Roll over Betjeman (and tell Walt Whitman the news)

The Blogger’s Lament
by Brit

Upstairs in the unforgiving
World, the World must earn a living,
Stuggling 'gainst the time and tide,
'Til sun sets on that World Outside
And softly sweet the night is falling,
But the blogger’s lonely calling,
Keeps him to his basement tied.

For the blogger’s work is ne’er abated,
The newsfeed’s greed is never sated,
The blogosphere keeps getting bigger,
And RSI it cramps his trigger-
happy finger, ever-clicking,
Ever cutting, pasting, sticking,
And in the end for what? Go figure!

Is it of his own volition
He endures this strange war of attrition?
Perhaps for his own education?
Perhaps for folks in other nations?
For those whom ignorance has blinded,
Or for the like and unlike-minded?
Perhaps for future generations?

For who can doubt it’s his vocation
To surf this sea of information?
His skill: to find the perfect snippet,
To metaphorically paperclip it
To another view or bent,
Find the balance of the argument,
Then, with his pithy comment, tip it.

But beside his true goal this goal pales:
He hopes to tip the whole World’s scales!
For those who know the blogworld know
A snowball idea can grow and grow!
And in other basements, down below,
By the monitor light’s ghostly glow,
Other bloggers add their snow.
For the blogworld’s ever on the go,
A constant state of change and flow…

…But from himself he’ll try and mask
How great his Sisyphean task.
For the Outside World’s so big, so slow,
And jealously guards the status quo.