ICT overdose and its 'comatose'
I'm under its spell once again
'Cause I and my keyboard are close
Both within its contrast terrain
There is daytime in my sky
With much to give of hope
As the hours are going by
I'm picker of words chromoscope
There's no reason in my doing
Only a lyrical line to handle
Each keystroke I'm caressing
To light my inner sense candle
Sometimes I'm in luck with a meaning
And everything goes quite well
If the laptop is good for screening
The outcome you could perhaps foretell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem