Programmers   are   the   new   age   Necromancers
At a keyboard and screen, for aeons, they tap away
With   the   finesse  and  precession  of  tap dancers

They converse patiently with the  cold  and  lifeless  machine
With the love and care the rest of us reserve only for children
Filled with bewildering communiques is their lifelong dream

Their eyes dart back  and  forth in a room full of people
Hoping  to  avoid  the  gaze that leads to a conversation
In a church, at mass time, you’ll find them in the steeple

They are the toy makers of our current times
That provide  your  life  with  leisure and joy
To  them  is their code,  as  to  us, our rhymes

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street

Rubbing its back upon the window panes

There will be time

There will be time to prepare a face

To meet the faces that you meet

There will be time to ****** and create

And time for all the works and days of hands that lift a hand to drop a question on your plate

Time for you and time for me

And time yet for a hundred indecisions

And time for a hundred visions and revisions

Before the taking of a toast and tea

Our senses help us grow and communicate
“This race must continue, go  find  a mate”
Saying  so,  our   emotions   do  we  berate
“Is it him or her?” 'tis  our  hottest  debate

We lock eyes, and so begins the endless dance
Call it an  experience or  maybe  even a trance
There’s  just the two of us in this vast expanse
Just to make things simple, we call it romance

Upon  us  now  is  a  turning  of  the  cosmic tide
In this scheme, We are like but fish out of water
Just under the surface, like the  truth  we  reside
As for the harvest, there must be fresh slaughter

Let’s take a  thick brush and paint this canvas
Let our colours be bright and our strokes, bold
Let them look back  at  our lingering  madness
“A millennia  before, our stories they foretold”

But   why,  when   there’s  procrastination
Would we ever envision a joyous peasant
And  why,  when  there’s  mass castration
Wouldn't we need these anti-depressants

We  store  the  remnants  of  our  memories  in  a  few  boxes
Never enough  space,  we  always  need  more  storage  units
Tiniest crevice do  we  find, “Come let us release our toxins”
We forget that they’re there, once they've lost their newness

We     come     closer     when     we     share    this     moment
A  simple  command  given  to our  pre-programmed selves
A  few  simple,  meaningless  words,  turned  into  a  slogan
Within moments, the symbols are sold out from the shelves

Sputtering from the cradle, stuttering to the grave
For  simply  living  each  moment,  we   are  brave
Even  sociopaths, while  in  a  crowd  will  behave
Never were you free, since birth were you a slave

“Find  a  prey, take  a  life.” Under  his  breath, chants the hunter
Weapons  soar  through  the  open skies, “Protect us, oh bunker!”
Here they  come, in  their cold  lifeless  selves, to tear us asunder
Wise old men say time and again, “Life is nothing but a blunder”

I spend my days in front of a screen
We're all entitled to our own illusions
The chicken or the egg

The absence of your fellowship is felt severely
My friend, here and now, you're missed dearly

Maybe we were wrong, maybe we were blind
Teach us in your absence for we may be kind

Let me forgive myself as I watched you slowly bleed
For I am responsible, no matter who did the deed

With whom do I now share this off-colour joke?
With whom do I now share this 4 am smoke?

I was sure someday we were meant to part ways
Never did it cross my mind, numbered were your days

My mind screams when I think back and see the smoking gun
Brother I never called you, but forever you shall be one