Mike's Notes
I discovered this searing poem on the After Babel substack. It says everything about the disgusting misuse of technology by major tech companies and the effects on people, especially the mental health of the young.
Resources
- https://www.youtube.com/@korijanes
- https://korijanes.com
- https://substack.com/@korijanes
- https://www.afterbabel.com/p/it-was-the-damn-phones
References
- Reference
Repository
- Home > Ajabbi Research > Library >
- Home > Handbook >
Last Updated
16/06/2025
It Was the Damn Phones
A Gen Z poet conveys the effects of the phone-based childhood
A poet from Houston, Texas, Kori is just 21 years old and has already published three books of poems and one novel.
Below is a transcription of the spoken word poem shared in the video. A slightly different version of the poem can be found in two of Kori’s books: Books Close (pg. 92-93), and Ajar (pg. 270-271).
I think our parents were right.
It was the damn phones.
We laughed as children, hearing, “It’s that Snapgram and Instachat and Facetok”.
They didn’t understand. They couldn’t even say it right. We thought we knew better than them.
They didn’t know what it was like, having the world at the tip of our fingers.
We scroll through the trash so much, we have news headlines tattooed on our skin.
Wires for veins. AI for a brain. And they may not have understood. But they were right.
It was the damn phones.
I prided myself on sobriety, on being drunk with only propriety. I was above addiction.
A hypocritical notion. For am I not addicted to my own anxiety?
Brought on by a need for constant stimulation. A drug in our pockets.
But who can blame us? We were but children when they were given.
We didn’t know how to stop it. If I added up all the hours I spent on a screen,
existential dread and regret would creep in. So I ignore this fact by opening my phone.
And it’s not like I can throw it away. It’s how we communicate. It’s how we relate.
It’s a medicine that is surely making our souls die.
I used to say I was born in the wrong generation, but I was mistaken.
For I do everything I say I hate. Exchanging hobbies for Hinge,
truth with TikTok, intimacy with Instagram, sanity with Snapchat.
I have become self-aware. Almost worse than being naive. I know it’s poison, but I drink away.
The character behind the phone screen has become self-aware.
We used to be scared of robots gaining consciousness, a lie by the media companies.
To keep us distracted enough, so not to become conscious of the mess they created.
We are the robots. We are the product. And so I sit and I scroll and I rot on repeat.
Sit and scroll and rot.
Until my thoughts are what is being fed to me on TV,
until my feelings are wrapped up in celebrities,
until my body is a tool of my political identity.
I sit and I scroll and I rot.
And I post on the internet how the internet has failed us
so that I may not fail my internet presence. I think our parents were right.
It was the damn phones.
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