an October Monday

A hundred people… Everyone is waiting, Well, most are.

Waiting for The geniuses:

Those employees Deemed worthy To tell us why Our silicon idols no Longer respond to Our pokes, swipes, Presses, and prods.

They are the high priests of Our digital worship.

Bless my device, Father, for I Have sinned.

We are all, Each of us, Trapped in digital purgatory.

Our coins tinkle As they spill on The floor in our eagerness To buy Our indulgences.

A few today Are new to our religion. They browse the Sacred art shop For an icon They can call their own.

But it is not theirs. None of this is. We pay exorbitant costs just to be in the collective.

Salvation One app At a time.

The neophyte converts don’t know the secret We devout followers do: That it is already too late.

Once you drink the wine, (even a sip) you are a lifelong drunkard, a rollicking adherent to the cult of Apple.

We don’t even bother to argue our superiority any longer… We know critical mass was reached long ago.

This is why most of us In church today are happy to be here, Loved by digital god.

Discuss...

Stuck in the prison of my walled garden

#poetry #sxsw

Like Paul said on the starship, There’s a melting acid fever streakin’ through my mind.

Straight to 88. Right to plaid. The phone booth is gummed & ringing. Circuits are primed and chevrons locked.

Friends all want to hear ‘I’m doin’ fine’. And so do i.

And we are.

You are.

Because it simply must be.

What the hell else is there but to be just fine?

Magnets to the soul are unshieldable, only magnificate, magnificate, magnification.

Must grow taller, learn to survive.

There is no corner lonely enough, no ocean vast enough, to escape who we really are.

It’s a simple choice to walk against the wind and hold out hope that the loved get only the best. Work for everyone we love.

The advice to starve a feeling seems reasonable enough. But how do you fold a flood and put it in a drawer?

Does it not spill out upon the cedar floor? No, you cannot put out a fire which can start and burn itself.

First, irridescent. Then, transparent. Finally, Just absent.

God bless the patient ones, and forgive all the rest.

Discuss...

will the real slim shady please speakup 🙊🙉🙈 #poetry #wyst #sxsw

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Doing so good. But now (1:07)… can’t sleep… and listening to all of these songs again. Music rewrites reality.

Like Paul said on the starship, There’s a melting acid fever streakin’ through my mind.

Straight to 88. Right to plaid. The phone booth is gummed & ringing. Circuits are primed and chevrons locked.

Friends all want to hear ‘I’m doin’ fine’. And so do i.

And we are.

You are.

Because it simply must be.

What the hell else is there but to be just fine?

Magnets to the soul are unshieldable, only magnificate, magnificate, magnification.

Must grow taller, learn to survive.

There is no corner lonely enough, no ocean vast enough, to escape who we really are.

It’s a simple choice to walk against the wind and hold out hope that the loved get only the best. Work for everyone we love.

The advice to starve a feeling seems reasonable enough. But how do you fold a flood and put it in a drawer?

Does it not spill out upon the cedar floor? No, you cannot put out a fire which can start and burn itself.

First, irridescent. Then, transparent. Finally, Just absent.

God bless the patient ones, and forgive all the rest.

)

Discuss...

willtherealslimhadypleasespeakup 🙊🙉🙈 #poetry #wyst #sxsw