Cell phones, so-called “smart” phones, seem to have wraith-like abilities, sucking the life out of us. I yearn for peace and quiet, and these beeping devices grab hour, a tension. This poem is owed, to such a diction…
Phone Smarts
Wee are captive
Stuck in our cell
Phone homme!
The more bars the better reception
And when that umbilical chord wrings
As anybody who no’s anybody
Everything is big in text us
Given the finger
Tapping away our lives
Sow reflexively spell bound
Our most be loved possession
And hand helled
The yoke is on us
As everyone udderly grasps
It’s a given
A bad rapt
