“The future does not belong to the faint hearted, it belongs to the brave” – Ronald Reagan

One quarter of the internet is pornography

Cyber bullying is on the rise
It seems dark, pointless
All so… fake
Fake friends, fake likes, fake… everything
What ever happened to talking over the phone?
So why bother
The phone is practically used for only gossip
Spreading rumors, harming one another
You can even have sex over the phone
It seems fake, you’re not even talking to the real person
What ever happened to sharing in hearing stories over the radio?
So why bother
The radio… it’s not even real
They make up half the noises they use
You know that, right?
The horse trot? Smacking tap shoes on a table
The fake static? It’s just tin foil
It’s so cheap, just share a real story among family
Why do you have to import it from some stranger
Little orphan annie, probably part of the damn soviets
We should just stick to the paper, at least it’s real
So why bother?
You read the paper?
It disconnects us, draws us away
We’re too caught up in our crossword puzzles to even notice an oncoming car
What ever happened to getting news the old fashioned way?
At least then it was more personal, there was a human element to it
Now, it’s just lines on pulp
There’s no imagination, just… the facts
I remember listening to the telegram, a proper conversation
So why bother?
The telegram is an invasion, I swear on it
Beeps coming through to the house? No thank you
I’ll know about the impending tornado when it gets here, and I’ll like it that way
I don’t need some stranger beeping at me from new york, when I’m living in Kansas
And to learn a whole new alphabet? Hell no!
I’ll just stick to my letters, thank you
This whole telegram is a whole load of bull
Back in my day, we read real books
So why bother?
What a load of malarkey
The common man will never read, that’s for the upper class
You think you’re real slick, huh? Thinking you’ve made it
just because you got your grubby little hands on a real book?
I don’t care what new “printing press” has been invented,
it’s a fad, it’ll be over soon, and we’ll be forgotten as always
We’re not the wealthy, my boy. We’re the forgotten
The static of history
Books are for people who matter
So put that shit down and quit dreaming
Back in my day, we didn’t even have books,
we just read the bible, and that’s all
I wish we could go back to the simple days,
when we read simple versus
So why bother
The written word inspires forgetfulness in its beholder
If you really care about your knowledge, you’d remember,
instead of letting it spill out, like it’s nothing
Knowledge is something to be earned,
it doesn’t just belong to everyone
The written word breaks that rule, allows the simple man
to facts outside his reality and comprehension
There will be a breakdown in the order of society
It will turn on its head
I remember the days when we remembered everything
we needed, like good, honest people
So why bother
For everyone of those, there is a Ben Carson,
a little kid from the hood who made it, tooth and nail,
to become a neurosurgeon. Or a Sherman Alexie,
who’s told he’ll never make it out of the reservation.
But by breaking that expectation, he got through.
Or a Syrian refugee, always told that because they were a girl,
they would never amount, and now they are learning to code,
build from chaos, a new order in which they have the power.
Of course, all these individuals are entering a lake,
where what what seems to surface is always the least dense,
bits of fluff, like the easy things in life, where pointless literature,
the meaningless joke, the self obsessed selfie lie.
So why bother? You bother because with each revolution,
there comes a chance for everyone.


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