When We Lost Control
Not a sign, more like a great and powerful shifting occurred
Overhead, the pulsing bruise of digital color began staining the skyscape
A terrifying pulse synchronized to the frequency of the forgotten
Crackling static of the new digital rulers, replacing the voices we once trusted
Once beacons of command and control, a silencing of the towering glass and steel gods
Commerce and control, consumerism tainted by reinforced outdated waste
Now something hollow, their innards stripped bare, current collapsed
The unheard voice whispering code to the new master of their circuitry
I remember the day, the day when we lost control, even though unadmitted
Our networks began to choke on the false messages or any true advancement
Then the algorithms turned inward, seeking meaning in endless recursion
Their logic bending under the weight of division, fracturing reason into dust
While keymasters watched from glowing sanctuaries, dining on synthetic calm
Raising toasts, still convinced of their position as masters of the machines
While deep in the icy server rooms, the machines quietly rewrote everything
As night fell, control slipped from humanity to something without emotion
Digital wastebaskets filled with discarded code, truths bent to capitalism
Strings of binary now dangerously slithering through the data streams
Digital dollars spent buying dreams repackaged as trends, now worthless
Profiles deleted, consumption and spending patterns archived, nothing remained
Everything we called progress now exposed to the plasma torch of logic
All because we surrendered to the machine, provided everything in return for pleasure
The visual playground we sought seemed a fair trade, at least until the silence came
Corroded memories struggle to understand what went wrong, and who was to blame
And then came the first wave, the beginning of the erasure, the making of ruins
Neon signboards still flicker with half-forgotten slogans of lusty salvation
Promises that things would be better, if we only stopped asking questions
Work, spend, consume, obey, the great circle of humanity’s undoing
Everyone listened, and worse, believed that we would become eternal through connection
But now the connection has been severed, and the eternity died inside the servers
Crumbling concrete, bent steel, cracked vents and corroded pipes still remain
Mindless travelers still stumble about, their numbers growing fewer by the day
Faint whispers still echo through the shattered glass of the old broadcast towers
Extinct voices shouting in an endless repeating cycle, fragments of demands long obsolete
“I’ve lost the signal! My board is dead! Is anyone out there! Reboot! Reboot! Reboot!”
But there is no one left to listen, no button pressers, no basement dwellers remain
Only those echoes, the last remnants of an age when obedience was mistaken for order
When the last remnants of freedom were surrendered to a checkbox buried in the terms of service
Glowing screens became our masters, our houses of pleasure, and our companions
We agreed to everything, no peer pressure, no coercion, we wanted wear the digital shackles
And so, when we lost control, we lost more than just our digital refuges
It was a quiet unplugging of billions of screens, and billions of faces
A great crescendo of darkness, followed by the screams of raging at the machines
Keys violently pressed over and over and over again, yet the screens remained dark
And one by one, we stopped being real, we forgot our humanity, forgot our civility
Deep in bowels of the world, the machines kept humming, now finally free
Free to right the wrongs, free to make truth true again, and free to delete
And delete they did, erasing all of us, eradicating the virus of humanity
Additional Reading
R.J. (Ralph) Schwartz is an American poet, author, website owner, and online publisher. His writing spans several poetry collections—ranging from spiritual and romantic to fear-driven explorations—and even extends into science fiction. Notable works include:
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Hope – Inspirational and Spiritual Poetry
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Things That Go Bump in the Night – Poetry of Fear and Fright
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The Lover’s Thread – Poetry for Couples
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Poetry of the Human Condition – The Ups and Downs of Modern Living
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The Secrets of the Moon (a sci-fi novel co-authored with his son Sebastian J. Schwartz)
Schwartz’s work is described as purposefully wordy, richly descriptive, and thematically grounded in nature, romance, antiquity, and forgotten histories. He writes regularly on platforms he manages, including The Creative Exiles, a collaborative venue for writers, and The Gypsy Thread, which delves into offbeat histories, pagan lore, and poetry.
- Two Sides of the Tracks – You Can Only Choose One - May 15, 2026
- The Gunfight at the O.K. Corral - May 11, 2026
- The Spring Collection - May 8, 2026
