chained to the wrong dreams,
building castles within the clouds
in a storm of unmet needs.
where brilliance burns
for things bound to crumble—
glowing screens reflect insatiable hunger.
this magic unnamed.
Wires hum with the power
while hearts strain from the weight.
a cathedral to our desires,
where profit chants the hymn
and silence answers the prayers.
if freed from this machine?
If brilliance turned to balance,
if magic spoke to meaning?
it dazzles and it devours,
decadence dressed as destiny—
rising from the wreckage of wonder.
singing its song of progress,
while we barter tomorrows
for each of our gilded yesterdays.
embers smolder—silent, unbroken,
longing for minds to shatter their chains,
to script our fate and cast the blame.
Be well and make the most of this day.
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Poetry should move us, it should change us, it should glitch our brains, shift our moods to another frequency. Poetry should evoke feelings of melancholy, whimsy, it should remind us what it feels like to be in love, or cause us to think about something in a completely different way. I view poetry, and all art really, as a temporary and fragile bridge between our world and a more pure and refined one. This is a world we could bring into creation if enough of us believed in it. This book is ephemera, destined to end up forgotten, lingering on some dusty shelf or tucked away in a dark attic. Yet the words, they will live on in memory. I hope these words become a part of you, bubble up into your memory when you least expect them to and make you feel a little more alive.
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Good afternoon dear friend @ericvancewalton how are you?
I never tire of saying that you are an excellent composer of poetry, you always surprise us with beautiful poems.
Thank you very much dear friend, for sharing another beautiful poem.
Have a lovely afternoon
The machine revolution! As I read, I remembered my Indian grandmother, who had hair as black as a crow's wings in her 70s, and worked magic with her hands: food, antidotes for flus and ailments. She was a real witch with the bushes. My grandmother laughed a lot. Now I see so many young people bitter, unsatisfied, not knowing how to do anything. We look like machines. We go out of our way trying to achieve what is supposed to make us happy, when happiness is much simpler. Good thing you are writing more often (you are accomplishing one of your goals). Hugs to you
Very nice! I saw a meme the other day and it made me think of you. It said something like I want AI that can do my laundry and dishes so I can focus on my art, not AI to do my art so I can do the dishes and laundry. It made me think of you. Heck, it was on FB, so it might have been you that posted it :)
Is a truly touching one. It reminds me of the fact that we can be making efforts for success yet if those efforts are expended in the wrong direction we are just wasting our time and energy. Thanks for sharing this brilliant and moving poem. Happy new year.
decadence dressed as destiny—
I love that line. We explain the decay of our sovereignty as mere destiny, so that we needn't have control over the matter. We willingly rot. Oh dear that's a good line too.
I long for this. Man do I long for this. Slowly, these shackles are coming undone. I hope the next viral con - which looks like will be bird flu, all the same creatures are out actively ramping up fear of our animals, our best friends - will allow more of us to look twice at the info we are relentlessly fed.
We make the mistake of dreaming, so we regret it when it doesn't come true. Amazing poem
This is nice
Perhaps, we look for our unmet needs in the wrong dreams...
#hive #posh
Amazing
!LUV
you have very good poetry, I read with my soul stanza by stanza, you did your best