Aetate Electrica.

Photo by Sean Foley

You can always count on me to bring the dystopian vision of the future to my first poem of 2021.

In Latin “Aetate Electrica” means “Electric Age”. I think this would be the best way to describe this poem. We have come pretty far, in a relatively short period of time, and still have a long way ahead. Just have to make sure not to make the same mistakes that doomed human societies in the past.

Thank You!

Fog and cloudy sky.

I hear something electric
a distant cry,
sound translated by my eyes
into pixels,
shining metal glowing,
on the factory production line.

It’s metal building metal.
Automated engineering,
constructing structures
of unthinkable proportions.

The sky is further disappearing.
Glass and concrete,
crawling closer,
covering forgotten heavens,
poisoning eternally,
the darkened lower ground.

Morality is long gone,
not required,
to increase,
that ever-demanding
human output.

The old resemblance of light,
through the wires,
far from bond-creating,
cold and stale version,
of anyway forgotten ray.

Light is hiding.

Please let me know what you think of the poem on Twitter @FischerVladimir

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