Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Cellular Prison

Cellular Prison

Masses enveloped by microwaves,
eyes engaged, held asunder.
Heads hung low, the soul enslaved,
by fear, the minds a plunder.

Visual programs running ads,
corporate gains for profit.
Goading markets to the fools,
addicted, they can’t stop it.

Connect your cell to the grid,
all your data, held in hand.
From birth to death, and in between,
they know your whole lifespan.

Malefactor system,
brimming with extortion,
exacting payments for your time,
more for larger portion.

Personal relations, bought the farm,
well of souls run dry.
Human life stuck in prison,
It’s meaning passes by.

Communication has become more technical and less human…

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Robert Frost: Into My Own

Photo: Stewart Brennan

Into My Own

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ‘twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To Overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him they knew –
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
Robert Frost

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