The Illusion Of A Connected Word Poem by Mwenyeji Spikes

Picket fences, door bells and bold tags, beware of dogs
A tour on the city bus and everyone is clinched onto their phones
One lady with her ear piece plugged onto her ears
She could never hear what the world says, neither could she understand where it's headed

Right at the next stop we all alight
Dashes and glances everyone scatters in different direction
I had hoped to carry a chat with the driver ask them for direction to this street
The pace of his world is seemingly faster just like the passengers he ferries

The world goes round in different currencies
Everyone trying to chase and get a bit of that
Get some security and assurance in the capitalistic world
So, not even a single second spared for connection

Point of correction, a decade ago the pace was slower but there was a matrix
It's amazing how little a time we have for humanity or anything that won't befit us
We are caught us in a daze putting up so many walls but no bridges
What are we so afraid of? if only we could find a place and time to congregate with ourselves

We now stand conquered by our greed in this internet greet
With a pseudo sense of connection we stand side by side with ourselves
What if we stretched our palms and held out a hand
Connect once again heart to soul, neighbors to strangers.