Poem By Lex Newman
Will everything be so hard to get?
Will men and women listen at their neighbors' walls
to report their every movement?
Will every book be thinner, dumber, bigger type?
Will plastic be everywhere
With no wood- not even on the trees?
Will women be programmed to laugh and shop
and gossip and never get anywhere?
Will men be made to play football, be macho
will they never again love each other simply?
Will children dogs cars plants computers be spies?
Its certainly uncertain questionable answers
Will the light forever be artificial?
Will we be controlled now by machines
and pills and pieces of metal and control centers in our bones?
Will everything be scheduled and exact
No spontaneity at all ever?
Will everything be gone but business and profit?
Will children know nothing?
Will small voice asking 'Why is the sky blue? '
be denied, because the sky is no longer blue,
Now it is a brownish grey?
The only language anyone will know
will be fake and sordid
The only history anyone will know
will be edited and revised
The only art anyone will know
will be digitized and changed
The only music anyone will know
will be the whir of the emptiness of their own heads
Will we be a fugitive planet
with death all around
because of our metal dependency
and our ignorance of real nirvana?