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Lost Sense of Wonder; And Connection

Stream of Consciousness Erasure/Blackout poetry.

By Paul StewartPublished 2 years ago • 2 min read
Lost Sense of Wonder; And Connection
Photo by Mike van den Bos on Unsplash

when did we lose grip of our sense of wonder in the world?

was it when the signals to our modems and routers increased,

when the pixels and bytes in our stations of play and communication increased?

did we ever stop to wonder, ever stop to figure out before it was too late,

before the gate closed on the fabulous wonder that lies to the east?

It is still out there, so many know,

as they travel and search to find the gold that nature, the world, offers and supplies,

when they see things that bring the saltiest tears to their eyes.

is a - really the same when alone in front of a screen

and an unachievably big chest is gyrating for you?

what happens when the - stop happening in person

and the people we love leave us and

find their own pixelated happiness in their own corners of the world?

logging on never feels so powerfully dangerous,

until you are faced with the harshness of the reality that the fantasy blanket shadows over

a dry - with another is still better than a dry - with no one

a - with a friend, is better than one with a computer at the other end

as the chest gyrates and the face lacks restraint, it's one-way self-serving pleasure on your end,

in the end you are just -,

when the feel of a - on your hand and the feel of a hand on your -, should be the aim, should be the goal.

a - in a truck is better than a - - on a computer

when it’s wet outside, and its sweat inside and your - convulses with her - convulses, it's good to be alive

not hand in-between your -, - your - or rubbing your - in solitary confinement

even when the law knocks the window, and your sinews are stuck together in - desire

and you can't quite clear up in time because her - is on the dash and your - is nestled - - her

it’s better to be there, in that moment of desire, passion and embarrassment,

than caught in front of the screen as fantasy scenes are relayed,

when the body is imperfect and not brushed with pornywood magic,

when the - are gutsy, clumsy and full of awkward, untempered chaos between your opposing -.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Had this one kicking around for a while, and the original was a bit different before I did a spot of erasure-style editing to it. Another SoC thing that aside from spellchecking and the erasure stuff and slight modifications is very much the same as the first time I wrote it.

Free Versesad poetryartsocial commentarysurreal poetryBlackoutinspirationalfact or fictionStream of Consciousnessperformance poetry

About the Creator

Paul Stewart

Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.

The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!

Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!

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    Written by Paul Stewart