Fahrenheit 451
It’s March.
Bring out the madness!
Wait, is madness madness?
Or just a better understanding
Of the human self?
Maybe we are all dust.
Ashes to ashes as they say.
But what marvellous dust
And what incredible ashes.
The mind races races
Superseding the speed of light.
The brain computes
Strategies and directives
Multitasking at various levels.
Each cell is an engineer
With a doctorate degree.
Should we begin
To talk Genetics?
What if we choose
To keep silent
The memory of our genes?
What if impulse
Is subconscious remembering?
Isn’t it weird
That birds and bees
Would have something that we don’t?
Fahrenheit 451
The burning of books
The murder of ideas.
Happy Happy Happy
Empty Empty Empty
A woman was smiling
Whilst sipping orange juice.
Is that even possible?
I can see control
In electronic libraries
Numbness in a flood of junk.
Who is patient enough
To get to the core
Of a fat multilayered
Cocoon of trash?
Empty Empty Empty
Happy Happy Happy
And yet we’re these
Carefully concocted machineries.
Were feelings and ideas
Part of the initial design?
Or a mere flaw
That took over
Now out of control
And out of reach?
If you enjoyed this, please check out some of my other poems:
Copyright © 2011–2018 by Georgiana Petec. All rights reserved.
