A Cynic View

I warn you now I have no clue

Where this poem is going to

Or if it is a poem at all

I can’t decide, you make the call


Trees fallen for me to rhyme

Till out of space, bounds, breath and time

Out to lunch and there I’ll join you

We’ll rearrange words on life’s menu


Time is free, food is not

Sleep spent in dollars per spot

Feet walk, wheels run

Hands make wings to the sun


Voices singing for all who hear

Through buds growing in the ear

Tiny wires dangle from there

Yet no-one seems to give a care


With tablet and Wi-Fi at the ready

Media replaced good ole teddy

Designer binkies between the lips

Smartphones at the fingertips


Toddlers hunched, stroller bound

Multi cup-holders and Dolby sound

Of course a visor to shield the sun

The big glowing face that was once fun


Now a menace to one and all

Best to stay in until the fall

When leafy suburbs bags abound

Full of leaves, once on the ground


Cleared from lawns to keep them green

Exchanged with poisons in-between

Until the snow, when all’s forgotten

Of summer days way back when


When sunny skies made all seem bright

Laughter filling playful moonlight

Now games played with only thumbs

Killing the most for the biggest sums


Some might win the rest will lose

Most can’t, but some will choose

Now we’ve all a choice to make

Was it ever real or just a real fake?


Or if it ever will be, or ever was

Or just maybe it is – just because



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