To be The Hyperlink,
I must move through the air,
pushing beneath the wires
by crawling into the data stream.
I open up the port and descend,
elbowing the flotsam and jetsam of
emails and twitters and blog posts
and pictures and music and video
and other drivel out the way,
clearing the path straight into the heart
of the information.
Superheroes don’t come easy in this world
of greedy bankers
and selfish athletes
and condescending politicians;
No one believes in the unknown anymore;
No one can see beyond what their eyes reveal
in the moment before them.
We are all surface, no depth.
But I believe,
and my powers of associative insight
knit the physical and the virtual worlds together
so that one seamlessly shifts the other
and the ordinary is transformed into
the extraordinary,
and in that moment, I am alive.
Whatever can a poet do when lost
For inspiration
When all the trite ideas
Flow instead of innovation?
But the cost
That I have met in seeking some release
From this
Is to write as I had planned
In double rhyme, O how remiss!
My plight
Is not too easy, I am sure that any hand
Would pale:
So much better to begin to write
And hope the words prevail;
And so to pit
With this strange ode I’ve tried to keep things bright,
Toiled on through half the day with it
(And half-way through the night);
Still here’s a verse!
I’ll finish and put down this weary pen,
Then think of themes still more diverse
. . . And so begin again!
Ordinary/Extraordinary
To be The Hyperlink,
I must move through the air,
pushing beneath the wires
by crawling into the data stream.
I open up the port and descend,
elbowing the flotsam and jetsam of
emails and twitters and blog posts
and pictures and music and video
and other drivel out the way,
clearing the path straight into the heart
of the information.
Superheroes don’t come easy in this world
of greedy bankers
and selfish athletes
and condescending politicians;
No one believes in the unknown anymore;
No one can see beyond what their eyes reveal
in the moment before them.
We are all surface, no depth.
But I believe,
and my powers of associative insight
knit the physical and the virtual worlds together
so that one seamlessly shifts the other
and the ordinary is transformed into
the extraordinary,
and in that moment, I am alive.
Listen to the poem: http://www.box.net/shared/static/2jcpbol50c.mp3
Kevin Hodgsons last blog post..Teaching the New Writing (book project)
Whatever can a poet do when lost
For inspiration
When all the trite ideas
Flow instead of innovation?
But the cost
That I have met in seeking some release
From this
Is to write as I had planned
In double rhyme, O how remiss!
My plight
Is not too easy, I am sure that any hand
Would pale:
So much better to begin to write
And hope the words prevail;
And so to pit
With this strange ode I’ve tried to keep things bright,
Toiled on through half the day with it
(And half-way through the night);
Still here’s a verse!
I’ll finish and put down this weary pen,
Then think of themes still more diverse
. . . And so begin again!
Ken Allans last blog post..What Is Learnt From Community?
The ordinary
and extraordinary
are a breath apart
Ed Webbs last blog post..Waltz With Bashir