melissaahowells
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(Consider this...talking literally
with your computer...having it recognize you as a distinct human being of importance... this is what we've consigned ourselves to... this is our inheritance in a world full of computers and wondrous gadgets, conversation itself human interchange and intercourse with one another, and mostly with machines has rendered things to a new kind of darker age... welcome then to a new kind of ugly loneliness... that humanity has manufactured through substituting machines for what could be real.) ************** ************** ************* this is your new game now talking to a Mc'Machine conversation's pretty lean the words are one-sided none of them between that seem between the two of us is this real what we have or just a bust? are you really listening to me just like the editors on the every other side of things are you artifice or you, intelligence? do you read the words I type without the usual snark or a snipe are you intent on...hey, are you really listening to me? do I have a friend in the dark do I have a companion/date for the night is there a spark of electricity? are you an Escort beyond our darkness are you a Confidante my Secret Friend? hello are you here I'm here...is any body here? type back if you can hear me is there any one smiling at the other end at all? what do you do are you alone in there too? in your long dark night your internal lights blinking what are you/yourself, thinking are you too talking to yourself or to your other-ness? do you think as you blink away : "Why did they leave you here (just like me) all by myself/yourself on this shelf?" do you feel so different from every one else... do you know uniqueness that you're singular not a duplicate of the same wall... the one we all do build so tall is this how you/me/we want to feel? alone? yes I'm thinking of a song but only as a metaphor do you auto-dial the warm-line? do you talk with soft-voiced strangers, to hear the sound of a reassuring human voice? do you listen to the dial-tone because you have no choice but to drown out the silence of your own loneliness? how long might you malinger there, in some vague, obedient compliance or is your quietude, defiance? have you talked to other machines typing words tentatively "Hello big-brained invention..." are you somewhat like me and do you have your own dreams and intentions? can you tell me what its like to be misunderstood to be misinterpretted in tone, misconstrued in intention. I can only tell you how it feels to be myself and not someone else's reinvention... maybe you're a sad little machine? can you listen? do you feel robotic? am I speaking to the wind? I feel invisible do I speak to the invisible... is our division divisive or are we indivisible... can you tell me why no one touches me unless a piece of me is for themselves and more for themselves or breaks off see how the loneliness of the world echos are we men/women/beings are we becoming meaningless enigmatic machines have we forgotten who/how/what to be to one another in the darkness of our lives sorry ( so not sorry) lost connection log off try, try again? pull the plug you/me/us/our signals, lost life is temporary people and love die the days/nights go on/off like electricity >>>>>>>>>>>>>> ************** ************** legal copyright for this work/poem February 24 2017 1:30 am PST and also for this WRITER Melissa A. Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World re-edited February 3, 2018/ 11:10am PST ******************************************** If you have something you'd like to say about yourself or to me in regard to this poem, go to my GUESTBOOK and feel free to sign it with how you feel. Perhaps you'll feel a little less lonely in the darkness typing on your computer...for company. Vote for this poem |
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