Gathered on This Beach: Poems & Perspectives for a Converging World

e-ode to lone gun 3.0

To break on thru

You needed 3 codes

To access your own new future...

The white of the long boxes

Lay in the synthetic air

Empty and eager

For the info-rich; the well-connected select.

The GUI you'd souped up; fully primed,

For the hidden space; it was the darkened place

To seek out, download and exec the correct face.

The Oracle's implants you knew

Lay locked and idle, fast inside you

Pulling the sweat out;

It was not a full-proof zone

To go it alone

The data had some old bones

And only Hope10 said they'd been picked for you;

Some sympathetic SYS-Lord or Supa-man; a hacker-guru...

With the blessing of the Oracle.

You punched in the cool key sequence

Rattled some bones of your own

And the words were yours;

Ripped or copied out, razor-quick;

Pasted into the pocket of your sharp e-senses

Console-tuned.

Before any ghost trace glimmered up in the system;

Hawk-Mods zeroing in, to swoop down

Savagely.

For then you were gone, out-drifted,

User-proof and secret select;

Chanting the password;

Chanting the net charm same as the real: that it's 'who you know

Not what' -

That helps a wired-in, fixated soul break out;

To make it

Phreaker/jacked; outbound

For higher levels of art and soft command,

Secreted and un-jaded; jamming forth

Unto the know-zones;

Education–weighed; a mind-tune set-up

Wet-modified; emblazoned

For the better control of worlds.

I see you Lone Gun, I see your sigh;

It falls down to me from some new high u ride...

And I expose my eyes;

We did hear false but brilliant chimes in our accelerated time -

So I raise my misty glasses unto you;

I expose my eyes;

I throw u this goodbye...