Was Asimov a prophet?
Look at the rise of robots!
Can they gain artificial intelligence?
Isn't that what old Isaac meant?
When the slaves become our overlords,
Who invented that dumb thought?
Was Asimov a prophet?
Look at the rise of robots........

And I'm here in this little glass house,
On display for the robots next-door --
The last of human life
Trapped in a box with translucent locks
In this paradisiacal paradox.

The suburbs are where dreams go to die.
Look at that cool-guy dad of three
With a car from 1970
Who doesn't get a wink of sleep,
And for dinner he eats batteries.

He wasn't supposed to be like this,
Spending more time with his therapist
Than with his mechanizing kids.

Love is sending them as far away as possible
Before they're condemned to your same tragic fate.

Their precious internal organs are slowly being swapped and traded with engine parts,
So that their chests hum rather than beat --
And wheels are used more often than feet.

Extension cords for intestines
And oil for blood,
Plug them in to sleep at night
So that they may be fully charged and operational tomorrow.

They are constantly being programmed in the greatest form of mass production known to man.
(Well, what's left of him.)

Cookie cutter children with magnetic hands,
Always grabbing and attracting new parts to attach to themselves.
Chewing microchips like bubblegum,
Transferring data as a form of fun.

It's "cool-guy dad 2.0."
He's outdated now,
Useless apart from nurturing the new generation that will ultimately cause his demise.

Oh, what a time to be alive.
To be a human on display in an industrial neighborhood.
(And don't even get me started on the soccer moms.)

Numb.
Numb.
Numb.
Numb.
I am a robot. I have no emotion.

Happy.
Sad.
Ecstatic.
Depressed.
I am not a robot. I have emotions.

The screen is our religion,
dreary eyed and mouth wide open we are absorbed into the graphics.
Swirling around us on the the Tv plane are the stories,
“breaking news” we are breaking ourselves,
because the tendrils come shooting out and grasp our brain feeding us poison.
Our soul carers called the democratic love playing dress up,
a wolf in sheep's clothing,
and while they play we are neglected,
bad parenting.

We don't get to play,
we are the ants,
in systematic order, we provide,
the only time we get to play is when we retreat inside our mind.
Then we become the stereotype “ignorance is bliss”
while the world falls to pieces, is it because we voted for this?
Maybe.
We are the ones in control and yet we have no power,
we lounge inside, the clock is ticking by the hour.
The world is broke with each secret kept,
each person pretending that its okay,
while the connected, open minded ones feel powerless and hide away.

My minds a jumbled mess
I wanna say it all but all I actually do is say less
I want superman to come save this here mind
But frfr. I think he's resigned
Or maybe I'm not worth of any of his time
I'm drowning in my own thoughts
We train ourselves to act the same and I feel like I'm surrounded by robots
No one will rock the boat
No one will actually stand by me and make sure that I stay afloat
Me speaking my mind to others can't be translated I just sound like a goat
This cruel world is blizzard cold and I can't find my coat
Or maybe it's too small
Right now I'm standing outside and I'm forced to say I don't feel anything at all
Even though we're all cold
No One will come clean and admit it and boy oh boy man is it getting old
I'm done forcing myself to fit into that mold
Even when you scold me because I'm divergent
I cleanse my soul
(breath in)
smell that?
clean like detergent
I'm done letting social acceptance control my life like Ima a servant
Being cool and getting Instagram likes really ain't that important
Wether you got fans or not don't matter *** the world keeps on flowing
Need to stop and think about it "wait"
What direction am I goin
What outcome in life for me is the lord currently bestowing
I wanna be able to look back and ask myself "Hey was it worth it"?
And be able to reply "ya baby you fulfilled your purpose"
Weather or not I'll become successful is a difficult topic
I stay up at night just thinking about it
Dreaming about it
Living it in my mind and I can't even stop myself
I scream and shout about it
No not literally
But mentally
I strain my mind on a daily bases
I feel that up until now my whole life has been suspended by braces
But I don't wanna be strait that's not how he makes us
I don't wanna be another boring book on the boring bookcases
I refuse to be like those faces
Those aliens who have tricked theirselves that what is real is tasteless
Trying to look like ken and Barbie sending theirselves on wild goose chases
You know what this world needs?
Not a revival we have no chance of a survival as long as we live on earth
It's like spilling spaghetti sauce on a white t-shirt
U can't get it out
it will never revert
This pitiful world is in chronicle need of a rebirth

this is a fine morning and the man in the bathroom mirror smiles
though he admittedly isn't the friendliest person but honestly
he seemed genuinely glad to be awake and alive on such an Autumn day
with the birds chirping and the window near the kitchen slightly ajar
allowing safe passage to a nice chill breeze. he finds the cat up as well
meowing "Good morning!" cheerfully and innocently in its tiny cat voice
and he chuckles and meows back in the most accurate manner available.
on the kitchen table there's a mug of coffee, the newspaper rolled like a cigar,
a plate of waffles, bacon, scrambled eggs and powdered happiness which
the man gobbles wholeheartedly while reading the day's fresh headlines:
President Declares Peace on Earth, Local Man Defeats Dog - Gives Too Many Treats,
Cop Buys Medical Lemonade From Child's Lemonade Stand, World Hunger Exterminated...
permitting the felines to rule our existence was truly the best of ideas!