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. 

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We are. For what they do. For what they do in our name. We do not recognise ourselves in their frame, but then it’s obscured. And yet, we let them in the door again and again. Because secretly we like them. We like what they say. It tickles our ears,

Views: 28

There have been so many. And yet they were all in some way the same.

The mirror doesn’t lie.

Yes, it does. It does when it is reflected inside my head.

I couldn’t decipher this world at all for the longest time.

And then everything slipped into view.

Views: 16

There is great beauty in being present. To really be there in the room is a blessing that can so seldom be realised for most of us. And if we are not careful, we can punish ourselves for it. And this will become the memory of when we weren’t present

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Sometimes you just feel numb.

In this barrel of shit.

It’s a joke that we keep laughing. Staring into disdain.

Sometimes you hold on, often you don’t. You loosen your grip.

There is no other way. No decision.

Taste the bitterness in the air. It cuts

Views: 14

We take another hit.

We’ll sleep well tonight. They won’t.

Do we continue to ignore the consequences of our actions, of their deeds.

We see it in every essence of what we do. And yet we preach prosperity.

And yet no one prospers. Not in this war.

Som

Views: 9

Life becomes pitiless in the face of adversity

Riots don’t even breakthrough

No tear gas spent in here

Take note my friend this will be only the beginning. And they ask. But I do not tell.

We ask ourselves day in day out, what is this sliver of a roc

Views: 22

Now we rush in to save the Eaton mess from crumbling in his house of cards. 

Meanwhile, those once bound for their own safety, and that of others, unmask their grimaced faces once more.

As we step out back to new normalcy, all care to the wind, we lo

It's time to level up

It's time to level up. Or so they say. As the interest rises the reality of the great divide only shows us the chasm between us. We step out of our council porches to dream of a new day. A new beginning if only we pull up straps

Heads once held high show the only traces of nostalgia having gone bad. An over-zealous xenophobe shot himself in the face today as he stirred his baked beans, and no one noticed.

In other news, the dogs didn’t bite but then they never do they only c

Views: 22

What is this jazz I am writing? What am I doing it for? This free flow of word-formation. It comes at a cost and may be ignored. But the ignorant swell in their space.

I used to want to be somebody. To be somebody else. I tried and I failed more time

Views: 8

If we talk to each other who listens. And if we take a step into the known unknown.

In days of wonder. Where wonder is routinely crushed. We wonder too little or we wander too much.

If we talk, do we not listen? And if we listen, do we not talk? Wher

Views: 9

I have been thinking a lot about the pleasures of thinking.

Of being lost in thought.

Not the endless mind chatters or banal looping nonsense, but real contemplative thinking.

Of daydreaming out loud in your own mind.

I meditate daily. 20 minutes or

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