Someone was wrong on the internet
And I got sucked into the argument.
Why are we in such violent agreement?
There is much to do and life is short.
The comments here are unironically disabled.
Put your efforts into things that matter.
Why does my decision matter?
It grew from war, this internet,
Designed to be hard to be disabled
In case nations should have an argument.
The conflict would have been short,
On that, we are in agreement.
Of course, we are in agreement
But brother, what is the matter?
Your virtual neighbors are coming up short?
Welcome to the fucking internet,
Where you can have an instant argument
As long as comments are not disabled.
Why, my voice has been disabled!
I thought the goal was agreement,
When it was really about generating argument.
For the companies, it is the the ads that matter.
And they would transform the internet…
But this discussion thread has been cut short.
Our days on earth are short
And so comments here are now disabled.
A rage machine, uncounted are the lies this internet
Amplifies, under the veil of agreement.
The truth is buried, the weight of the matter
Crushed by algorithmically tuned and weaponized argument.
What is the point of this argument?
Can you not see that your time is short?
Can you not see that it doesn’t matter?
But O God, the comments are disabled
And I cannot tell if we are in agreement!
What is the opinion of the internet?
I’ve used it over 40 years, this internet,
And seen it turn from cooperation into a terrible global argument.
Decide for yourself the things that matter.
(I quit social media and wrote my first sestina. You may well hope it is my last! I am going to clean the garage now. Beats doomscrolling and it probably beats writing terrible poetry, too).
(Yes, comments are, unironically, disabled).