The blue waves smack the shore
Outlined by the oaken door.
Stand beside the cypress tree
Throw your arms out to the sea
On a mossy cliffside you can spy
The wheeling curlew, hear it cry.
Smell the cedar in the grove
See grass wave where rover's rove.
Hear the sea gull, feel the wild
White sails on silver, be beguiled.
So far from madness of the city
Cell phone rings, no longer free.
You run inside the cottage door
Find your backpack on the floor
Dig the phone out, as it plays
A ringtone singing "yesterday"
Its Chase bank, with a suspect charge
Ten thousand, that's awful large.
Text message comes from your landlord
Rats with fleas came in a horde
Your boss says he's needs you back soon
Work has come like a monsoon.
You leave the cottage bitterly
But you can't eat the scenery:
Can't throw the cell phone in the sea.
At least you have the memory...
Perhaps, once unlocked, one finds
Apps are rooms behind the blinds
Wallpapers comfort the eyes
Echo-chambers respin lies
Trash can always be retrieved
Flashed memories, not believed
More and more, you are alone
You're always home with your phone
What used to be simple’s
No longer the case,
With AI and tech leaving
No human trace.
A phone call reverts to
The state of “On hold,”
The music appalling,
And not ‘cause I’m old.
The customer rep keeps
Repeating each fact,
But sends you an email
He failed to enact.
So after an hour,
Which soon becomes two,
You hang up the phone
And you haven’t a clue
If he did what you asked
To provide what you need
And you have no idea
Just how you should proceed.
I miss the old methods
Of making a call,
When a pencil and paper
Recorded it all.
One is named “Another Unfortunately Not to Contact”,
Still with the mugshot at which we giggled.
I try to see what he had as a passing joke,
But he respected that I seriously don’t want to smoke.
He’ll always suit jackets that jingle.
Another’s named “Hurts to Contact”.
We met at a drawing group.
On first word, we clicked.
Their artwork is lit.
We’ve shared our final packet of Hula Hoops.
Another is just a number.
Together, we sang “Hey Jude”.
We watched “Gavin and Stacey”.
He made perfect pastry.
We’ll always love music and food.
As for you,
“Everything Will Be Alright”
Is how your sibling’s number is saved,
Whose buzzcut I used to shave –
Hair that won’t outgrow my memory’s sight.
Your contact is still Luka ??!
With a smiley and exclamation mark.
We are still in touch,
But I think of you too much –
Our conversations heart wrenching to park.
Scrolling is easy
You give into gravity
You need no compass
You endlessly go down
First goes your mind
It’s stuffed with gold and garbage until it bursts
Then your bleeding organs await maintenance
Then your gray heart and your dried up soul
Get caught in a wheel that is being continuously turned by you
But you have no control over it
And every voice that matters gets put on low low volume
So that you won’t be distracted from the deafening incoherent loop of nothingness and soul numbing diarrhea because your brain craves a reset and you run it low power til it dies
And you have so many tools and no supplies
And an inability to take truth from the lies
And when your cup overflows with poison it can seep into places of importance
And you use your brain as the sponge that guards your heart
That sits down at your stomach
And it drips and it soaks
And it leaks and it never stops and the noise
it never leaves
Maximum time for minimal attention
Nothing of note is worth a mention
It comes only by reflex and invitation
I’ve been waiting for the phone to ring
there are times when I’m unsure
anticipating what the mailman brings
sometimes I feel so insecure
but I’ve got better things to do
than looking forward to
memories I have yet to make
some day with someone new
are you my future are you my past
there are times when I have doubts
contemplating will tomorrow last
sometimes I feel left out
but I know better than to wish
for the loving that I miss
heaven I have yet to taste
some day in somebody’s kiss
so until the next time I feel the need to cry
I won’t go walking in the rain
no until the next time
I see your smiling eyes I won’t fall in love again
i dunno why
but have you ever come across a Somersetshire mob?
i'm talking squalls and screams in the night
sister of Satan stuff
i'm looking for people with a reputation for learning
and sobriety
will i find them?
i look through other alarms on my phone to see what they are called.
one reads, 'pretend to celebrate St. Crispian's Day'
i was intending to get in tons of balloons and pie
i saw the F1 movie and have recreated the press conference scene
in the kitchen. i am getting cheekier by the day.
