Tags
perceptions, philosophy, poem, poetry, prose, zombie apocalypse, zombies
I tell you it is here, and as the world stands by, a silent yet complicit witness to the destruction of all that we truly hold dear, the plague spreads like a fad or a trend that never seems to reach an end. The Zombie Apocalypse has begun.
Yes, the zombies are among us my friends, or are you really? Friends? zombies? I cannot tell… this disease has conquered the world so sublimely that nobody seems to notice or care that humanity is effectively at its end.
How prophetic that great master who sang that the music wouldn’t play. A prediction of the palpable absence of the music of conversation in our public places as humanity focuses not inward, but downward to their laps and the frenzied swiping of greasy fingers across lifeless screens filled with endless images of false perfection. Zombies lurching silently from place to place, oblivious to the real beauty that surrounds them, instead locked in a digital coma, enthralled by the meaningless non-reality at their fingertips as they stumble into street lamps and each other, yet utter not a single word.
Carelessly losing all connection with the rich complexity of their native tongues, slaves to that auto-corrected nightmare that encourages them to squeeze the life out of sentences, made even shorter out of necessity in order to link content that itself is lifeless and meaningless. Content presented only as a means to attract other zombies with attention spans limited to a mere 140 characters of near heiroglyphical insignificance.
Whoring themselves through smart digital devices, sucking at the tit of social media as if it gives them life. Take the WiFi away and they become listless, yet granting them access gives leave to do nothing but seek meaningless validation of moments selectively presented as “at their best”, the result of countless wasted hours in pose, and repose, while precious fragments of time are lost to the digital equivalent of the cutting room floor, where beautiful imperfections are treated with contempt and hidden to be seen never more.
Ask the zombies what they do all day. They’ll answer with all honesty that they were with friends, yet another currency of validation that has lost all meaning as they rack up the friend count, yet spent an entire day in their rooms, posting, posing, and losing all touch with human kind, preferring instead the cold and empty spaces between the ones and zeros of that digital whorehouse known as social media. Like me. Friend me. Tragic slaves to the opinions of trolls and other bridge-less villains, tallying the comments and likes, seeking the gratification of that viral orgy which reaches its climax in a global trend.
Beautiful, imperfect humanity, lost in entirety to fantasy. A perfect meal. A perfect house. A perfect party. A perfect day. A perfect look. A perfect body. A perfect love. All smoke and mirrors hiding the beautiful imperfections that would otherwise allow zombies to be human if they could but tear themselves away from the insanity that enslaves them.
These words are but the knife at the gun fight. Likely to fall on deafened eyes. Words that are a mere lump of wood fashioned to bludgeon the senseless into sensibility, sadly doomed by sheer weight of numbers to fail. The desperate wail of a lonely voice, lost in a silent crowd which sinks it’s teeth into what remains of the real humanity.
Like me. Friend me. I too am a zombie!
I beg you, put your cell phones away. Converse. Flirt. Laugh. Cry. Touch. Kiss. Read stories to your kids. Disconnect online in order to connect in real life.
Disclaimer:
- Images stolen shamelessly via Google’s image search from random blogs for the select purpose of my own self-aggrandisement. If it belongs to you, contact me and I’ll credit you properly or remove as required. 🙂
- I’m not really a Zombie… yet…!!!