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ValhallaPoems

Alone Aloud

Most every night, bound to a post again,Refresh, refresh—I unrefresh my mind;Each ping invites me deeper in the bind,I watch the numbers march up ten by ten.

What use are pleasant thoughts pulled from within,When I can pluck kind words that never endRight from the boundless void I call my friend,Attention standing in for vice and sin?

Till suddenly I'm robbed of its largesse;A roaring crowd gives way to a soft hiss,My unheard sermon at an empty mass.And to the empty pew rows I confess:There is no one to listen and no bliss,As pleasantries and spotlights burn like gas.