this is bad
They'll say we're a generation ruled by technology
And we are, but that's not a bad thing

My generation is the one being killed in the street
For the color of their skin
My generation is the one yelling "hands up don't shoot"
And reminding people Black Lives Matter

My generation checks social media
And hears about news before CNN or Fox
My generation uses pictures and videos
To dispute the lies we're being fed
My generation has the power to change the world

They'll say technology is ruining my generation,
It's not.
It's ruining theirs.
Derrick Feinman Aug 2015
Sputnik to the Moon
Mankind's finest hour yet
Forged from savage fears.
Francie Lynch Aug 2015
Trying to spread the word?
Reach as many as possible?
Get your point across?
The twentieth century
Has provided the means
With
Telecommunications
Telstar
Telegraph (really the 19thc)
Telegram
Telephone
Television
Telethons
And coming soon,
Teleporting.
And yet,
With all our tele-technology,
If you really want world-wide attention,
Tell-a-friend
A secret.
Telstar: First communication satelites.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2015
.
I have seen couples,
So far from each—
Other, on a platform,
Waiting for the next train,
Never touching, yet how
They ****** their mobile
Devices, how softly, sweet,
Without guile nor agenda
They swipe the glass—
As it swoons back in return
With blue lights and alerts,
So dearly needed and answers,
In way words for the machines
Of flesh and the ghost within,
With such personal aplomb
In real notifications of text
And instant message.
Paul Butters Aug 2015
This planet orbits a yellow sun like ours.
It is in the Optimum Zone to support life.
Sure enough it has a wide variety of flora and fauna.
Highly intelligent life has evolved in its seas and oceans.
Its continents, however, are dominated by a species of primates.

Over the past 300 of the planet’s years they have developed
Some fairly high technology.
But they remain carnivores
Who regularly commit genocide.
They cut down swathes of natural forest
To grow chemically protected
Genetically modified nutrition-sources.
And they mine their planet empty
Of its mineral riches.
The planet’s ecosystem is being rapidly destroyed
By them.

Socially and psychologically they remain primitive.
Yet they possess the means to blow their world
To pieces.

With heavy heart I have to advise
We sign this planet
“No Entry”
For the foreseeable future.
“Forbidden” indeed.
A planet we call MW Orion 8478-3
That its natives call
That ever so common name:
“Earth”.

Paul Butters
Not exactly poetry but point made I think.
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