Lent, Day 1: “Dust”

To what I once was I will return
Dust – the dirt under the colt
Maybe His feet will dangle low?

Wave the palms while they’re still green!
Here, take my coat to spread on the road
May His feet feel comfort from sackcloth

……“Who is this?”
………….“Who is this?”
I’d rather yell my answer from amidst the filth
Not seek clean shade under a temple table

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The Computer Age

We have arrived at the computer age
When bodies don’t care about the world
But only its images – lights and sounds.
Neon has died. LED shocked her. And,
I struggle with this as I am in between
Generations. I am not obsessed with or
Unwilling to indulge the sultry screen
Who tempts an entire generation to
Disengage and die, eyes bloodshot.
Shaking in the night. Afraid to look away
For fear of missing out. Of not knowing
Where we are or where we’re going.
We have arrived at the computer age
When the world resides in our pockets
Like misplaced hearts. Though we aren’t
Heartless. Only lost and addicted to the
High and mighty love of devices. Vices
Vying for our sight and our whole minds,
Rotting and writhing until they’re wires in
Pools of cream and synapses, electric
And starved, connected only
By weak arcs of interest, fueled by mediocrity
And buzzing. Our necks ache and creak,
Cracking as we make eye contact.
We have arrived at the computer age
When conversations are only whispers
If they exist at all. They are overpowered
By the bass, the treble, the blasts, and
The timbre of metal ringing and yelling over us.
Feedback is our conflict. Static, our boredom.
Binary bleatings from a species so advanced
And stupid that a broken circuit causes chaos.
A dead battery means death of the soul and
There is no way to revitalize and revive.
We only wait, dead in the gutter, overloaded.