poetry on a screen

this torn up machine

in front of me

is not treating me kind

I don‘t mind

I tell myself

that that’s the way it goes

and maybe one day

we‘ll be able

to work it out

who knows

maybe I‘m about

to produce a work of art

on this machine

and its small and supposedly smart successors

and iron predecessors

all of them attacking me at times

but somehow I still manage

to find rhymes

but what will they look like

when another machine

spits them out in the end

will that one be another friend

or another mortal enemy

promising me

something I could never be

the world at your fingertips

when you stare at the screen

you have the world at your fingertips

you can discover things you've never seen

take trips

to distant continents

without leaving your home

remaining safe

and all alone

there are so many cultures for you to dwell in

all at your command

so many videos

so much music

so much noise

so many books

so many polished products

with sharp hooks

so why should you linger

at the sight of these lines

much longer

when they're competing with so many others

that could be much stronger?