Do not limit me to your face,
You little box of evolved plastic composition
For there is a far better world
Than the one you carry.
I cannot fathom how your sudden existence
Has drugged the minds of many a youth,
While you have propelled this pseudo-human society
To economic progress and industrialization.
So what are you - a friend or foe?
Ironic that a lifeless thing such as you
Could provoke conflicting decisions from your genius masters;
Your birth made us slaves of technology -
The new race of earthly inhabitants and
An alternative solution to human extinction.
But I refuse you! My hands know nothing but pen and paper,
Through which I am capable of writing this world to salvation;
This pen cries ink the way my eyes shed tears
For the realities we swiftly neglected.
Your communication lines, which many still rely on
To cover the discomforts of distance,
Are clogged with spammers and spywares, bent on cheating the naive
Or seducing the unstirred fires of reservation.
Am I not justified in shirking from the online bomb of damnation?
No matter how grand life has become because of you,
I shall isolate myself like a misfit...
Well, for as long as ennui has not taken over,
My intellectual and miscellaneous pursuits have lapsed,
And you brought me no profit.
If you wonder what the heck was I yapping about here, then I suggest that you read the poem as many times as you can until the meaning sinks in and bleeds you into thinking. Unless you belong to those individuals who are obsessed with the phrase "social construction of reality," the meaning will unfortunately not sink with you and you will drown alone. So a few words of advice, dear blog marauder: connect the title with the abovementioned phrase, then read between and beyond the lines.
