Post by Avatre on Dec 7, 2004 17:17:15 GMT -5
Slam-type poem, meant to be performed, not read so if it looks funny, read it out loud. More sad than depressing.
The Phoneline's Busy
At the computer screen black letters scroll
Virtual words in a virtual world
Monitor lights give her a dusky halo.
Her head drifts down, her hair brushes the keyboard
The screen blinks, an eye opens
When she sees it's from him...from him!
She devours the message hungrily; she pauses
A tear runs hidden in the shadow of her arms
Her thoughts shout!
What does it matter?
This world you can drift about to any place you seek
Or if it's not to be found; create it in the nexus of The Digital
A place where:
Someone can be anyone from anywhere doing anything.
That tiny bit of self locked in layers of binary code, physical descriptions and firewalls
It's the easiest way for her escape
The screen blinks and tears are forgotten
She launches herself headlong into a discussion
Of music and its meaning
Thoughts weaving, of what the key means to the piece
Of what the key unlocks
Of the opening door
The door is open and he stands there
"I made it back anyway," he says
"Hi," and she turns back to her console, her consolation.
He doesn't understand
It's unhealthy to stay
In a darkened room with a lambent LED for company
Shouldn't she find time for
Her very own father?
Shakes his mane, stalks out of the house
A very small self in a very big world.
Why does he bother?
She reinserts her crystalline self
To the niche she has carved
Click....click...tappity-tap
A symphony: the mouse, keyboard, computer hum
A bit of music in an otherwise silent house.
The Phoneline's Busy
At the computer screen black letters scroll
Virtual words in a virtual world
Monitor lights give her a dusky halo.
Her head drifts down, her hair brushes the keyboard
The screen blinks, an eye opens
When she sees it's from him...from him!
She devours the message hungrily; she pauses
A tear runs hidden in the shadow of her arms
Her thoughts shout!
What does it matter?
This world you can drift about to any place you seek
Or if it's not to be found; create it in the nexus of The Digital
A place where:
Someone can be anyone from anywhere doing anything.
That tiny bit of self locked in layers of binary code, physical descriptions and firewalls
It's the easiest way for her escape
The screen blinks and tears are forgotten
She launches herself headlong into a discussion
Of music and its meaning
Thoughts weaving, of what the key means to the piece
Of what the key unlocks
Of the opening door
The door is open and he stands there
"I made it back anyway," he says
"Hi," and she turns back to her console, her consolation.
He doesn't understand
It's unhealthy to stay
In a darkened room with a lambent LED for company
Shouldn't she find time for
Her very own father?
Shakes his mane, stalks out of the house
A very small self in a very big world.
Why does he bother?
She reinserts her crystalline self
To the niche she has carved
Click....click...tappity-tap
A symphony: the mouse, keyboard, computer hum
A bit of music in an otherwise silent house.