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A Poem for 21st Century Paranoics

  1. beedee
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by beedee

the camera is my lover
it's clarity is my vision
it haunts my dreams
it holds me back

the camera needs me
my constant attention
it scorns my affection
but never looks away

but for all its sway
the camera doesn't know
my heart
my mind
the truth

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

This poem was inspired by David Brin's prescient book "The Transparent Society" and dedicated to all of the cameras I see in every grocery store and every building lobby. To those two luscious jugs that hang below the NYPD Security Boxes on every other street light on every major street.

Please feel free to comment below with your own love letters to the cameras that are springing up in your hometown. You know where they are, don't you?
beedee

3 responses // A Poem for 21st Century Paranoics

  • By Amberlynne (circa 1981)~

    Is It the Way of the Edge?

    Need to find that place. The place where it all began. The place of development.

    Camera to my eye ... the cricket still chirps ... I'm waiting to shoot ... I want something good ... something worthwhile ... a thing to share. And somehow this wait, this warm darkness seems to never end ... on and on.

    I recall the swirling of my mother's womb ... warm ... viewed seemingly through a viewfinder ... long exposure ... nothing else will do.

    Still there is the cricket's chirp ... like a clock on a wall ... on and on.

    That voice I hear in my head is hers ... my mother's echo ... the words of long ago rippling into the vast ribbon of future.

    And still the cricket's chirp ... I wait to shoot.

    I find the edge ... and I push the trigger.

    (what can I say, I was only 15)
    Amber_LaStrega
  • what if there were no madmen
    except the ones in charge

    what do you do
    when everyone believes a lie

    how do you cry
    what can i say

    is there any real hope
    for the sane to be free
    beedee

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