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Em MacKenzie Oct 2018
All work, no play and neon screens
menial tasks even coat my dreams.
Overboard in bored and a silent phone,
oh no, I think I’ve evolved to drone.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, a life of drought.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
For lady dollar; I can’t bear her,
as the riches are even rarer.

I’ve become a machine, to crush numbers
with no log off for needed slumbers.
Now my brain’s racing, a million miles per hour,
oh no, I think I’ve gained A.I’s power.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, now what life is about.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
No sudden movements; don’t want to scare her,
she’s updating with no carer.

Learning binary,
a breathing library,
processing slowly
but still a finery.

I forgot what my hands were for
they used to write all that I adore.
Now fingertips type, each key a shot,
oh no, I think I’ve grown into a robot.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, no one hears me shout.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
Pure absorption; a simple stare,
life’s equation could be fairer.

Learning binary,
a breathing library,
walking geometry
complete machinery.
nick armbrister Jan 2018
there is a car that drives by here
when it passes things happen
all types of things
good, bad, indifferent
they don't know who drives it
it could be a drone car
or driven by satan himself
or even jesus or an alien
this car is the global car
appearing everywhere
even on your street
beware when you see it
something may happen
good, bad or indifferent
evil robot car
Eyal Lavi Aug 2017
Drying like a dying leaf
Thirsty angry full of grief
Ain't no water in this town
And if there were I'd spit it out

Deny myself
No, quenching thirst
It ain't for me
I don't deserve

Not today
Not anyway
Today I'm dry
Wrinkled weathered withered spirit

All alone yet too much noise
I hear my name
Another day
At the office
With the drones

But who am I if I'm not them
If them is drones I'm the ******* motherboard
Of corporate copy selling ****
To ***** across the world

It pays the bills
Such a sellout
So I won't quench my thirst
Nicole Alyssia Mar 2017
i sat awake in bed
for the past three hours,
"how can i do this better,
more -
alas, it hits me!
its impossible to become
a busier worker bee
when you're a different species
i hear a voice within,
"spread your wings,
butterfly -
Lesley Feb 2017
Such dissatisfaction
For so little reason.
Much complaining & whining,
Crying & begging;
Pulling hair, tight fists
And gnashing teeth.
Consumer Zombies stagger
Into the Stop & Shop,
Shop & Go,
Buy More For Less-
Sale, Sale, Sale!
Salivating glands & bug eyes;
Our hands grab more than
Can possibly be seen.
Our skin stretches tight
As white elephants stampede.
Why can’t we all

Just Stop & think?
Take a drink of the cool morning
Air and buy in the sunrise?

*©  Lesley Wood
To hear reading:
KathleenAMaloney May 2016
Dr Shivago
In the Parking Lot
Black Tie Fabulous
Very Profitable
Dr Pane , Nurse Nothingness.. Address complete..  check
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
ai has taken over
i am a one... a zero
i am nobody's savior
i am nobody's hero
i am a hard worker
i'm for the common good
free thought is forbidden
that is understood
inspiration nil
my identity is sold
i walk and talk and carry out
whatever i am told
i'm now only a plastic chip
to fit into the mold
i work for the single eye
that controls the gold
and i will continue
'til i'm worn out and old
i am just a drone bee
working for the queen
i navigate the comb-maze
00111i'm lost in the00011

(C) 12/20/2015

companion piece to
"i work for the machine"
Ethan Veidt May 2015
On brown earth and fields of clovers,
a glade has grown to be.
Its cool breeze and green leaves
offer peace and solace to me.

Spears of sun pierce through the shade
and paint the thirsty wood.
Its tendriled veins writhe and stretch,
beneath a canopied hood.

Atop the ferns a parascope rises
swaying back and forth.
It moves to the left, it moves to the right,
and then I hear a snort.

My dog eared friend brings to me,
a long and pointed gift.
But such a prize is recognized
to leave just as quick.

The air is filled with warbeled songs
from treetops far and near.
But an incessant buzz cuts like unkindness
and comes to fill my ear.

I see it plain above my zenith,
a machine of flying plastic.
Its rotors spin in four successions,
it floats and moves - stochastic.

This hovering sentinel watches all
with a tiny gazing eye.
But who's to gain, learn, intrigue,
by spying from the other side?

From up so far a world so small:
he sees himself a king.
Out of dangers, out of touch,
to him no harm can bring.

And though he thinks that he remains
concealed, secure, untracked.
He does not know, below the grove,
I am staring back.
playing fetch with my dog when our fun was interrupted by a nosy R/C drone.  5/21/2015
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