Message from a jilted generation

My Poems, writing

You feel so tired

and yet you keep on scrolling

Looking for disillusions,

Something new to believe in.

Your life is like a

bad internet connection:

Doesn’t seem to get going,

Sporadic, scattered.

Up or down. Or is it both?

The feed starves us,

the broadband disconnected us.

It creates the problems then

sells us miracle cures

retail therapy :

depression, low self-esteem,

Addiction, insomnia,

diets and bad posture,

We feel inadequacy,

with vouchers to redeem.

Screens mean emotional distance,

We got lost on the way

while looking for guidance.

A midnight scroll creates

another troll:

It’s hard to resist,

and it takes its toll.

So come for a stroll

in the deep dark woods.

You might hear the birds

and they will sound good.

No cookie monsters here,

let your mind unravel,

look at the colours

before they get blurred:

Hashtag real life, hashtag no filter, hashtag “real”.

Now go back to your cell

for it is all in squalor,

while we are glued to our screens,

the Man has sold the world

and has gone off, unseen.

All the Sages have said it

Many prophecies were told,

the kids took to the streets,

it’s no secret to behold

The world doesn’t need savings

it needs more people willing.

It’s not an easy process

as the system is broken,

many are under its stress,

broken souls, men and women.

The weapons of mass distraction

Smoke and mirrors, all illusion:

What the duchess is wearing,

What Jennifer is eating,

What Gwyneth is now selling…

As we buy into that lore,

the forests keep on burning.

We look through a cracked door,

to stare into emptiness,

so much wisdom is lost

floating off into darkness.

Another empire fell,

Eerie shadows and white frost

are the tombs we have scattered,

just like seeds carried away

by the seagulls on the gale.

This ship is old and battered

Proudly afloat in the spray.

In the mist we are asleep,

But the slaves are wide awake

elves and pixies buried deep,

in our wish lists and commands.

The small print of the bargain:

it’s made out of tears and pain.

We are primed, in a hurry

here we stand in our fury,

to get ourselves the best deal,

like browsing through a brothel

We want to believe it’s real

But the chaos unravels:

We want the highway to heal

and get a dead end in hell.


The picture above is a disused wasp nest from our shed.

XOXO

Noémie.

3 thoughts on “Message from a jilted generation

  1. Dear Noèmi, Thank you. Do you teach animal communication online? I would be so happy to learn from you! Please let me know… Katherine

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