Sonnet CCCXXV

we long to drink we long for drugs and sex
were wicked teens strung high by natures hex
adrenaline and folly are our chant
our words are slurred our movements are a dance
were on computers every waking hour
ignoring chores and acting simply sour
were rude
               were boorish
                                    always such a mess
at every moment mad or quite depressed

and Yet –
               We still take buses to our school;
               Our mothers still remind us of the cold;
               We’re still subject to all our father’s rules;
               And frankly, we’re still kids – we’re not that old.

But rebels we shall stay, extreme or mild,
each one of us an adult-werewolf-child.

Sonnet CCXXX

To Mr. (Mrs.) Hacker #398:

I’m free of you at last – you’re vanquished – finally!
I hope you pay for what you do. (I guess we’ll see.)
Within my heart, for you alone, I saved some hate.
I saved it all for you because your stupid bait –
the crafty e-mails, monstrous download trickery -
corrupted my computer well and merrily.
I hope the cyber-cops will find you…just you wait!

And when they do, they’ll strap their manacles on you
and all accomplices: your wicked little crew.

My thanks go out to forums, solving daily hacks,
and spyware software. Thanks to better firewalls,
I’m safe and now I know the multitude of facts.
We’ll never come return to be your puppet dolls!

Sonnet CCXXIII

I have a lot of friends who love the opera too.
They come from France, Great Britain, Spain, and Germany.
A few are from the States and one’s from Italy.
I’ve others too, but I digress. Away we move.
Kind Beth of Texas is a mother and a muse,
and Phoenix is a nearby piano friend like me,
but she’s thirteen, won Nationals, and loves to teach.
I could go on: musicians, writers, artists too…

The world’s afloat with wondrous people, smart and kind.
The ones I’ve met so far are just like that, I find.

And yet, there are so many stalkers on the Net;
they terrorize and bully, like a bunch of fools.
However, all these contacts, friends, and such I’ve met
I found through websites, blogs, and other cyber-tools.

Sonnet CLXXVIII

Of course I’m back for more. I have more vids.
I’ve polished them to near perfection’s grace.
Athena, goddess ruling over trades
like art and weaving, war, intelligence
would be so jealous, having not the means
to reach such crafted, perfect, magic skill.
For mortal flair, she’d hunt and crudely kill…
but here I go, endangering my peace…

Mein Gott! Der hölle rache is burning now!
My opera videos will never load!
These cursèd sites I’ll one day kill!
I smash and bash the mouse, with rage endowed,
and rip the keyboard up to shreds in woe…
and then the IT guy shall bring the bill…!

Sonnet CXLVIII

I spent my days on end by editing
the clips - a heap of them - into a whole.
The endless trimming, tweaking, tampering
with sound and visuals to make a goal
of perfect, symbiotic harmony
between the video and audio.
At last when it was done – my precious scene –
I saved it, waiting for a half an hour.

I went to all my websites – famed and not –
to thus distribute all my work anew.
I take my video and upload it
but find that after hours…staid it stops
and never finishes! But then resumes –
the lovely mystery of Internet!

Sonnet CXVIII

I’m bathed in light of clearest blue azure.
Around me walls begin to animate.
They leap away, become a hue so pure,
One thinks the walls are burning with blue flames.

And glowing from the source a fire demure,
A screen of blue, where dreams will thus be made,
Where bliss is manufactured and procured
And peace and calm erase my dying hate.

My damn computer. Haunting, burning flame,
Which animates my mind before I sleep.
I need that time to help recuperate!
You steal my sleep, make nasty little dreams,
destroy my life, and always make me late.
You damn computer, burn within thy greed!