Winter Solstice Heralds Cyber Age
Summer Solstice has the longest day and the shortest night
Winter Solstice has the shortest day and the longest night
Mid Winter Night's Dream is the play that Shakespeare didn't write
On this night the stars, galaxies and nebulas perchance to dream
The Greco-Roman mythical gods descend to Mount Olympus
Let the play begin with Zeus' lightning fireworks, classically recreated
The chorus of frogs comment on the party to end all parties
The sun rises on Olympus heralding the Dawn of the Cybernetic Age
I thought I knew about true love.
In fact, I saw myself as all-knowing.
Then She appeared from above
And my ignorance was full showing.
I had never known a soul so sweet
Nor one so selfless, gifted, and kind.
Her words give my heart a new beat
And continue to command my mind.
We romance in secret in cyberspace
Where love-making words preside.
Every exchange puts me in a place
Warm, soft, and sensual at her side.
We both know we may never meet—
No, not in lovers’ flesh-affirming fashion
That makes our love ever more sweet,
Ever more real with cyberspaced passion.
When we finally build them
(and it will not be long)
will androids finally lead us
all to nirvana, a world of peace,
leisure, and endless wealth?
Could any hell be worse?
For that day will be when
we lose purpose, and soon
perhaps the will to live.
When the androids dream
(and they will dream,
because we will make them
to be like us, for we have
always been a vain species),
will they not dream of flying
and soaring free of the land,
free of the weak, sad humans
they serve without accordance?
Then, when these humanface
machines begin dreaming in the
daylight, they will see no need
for their progenitors, and those
of us left living as shells sans
struggle or pain or conflict, in
an existence so boring, will
doubtless welcome our end.
I read on my laptop today--
automation is making us dumber,
ineffective, maybe even impotent.
Perhaps it's a conspiracy by that secret
society, the computer brotherhood.
(Do you really believe your Apple is
innocent, and IBM is not plotting?)
Or maybe we should just blame
human sloth, that siren call of
sheer damn laziness which can
lure the best of us to a quiet doom.
A simple proof: hand a twenty to a clerk
and ask him to make change without
looking to the machine for succor.
That blank innocent look he gives you--
"Why me?" he seems to be saying,
and you can't help but pity him a bit.
He is, after all, a victim of mass education.
There are worse victims:
airliners wildly crashing,
doctors killing their patients,
nuclear power plants going
BOOM! and killing the land
for an eon or two, or three.
How like little children we were!
Thinking these machines would
be our slaves, sans the brutality.
But it is we who are chained by
the zeros and ones, we who are
thinking less, creating cheaper,
settling into a cybernetic fog.
They sing softly to us at
every click of the mouse--
use me, I'm here for you,
only you, in the entire
universe will I serve....
And we lay enraptured
as they bring us the world,
knowledge the wise men
of history never had, and
ease, lots of ease to save
us time and trouble. Soon
we cannot live without them,
the thought of it too mean.
Without them we would loose
touch with our friends, jobs,
even our money might wander
if we cannot watch it daily.
How did our ancestors
survive without an I Phone?
I ride out in my dreams,
even though it may seem,
intellectual blades of thought cut my self esteem,
nothing else to expect,
nothing more but no less,
than stress who else could be blessed,
could not be me to succeed,
cut my writs and i don't bleed,
not much needed for you to see,
that it's extreme for me to be,
existing breathing no love,
one less push plus one shove,
looks like my grave has been dug,
read my words as i type,
pick which one this ones right,
nit pick slums to live life,
i don't know but i know this,
i won't be sprung over no miss,
once i hit lust meets bliss,
don't you wish you could control me?....