Tuesday, April 17, 2012


Disconnection is death
and those who leave
the cradle blink their eyes
to take in details further
than the screen,
unmediated traps
of a blind universe.

We chose to carry
this cul-de-sac alienation
and days pass in a daze.
And our brains sedated,
we flicker in and out
of reality: a dream
made of accumulated puzzle
pieces, pixels, particles
all dancing to this
synaptic song of light.

The world out there exists,
(dull and desperate
in equal measure)
but so does the world here
in our dim cave full
of glowing wonders.
We are safe and sanitized.

Death is a surrender
to this susurration,
a loss of cells
and flashing neurons
but also a gain:
eternity within
the great gestalt.

And even then, 
we would be ghosts
transposed in old photographs
existing byte by byte 
before one hand
sweeps us clean
and we are overwritten.

The abyss will gaze back.

Christine Fojas


prompt from PAD Challenge: science fiction poem

note: inspired by book I am reading called "technogenesis" by Syne Mitchell, although the book's idea of 'gestalt' is a bit different from this. Not what I am used to writing, but experimentation is part of the process.

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