Night work

Faith, Poetry

Night Work

Late segments
of labour
clock in
clock off
time card’s
trailing sleeve.
Cloistered above,
angels spectate
as sagging
snow drifts
or searing
phosphorescent lights.
Choirs utter
mystic chants
shaped as
humming fridges,
vending machines,
computer screens.
Temporal transcendence.

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Tech report

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Tech report

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

encoded beings.

So with no hint of alarm

we went about our business

unconsciously letting

tablets and smart devices

with their touch-screen

steering- wheels

lead us merrily on

down artificial streets.

The Millennial trial

Life, Poetry

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.