The next click—
A virtual shovel
Uncovering an open casket
Of sorted bones
From connections passed.
The next post—
Toe-tagged/Clocked/Dated—
The fatal hours
Without autopsy,
Forever unsolved.
The next page—
An excavated grave
With enough dirt to cover
The muffled screams
Of the buried alive.
The next site—
A sectioned cemetery
Of unbred lilacs
And ghosts unstirred—
The wasteland renewed.
3 comments:
It's good to see everybody back. I'll try to respond to the new stuff tonight. I was inspired to write this poem when I clicked "Next Blog" at the top of this page.
I've clicked "next blog" too... interesting stuff, but not as interesting as the poem. The themes and ideas in this poem are some of my favorites. I love the idea of unearthing our cyber connection with others, which are virtual "wastelands" as you state. This poem has a bit of social commentary to it and I like having to uncover the deeper meaning in it. The line "a ghost unstirred" is one that I will remember, especially in this context, it's so true (or at least I think so).
I didn't know about the "Next Blog" button until your poem: it's fascinating to press and explore. The images you offer are so grim! It sounds like it was a painful process for you! That third stanza of yours is equipped with two loads of venom: was it all just a sea of eRage you encountered? I can agree though: I think the comfort in anonymity one finds in the virtual space produces a lot of wasteland filth. Maybe I should click "Next Button" a few more times. All I saw from my first sample was loving tributes to children and picturesque homages to nature.
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