I spend an awful lot of time in my life online being exposed to a particular brand of selfish, arrogant and blinkered attitudes. Many of these emanate from individuals who view me, as a woman who’s been gaming since the 1970’s, as some kind of curiosity to be poked, studied and summarily laughed at. Then there are those who creep me out by stalking my actions, or making lewd comments over everything I say, however innocent that might be. Mostly, people are the problem.
These people know who they are, and this poem is for them.
[This has been edited from its original postings via social media.]
Cease
The hubbub over this is mere distraction,
pointless tirade from he who does not hear:
allows anger to grant brief satisfaction,
short victory exposing faults as clear.
Continuing this course of self-destruction
a pointless, all-consuming pack of lies;
outcome will not result in reproduction
instead, expect a chorus of goodbyes.
Should truly you require to keep a friendship
for longer than the time between ad breaks;
put down that sword, prepare to shed your armour,
high time to reconsider what it takes.
Each gamer’s creed is written in their pixels,
intractable no longer from the soul:
attention needed for a range of muscles
not simply brain and hand to make things whole.
Forget those jokes about making a sandwich
‘Play of the Game’ no longer will impress:
if you desire a friendship in your bandwidth
drop toxic thoughts and actions to progress.
The Internet of Words 