Musing of a Cyberpunk

Prose and musing by  Sam I am.

Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time. 

The rebellion will not be streamed

The rebellion will not be streamed

Generations lost to cracked screens.

Sharing links to forgotten dreams.

A world on display, curated for our pleasure. 

A world of lies that only sells leisure.

Where do we go from here?

Ai takes us away, we disappear.

The mirror so black we don’t recognise.

The face staring back, those strangers’ eyes.

Swipe away, scroll to our doom.

The ain’t no one staying silent in this chat room.

No one is saying anything, only pulling a part.

What happened to the soul? What happened to the heart?


Will there be uprising? The herd gathered and collected.

Before this platform of decent is even detected.

The crime of thought that does not fit the narration.

As in silence we sleepwalk into a dystopian nation.


Follow in the footsteps of the great beyond.

Of our brothers and sisters across the pond. 

Keep the economy rolling, keep the fish coming in.

To give up without warning is the ultimate sin.


To decent and speak out becomes a crime.

Your name on a list until the end of time. 

Gather enough data to destroy your claim. 

Ruin your life, reputation, and name.

They’ll come for us all if we stand out in the crowd.

So, take a subtle approach, and scream it out loud.

Fear is control, panic a social disease.

They dangle the carrots whilst making up bleed.

Don’t get too close, the game is done.

You weren’t invited to the table, give up my son.

Take your credibility and flush out to the sea.

Let it dance with the plastic, let it be free.


Take hold of the lantern and drive those fuckers mad.

Don’t let them turn a rotten apple bad.

The revolution will not be streamed. 

The nightmare that could not be dreamed. 

Hack the system before it hacks you.

Or give up and give, all the others do.

Speak out and get tagged, a person of interest.

Deflect with the abstract distraction of Pintrest.

Dance in circles, tone up and get strong.

Gather the knowledge because it won’t be long.

Find you escape route, build your shelter.

Hide your contempt as you ride the helter skelter. 

They’ll round us all up. Gather us like sheep. 

And when it is too late, it will be too late to sleep.

Give in to the mistress of distraction and favour.

And you’ll be ignored as in pleasure you savour.


Fall prey to their bidding and step in line.

And you’ll hardly notice the passing of time.

As you edge towards death looking the wrong way.

Until you wonder what the point is, until your last day. 

Let them push you out. Let them know you so well.

You give up your soul for the freedom they sell.


In dystopia we walk, hand in hand.

Taken out of the loop, not even on demand.

Will the revolution be streamed.

In a world of distraction nightmares are never dreamed.



words by me

artwork by directed by me


by Sam I Am

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