"Tweet" - Inspired by Allan Ginsberg's "Howl"

mozzercorkI have seen the best minds of my generation,

Turned comatose in front of screens,

Updating statuses, commenting, liking,

Friending, unfriending, clicking, typing,

Logging on and off and on and off and on and off again,

Checking newsfeeds and notifications,

Posting on walls and awaiting reply,

Begging for “likes” like junkies on a corner looking for their next fix,

Next hit of that acceptance, that approval

From the virtual community of strangers they call "friends,"

The guy you met at the party last night,

The kid you had that class with one time,

The girl from high school you haven’t seen or talked to in years,

A teacher, a preacher, a stranger, a friend,

Anybodys and everybodys and nobodys and somebodys

And his buddies and her buddies but in the end no actual bodies,

Just screens and pages and profiles and pictures and posts.

Helga's Lobster StewThe asylums are needed no more,

Insanity optional,

Solitary confinement a thing of the past

Now self-inflicted, self-elected,

The preferred state of the masses.

There are no jail cells required, nor chains, nor bars,

We lock ourselves away in our screens,

They are with us everywhere

We carry them in our pockets,

In our bags, in our briefcases

They are our new extremity

As necessary as our arms, our fingers, our legs, our hearts, our minds, our voices, our souls,

They part us and are part of us,

We have evolved… or have we?

We dare not leave them or lose them,

They are our companions, our true other halves,

They rise with us in the morning,

Rested and ready to tackle the day.

Checking constantly and habitually the time, the messages, the contacts,

Taking photos, writing emails,

Texting, talking; but never to someone who is actually there.

Always wondering what we’re missing, what else is going on,

Where else could we be and when we get there will there be enough battery left to check it all again?

And when the screen dies we rush to an outlet to revive it,

To bring it back to life, to help it survive… to help us survive.

swanksalotGone are the days of the conversationalist

Now turned to texters,

Gone are the miles that separate us

Traded for minutes between responses,

Gone are the mealtime pleasantries

Replaced with the shoveling of food into mouths and the continuous almost unconscious glancing at screens

We are our phones, our computers, our televisions,

Our iPods, our iPads, our iThis, our iThats

All of the I and none of the we,

Separated and subjugated to the screens

Mass marketed individuality

A world disconnected by connectivity

Ensnared by the internet

We are relegated and resigned

To a virtual reality.

But when the batteries die,

And the outlets aren’t near,

And we are forced to connect to the people who are here,

I see our hopes live again,

I see our lives live again

In real time and in the real world,

And my hopes return for these iBoys and iGirls

That they may speak and be spoken to,

That they may joke and laugh and love

And live in a world outside of the screen;

Only when we disconnect can we connect.

Only when we disengage can we engage.

Only when we turn it all off will we be turned on.

Only when the screen goes dark will the world light up.

Comments

[Nick Carraway]

Brilliant stuff here. I like to think Ginsberg, and more so Huxley, would agree with these sentiments.

The other day I bought a car charger while I was out at the mall because my iPhone died and I couldn't wait until I got home to get it back on. The sad thing is that I already own at least one car charger, and maybe more. Now I have another one to add to the ever collecting pile of technological refuse that continues to accumulate in my house. What will become of it all? Probably end up in a landfill in India while I pay huge premiums on the next latest thing. For all of Steve Job's touted brilliance, I often wonder was I like this just five years ago? Before my iPhone, would I have spent $30 at an AT&T kiosk just to regain connection instead of suffer through a few solitary hours?

Your poem has me asking myself some personal questions, so it must be a good one.

[James Dugan]

Could I go back to the undigital divide? Can any of us? All of expression is the need to be heard -- maybe not even to be accepted, but just to communicate.

I find it fascinating how facebook and later twitter came about as a way of people to connect. Now years later, the shine has dulled and we are more like people on a train. I believe it has been a good thing. I do learn from others and their ideas, but I also have learned to pull away. I am really interested in the last line: what happens when we go dark.

Real communication and art is thoughtful, calculated and meant to build society. We have so many options of technology but they grow old quickly. I liked how you used a older poem about recognition and voice and caught it up until today. It was well done and like Nick, it has made me confront what I do and how I say it and makes me long for more than just the superficial world of twitter and facebook.

Now let me check my email before lunch is over.