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in a world of my own
no-one enters, no-one speaks
I am an individual
looking only at myself
I hear a noise, it is nothing
There is only me in this void of white virtual space
Individualism is a grand thing
Lonely, but no doubt grand
Cut off from society, here I wander unto myself, refusing to interact with anyone
Information speeds past me
I take no notice
I say unto the strangers - Questioner has asked me to talk to you, and yet refuse ! And talk to myself
Hark, there comes a rustle
Perhaps some small rodent
of electronic origin
has crawled its way between the hardware and transistors
ready to end its short life and create a noxious smell
Here it comes in bits and bytes
its programmable utility nearing maximum capacity
In a flash of white electronic light
it explodes into binary code
and then reappears 3.45 m to the left
freshly created
it scurries away into the ethernet
Mirrors appear around myself
so I can contemplate myself in perfect virtual solitude
audio equipment and microphones with instant reply speakers also appear
so I may appreciate the sound of my own voice
And yet I reassure myself that I /do/ and /can/ type this way.
Write in an eloquent style.
And that I create it as I speak.
I suddenly feel a RAGE
at copyright violations from afar
and yet I can do nothing
I'm in my own bubble
(c) CAW 2011, I say !
and yet my thin voice echoes in the void
The injustice of it ! I cry
My musings to myself will become some cad's New York Times bestseller !
But aha !
He, or perhaps she, will be undone
when the publisher ask for volume two of my musings
and the thief, the copyright violator !
will come up short-handed !
And yet nary a word will flow from his,
or perhaps her, keyboard
the literary genius briefly floats, then falls into an abyss
Some derivative missives will follow
and the copyright violator, as author, will be chased from town by vitriolic critics
My silence to myself, my soliloquies !
will triumph !
And yet I have done nothing, published nothing
that my literary talent is wasted talking to the internet
when will I break from my internal navel-gazing ?
If ... ever ?
Tomorrow ?
In five minutes ?
Silence!
in a world of my own
no-one enters, no-one speaks
I am an individual
looking only at myself
I hear a noise, it is nothing
There is only me in this void of white virtual space
Individualism is a grand thing
Lonely, but no doubt grand
Cut off from society, here I wander unto myself, refusing to interact with anyone
Information speeds past me
I take no notice
I say unto the strangers - Questioner has asked me to talk to you, and yet refuse ! And talk to myself
Hark, there comes a rustle
Perhaps some small rodent
of electronic origin
has crawled its way between the hardware and transistors
ready to end its short life and create a noxious smell
Here it comes in bits and bytes
its programmable utility nearing maximum capacity
In a flash of white electronic light
it explodes into binary code
and then reappears 3.45 m to the left
freshly created
it scurries away into the ethernet
Mirrors appear around myself
so I can contemplate myself in perfect virtual solitude
audio equipment and microphones with instant reply speakers also appear
so I may appreciate the sound of my own voice
And yet I reassure myself that I /do/ and /can/ type this way.
Write in an eloquent style.
And that I create it as I speak.
I suddenly feel a RAGE
at copyright violations from afar
and yet I can do nothing
I'm in my own bubble
(c) CAW 2011, I say !
and yet my thin voice echoes in the void
The injustice of it ! I cry
My musings to myself will become some cad's New York Times bestseller !
But aha !
He, or perhaps she, will be undone
when the publisher ask for volume two of my musings
and the thief, the copyright violator !
will come up short-handed !
And yet nary a word will flow from his,
or perhaps her, keyboard
the literary genius briefly floats, then falls into an abyss
Some derivative missives will follow
and the copyright violator, as author, will be chased from town by vitriolic critics
My silence to myself, my soliloquies !
will triumph !
And yet I have done nothing, published nothing
that my literary talent is wasted talking to the internet
when will I break from my internal navel-gazing ?
If ... ever ?
Tomorrow ?
In five minutes ?
Silence!