l0rd
07-12-2009, 12:56 AM
I open up a new tab
And move the cursor to the address-bar,
Somehow finding a URL lingering on the tip of my fingertips:
"ME dot com," I type.
>GO
The brittle fan blades of my computer pick up, now blowing full-speed;
But this is a manageable task for a mediocre computer.
As the screen fills, my life loads and explodes before my eyes
I see every memory, thought, experience, sentiment, and every other attribute that one would hold
Nothing new, just reminiscence.
Been there, done that.
What then, what is worth-while seeing on this site?
The materialized past before me,
The simplicity of a programmed life,
Formatted and created by my being,
Algorithmically displayed like everyone else;
It astounds me, yet is rather boring.
There is seemingly no labyrinth of existence,
Proved to me in this very instant.
It is all uniform, scrollable bytes and bits.
Bits of painful experience, bytes of jovial social times with friends,
Bit to byte.
Collective polybytes adding up to years.
The monitor is just a medium for observance.
I am looking,
And looking some more,
Searching for something on the page.
Crtl + F, with a pop the search window opens;
Like soapy sputs searching and clinging to each other.
Cleaning everything but what is desired.
Intuition searches the text "the secrets of life"
Up and down, spits back, "no match found"
I then right-click a blank.
"View Page Source," I select
HTML, nothing else there.
Again, simply reassuring me that everything
Is there because of coded purpose.
The puzzle pieces fit perfectly;
Nothing to scavenge or investigate.
I awake in front of my computer screen,
Now mad at the gloomy epiphany, I "shoot the messenger,"
Stab the nearest pen into my computer screen.
I get up from my chair and proceed with what I've always done.
Meaningful yet apparently insignificant experience.
Secrets nowhere.
Mirages of mysticism never failing to fade to reason, to code.
Ode to the Google searchers
Searching through bulk.
I have found myself with 1 result.
And move the cursor to the address-bar,
Somehow finding a URL lingering on the tip of my fingertips:
"ME dot com," I type.
>GO
The brittle fan blades of my computer pick up, now blowing full-speed;
But this is a manageable task for a mediocre computer.
As the screen fills, my life loads and explodes before my eyes
I see every memory, thought, experience, sentiment, and every other attribute that one would hold
Nothing new, just reminiscence.
Been there, done that.
What then, what is worth-while seeing on this site?
The materialized past before me,
The simplicity of a programmed life,
Formatted and created by my being,
Algorithmically displayed like everyone else;
It astounds me, yet is rather boring.
There is seemingly no labyrinth of existence,
Proved to me in this very instant.
It is all uniform, scrollable bytes and bits.
Bits of painful experience, bytes of jovial social times with friends,
Bit to byte.
Collective polybytes adding up to years.
The monitor is just a medium for observance.
I am looking,
And looking some more,
Searching for something on the page.
Crtl + F, with a pop the search window opens;
Like soapy sputs searching and clinging to each other.
Cleaning everything but what is desired.
Intuition searches the text "the secrets of life"
Up and down, spits back, "no match found"
I then right-click a blank.
"View Page Source," I select
HTML, nothing else there.
Again, simply reassuring me that everything
Is there because of coded purpose.
The puzzle pieces fit perfectly;
Nothing to scavenge or investigate.
I awake in front of my computer screen,
Now mad at the gloomy epiphany, I "shoot the messenger,"
Stab the nearest pen into my computer screen.
I get up from my chair and proceed with what I've always done.
Meaningful yet apparently insignificant experience.
Secrets nowhere.
Mirages of mysticism never failing to fade to reason, to code.
Ode to the Google searchers
Searching through bulk.
I have found myself with 1 result.