poMotion poetry

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My throat is hoarse
from yelling at robots
about the beauty of difference
and the benefits of change

They just smile and nod
bob and weave and
dance and drink
looking for an app for that
waiting to clock out so they can get on with their lives
only to get up and do it again tomorrow

The smell of singed flesh
fills my nose as I watch
these “beings” surrender
to ticking and tocking
limbs become electronics
electronics become god
and wife and friends

“can I buy you a drink?”
I ask the blond
whose blouse is buttoned to her
collarbone (just barely visible)
shows stress and strain
“Huh?” she replies never taking
her eyes from her phone

“one for the road” I shout to
the bartender who had long ago given
up on life
I am on my way to join him.


Brian Feist


Written by lickmypoetry

January 25, 2011 at 1:16 pm

Posted in poem, poetry

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3 Responses

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  1. I could swear, when you wrote this Brian, your eyes were glazed and had that “Stepford Wives” insistence that all was okay! Right?


    January 25, 2011 at 2:27 pm

  2. Oh…now I worked with these folks for years…brilliant write on this one.


    January 25, 2011 at 2:41 pm

  3. pissy and sharp and sarcastic and well written.
    good stuff…


    January 26, 2011 at 8:45 am

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