Tag Archives: poem about modern technology

Endangered Species

Endangered Species

It bore investigation, the gods all seemed to think
to see what’s happening on Earth that’s raising such a  stink.
The clouds of poisonous vapors seemed to obscure their view
so they had to come much closer to see what they could do.

Here everyone seemed eager to screw the other guy,
sure that complete happiness was something they could buy.

They’d have to think of something to divert them from their wrath,
to deflect them from their lust for fortune to another path.

What if they gave them something to redirect their thought
from this mania for wanting what the other fella’s got?
They created Martin Cooper and made two guys named Steve,
gave them creativity and something up their sleeve
to invent these gadgets to connect us all together
so we could help each other in times of stormy weather.
But the plans of men and deities often go astray.
Even gods in heaven do not always know the way.

How could they know that iPads and tiny little phones,
the Internet and Facebook would turn us into drones
staring at our open hands or clicking selfie shots,
intent more on ourselves than in helping the have-nots?
While skulking in the background, cronies of corporation
plotted most unnoticed in corrupt cooperation
to keep the masses busy with their puzzles and their games,
their TV and their movies and their lists of contact names.

We all would be so busy staring at our palms
that no one would be worried. No one would suffer qualms
about what was happening—the greed and the pollution.
Our leaders all the problem and never the solution.
We sold our world for cyber toys, believed their staged reality.
Traded in our real world for scheduled banality.
Kardashians and Candy Crush, sitcoms and solitaire,
Twitter, selfies, Instagram—a virtual nightmare.

Have we really botched it? Will no one come to aid?
Will our species all die out? Sicken, fall and fade?
They say after Chernobyl the animals returned.
The grass and tees grew back where they formerly were burned.
Only humans can’t abide the mess that they have made.
as though they have created their own end by their charade.
It’s the way of evolution. Species come and species go
Those who do not worry as they vanish tell us so.

The thing that they don’t realize, just waiting round the bend
as species after species is herded toward its end,
of all endangered species, another they have hexed
may be homo sapiens, whose extinction may be next.

The prompts were below, investigation and eager. The links are below:

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/08/fowc-with-fandango-below/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/08/investigation/

https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/eager

Techaffection

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Techaffection

All types of loving have their seasons
wherein we love for different reasons.
When we are young lads and misses,
loving mainly starts with kisses,
whereas loyalty and pleasure
later count in equal measure.
But as we age, love changes, too,
as some things get harder to do.
And as our brains grow more ecliptic,
screens get smaller, apps more cryptic.

So simple tasks–perhaps to clone
old data to a new iPhone
become more difficult to do
until in time you have no clue
and thus it is you call a tech
to get your puzzlement in check
and in an hour or two he solves
your problems and your fears absolves.
You thumb your phone to make a call
and find it’s not so hard at all.

You have your contacts here with you.
Your photos, and your camera, too.
Calendar, iTunes and maps––
all the necessary apps.
Appreciation starts to grow
for that young techie who helped you so––
a type of loving, in its fashion,
not so much a thing of passion
as a Luddite’s fond affection
for a techie’s apt detection
of that complicated mess
that I fear I must confess
I never would have solved alone.
You won my heart, Chad, via phone!!!

This young Apple Tech worked with me for an hour and a half, then, when I had to leave for an appointment,  called me back a few hours later and worked for another half hour to wrestle two computers, an old nearly dead iPhone and a “new” used iPhone into sync.  I promised in appreciation that I’d write him a poem, so Chad, I hope you see this.  If you do, leave a comment.  Apple techies rock!!

Quick Change

 

Quick Change

This modern world has changed and changed
until I have become estranged.
These alterations make me dizzy.
I do not like my world so busy.

The young are used to change, it’s true.
They love the instant and the new.
Texts and sound bites come so fast.
Nothing’s really built to last.

But, for someone over fifty,
all this change is hardly nifty.
When at each end the candle’s burned,
when everything we’ve newly learned,

when everything that we hold dear
turns obsolete within one year,
we’re always slightly out of gear,
which makes us feel unjustly queer.

They make these changes without a clue.
Let’s start out minor, then work up to
the major things they’ve set askew:
(I will not mention Dr. Who.)

Every computer becomes its clone.
I cannot use the telephone.
My applications change so quick
that I have come to feel I’m thick.

Skype makes its changes overnight.
(Yet rarely ever improves the site.)
Microsoft Word just loves to change,
which leaves her users feeling strange.

Move this to there and that down here;
so all my mental powers, I fear,
are spent in figuring out the APP
and organizing a mental map

of how to write instead of what,
creating one big mental glut.
No room for creativity.
No safe place where our minds soar free.

We’re always “searching” for, instead,
our minds caught up in fear and dread
of where they’ve moved the enlarge bar to
in this week’s Word processing zoo!

