CYBER

CYBER

CYBER

Written on 30 January 2014, the last stanza being added on 4 February 2014 but never published until now



What is this organism

Pulsating and thumping,

An irregular heartbeat

Of egos, tribulations, trials

Characters and personalities?

 

What is this organ

That is almost phallic

In its outreach?


What is this

That hides behind

Images

Where community appear

As anything other than themselves?


Cartoon characters,

Inanimate,

Animal and Aquiline,

Film stars,

Movies and Theatre,

Views,

Anything but the real self?

 

What lies behind

So many bogus profiles?


What causes people to fall in love

With photographers

Declaring Relationships

Family and even Marriage

And Civil Partnership?

 

Who?

Who is this faceless community

That can destroy a real person

In seven quick taps

B  L  O  C  K  E  D

Or the slightly less but devastating

knife-like incision

In ten quick taps…

U  N  F  R  I  E  N  D  E  D 

like a gargoyle tip-toeing

across a smelly pond

on unsavoury leaves?

Ummh?

And THEN begins

The Character Assassination.

The endless block posts.

Framed.

White letters on black.

Leaving everyone to muse


Is this being said of me?

Worse, is it addressed to me by stealth?

Am I its target?

 

Enter stage left

The Religious Brigade…

Pontiffs

Rabbis

Imams

Ministers

Priests and Bishops

A Cardinal and Archbishop or two

The Fundamentalists

---all are here

... self-appointed, of course

 

A Great Procession

A Grand Recessional


‘Only I have the Message

of Hope and YOUR Salvation

so listen to me (with a small em ;) )

Ignore the others

Otherwise, you're in a mess

And have no hope.’

 

And every self-important individual

Glorying and measuring their ‘success’

By the paper trail

Of ‘Posts’ and ‘Likes’

 

The surprise when rumbled…


But why don’t you ‘like’ me?

You ‘liked’ him!

You ‘liked’ her!!

You ‘shared’ them!!!


 

I don’t ‘like’ you

Because you presented yourself

As of Catwalk Beauty,

But I find you with a bus pass

And drawing your pension.

You have concealed from view

The beautiful heart

You do not realise you have!

 

Why have you pretended?

Why have you deceived me?

What is so messed up with you

That you doubt your own reality?


And then dare to advise me

On how to life my life!


As if you are the success

And I am the failure!

 

Away with you

Before an arsehole

exocets a hole in the wall

 

Away with you

Before exposure

For who and what you really are.

 

Go elsewhere

And play your games

Of subterfuge and Pretence

 

Stop imprinting others

With you.

 

Stop stunting the progress

Of others because they might

Be better placed in some way than you.

 

Go elsewhere

And make you outlandish claims

Of fame and glory,

And learn its difference

To infamy.

 

He who exalts himself

Will be humbled,

He who humbles himself

Will be exalted.

 

I've seen that written somewhere,

I wonder where?

I can't recall!

 

No one can tell me now

In this cyber community.

 

How can I be at the top

Of Jacob’s Ladder

When no one even

Knows my ladder exists?

 

Do I live in never-never land?

Have I fallen for the biggest con?


Do I actually believe

That what I write in this community

Is evidence of my ladder?

That my posts equate to publication?

 

For me, not.

For others, yes.

It is an unencumbered fact.

 

There are others of course,

Who use the community

As it was intended…

To outreach,

To communicate,

To build a bridge,

A bridge that stands

Astride the divide

Of truth and unreality,

Between that which is actual

And that is imagination

And endless dreaming.

 

There is much good in

The inter-stellar cyber life,

And when good exists

Its troublesome playmate bad

Will endeavour

Centre-stage by

Unlawful occupation and usurpation.

It goes by another name

Human Nature.

 

These lines are hard

And cut to the core

Only when we’re out of step

With reality.


If in step we are, but many

Of the millions

Who do live in this Community

Promoting good,

Throwing the lifeline,

Promoting good

And washing the bad

Down the drain

At stage-right.

 

13 February 2024
All Rights Reserved


LIVERPOOL


© 2024 Kenneth Thomas Webb



Digital Artwork © 2024 KTW unless otherwise credited


Written on 30 January 2014, the last stanza being added on 4 February 2014 but never published until now



Without Guile, without Cunning

There are others of course,

Who use the community

As it was intended…

To outreach,

To communicate,

To build a bridge,

A bridge that stands

Astride the divide

Of truth and unreality,

Between that which is actual

And that is imagination

And endless dreaming.


Ken Webb is a writer and proofreader. His website, kennwebb.com, showcases his work as a writer, blogger and podcaster, resting on his successive careers as a police officer, progressing to a junior lawyer in succession and trusts as a Fellow of the Institute of Legal Executives, a retired officer with the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, and latterly, for three years, the owner and editor of two lifestyle magazines in Liverpool.

He also just handed over a successful two year chairmanship in Gloucestershire with Cheltenham Regency Probus.

Pandemic aside, he spends his time equally between his city, Liverpool, and the county of his birth, Gloucestershire.

In this fast-paced present age, proof-reading is essential. And this skill also occasionally leads to copy-editing writers’ manuscripts for submission to publishers and also student and post graduate dissertations.