CHATTING ON THE NET

Typing fingers at dusk,
hoping for a musical sonnett.
which creeps as a worm,
or a bee on your bonnett.

When insects chatter their thoughts,
typing fingers bury their dreams ,
to listen to a mind that chatters
of a far away typing being...

Its not always walls that we build
or castles in the air for others skilled
whose dream do we live anyway
maybe its dreams that we kill

Creating minds that dont matter
grains that we everyday fritter
lands abused and dams overused
bodies when filled with litter

Dreaming of a catastrophe
typing fingers look for hope
technology which eases our lives
are the tranquilising dope