Grid

poem by: John Prophet
Written on Apr 01, 2021 

Grid.
Systems
in place.
Circling
the globe.
Overhead.
Underneath.
All around.
Grip
tightens.
Mind
grabbing,
strangling
the soul.
Free will
denied.
Canceled.
The grid
reaches.
Reaches
into the
mind.
Asimov’s
Mule.
Altering
attitudes
kneading
perspectives.
Grid
flowing into
the mind.
The soul.
Freedom
of uniqueness
crushed.
Single pane
of glass
information
flows.
Soon,
to be
installed
direct.
End of
the past.
Designer
of the
future.
Brave
new world?
Indeed!

 

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