It is a web of snaking tentacles
unspooled of blood and nutrients
pulsing along the flesh corridors
firing neuronic bioluminescence
into cavities of darkness
shrouded in muscle and bone:
an inner-net of evolutionary
thoughts projected through
opposable thumbs and nimble fingers
pounding on plastic hot wired
to furnace fueled conductors
micro-processed, machine manufactured,
assembled to highest specifications
to ensure a flawless launch
at high speed into the broadband
sinews snaking across the planet
inter-twining and combining--
an inter-net fishing for lost souls
and gurus who in the balance of eternity
are equals whose only match
are the heaps of undecaying plastic
remnants alongside the dust
of humanity twirling in the
tornado of time.
A contest entry
- Internet Warning by Poetess12.
2400 points, ended April 8, 2008, 5 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I like this poem. It's well written. Thank you for your entry in my contest.
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Dire Straights Ahead
Okay, so the substance of machine will outlast the substance of the flesh..so what? Is there a point to this? For something worth thinking about, go to www.nakedadam.net and check out the new music for the future!
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