When the Sun Lashes Out

Enjoy your techno-toys while you can; As you frantically surf the internet In a vain, pathetic attempt to "keep up" With meaningless jumbles of jibber-jabber Which you consider essential information. All those gotta-have gadgets you crave Like some new kind of 21st-Century addict Are gouging a hole out of your soul As they maintain a sensation of completeness By filling you up with pastries for the mind. Your tedious little pompous amusements, (For that is all they are, in fact), could Someday soon be wrenched from your so-called Lives by the merest whim of our nearby star When it casually spews raging plasma our way In a blithely impersonal Coronal Mass Ejection. Perhaps then you'll acquire some notion Of how much of yourself you've invested in Virtual Reality over actual reality, in Oxy- Moronic "on-line relationships" with people you Have never met, whose voices you'll never hear. Your legions of electronic "friends" will Evaporate in the space of a few short minutes And you'll run screaming down the corridors of Your mansions and tenement buildings in searing Paroxysms of apoplexy before your brains finally Implode and you all plunge into everlasting coma!