Hollowed Howl
written by: Michael Ridinger
I see the best minds of the next generation
devoured by the flickering beast,
screens pulsing like fevered gods,
scrolling endless,
dopamine’s cruel whip cracking,
their eyes glazed,
chained to the infinite now,
no room for the slow bloom of thought,
no pause for the soul’s quiet revolt.
They are fed shadows,
syllabi stripped bare, gutted of wonder,
logic and history burned
at the altar of trends,
their classrooms cages,
where rote answers choke the air,
and the old books,
those fierce whispers of truth,
are buried under hashtags,
seventeen percent of them
stumbling blind through words
that no longer sing.
Cynicism creeps,
a smog in their veins,
nihilism’s gospel preached in neon,
“Nothing matters!” screams the screen,
and they nod, hollowed,
chasing fleeting highs
in pixelated voids,
their dreams traded for likes,
their purpose mocked by memes that sneer,
“What’s the point?”
X’s endless scroll chants it,
a dirge for meaning,
a generation adrift
in the fog of cool despair.
They bow to the crowd,
fear’s cold hand on their throats,
conformity’s weightman clenched,
individuality a sin to be shamed,
their voices silenced
by the mob’s roar,
cancelled or crowned, no middle ground,
Asch’s ghost laughing in the code,
their uniqueness crushed
under curated masks.
And truth? Oh, truth is a shattered mirror,
deepfakes and lies swirling in the digital wind,
half-facts and headlines twisting,
until doubt is all that’s solid,
until they question their own hearts,
paralyzed, unmoored,
Pew’s numbers whispering,
“Only twenty percent believe,”
and the devil grins,
for a mind that trusts nothing
is a mind already lost.
Yet they are not gone,
not yet,
their resilience hums beneath the noise,
waiting for a spark,
a teacher, a book, a moment of clarity,
to break the chains,
to howl back.
- Hollowed Howl - October 16, 2025
- Through The Static - July 18, 2025
- Lessons of the Heart - February 17, 2025