Our e-mail servers have joined the plot.
I feel like pitching out the lot.
Just when I’ve learned most every trick
of tool and contact, every lick—

their Machiavellian, evil team
goes and changes the whole darn scheme!
But when we’re sending coast-to-coastal,
the alternative is going postal.

So though we bitch and though we frown,
they are the only game in town;
and so they have us where they want us.
Though they frustrate, ire and daunt us,

one after another, they are the same,
playing at this modern game
of change for change’s sake, it’s true.
There’s really nothing much to do.

So I submit, though in a tizzy,
I’ll relax less and keep real busy.
I’ll leave the cyber world alone
and concentrate on just one bone

I have to pick in this modern world,
and I say this with my top lip curled.
Max Factor, Revlon, Almay, please—
I kneel before you on my knees.

Leave the lipstick colors that we hold dear
alone! Don’t change them every year.
Each time you cancel one that’s zesty,
to find another makes us testy!!!

 

I admit.. Repost of a poem from four years ago.  Admit it, you didn’t even remember it did, you?  I certainly didn’t. The prompt today is micro.

Outsmarting My Smart TV

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My TV is Smarter Than I Am

My TV is smarter than I am, springing to life on a whim.
When my  Jack-of-all-trades comes to work here, I think she is flirting with him.
She flicks on and then off in a second, just like she has given a wink.
Or perhaps registers disapproval by shutting us off with a blink.

I know she has much to complain of since I purchased her two years ago.
I’ve never connected to cable or dish, so she doesn’t have too much to show.
Although she connects to computers, my Apple igores that she’s here.
That I haven’t read the instructions? I know it’s exceedingly queer.

She’s equipped to show movies in 3D, but my housekeeper threw out the glasses.
So if I want movies to jump out at me, I must go view them out with the masses
and not in the privacy of my own home with my cat or myself or my friends.
I haven’t checked out buying more on the Web, and for this I must soon make amends.

My computer is usually my viewer of choice when my friend sends me movies by Skype.
The films that he sends are amazing. He knows the best subjects and type
of videos that I like viewing. They are smart and they’re funny and Indie.
He doesn’t send action/adventure or slapstick or horror or Hindi.

 But I never watch them on my Smart screen, preferring my laptop to it.
I set it right there at my poolside and watch as I try to get fit
doing my pool aerobics for an hour and a half, maybe two.
My workouts just seem to last longer whenever I’ve something to view.

 My TV can see out the window that I’m faithful to screens that are small
and I’m sure that I’ve given a complex to my big gal I don’t watch at all.
So I started a “Last Sunday” film night where I can share films that I savor
We eat and we drink and we talk and we laugh as we all view the movies I favor.

For one night a month, my TV springs to life when I plug in the little thumb drive.
Her face flushes up in an enormous blush, for she sees that I know she’s alive.
The eyes of all eight of us fix upon her. She’s the center of all our attention.
We laugh at her jokes and cry at her pathos. Respond to her mysteries with tension.

But the rest of the month her expression is blank, sitting alone in her corner
looking so sad and so lacking in life that I feel that perhaps I should mourn her.
The first time she lit up when I entered the room to say she didn’t recognize me,
I realized with shock for the very first time that my TV could both talk and see!

I hadn’t quite realized the extent of her powers when I bought her at Costco that day.
My old TV weighed in at five hundred pounds—more than a TV should weigh.
I’d inherited it from my mom when she died so I had a personal attachment,
but to move it alone, one risked heart attack or at least a vertebral detachment.

And so I gave in to cajoling by friends that it was time to buy another.
and I gave away the monster TV that I had acquired from my mother.
But guilt has suffused me ever after that day, for I really don’t need a TV,
and this smart girl is lacking in challenges, just wasting her talents on me.

She’s recently started to turn herself on (something that girls alone do)
and talking to me when I enter the room and enter her angle of view.
Finally I just unplugged her—an act of most selfish defiance.
I haven’t the time in my life just to chat—especially to an appliance!

 

Hate to admit this poem is an edited version of one written over three years ago and I still flounder around trying to work this TV. The world has evolved beyond me.  I should be the one blushing! The prompt today is blush.

No Longer in the Present

jdbphoto

No Longer in the Present

Seated around the table in our favorite cafe,
attention to each other has come to be passé
We are not present here and now. We’re all in other places
as we stare at tiny screens, intent on other faces.

The friends we have around us will simply have to wait
for our interest in the world-at-large to finally abate.
The news that’s happening elsewhere is simply more amusing
than what might be happening in this space our body’s using.

Other friends are funnier in their “selfie” poses—
pooching out their lips at us and scrunching up their noses.
It won’t do to look natural, we have to look unique
in the selfsame pose that all selfie-flashers seek.

So if your friends are boring, not half so chic as you,
you always have the option to make a Tweet or two.
Check out the latest fashions available from China.
They’ll only take three months to reach you here in Carolina.

