17 Nov 2015 – Sonnet

In mad pursuit of clicks and webpage hits.
What will it take to cause the eye to stop,
the mouse to pause, the most important bits –
the ads – to get a viewing, cast a sop
to some mad marketer, soul doomed to hell,
who swears that there’s a corresponding rise
in income once he takes you on to sell
whatever you’ve been flogging, sweetie pie?
A fog of sound bites, slogans, tiny thoughts
reduced to rest atop the pinhead’s point
for generations television taught
to clean their plates of all the chefs appoint.
Oh grant me good stats – once to dust returned!
How many “Likes” will my death notice earn?