cinema, media, postmodern, truth, meaning, power, satire, the Matrix, dream, poem, poetry

CHANNELING

a pretty derelict
unused space now
(like an
interstellar void)

but once
tge SkyVue drive in
used to cover
acres of territory

and the bush under the screen
where as kids
we played
cowboys
and savages

remember that screen
well it used
to fill half the night sky

saw Spartacus there, and
Cast a Giant Shadow

which wars, it seems,
never really died

Rome always lingering
Empires of Man versus
Empires of Heaven

but now
the whole planet
is our
screen

we have screens in our pockets
screens in our heads
inescapable
channeling

and there enough projection
to fill every known desert
desert of the real
Neo

truth having
dissolved, truth crucified
by fiction

truth’s fate to be enslaved
by the narrative of the day

and like
the poem says we
have all
become cyphers, organic
little molecules
in the dance of supreme fiction

the new reality to be
broadcast twenty-
four seven

dreamworld Neo, germane to
the Zhuangzi parable

cowboys, savages, think
like
a butterfly

the wild gift of technology
the premise to allow

without any
lingering sense of irony

to speak of self as supreme,
and, yes indeed, the world

.