With apologies to William Butler Yeats, (1933)
This is no world for old folks. The young
in ticking tock of imagery online
wiyle away their frickin’ time.
Caught up in world wide web we all reflect;
viral streams void ancient intellect.
Our hallowed halls, those ancient wells of words
lollygag in digital neglect
while we stampede in viral herds.
A human mind is but a paltry thing
a dappled mass, a neuronic fling.
Oh Soul! do shout do sing, and louder ring
these clanging bells of bygone bling
Too far gone now’s the dusty study halls
those monuments of creeping ivy cover
these brickish ramparts, hollowed stalls
What’s our next diversion to discover?
O sages in God’s ancient flame
as in enlightened ages gone
Can we recall that Holy Name?
Can we cast off what before was on?
Do we twitter time away today
fastened in a frickin’ net?
I find it really hard to say
just what it is I came to get.
Once out of nature we shall never take
our identity from any natural thing,
But such a form as online denizens do make
of click’ed images and shiny bling
to make a citizen think he’s still awake
not just another online thing.
We summon images they come they go
as if we’re frickin’ Michelangelo.
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