The Gadgets We Home



I'm equipped not
With know-how.
Says a soul
Who permeated halfway
What deemed the masses
A ruby.
This soul knows not
That the gadget he homes
Homes faculties
That outnumber stars
In the Milky Way.

To this soul
Who gave them
The power
To declare him barred
From ways to glory,
Google
Shall be an app
To fill the void
Of his screen.

And so his gadget
Shall see
Its other edge
Of its existence
With faculties
Invaded by spiderwebs
In a forest of tombs
Where gadgets that die
Remain buried
Alongside Google
And her faculties.

Gigs are comets.
Says that soul
Who's been seated
Somewhere
In a waiting bay
Where the skies
Avail to him
That which earns bread.
He knows not
That the gadget he harbors
Is a beach
And each grain of sand
Is a way
That tames the desires
That Being imposes.

Do you have a gem
To offer your world
That which unleashes
From them
Pennies and ways
That your soul yearns for
To cover its journey?
That gadget you possess
Shall be the umbilical cord
Between you
And that world
That shall mother you.

These gadgets we harbor
To the waiting soul
Shall be a way
To keep up
With the Joneses.

The bead we hold
In the necklace
Of our existence
Is an abundance of gold
That lies unmined
From the sea of the web.

The gadgets we home
Are doors to portals
Where inhabits light
Yet still open
Into distortion of essence.

© Sea-Crab Poetry.
(Voyager of Words)

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