- Moderator (Bronze Member)
- Posts: 1978
- Joined: 30 Sep 2009, 20:53
I have a mobile phone you know; I hate it with a passion.
It’s rarely charged, well hidden in my purse.
My son insisted that I buy it just to keep in touch.
Personally I think the damn things a curse.
I press a button to ring out upon the odd occasion
when desperate measures make me drag it out.
It never goes straight to the place where I want to go
‘You’ve got messages’ it flashes ‘check them out’.
Now how can I have messages for no one has the number
of this cursed little horror in my kit?
I use it just in case my old Kia chucks a wobbly
for then I might need help, perchance a lift.
I managed once in desperation to see who was writing
a message - undecipherable to me.
But when I finally worked it out after much nail biting
it was just Optus telling me they could see
I needed to pay money, though the first lot was still there,
then they would give me lots of credit free….
I failed to see the sense in this because I never used it
but, I'd lose the lot if I did not agree.
Everyone you deal with asks the same old question.
Do you have a mobile phone that we can ring?
Well I cannot lie so have to say, “Well yes in fact I do,
but I haven’t got a clue about the thing.”
I prefer a phone that’s normal with a normal ring tone ring.
A phone with numbers large for my old eyes...
not one with chicken noises, or where strange people sing;
one that lets me ring and talk to who I like.
One without the fancy gizmos, and Hey! Surprise, surprise.
It works at any time of day or night.
One that's bigger that a Tim Tam and void of blingy dangles
and won’t work on the train and that's alright.
The time wasting useless trivia you hear on bus and train,
and everywhere you go on every street
are people chasing Pokémon's (that aren't there if you're looking)
but they chatter like demented parakeet.
Those personal conversations that in public are paraded
at top volume so one cannot help but hear
What care I that you’re having Lasagne for your tea,
hang up and take the phone down from your ear.
Do I really need to know you had a knock-down fight last night?
Or you lost your shirt on nags that never won.
Or your kids in jail for doing drugs and you think he was framed
What care I if your husband's up and gone.
I don't care 'bout your sex life, even less about your work
and wish that folks would be less indiscreet.
Why can't they lower down the decibels at which they speak?
Spare those souls forced to share their ringside seat .
So don’t ring me, let me ring you ... I’m sure to get your number,
or voice mail if you are not there to speak.
Don’t bother trying to text me for I can’t access the data
and I’ve better things to do throughout the week.
Bring back the carrier pigeons, bring back the written word,
bring back communication, write a letter.
God rot those Mobile phones I say, they hold you all to ransom.
Just like manacles to which you all are fettered.
see some scribbles here - http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/