A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.

WOOING THE FROG

Disseminated knowledge sparks across etheric synapses,
our exo-brain encompassing the earth.
Fibres, cables, whirring monoliths with diodes winking,
signalling onwards
to the magic panes into which we gaze,
sometimes for days.
Lost in a cerebral out of body experience,
passing little packages,
streams of binary spermatozoa,
sowing the seeds for a stranger's needs.

Spider like we wait,
a motionless king
at the hub of our own web empire,
sensing,
ready,
tense as a tightly coiled spring.

A revelation,
faster than the blink of an eye,
someone else has caught a fly.

It felt like one tiny heartbeat,
a nanosecond of insight,
In a flick of the tongue,
A shock of knowledge,
vaporised by its own heat.

Gone . . . gone . . .
Into the abyss . . .

Perplexing, puzzling frog,
have you a care?
Would a strange reversal,
perhaps a kiss,
transform you into a princess?
All from the comfort
of a swivel chair.


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