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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is (another) spoken word poem about my view on cell phones. I do use mine regularly and call/text people but that doesn't mean I think they shouldn't be used. I hope you enjoy it. Pass it along(:
I'll post audio when I can

Submitted: June 14, 2010

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Submitted: June 14, 2010

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Ladies and Gentlemen, well actually let’s aim this to the boys and girls as well
So to you youngsters and those who have hit the middle of your lives here is a story for you: A boy asked me for my number and I said to him as I’ll say to you, my good people,
You are addicted to the sound of your ringtones
Find pleasure in your hollow-filled, mint-green, shiny, material, plastic wired cell phones
That you put to your ears, hands, pockets and pillows
You save your most private thoughts in your notes as if your little box of smart chips will understand your soul-divine, natural born and undeniably fantastic thoughts and ideas
As if your little cell phone could understand and contemplate your feelings and the heart that only you’ve known
You hold it in your hand when situations seem awkward as if this little plastic piece of nothing could hide you behind a plain brick wall of meeting new people, talking to those you’ve avoided and seeming too interested in what you do to be cool enough to do it
And then there’s, of course, the matter of talking on the actual technology
Sure, I’ll call you later, make sure I talk to you after I see you and talk to you right now
Am I really talking to you later or did you give me a fake number because you think I’m weird and awkward, I’m sorry did I offend you by calling you because I thought we were friends, did you need me to text you instead because I can please don’t hang up on me I’m only trying to be nice
There’s etiquette and reasoning, there’s hello and there’s good bye and the dreaded or loved time in between
There’s space and there’s lighting, there’s pacing, there’s walking, there’s laying down and smiling, there’s sitting down and crying
There’s good news and bad news and just the mundane who cares news, but I’ve never had a phone call that I wouldn’t rather have had in person
I want to see your face when you tell me my father has cancer or when you tell me my sister’s house has been flooded
I want you to tell me you don’t love me anymore with your eyes interlocked with mine I want you to see me and be human with me
No more of this cell phone business, so impersonal and dry
I want to see your hands when you tell me you want to hug me
I want to see your darting eyes when you ask me to a movie
I want to know you mean it when you say that you’re sick
I want to understand your emotion when you tell me that you’re dying
No cell phone can call me and tell me that it loves me, I want your words from your lips as I see them moving
So yeah I have a cell phone, I own one in case I find myself on a late night trip downtown and am in need of the emergencies to rescue me but you are just a boy
And if you like me, then say so but no
You cannot have my number.
The moral of this story, boys and girls of all ages, is that no one cares if you can dial a number and no one cares if you know how to text
If you can talk to a person in the most basic and human way, you’re set
So, please don’t ask me for my number, you have my face; which, I’m assuming, is hard to forget


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