Before I start with my poem,
Let us ask to ourselves, how many time we spent facing the facebook or edit our face look?
How many time we wasted in a day to type username and password ?
Tranfers and decoding our real existence inside the cords
So people know we still living from the frequencies of updating
stick with the issues, because we living in up-to-date era
where the biggest sin is talk-to-late or sit-and-wait
who’s care with a real intelligences and a contemplate?
And world attacked by new type of desease
people try to resist but never persist
because some of us thinking,
a real life without a virtual one is unaccepted
like a new premise had been added
and syllogism that stand without ‘social media id’ will automatically rejected
convert the subject of matter and living cell into binary HTML or XML
give us some new kind of world what never there
and texts can replaces the way we care
so a brand new socialite running a fake social-like that never live in the social life
Who need real market these days when we could get stuffs with a click
as long as our paypal and account is still thick
who need produce when all we can do is distribute
a tribute for the bosses, and what we are just a rooten root
Where are the beauty of mysteries?
When all of your mind had been readable?
Then all of us won’t need to sitting and wondering while saw the skylines?
Where are the beauty of heart beat
filled by the curiousity and unconcious mind?
The Timeline changing into a mind-pornography site
so these things make us cannot stop pretending
pretending being heard and well educated by the mass
and when somebody try to punch our ideas,
what we need to do is push ‘mute’ and let em’ pass
My poem is not exist
Before I type,
(Then, share for my followers on Twitter and mute some Grammar Nazis)
Salatiga, Desember 2013