Also see Computer Humor, Internet, Modern Technology and Email
We sit and we type, and we stare at our screens;
We all have to wonder, what this possibly means.
With our mouse we roam through the rooms in a maze--
Looking for something or someone, as we sit in our daze.
We chat with each other. We type all our woes.
Small groups we do form while we gang up on our foes.
We wait for somebody to type out our name.
We want recognition, but it is always the same.
We give kisses and hugs, and sometimes flirt
In IM's we chat deeply, and reveal why we hurt.
We DO form friendships, but why we don't know.
And some of these friendships will flourish and grow.
Why is it on screen we can be ever so bold,
Telling those secrets which have never been told?
Why is it we share the thoughts in our mind
With those we can't see, as though we were blind?
The answer is simple, it is as clear as a bell:
We all have our problems, and need someone to tell.
We can't tell 'real' people, but tell someone we must
So we turn to the 'puter, and to those we can trust.
Even though it is crazy, the truth still remains
They are our Friends Without Faces, and odd little names.
Although you are a friend of mine
And letters we exchange
I would not know you on the street
And doesn't that seem strange?
You hold a place within my life
Unusual and unique
We share ideas and special dreams
And still we do not speak.
I picture what I think you are
Perhaps you picture me.
An intriguing game for both of us
For someone we cannot see.
So for this friendship we possess
We owe this mail a debt
Perhaps the charm lies in the fact
That we have never met.
Every night I lie in bed, this little prayer inside my head:
God bless my mom and dad, and bless my children,
And take care of my husband; he brings me so much joy . . .
And God, there's just one more thing I wish that you would do:
If you don't mind my asking, bless my computer too?
Now I know that it's not normal to bless a small machine
But listen just a second and I'll try to explain . . .
You see, that little metal box holds more than odds and ends.
Inside those small components rest a hundred loving friends.
Some, it's true, I've never seen and most I've never met.
We've never shaken hands or ever truly hugged, and yet . . .
I know for sure they love me by the kindness they give
And this little scrap of metal is how I get to where they live.
By faith is how I know them, much the same as I know you.
I share in what life brings them from that our friendship grew,
Just take an extra minute from your duties up above
To bless this little hunk of steel that's filled with so much love.
Every single evening
As I'm lying here in bed
This tiny little prayer
Keeps running through my head.
God bless my mom and dad,
And other family.
Keep them warm and safe from harm
For they're so close to me.
And God, there is one more thing
I wish that you could do.
Hope you don't mind me asking,
Bless my computer too.
Now I know that it's not normal
To bless a mother board,
But listen just a second
While I explain to you 'My Lord'.
You see, that little metal box
Holds more than odds and ends
Inside those small compartments
Rest so many of my FRIENDS.
I know so much about them
By the kindness that they give
And this little scrap of metal
Takes me in to where they live.
By faith is how I know them
Much the same as you
We share in what life brings us
And from that our friendship grew.
Please, take an extra minute
From your duties up above
To bless those in my address book
That's filled with so much love!
Wherever else this prayer may reach
To each and every friend,
bless each email Inbox
And the person who hits Send.
When you update your heavenly list
On your own CD-Rom
Remember each who've said this prayer
Sent up to God.com. Amen.
In the not too distant past--I remember very well--
Grandmas tended to their knitting and their cookies were just swell.
They were always at the ready when you needed some advice.
And their sewing (I can tell you) was available--and nice.
Well, Grandma's not deserted you, she dearly loves you still.
You just won't find her cooking, but she's right there at the till.
She thinks about you daily--you haven't been forsook.
Your photos are quite handy in the Pentium notebook.
She scans your art work now though and combines it with cool sound,
To make electronic greetings. She prints pictures by the pound.
She's right there when you need her, you really aren't alone,
She's out now with her 'puter pals', but she took her new cell phone.
You can also leave a message on her answering machine;
Or page her at the fun meet, she's been there since eight-fifteen.
Yes, the world's a very different place, there is no doubt of that.
So 'E' her from her web page, or join her in a chat.
She's joined the electronic age and it really seems to suit her.
So don't expect the same old gal, cause Grandma's gone 'Computer'.
Grandma used to be scared of a mouse,
Would scream if one got in the house.
Now she hugs one night and day,
She'd rather cuddle it than stay
On the couch and watch T.V.
Her first love now is her P.C.
Windows were glass she'd wash and look through,
Now they are programs to help her view
The earth and the sea and the beautiful sky.
A virus was something from which you could die.
Now it's a nuisance that could spoil your day,
But it can be fixed and sent on its way.
She served her time with diapers and dishes,
Now she can do whatever she wishes.
And if that means staying up half the night
To point arrows at icons--that's really alright.
A bit was something you had little of,
Now it takes eight bytes to make the above.
It's all so confusing, it makes her head ache.
A byte was something you take from a cake.
But she knows all about it now,
Her four-year-old grandchild showed her how.
I have made my grandkids web pages,
And keep my friends up to date on their ages,
But more fun is posting pics from motorcycle trips,
And downloading software and games using zips.
Another use is to sell my wares,
And get my friends matched up in pairs.
I love to make new friends all over . . .
I even found myself a lover!
© 1996, K. Weston
I got up this morning, but haven't yet dressed.
My dishes aren't done, and my house is a mess.
Have not done my work, have not fed the cat,
Just on for a second, and popped into 'chat'.
I used to watch TV, I used to cook Mex,
I think I remember I used to have SEX!
I used to walk upright, now roll on my chair,
Tho it causes the neighbors and children to STARE!
I wanted to travel around on the Net,
Been too busy chatting to get on there yet!
I wanted to spreadsheet, word process, or paint,
But gettin' on with 'em is just what I ain't!
So much to learn and I wanted to, but
I'm too busy chatting and splitting a gut,
"lisnin'" to people like NH and Cin,
Oh, gawd, what a fix I have got myself in!
Then up pops a name on my neat BuddyList,
Think I'll go out and give HIS tail a twist!
And in comes an IM from some weirdo-guy
I cuss 'im, insult 'im, and tell him bye bye.
Is there a 12-step support group, or such?
For those of us folks who just chat on too much?
If there was a group, I would like it just fine,
Except that it prob'ly would be here online!
Are there therapists here? I think that I saw some.
It's got me, it's GOT me, it's power is AWESOME!
It's my new computer, I've had it one week,
Now I look in the mirror and I see a geek.
Or maybe a geekess, but I see the signs,
Please help me, please help me, please get me off line!
Or better, please e-mail a burger and fries,
'Cuz I'm staying ON here, at least 'til I DIES!!.
I asked the Lord to tell me
Why my house is such a mess.
He asked if I'd been 'putering',
And I had to answer "yes."
He told me to get off my fanny
And tidy up the house.
And so I started cleaning up . . .
The smudges off my mouse.
I wiped and shined the topside.
That really did the trick . . .
I was just admiring my work . . .
I didn't mean to 'click.'
But click, I did, and oops I found
A real absorbing site
That I got SO way into . . .
I was into it all night. ((Sigh))
Nothing's changed except my mouse
It's very, very shiny.
I guess my house will stay a mess . . .
While I sit here on my hiney.