“Reflections” by Shawn Snoddy

Screens glowing, Blue and beautiful, avian Wings of written word 

fluttering throughout consciousness. Precious tools blessed by the revered 

Minds of the brilliant, the dull, the young and old – all 

spilling out at the speed of light (Listen) we are killing imagination. 


As is written in the Book, the scythe looms. Faces reflecting back at us, we do not. 

See, ourselves racing toward the edge; masses Snapping back and forth 

Chatting nothing of substance. Colorful creations leaning towards us, dull, 

identity replaced, unbeknownst to whom it is lost 


Instantly displaying Grams within gigabytes:  lives that do not exist. 

Masks of the masquerade have transcended the never-ending ball 

We are no longer performing the dance. Struggling to connect 

The new Lines are a lie, we are waltzing with mannequins 


Remotely-controlled corpses of those terrified of true self, 

desperate for the attention of those considered a danger. 

Melded minds attached to bodies in a vacuum of space: 

Cybernetic extensions of self – children of Sodom –  

there is no looking back. 


Projecting words onto whiteness –  

desperate for recognition that is warm and willing. 

Newborn notions of self, pregnant with doubt. 

This is our fate, 

the reflection is mine