So there’s ‘‘an app for that.’’
a dose of digital aspirin to soothe
the headaches of our daily lives.
So we sold our identities
to virtual devils that tempt us
with short cuts
to social gratification.
So we clicked and downloaded
that inconspicuous square
as if it were a road sign
directing us to the next town
in human existence.
So we slept and awoke
to behold ourselves
So with no hint of alarm
we went about our business
tablets and smart devices
with their touch-screen
lead us merrily on
down artificial streets.
Here is an attempt at prose poetry:
The Millennial trial
One late spring day a debate raged: ‘‘Is this a stolen generation?’’
The lecturer, a baby-boomer expat, both warned and proclaimed,
‘‘Technology and Mass Society has corrupted, abducted your minds;
bred an ignorant, child-like hopelessness, an entitled will of nothingness –
this ignorance will only breed your decline and eventual destruction…’’
But I failed to listen. Within the headphones of my Samsung smart phone,
rappers, pop stars and indie rockers attacked existential questions,
social sins and life’s subtle meanings In loud-voiced lyrical diatribes.