Jun 22

Technophile

He has so many ideas stuffed inside his head
wadded up papers thrown in trash cans
recycled over and over
some good, some bad
no time to root through all the muck
but he worries that the information in his brain folds
will be lost, mashed into nosense memories,
an unedited film that never ends.
He wants to share his mind with the world
he feels his ideas are significant, and that other people will care
so he installs a bluetooth chip in his brain
that's connected with his computer. It records and stores all his thoughts
as nice convenient data files.
The computer decides which files are worth keeping
the rest deleted, dumped down the digital void.

He goes through life day to day
thinking non stop, knowing that each thought
will be stored as data for later use.
One day he decided to take a look at his thoughts
and was met with an unpleasant shock
Jun 20

Vinyl Record Store

Flipping through rows of vinyl records
lost in an obsolete technology maze
that holds past memories around every corner
records of past lives and creative ambitions.
I admire the flashy covers
and try to imagine what the music might sound like.  
my ears crave new music, they wish to consume all sounds
in the known universe, but their is not enough time
in the short lifespan of a human to hear all of it
and the records are so expensive.
I can feel the store owners gaze piercing my neck,
of course he expects me to buy something.
I grab everything within my grasp
and bankrupt myself to obtain
soundwaves that will resonant with my soul.
If only I actually owned a record player
than I could play all these dusty things.

In the future
I wonder what types of old media we will grow nostalgic for
perhaps when we have computer chips
implanted in our brains
Jun 19

Drone Strike


Drones swarm through the pieces of a shattered city
like mechanical vultures feasting on a rotting animal’s corpse
stripping off flesh until only bones remain.
Their beady red eyes scan the rubble
searching for new victims 
guns locked and loaded
ready to spray cold hard death.
War victims worm their way through the ruins
ducking under rusty cars
crawling through slimy pipes
hiding in abandoned stores
avoiding the watchful eyes
of the deadly drones circling above
growing bored by the lack of action
the shiny devils decide to spice things up with a strike
Letting a blood curdling metallic roar  
they let missiles rain down
that grind the earth down into dust.
panicking people stream out of destroyed shelters
only to be met with bullet hail.
The drones watch bodies shred apart into pulp
as they kill indiscriminately without mercy.  

In a far away land
Jun 14

High School Graduation


A past memory
the tedious grind is done
now I can move on.

I sit profusely sweating
waiting for my name to be called
so I can be freed from this monotonous existence
Surrounded by my peers
placid faces I don’t recognize
all wearing the same expression
all wearing the same robes
creating a bland sense of unity.
people stare down at us,
strangers surrounding the claustrophobic space
maniacal monkeys clap in excitement
waiting for the show to start
sweat pours down wrinkly faces
dripping into squinty eyeballs.
The class speaker is ranting on the stage
as I zone out, falling down through the cracks in my mind
occasionally several phrases slip in after me.
none of his words make any sense
or have anything to do with me
something about believing in the future
or maybe living in the moment
stuff about changing the world
something like that
Jun 08

Summertime Snow


A swarm of white specks drift lazily through the air
carried off by the wind to unknown destinations
summertime snow blows across dirty city skeletons
passing over car infested streets,
disorganized buildings,
and empty malls.
bundles of genetic material
looking for fertile soil patches
to seed themselves, fusing with the Earth
spreading and connecting life,
growing trees that will inevitably be
cut down and burned by hungry humans.

While walking to work,
a weary man stops to look up at the sky
he’s never noticed it before,
he didn’t even know it was there.
Of course, he has seen pictures of blue skies
on his computer screen, they make for nice backgrounds
but the real thing far surpasses his puny imagination.
All worries and frustrations
melt away as the creature realizes that it’s alive
a seedling that still has room for growth.
Jun 05

Punishment

Isn’t it silly
that we wear rubber shoes
to protect our feet from the ground?
We must were plastic restraints that block out the earth's surface.
All the sticks and stones pierce fragile human skin 
so we built concrete paths over natural soil
covered with rusty metal and forgotten litter
toxins that kill life.
It’s as if the earth itself is rejecting us.
We erected barriers between man and wilderness
and now we are being punished for abandoning nature.


 
Jun 04

Imagination Land

Hunched in the corner of his room
the hairy man stares at a grey wall
waiting for it to change shape
and reveal its true form to him.
thousands of books stack up to the ceiling
forming wobbly towers of stale information.
He doesn’t read any of them,
he only admires their elegant beauty,
the musty, paper smell,
the yellow, crinkled pages.
Sometimes he looks at the covers
and tries to imagine what the story might be like.
His imagination is probably better than the real thing,
for real stories always disappoint.
After several hours, the wall remains the same.
Growing tired of the boring show,
he decides to change up his routine
and actually read one of the books.
He tries to grab one at the bottom of the pile
attacking the tower’s foundation.
With an exasperated moan, it collapses
unleashing thick dust clouds, burying the man
under a thick layer of words.         
Jun 04

Life on the Pages


Writing a story
but I don’t know where it's going
the plot is full of gaping holes
the pacing is too slow
and worst of all it's really boring
there are just too many words
and the characters seem to be beyond my control
like they have lives of their own
I wonder if they continue to live on the pages
when we close our books.
Do they ever hate their creator
for putting them through so much torment?
Do they resent the reader
for enjoying their suffering?

 
Jun 03

Child Delivery Service

Me and my wife are talking about having kids
but child birth is just so taxing
and the world is too overpopulated
this planet doesn’t need anymore humans
so we thought that a robot child would be better.
Scrolling through new products on amazon
there are many different choices
each one comes with a variety of interesting features
they are quite expensive
but I have a gift card, so it shouldn’t be too bad.
I made my choice, a girl droid, about 11 years old
it comes with an artificial memory chip
it won’t even know it’s a robot
so it will adjust to our new family very quickly.
In a couple weeks the parts will show up in the mail.
We’ll have to put it together ourselves.
Worth the effort, a perfect replica
It’ll be better than a real child.
Having kids is such a tiring commitment
but when you get tired of a robot kid,
you can just turn it off.
Doesn’t have to be fed either
Jun 03

Date Night

At a restaurant with my girlfriend
She’s a really nice girl,
although I can’t remember her name.
Jenny? Sarah? Sally?
Whatever, not important.
I finally worked up the courage to ask her out
after weeks of putting it of
and having horrible nightmares about crushing rejections,
getting squashed like an ant under her foot.

we’re at a family restaurant
full of beaming faces
their sunny looks hurt my eyes
one guy has his face lying in his meal
brown soop splattered all over the table
he hasn’t moved for a while
but occasionally he makes a weird grunting noise
so I think he’s still alive.
Rats scurry across the floor
whiskers twitching
docile waiters await my command
a bunch of robot drones
programmed to satisfy my hunger and thirst.
There's a thin layer of dust over everything
and a red ooze is dripping from the ceiling into my coffee.

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