surf this -------------------------------------------
Keypads, hard drives
the new must haves consuming our lives.
A hidden conspiracy.
A trap that we jump into willingly.
You can't turn off what is always on-
line looking for something or someone
doesn't matter who they are,
or where they come from.
E-Mail, hope for tail
Turn on my cam
God damn-it's a man-
so I fail.
Hit or miss, still I pursue-
Hit me back young miss-
I'd like to get to know you-
Cyber Sex, within the text
typing your hypeing,
your bits are not byteing.
Friday night didn't go out-
but got on-
something that will be around
long after all my love is gone.
"E-Mail, hope for tail Turn on my cam God damn-it's a man- so I fail." That's just hilarious. ^o^. But your poem is filled with a sarcastic truth: yeah, the internet's handy and all, but can we let it take over our lives like it has the habit of doing? The real irony here is that this issue is raised... in an online poetry forum thing. haha. Guess we are all slaves to technology, huh... There are some rhythmic imbalances within the poem-- for instance, I'd recommend changing "consuming" to "consume", just for the sound of it. And as for these lines: A hidden conspiracy. A trap that we jump into willingly.
If I were you, I'd put
A hidden conspiracy, A trap we jump to willingly.
once again, just for syllabic reasons. But the idea, and the voice in this poem, are good. ^_^