Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry


When the box stayed in its corner,
Connected for an hour a day
By the fizzing crackling sound
Of 9600 baud, the speed of light
To us then, and similarly expensive,
The world seemed a different place,
And everything still hidden in its
Place, those nooks and crannies
Of the dark web only hours of
Secret searching and compromises
Revealed to us at the dead of night.
Did the transition come when we
Became permanently connected
And ideas exploded into hate?
Probably not.

R 05/04/2023 20:10

Too much narrative to narrate, of today.

The above can probably bear expanding into 10 times its length. One of these days.

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