With but a look
I am entranced,
Sucked inside the screen
And away
From my body,
Away from the world.
With but a look
I am inside the flurry of images,
And away from outward stimulus,
And for a moment
Or an hour
Or a day,
That physical place
I call the outside
Ceases to exist at all.
In to the phone’s world
I look,
So varied
So shiny
So new.
In to this
I download my memory,
My images,
My thoughts.
And all the questions
I might ask myself,
Both profound
And mundane,
Away I merrily Google.
The world
In one way widened,
And yet
One way closed
As life shifts
Ever nearer,
Ever closer
To the outside mind
Of the irresistible cloud.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
In to my phone
I look
As if there was
A life
Held magically inside,
A world
Interesting and full
Of images
And lives lived
So fast
And so newsworthy
And so,
Ever so, momentarily brief.
My eye
Caught for but an instant
Before the
Next colourful thing
Arrives in
An excited flickering
And is
Gone with the very next.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
distilledvoice 