Joolz Sparkes is a poet and fiction writer based near the Arsenal football stadium. She reads at various spoken word nights and was shortlisted for The Bridport Poetry Prize 2010. None of her poems are about football.
Now is the winter of our user generated content
Made glorious summer by this sun of Steve Jobs;
And all the clouds that unhappy faced upon our cribs
In the deep bosom of the t’internet buried.
Now are our status updates bound with victorious emoticons;
Our bruised texting thumbs hung up for monuments;
Our stern whatevs changed to merry alright bruvs,
Our dreadful hunched shoulders to delightful massages.
Grim-visaged reality TV hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting crowdsourced steeds
To fright the souls of fearful pop-up adverts,
He capers dimly in a virtual lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a webcam.
But I, that am not shaped for IT support,
Nor made to court an amorous chat roulette;
I, that am rudely stamp’d, and want love’s majesty
To sext a wanton ambling nymph with naked pictures of myself;
I, that am curtail’d of this fair proportion,
Cheated of social skills by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish’d, posted before my time
Into this videoed world, scarce half made up,
And so lame and awkward
That dogs bark at me as I watch them on youtube
Why, I, in this weekly updated time of peace,
can hide behind a screen and keyboard,
and spy on my ex partners on facebook
And post false pictures hiding mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I can prove an emotionally cheating lover,
To entertain these fair well-emailed days,
I am determined to prove an internet troll – obvs –
And unlike the idle pleasures of these days.
False rumours have I spread and dangerous comments made,
hacked into accounts and unfriended many,
To set people I have never met
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if they all be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should I be blocked or reported
About the posting of a prophecy, which says that
Of Kate and Wills’s heirs the murderer shall be P for the press.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul let me retweet this:
@thebard: For all the world’s a web and we but voyeurs on it. A tale told by a tweet signifying 140 characters of #nothing.
Footnote: Special thanks goes to the timelessness of William Shakespeare.
Loose Muse, Autumn Anthology 2012 published by Morgan’s Eye Press, ISBN 978-0-9554303-5-0, £8
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