David Mazhari - New world

I used to receive
and write
letters
Now I only send
and get
messages.

Where are the weight
the scent and
the touch
of the paper?

Where are the shape
and the flow
of the handwriting?

Where is the dream
of a land
advertised by
an uncommon stamp?

We are left with
glass screens
and typewriting

And I cannot hear
your heart beating
And I cannot hear
the shake
of your voice

And I cannot smell
your perfume

Our humanity
makes me sick
And I am sick.

I am playing the game
of cold-blooded monks
and brains
that wait for the next
message
in their box

If I killed myself
I would not commit
a suicide
I would kill a stranger

I'd kill somebody
facing a screen
in the middle of the nite

I'd erase the shadow
that broke the rules
of friendship and
brotherhood

I am the stranger
of my own voice
of my own heart
of my own soul

I'm made of glass
and mirror dolls

I am a
shadow among shadows
a remnant among remnants
of a world
that used to send letters
and bottles
to the sea...

Birds are still humming
and chirping
outside my window
dew is silently wetting
lawns and roses
in the garden below

These are the few but
true compensations
I may hold with...

David Mazhari

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/new-world-18/