"dispassionately" poems

I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and, as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time, living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity; yet we suffer so much pain. Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies, stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed, through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low- cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over- promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all so unsatisfied. We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end, like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches @Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys, and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply, then superficially, without even wondering, for a zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any longer. We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners, shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives, chronically connected and severely distracted, in aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs at all this, and sobs, and so do I.

0

May 5, 2012

May 5, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC

a-de-carvalho

Chronically connected and severely distracted

I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and, as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time, living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity; yet we suffer so much pain. Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies, stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed, through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low- cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over- promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all so unsatisfied. We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end, like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches @Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys, and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply, then superficially, without even wondering, for a zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any longer. We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners, shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives, chronically connected and severely distracted, in aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs at all this, and sobs, and so do I.