Technotron

Devils don’t want your invitation
Invite them in, with a sly grin

Cross this threshold, speak
With a nod, and a wink
Then watch them slink

Like bullies faced
No robbers chased

Just malingering fellows
Soon disgraced

They ride bicycles and tricycles
And hide upstage
like big, fat fools

Those left shoe ad-vices
Dices of lost reveries
knights and damsels
Still missing thee

Like troubadours sailing
Spin doctors full of bull
Aloft of air and ritual

When the parachute fails
The umbrella breaks
The entourage scurries

You’ll find in a hurry

Re-bowed to fake eternity
Teched into docility

Herded like sacrificial goats
Stampeded by sheep
Toward Tech’s moats

Made of sweet fragility

Author: KenshoHomestead

Creatively working toward self-sufficiency on the land. View all posts by KenshoHomestead