I think my phone is killing my concentration

As it’s killed the concentration of a nation

Big Brother need not chip us, we chipped ourselves

We tripped ourselves

In fact, I’m sure…my mind has been poisoned slowly

By babble and drabble seeping from its pores

I miss the the silence within sound

The sound my brain makes when there is no one around

The wind hollers and pushes me where I don’t know…

Perfect storms of ebb and flow

I feel untethered, unmoored,

My sails shot and my conscience bored…

Meditate more, yes the wise one said,

Meditate until you make it dead.


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