Microchip me baby

Poem: Microchip me baby

Ooh Baby Baby

My baby just cares for me

Microchip me baby

If it means I could be free

I’ll be released from the shackles of the mind crunching passwords that are:

My first pet name
Old address door number
Favourite drink and/or flower

Every day I am:

Fluffy Winston
101 !
irn bru-sugar free
forget-me-not/cactus

I’ve had enough of the

‘Seven-characters-and-at-least-one-has -to-be-a-Capital-letter-and-a-number’ language!

Have it stored in your head or a digital puff of a cloud?
Be sure not to whisper nor to say it out loud

The machine politely sends kind reminders,
Notices of not forgetting
It’s all very upsetting

Do it to me
No more the intimacy
Exposed in a landscape of algorithmic lunacy for all to snoop and all to see
I know I have to kiss goodbye to my privacy

Do it to me
I promise not to move an inch
I won’t even flinch
Microchip me baby

 

Microchip me baby – review

After reading the first two lines of the poem I feel I should begin to click my fingers and sway my arm from side to side to a gentle 1960’s soul rhythm.

 

One loves ‘my baby’ and clearly ‘my baby loves me’ (and all that!) That’s how it goes isn’t it?.

We all get the idea don’t we?. We know where we’re heading. Comforting, smile inducing and then…I’m met with ‘this baby’ of whatever nature being asked or even told to ‘microchip’ the narrator as if they were a pet dog or cat? Having a pet microchip is a responsible act and done out of love and care. But for a human?

 

What sort of a ‘baby’ is this? I read on.

 

Quite clearly the narrator is fed up with all of the password juggling.

and is desperate to be released from it.

But at what cost?

What has happened to their sense of identity?

Who the hell are they or will they become?

Would freedom ever be obtained or continued to be compromised?

Playing into the hands of whom or what?

I don’t want to get all ‘1984’ about it but…there’s an edge of the conspiratorial about it here. (only if one chooses to think in that way, remember we still have that freedom, the freedom to think… don’t we?)

How is it likely to end?

Well, you’ve heard of the airline ‘easy jet’ and the online food order and delivery service ‘just eat’

Unsurprisingly well-known brands could diversify and go into the business of ‘death’ and compete with each other?

‘Easy death’ vs ‘just passing’ (be sure to read the online reviews before making that particular final choice)

Imagine Hologram Grave headstones for those who mourn your passing (to post and share on social media, where else?) That could be the norm?

and, the releasing of digital (Olympic-opening-ceremony-friendly) doves to accompany that… how quaint.

With commercially sponsored messages of:

R.I.P Cuchi (usedtobeonthehighstreetbank.com)

101 (recipesforalonglife.com)

Bless you (religiousreligionornot.com)

Sugar free drinks aren’t all that healthy are they, look at you now! (eatsugareatit.com)

I hope you like your cactus and/or other bloom (flowersandfrolicks.com)

This poem acts as a stark warning perhaps and has thrown up many worrying questions of future scary times?

It has led me to imagine all kinds of odd but potentially real scenarios.

Have we all slept walked into this, along to an eye-candy tech fanfare?

Would all have to submit to being microchipped?

Done at birth or a virtual conception?? Bypassing the womb and other related bodily equipment??

I’ll stop there.

The alternative way of living would be to what, head for the hills and communicate by yodelling for a Deliveroo? Hmm?

Being microchipped sounds like an easier option. A comical poem about modern day tech and submission. A fun and satisfying read.