Check out the weather in Tibet and give YouTube a glance.
Companions won’t distract you if you don’t give them a chance.
Living one life at a time no longer has to do
so long as you remember to have your phone with you!

So if you’ve dropped a French fry and spilled ketchup down your dress,
you needn’t be embarrassed. It couldn’t matter less.
Intent on Twitter, Instagram, Facetiming and Facebooking,
the friends with you won’t notice, for nobody is looking.

The prompt word is present.

Cyber Zoo

Cyber Zoo

This modern world has changed and changed
until I have become estranged.
These alterations make me dizzy.
I do not like my world so busy.

The young are used to change, it’s true.
They love the instant and the new.
Texts and sound bites come so fast.
Nothing’s really built to last.

But, for someone over fifty,
all this change is hardly nifty.
When at each end the candle’s burned,
when everything we’ve newly learned,

when everything that we hold dear
turns obsolete within one year,
we’re always slightly out of gear,
which makes us feel unjustly queer.

They make these changes without a clue.
Let’s start out minor, then work up to
the major things they’ve set askew:
(I will not mention Dr. Who.)

Every computer becomes its clone.
I cannot use the telephone.
My applications change so quick
that I have come to feel I’m thick.

Skype makes its changes overnight.
(Yet rarely ever improves the site.)
Microsoft Word just loves to change,
which leaves her users feeling strange.

Move this to there and that down here;
so all my mental powers, I fear,
are spent in figuring out the APP
and organizing a mental map

of how to write instead of what,
creating one big mental glut.
No room for creativity.
No safe place where our minds soar free.

We’re always “searching” for, instead,
our minds caught up in fear and dread
of where they’ve moved the enlarge bar to
in this week’s Word processing zoo!

Our e-mail servers have joined the plot.
I feel like pitching out the lot.
Just when I’ve learned most every trick
of tool and contact, every lick—

their Machiavellian, evil team
goes and changes the whole darn scheme!
But when we’re sending coast-to-coastal,
the alternative is going postal.

So though we bitch and though we frown,
they are the only game in town;
and so they have us where they want us.
Though they frustrate, ire and daunt us,

one after another, they are the same,
playing at this modern game
of change for change’s sake, it’s true.
There’s really nothing much to do.

So I submit, though in a tizzy,
I’ll relax less and keep real busy.
I’ll leave the cyber world alone
and concentrate on just one bone

I have to pick in this modern world,
and I say this with my top lip curled.
Max Factor, Revlon, Almay, please—
I kneel before you on my knees.

Leave the lipstick colors that we hold dear
alone! Don’t change them every year.
Each time you cancel one that’s zesty,
to find another makes us testy!!!

 

This is a rewrite of a poem written four years ago. The prompt today is zoo.

A Youthful Calling

IMG_3404jdbphoto

A Youthful Calling

Oh that I had been born later
in an age more prone to cater
to the new technology
that simply doesn’t gel with me.
I must ask. Is it me alone
who can no longer use the phone?
What every eight year old has mastered
makes me feel completely plastered.
Those buttons simply don’t make sense.
They leave me rattled, shaken, tense––
uttering words you’d find uncouth.
I do not glorify my youth,
but bygone memories do linger
of dials that fit a human finger––
phones simply used to call a friend
instead of apps that never end.
iPhone? I fear I’m not a fan.
I want a phone I’m smarter than.

The Prompt today was “Youth.”  In the weeks since my internet has increasingly become nonexistent, I’ve been relying on my iPhone to furnish a hotspot to post from.  Unfortunately, for the past few days, as my phone registered its full limit, I’ve been waiting for my usage to flip back to 0 MB, but alas it hasn’t.  Finally I went to Telcel where I was assigned to a young man whose knowledge of a little English rendered him understanding of my faulty Spanish and, like a gift from the gods, he informed me that the 1 GB was what I’d used in the past year, not in the past month, and he downloaded an app that will keep me informed of my month’s usage and flip over each month. (In addition, I learned that the price of extra MB’s is 25 cents Mexican per MB which is less than 2 U.S. cents!  So, I’m back to 1 MB usage and a bit less tense about the fact that I’m beginning my second week of no wifi.  Telmex (the phone company as opposed to Telcel, the cellphone company––both owned by the near-richest man in the world, Carlos Slim) was closed today so I’ll try again Monday. Perhaps I’ll just cancel my internet and landline and opt for more MGs on my phone.  It, at least, seems to be consistent in its service.

Before I left Telcel, I quipped to my young “savior” that along with their better understanding of Smart phones and iPhones, I have a feeling that future generations are going to be born with one little pointed finger more adapted to those tiny buttons on the cellphone. He laughed and assured me that I’d become accustomed to them, but I have my doubts. So, that is the backstory to this poem, as after leaving the Telcel center in the mall, I went to the food court which has free wifi and wrote the above poem.

If I’m not commenting on blogs or posting as much as before, this has been why.  May wifi at home be in my near future.  So far my complaints have not brought action.