For an hour I visited,
A guest to the house,
Of a poet's 'palace.'

For an hour I was there,
It took me all that time,
Just to post once.

For an hour I visited,
A weary world,
Of 'The best poets you've ever met.'

For an hour,
And I'll never go again.

It's HELL.  
It's a po' try.
It ain't pro--retry.
It's a poo hole.
It ain't purty.
Sinkin' lo, yo.
It's loopy.

We friended on Facebook,
Scrolled down our profile pages.
Lived together in a virtual world.
Our images and websites we shared
With Instagram incisiveness.

Meet all my friends.
Block any you do not like.
All busy we are, doing nothing.
Like if you agree.

Laptops were not enough.
Users subscribed to Smartphones,
Iphones, and God knows what.
Google them if you wish.

And if you like my words
Retweet them.
But beware!
I now use words like lol,
And even ***!
Hehe.

Sometimes I multitask,
Flicking TV channels
Like a Subbuteo striker –
Gone virtual by now I guess.
Flicking and flipping while I scroll
My laptop page.

I make new tabs
As I message many friends:
Emoticons exploding
All along the way.

I’m Tivo-boxing clever
All the time,
King of my domain.

So get your VDU lit up
And monitor my words.
Download my thoughts
Into your memory banks.

I hope this all computes.

Paul Butters