Recently started Internet.
Plunged on in and bit the bullet.
I can see why all the fuss.
Lot's to see. Information must
Fill up every question here.
It's better that swilling a beer.
Addiction's fiction that I see
Pretending something's real really,
And not just photons shooting past
The monitor's face to my eyes fast
So I can sit alone and surf
From here to far. But which is worse:
Answers to questions worthless,
Or questions of answers not mine unless
I let the controllers control
And become a little Pinnochio.
Dancing only on their string.
Chancing only to sing their sing.
Never venturing song myself
Of real life's stirring, as my own elf.
Pinnochio's Strings
by Loveson G. Flower
2:00 PM, 8/15/97
at Cafe Barrone, Menlo Park
Photo from: www.costumeshopper.com/Merchant2/graphics/00000001/59587.jpg
