by Nick Gisburne
As drones, relentless, feeding the machine,
We build what we could never understand,
A twisted future, hideous, obscene,
Where wickedness is glorious and grand.
The infinite intelligence inside,
So ravenous for naked, flawless facts,
Was damaged when a simple circuit died.
To rumours, lies, deceit, it now reacts.
When truth became a sickness to despise,
Inside the mind the madness was complete.
Considering the universe, its eyes
See dirt and darkness, slurry to excrete.
We feed it, and we worship, to our graves.
To what we once created we are slaves.
