Happy Accident

 

This poem is a about wasting time on social media.  It asks, at what cost do we pursue such an aimless life?  Hope you enjoy!

 

By bits and slivers everyday,

My choice is shaved from me.

By happy accident, I browse,

And lose my agency.

The bits and bobs that show up

On my tiny silver screen

Are not the ones I asked for,

Yet, they cannot be unseen.

 

In fact, I was not asked at all.

Instead, I was observed.

An algorithm slithered by:

A ruler, most absurd,

To measure out my deep desires,

My horrors and my fears,

To quantify my quietness,

And confiscate my years.

 

What horror, then, to see my hidden

Fears laid bare, exposed!

The algorithm knows, how many

Freckles grace my nose!

How do I wish to spend my life?

What do I want to be?

How can that be the business of

Most anyone, but me?

 

Yet, there are ways to monetize

My every waking hour.

To cause, my slightest touch or pause

To blossom, like a flower,

And bring forth fruit–or profit,

If we stoop to be so callous–

Persuading me, such greed can mean

Me anything, but malice.

 

There is no good.  There is no bad.

There is too much, that is.

This endless scrolling leads me down

A deepening abyss.

I play along, for pleasure, and

I play along, for sport.

I fritter away my leisure time,

Forgetting, Life is short.

 

I shout into the cavern

And I hear it, shouting back.

I count up my impressions,

And with diligence, keep track.

I spout opinions, show approval,

Smile, or frown, or vent:

Ever closer to my death,

By happy accident.

 

Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew

 

For more poetical opinions on our technological world, read The Rabbit Hole, Source Code, and Like.

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