Shiny Poem by John Weber

Devices pull at my trigger
coaxing with memory vacant
to urge a splurge from me
without regret, without vigor,
an ageless chant that can't

rise to the level of ethics
or all corruption resounds
with shame the game they play.
To whittle down our passion ticks
their wave pounds as it surrounds

the magnetic magic of minds
until trudging synthetic
debit drain to pain all growth
before we beg our troubled rinds
to toss pathetic aims aesthetic.