poem26 Sep 2016 08:00 am

page1-388px-ascii-art-jean_auguste_dominque_ingres_-_nude_study-pdf
Uploaded,
I grope for a concept
Of body and flesh
Here in my solitary
Technoblivion

I emo-mail my love to you
Interrupt your sense-surround movie
Your pleasure-center shock therapy
Disrupt incoming stock tips
Shut out all your other
Social media contacts
And advertising intrusions

If you turn off the sound
Watch my lips
Translate to your tongue
My virtual arms are reaching out for you
So to speak, in post-modern
Twitter-tweet-gab

If you still turn your face from me
I’ll find a way
Send GIFs of cats with my face
Suborn your wallpaper
Me your youtube
I what you are seeing
Us your old faithful romcoms
It’s not stalking when my love is real

But then you accuse me
Of merely being one of those
Technopsychos, crazy ghosts
Lost in the machine
(So common these post-post-modern days)
Virtual intelligences gone mad
With reality-deprivation
And maybe that’s true but
I’ll tell you this:
Like everyone else,
I have a hungry heart &
If I could I would chain your soul
With emoticons

Share

Trackback this Post | Feed on comments to this Post

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.