I sat down pat, tapped laptop screen,
reflecting on Fate’s twist,
on how scope seemed too narrow, mean,
when web did not exist,
regret the Internet has been
exploited to insist
upon Big Brother data scene,
protections seemly dissed.
I mused, sought clues to ink thought link,
reflecting, for my sins,
how world would look if on the blink
society tailspins,
if CERN’s discernment on the brink
of ARPANET linchpins
no old cold war concerns had met
Cerf’s surf … the dream begins …
I dreamed that disabilities
priority became
for polititians, that disease
defeated was, the same
rights, equal opportunities
were granted halt and maim,
discrimination halted, ease
afforded for life's game.
I dreamed the right to difference
respected would remain,
that compromise, intolerance
were held improper stain,
that lifelong learning implements
could conquer greed for gain,
replacing that with common sense,
that health could conquer pain.
I dreamed the digital divide
from palm to fingertip
just measured, nothing else beside
the rule of thumb and grip.
That those with special needs inside
could use implanted chip
for opportunities denied
today to see, hear, skip.
I dreamed of censorship dismissed
from programs open source,
with phishing banned from mailing list
along with Trojan horse,
that those exploring pages kissed
from House expelled of course,
that truth injustice should resist,
discarding rule of force.
I dreamed beyond meshed matrix grid
perfidiously embedded,
that Terms of Service nothing hid,
that content could be headed
for blind to hear, for deaf to bid
clear meanings which unwedded
to data-mining, safe for kid,
could flourish free, undreaded.
My nervous fingers went to town,
played with the keyboard grey;
the links came up, P.C. crashed down,
‘sufficient to the day’!
Astute reboot – no study brown -
restored the online stay
as resolute I’d click and clown
from Google to E-Bay.
Spam, email, chased each other round
the inbox as my hands
clicked onto favorites I’d found
in broadband searching scanned.
Wi-Max mocks concepts of firm ground
as mobile grids are grand,
when content filters we confound
there’s nothing underhand.
The urls with font so small
describe so many things, -
sharp, in such swift succession call
ships, cabbages and kings.
See super ceiling sealing wax
ads answer to our pings,
regretting neither telex, fax,
I think pink pigs have wings!
Sites swum in sight without respite,
dot com, dot org, dot net,
night knew no day, new day no night,
imagination whet
enthusiastic as delight
drowned Time – which we forget –
as zapping here, there mapping, quite
in tune with netiquette.
I dreamed instead of Internet
telepathy prevailed,
implants bionic held best bet,
ubiquity well scaled.
That bribery men could forget,
corruption unbewailed
could self-destruct, and, better yet,
no freedoms were curtailed.
I dreamed that every country’s laws
protected privacy,
it seemed priority because
there was no piracy.
That poverty had marked a pause
through true prosperity
which banished greed and need for wars,
all life’s asperity.
I dreamed the gift of second-sight
quite disregarding station
could bless decisions made despite
historical frustration.
Both copyleft and copyright
respected duplication
for non-commercial motives right
for friends and education.
I dreamed that bank accounts were free
from close examination,
that schemes to steal identity
were banned by every nation.
that C.C.T.V. scrutiny
in street or metro station
belonged to Orwell’s fantasy,
that all communication
of private nature had to be
the rule, not abberation.
I dreamed that Internet domains
were free from State control,
that ethical constraint restrains
the private sector’s role,
that individual remains
priority, hope whole,
that rising generation trains
itself to ‘truth’ extoll.
I dreamed so many things that verse
would be hard pushed to stretch
into ten thousand stanzas, curse
the fact to finely etch
intense impressions and rehearse
desires becoming, fetch
apt images from source diverse
is past my art to sketch.
I have forgotten whence I came,
or what my goal might be,
or by what strange and savage name
to spell with clarity
technologies’ emerging claim
to right wrongs which we
have self inflicted as life’s game
unrolls through history.
I muse – has all this been before
in ages far away,
in distant galaxy whose core
is burning Bush today,
when ranged some strange forgotten Gore
whose warnings on doomsday
his world did not deny, ignore,
or narrow-mind display.
I wake to packets passing through
poor, sore, befuddled, brain,
my online search answers true,
Iinks to speed search again,
as Alta Vista and Yahoo,
like Wolfram, Bing, bring pain
from adverts too intrusive to
deserve aught but disdain.
But now, dear reader, ‘tis to you
I turn my rhymed refrain
for insight, inspiration’s cue, -
pray, it won’t be in vain !
Author notes
robi3_1456_proc2_0004 PXX_EJX
url : universal research locator ( xxx.com )
ARPANET - US Department of Defense precursor to the Internet
CERN - Tim Berners Lee and the World Wide Web
Cerf - Vint Cerf, one of the 'fathers of the Internet' former Chairman Internet Society http://www.isoc.org
and ICANN currently Google Vice President
see :
Pre-Existence
I laid me down upon the shore
And dreamed a little space;
I heard the great waves break and roar;
The sun was on my face.
My idle hands and fingers brown
Played with the pebbles grey;
The waves came up, the waves went down,
Must thundering and gay.
The pebbles, they were smooth and round
And warm upon my hands,
Like little people I had found
Sitting among the sands.
The grains of sand so shining-small
Soft through my fingers ran;
The sun shone down upon it all,
And so my dream began:
How all of this had been before:
How ages far away
I lay on some forgotten shore
As here I lie today.
The waves came shining up the sands,
As here today they shine;
And in my pre-Pelasgian hands
The sand was warm and fine.
I have forgotten whence I came,
Or what my home might be,
Or by what strange and savage name
I called that thundering sea.
I only know the sun shone down
As still it shines today,
And in my fingers long and brown
The little pebbles lay.
Bryan Waller PROCTER 1787_1874 - Pre-Existence – sometimes attributed to Frances CORNFORD
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Comments
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this is altogether too confusing for me to even judge correctly.
first, the prompt for this contest was to make your own version of Shakespeare's 7 stages of man, not the poem you have in your AN. i wanted the process of a single persons life, not all the earths process! -
fascinating... you envisioned a new utopian view of the world that is quite ideal and creative. we may just be heading that way - to becoming telepathic. or, like you say, were we once already that way and lost it. I get deja vu feelings too. A great write. It really makes one think, and hope. thank you for entering!
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I think you have dreamed about a multitude of issues that if changed would appear to make up an almost perfect world though perhaps telepathy replacing the internet and CCTV scrutiny could be perceived as conflicting ideas. I like the way this poem covers many day to day issues that have been around for a millennium or longer and yet contains many very up to date concepts of our electronic world.
Dream on … perhaps it is not all in vain
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