Just for a day I'd hide the clock,
And in my bamboo rocking chair,
I’d gently rock and rock,
I’d pay no mind to what others might have to say.
Each minute of this day, I'd do things
in my own way.
I wouldn’t take or make a single call,
I'd turn my phone off and leave it way
down the hall,
I'd go back to an old-fashioned way,
Writing letters to convey what I had to say.
I'd feed the koi in the garden pond.
And watch them dance and play.
Beside the jasmine blooms, upon the
soft grass, I’d lie,
With eyes closed I’d make a wish for chaos to pass me by.
Chaos would never say goodbye and
so I mustn’t delay,
Just for a day I would take back
freedom, come what may.
I’d gather the dreams silently waiting
by the doorway,
And never postpone enjoyment
for a far-off day.
And from the great, big blue sky,
I’d grab my piece of blue before
the pond runs dry.
by Zyrool
7/26
Phones
Hydrophone,
Xylophone,
Saxophone,
Homophone,
Megaphone,
Microphone,
Dictaphone,
Telephone,
Why oh why can’t I find my CELLPHONE!!
Deanna Malone
This garden’s neglected, the grass grew too tall
The bushes and plants look half-dried
Cracked slabs lay uneven, the dog’s water bowl
Is covered with leaves and dead flies
Front door’s off the latch, windows wide open
No photos in frames on the mantelpiece
A phone on the table must’ve been broken
Unlikely it held fingerprints
Wormwood and ivy have grown way too large
Almost conceal the brick walls
Everything seems like completely discharged
Unavailable to any calls
Was it the other day I saw you there?
When was the last time we met?
Tomorrow can’t come, cause it’s busy somewhere
No time for tea can be set.
so far away
his voice is right her by me
whispering sweetly
Florence wakes up startled
was that a car door slam?
she looks at her digital clock
2:37 a.m.
silence
her heart beats fast
she hears glass breaking downstairs
where is her cell phone?
she puts on her glasses
there are footsteps in her house
she is too terrified to move
where is her phone?
the intruder has already found it
charging in the kitchen
one more thing not to worry about
rubbed my eyes out of any light
small specks of flickering haze
tears were torn dry
focus long and hard on nothingness
Instead of the belligerent screen.
they call it a scrying mirror
that implants visions of darkness
no courage could muster
the beautiful dense earth
absorbs the remaining attention span.
Pantoum Part 1
A stranger calls me everyday,
Makes me nervous to get the phone.
She keeps on calling anyways
When I am---or I am not---at home.
Makes me nervous to get the phone.
At times, he or she's a robot.
Calling me when I'm all alone.
And I've told them they must not.
At times, he or she's a robot.
And I do not say a word.
But they want me to sign the dot.
Saying yes to contracts unheard of.
And I do not say a word.
To them when I haven't much to say.
Giving them money is absurd.
These strangers call me everyday.
Rhyme Part 2
Spamela is her name.
With me she plays a game.
Morning, noon, and night.
Any hour is alright.
Her voice is very sweet.
'Cause she's a goal to meet.
She needs to hear me say yes.
To verbal contracts and the rest.
She sells electricity.
And phone plans for liberty.
She will sell me gas.
With friendly sales math.
And seek to earn my cash!
Without her, my day would be lonely.
She's my one and only!
My love on the telephone line.
Spamela uses mobile data all the time!
Gods and angels went away
For an indefinite vacation
“We’re mere ideas anyway
Dignified by population”
Says God, who asked not to be named
“Nowadays it turns ridiculous
Politicians took our fame
Made up maliciously fastidious
All the simple laws we set
And this farcical state of affairs
Is the one we must protect
Though the mess they made is theirs
We, Gods, wash our hands of this
Devil’s game the people play
If they want us Gods be missed
Let them pave their hellish way”
Spoke the God, whose name’s not known
But one angel smiled and said
“Here’s my email and my phone
Ping me up if something’s bad..”
So I wrote her phone and email
Down in my book and slept
The wild wind lashed at our sail
All the way to my homeland.
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