Robots

boot up each morning,
******* their combat boots
and ride into the battle
of prattle.

Floods of wireless information burn
their wires, blow their fuses.
With fusions and acquisitions
they acquire higher
positions.

Detrimental turnover data talk turns
them over, upside down,
up and down the escalators
till they escalate,
deviate.

Spiked punch in one hand they punch
their boss in the face,
face trial, try
rehab: habitually helps reboot.
En route …
 
They learn that living without wires rocks,
they figure figures rock their world no more,
they shed their armor, breastplates, hard as rocks,
when inspiration comes knocking at their door.

They learn to cherish nature, the divine,
their limbs grow flesh where only metal dwelt,
so do their cheeks flash in a healthy shine
and from their lips a firy spell is spelt.

They sculpt and paint do yoga and restore,
their empty batteries, their fuses blown
they blow their money at the wellness store,
And finally, anew they find their own.

Afresh they get back home, where bills grew roots
they turn their router on, *******
their combat boots.