Poem for a World Wide Whatever

>in two voices<

Sing, O mouth of information
Swallow me whole
Sing, O cavern of mysterious truths
and well-designed lies
Sing, O Portal
of the visionaries
and the geeks
the value-adds
and the best of breeds
one single word
(organic, robust)
can move a mountain
of cash
or shit
or khaki-clad eastern-seaboard-borne MBAs
NDA in each bucket
each bucket
clicking through
those mouse potatoes
French, fried, mais oui, ennui
not so much older
like brick n mortar
young and shiny
like option-bought finery
start-up widows and early corpses
stocks crash and rise in your eyes, my love
vest in peace
fade downstream
steel your grief
stolen codes, lymph nodes

First there was @ @ @ @ @
then there was e e e e e
next came i i i i i
that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?
first and last impressions
IP, I shit, I leave
it’s all about you
I sing the song of myself
take a hit
how about a low blow? wanna click my lit?
take a hit
not a joint
now page view
and click-through
how many uniques?
on your street
how many boolean unions, promises broken
no more bots
or helper apps…ask the angels instead
hamburger helper
that’s where its at
take another meeting, Red
check box
click rate
Proof of life on Mars
life inside the box
and out, no doubt
without a dot com plot
I want to scream
early adopter
you thought you were just somebody’s daughter
but you’re one who “gets it”
you’re the creative typist
the chick with the content
She sells c-shells by the seashore
she’s got a cascading style
she’s great between them sheets
and running the board
Roadrunner, there’s nobody after you
She’s the broad with the bandwidth
the girl with the URL
the lady of the logs
and the start-up
You’ve put your period
where you shoulda put a question mark
read the message in your fortune,
seek and ye shall find
the search engine
the pets
tie your anime down
and wake up
at home
at work
Dear Guru, you bring darkness into light, search strings at my fingers
you’re a credit to your card
but this is no hallmark
I’m a little case-sensitive
but alive
if push has come to shovelware
and you pull me apart
what’s the solution?
me, I’m going to massage school, where the livin’ is easy
are you part of the problem?
call 911
it’ll be busy
How much is there in your cache, Johnny?
I fell into a burning ring of fire
and I liked it
It’s all about the Guru
the most popular vortal
Who feels mortal?
Raise your hand!
And remember…

© March 2000 heather gold, elizabeth belile