words

what is there to write, really,
what should i say;
how about,
“world getting weirder,
angrier, louder, every,
single,
day.”
would that be good?

so, again, what is there to write,
what could i possibly come up with
that would in any way
float across their attention spans,
get them to stop googling
and facebooking and twittererering,
gizmodoing, myspacing,
an epilepsy of slashes and dotcoms,
advertisements jammed in to corners
that leap out at you terrifically,
terrifyingly, a pornography of economics.

what can i contribute to this?

why can’t i just sort of,
blend in with that world
and disappear rapidly
behind the invisible wall
of outside, with mailboxes,
fences, newspapers,
sidewalks, benches,
lawnjockeys and animals and insects,
things other than moving windows
and faceless tragedy, formless predators,
hatchetmen that chase you through CAT5 cables,
knowing every place you’ve ever been to,
instantly, just by wanting to know,
your life trapped in packets and streams,
traffic and protocols.

a bit future emerging
from the central nervousness
of this network, you fight day and night
the transmission control
and the data thugs, information heists,
less terminal agents of attack
but ones you will war with forever after,
war with a napalm heart
or get lost in the current.

there will be new horrors,
in some form, that will slowly bury you
and you will never see the sun,
kept inside your little room
trapped behind your door,
pounding out attack sequences
on the keyboard with your thoughts,
you will surrender to a low hum
in the informational scheme of things,
the universe that we create now
will take you back in to its bosom then.

-S.C. Martinez