Every wear but hear
Beeping phones
And nobody at home
Impossible to a tone
Even with wringing personally
With poor timing
Watching volumes
A little too lewd
Mindless won
And awe the artless
With every bell and whistle
Ears unplugged
Irking their responsibility
In all do coarse
As a pester chide for
Every imaginable
Impertinent busyness
Craven for unsound practices
In the face
Of boorish applications
Inane games
Of hashtag
One trivial hi
After another
As drug nowhere fast
My only resort
A pun with a silencer
Putting on
Quiet a show
Only now
As if
Stuck up
Harass
Muted
To match
The best of them
Dumb typists
Trans mitting
Techs massages
Ghostily beyond their reach
Inescapably com posing
As virtual monkeys
Only slightly more
Than shake a spear
Pointing fingers
At key boreds
As some incanting spell
And in such easy fancy
Imagine many fates
Worse than deaf
This poem is about one of my pet peeves: noise pollution. This is some indication of how wonderful my life is, that such a first world problem lingers near the top of my list. The mental and spiritual pollution of unwanted noise and glaring lights captures my attention far too often. 
As a free range human being, I am cell free (exceptions made for civil disobedience). The long tentacles of Western civilization purport freedom as being wired without wires, in sum sort of civil religion. Such annoys pollution is closely related to a leading candidate for the biggest myth of modern progress: that multi-tasking improves our lives. Multi-tasking may make sense if the point is to make a race of better virtual monkey slaves, but multi-taking is the enema of mindfulness and how trying it is to do too much shit. Perhaps the most useful definition of Zen that I have ever heard is this: do one thing. When smart phones are employed as multi-tasking machines, such so-called technological progress is analogous to the infamous anarchist slogan: 
“Bigger cages, longer chains!” If this is smart, then I prefer dumb — or perhaps, shut the f__k up!
I wrote this poem while on a long bus ride with plenty of multi-tasking smartphone cyborgs. I was largely spared of such an invasion due to my sage employment of a low-tech solution called earplugs. Plus, witnessing people trying to do too much shit provided fertile ground for an even lower tech resolution: writing poetry about whatever issues emerge from my life at the moment. Or, as poets are apt to say. “It happens.”
