Not Poetry as we Know It!
I dream of Cyberspace,
Where fantasies come true.
At least that’s what they tell me:
Into pastures new.
They tempt us with their adverts,
And make us click and click.
Encourage us to banter:
They must think we are thick.
New friends, they are suggested;
They make us write and write.
Addicted to their forums,
We type all through the night.
We make our social networks,
And play those silly games.
Our souls sold to the Devil,
We even lose our names.
This verse will make no money,
Unless you click my ads.
I really have to go now,
To chase the latest fads.
Just flick over that page.
It’s the Electronic Age.
Paul Butters
© 21\1\2011 (Couplet added to end,22\1\11) , Humberside.
(Written for the Triond site, which has ads on display) .
poem by Paul Butters
Added by Poetry Lover
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