Alert

an empty chair across the table cracked open diagonal

cinnamon dusted chai: milk-foam design, lipstick stained rim

the door opens, beeps, opens, beeps, a phone rings at 9am

orders given, orders taken — a menu of today’s specials in chalk

four out of five humans have left the present for pixels

while they wait in line, alerts bait eyes down

…alert
…alert
…alert

chronic fight or flight

cashier speaks in a jolt to the system of the tech-tamed ones

how to form words again, how to interact again

…alertalertalert…

pay attention to me

say the things in our hands

…me…me…me…

must reply immediately

must respond now

…again,
again.
Again!

where’s the fire?

art of conversation l o s t

art hangs on walls now

but we never see it

beautiful souls pass each other like views out the window

but we never look up

connectivity that disconnects connectivity

when it’s off, who’s around? when it’s off, it’s never off.

a speaker pumps in the corner, the songs the soundtrack

to an empty life

~ Emily C.

4.19.17

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11 thoughts on “Alert

  1. A very different poetic style than your usual.
    I see this poem as a cyberpunk Sci-Fi.

    The Alert of things. Human eyes shaped like pixels who only see the world as pixels. Everything else is the duty of the machine world. Relationships also came into play with life and the connection to our I-phones of what separates us to our loved ones. Maybe???

    Hope I interpret this one correctly…its what I saw in my mind when reading it 3 times. 🙂

    Incredible work Em. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Observing humanity today, myself included. Trying really hard to reduce and reconnect…consolidate the minutes on screen instead of perpetually allowing myself to be available. It’s tough, because I’m a people pleaser. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes. It’s intoxicating to find souls who stimulate your imagination. But setting good boundaries on it has been necessary and liberating.

        Like

  2. Fantastic. I think in our little cafe – no electronics allowed, except maybe at designated times, maybe 5 minutes an hour. Maybe even no wifi, block the cell tower, let it stand erect and frustrated on its own, unable to penetrate our brains. Looking around, the zombie revolution has arrived, and it turns out they are easy to defeat, just meme them some silly memes and face book the hell out of them. Love this poem, Em, for the sentiment alone.

    And the irony… my cafe is virtual.

    LOL!

    Liked by 1 person

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