The Scourge at Noon

Refresh; and again; nothing new.
Check the scores, same as the afternoon.
Refresh and refresh, link
– the numbers are higher, good –
and another link. Two more,
and five. Refresh.
Ha, exactly. Link, link, link.
How dare they? Does no one see . . . ?
Respond; the anger does not settle,
respond again in righteous fury.
Refresh. Still the same.
Link, link, new video – no, old video, new name.
Why so many muppets?
Refresh. They’re down now.
Link to link and still nothing.
Start over. Maybe now . . .
Still they do not understand.
Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
Where is today’s mindless treasure,
promised by the flashing word?
Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
Ah, something new.
Bright and humorous and now
old, repeated a thousand times.
Refresh. Maybe this link,
the same old words with a new twist
or the same old twist with new words.
Refresh. Follow. Follow.
Someone, somewhere, must be having
not fun, but more than fun,
Joy. Follow. Follow. Follow.
They must be doing something,
that mighty Ouroboros of ten million souls
consuming all what has been consumed
and passing on only what has been received.
Follow. Refresh. Follow.
Refresh. Follow. Refresh.
Still nothing, nothing, nothing,
behold, all things are old,
even when new and still
no one escapes. Refresh.
That is a pretty picture,
mountains and summer skies;
it must be photoshopped.
Refresh. Oh, new game,
new tools, new stories,
all distant, but somehow new
and – Refresh. Now they’re old.
Follow and Refresh.

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