A Longing for B(e)longing (Poem)
Another late night, I find myself staring at a blank page again,
Document on a screen, no more reaching for the pad and pen,
Things changed from being real… to the illusion of it,
From the things that I could feel… to being secluded from it,
I need to rid of these compulsions, the feeling indebted,
This false affection that plagues us, overwhelming each second,
Ironic how Internet connections, made us more disconnected,
Flicked the switch but pulled the plug; we grew more disinterested,
I just want to be free from the compulsions, taking place with this typing,
This longing, these night things… the wrongings, the writings,
This wanting to be known and acknowledged, accepted or witnessed,
These false visions of victorious conquests; need to be cured of sickness,
Hopes of myself growing a saviour, or wanting acceptance by masses,
Yet what do I know of my neighbours? For these truths may surpass us,
We aim to combat terror drones though there is terror in our homes,
If ones own circle has its gaps why do we seek to save the globe?
And technology has its place but it should be means not an abode
Now were reliant on all this science as our own progressions implode!
Have I reduced myself to a machine that is depending on machines?
Am I really wasting my energy online, hoping to be seen?
Yet these issues are still insects that feed, on heart mind and soul,
And will continue in their comfort zones, as I digitally reach for the upload.