This Modern Era

Where are we?

This Modern Era

Here, on this earth

no one knows me.

No one sees me

or feels the pain I feel

for the planet,

for the human race.

Everyone is surrounded,

bathed in the glow

of plastic,

plastic payment cards,

not real currency,

so spend it.

Plastic surgery,

everyone does it,

so I need it too.

Plastic lives

so kneaded and formed

by the media soup

in which we bathe,

much of it so patiently

false.

Plastic friends,

who we collect

like football cards

on the likes of Facebook,

Linkedin or Writer's Cafe,

most we do not really know.

We are tube fed

through the internet

and suck from it

as if it had sustenance.

In the meantime

academics have been telling us

for decades that we need evidence

and until we have it

they must live on

and we must accept

a dying world.

 

28/09/17

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

there isn't just a ring of truth in this poem, there is a wailing siren----
plastic friends and plastic surgery....and 3,000 friends on facebook we don't even know...
what a life we left...and what is this life we own now.

damn this poem got me going.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

I went to a criminology lecture this week and heard things I have been hearing for decades and none of the speakers had any suggestions for solutions other than more research to root out the 'evidence'. The audience were mainly young first year students all with their smart phones at the ready and it got me thinking too Jacob. Many thank yous.

[Lydia Shutter]

Such a dark write, John....but well written. Yes, we do live in a plastic society....and friends are all too often people who have not met in person. Evidence? We have lived long enough on this planet to witness the changes. Lydi**

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Sorry about that Lydi but I think many have their heads in the sand. I met someone today in a poetry group who was so positive she could see no wrong in the world worth challenging. Not me I'm afraid! Many thanks.