by Thomas Davis
I dance in the Age of Information.
Like a crowd of people
Information floods over me,
Voices speaking, feet walking,
Demands crescending into emptiness
That wires constrictions around
Blue veined, throbbing heart.
You’re not too deep, you’re not too deep.
The voices sing in cacophony of meaning/
Meaninglessness.
You’re not up to the Age that is.
I walk into a pool of quiet.
An old man, dark eyes pooling
With sunfire of stars,
Flaring with emptiness between stars,
His skin the color of Nebraska soils,
Stares at me,
Then smiles.
fourwindowspress 
WoW!
Love it!
the images and contrasts.
Not sure whether to smile or weep… in a good way, of course.
There even are messages sewn into clothes about how they should be washed, what fabric it is and where it is fabricated. In 36 languages. You can’t escape. A great poem! 🙂
Along with so many shortcuts to meaning that inhabit our texting world,
(e.g. OMG!) is the snarky TMI (too much information) but that doesn’t seem to slow the forces. This poem speaks truth about our age, and I hope the frustration is not only due to my being a seasoned citizen; I do find it cacophonous and crescending into emptiness quite often .
There’s great beauty in the final stanza of this poem, and a certain comfort…about timelessness, and AGE-lessness….Very nice, Thomas
Thank you for creating an island of quiet respite in the mad melee.
And as for this Age of Too Much Information:
“Labels on everything. Even the label maker has a label on it that says ‘label maker.’ And if you look really closely on that label, there will be a really small label that says ‘label.'” (From “The Big Bang Theory”, Season 6, Episode 19.)
Hmmnn…that old man knows…he’s been there, I’d say.
Thomas, I am not up to this AGE either. I spent an entire weekend at a Google Summit (and my heart ached for that word being used in that way…the mountain was ever before me, in my imagination, and it felt strange)…but anyway, this poem captures so well what I think many people are feeling about this era. I crave the earth, stone, images that are not glossy, glossed, seen through screens or plastic or lenses that are of glass…and I’m 42 with many a year ahead to battle this Google landscape of mine. I’m glad I get the summers off!!! Sometimes, I wish I could teach at a very alternative school, one that focused more on nature, art, real books, and pencils and paper. I’m going past the poem here, but obviously it stirs me!
“I walk into a pool of quiet” – that will do for me.
Great poem Tom, says it all 😊
Thomas, I too feel the stress of this “Age” – it is overwhelming, and I love how you express it. The last stanza made me stop and sigh and want to just stay there. There with the old man smiling….