“
Now reading
Future Shock
No sojourn in one place Long enough to hear A symphony; or grace The embattled ear With more than a metallic Unmetrical lyric. The technological cult Makes a heresy of art. Objects, as a result, Already depart, Outmoded as the halo Or sacred hollow. New ages have begun. Mirrors in orbit soon, Facsimiles of the sun, Will outshine the superfluous moon, Though ideas of dark remain Imprinted on the brain. Genetic engineers Are ready to replicate Themselves throughout the years, Until they germinate In a pseudo-mortal pod A pseudo-god. Before the eighties close Monsters may lie awash As frightening as those By Hieronymous Bosch; Man dwell in the sea again, Reluctant amphibian. Age, observers say, Is unable to adapt And must be kept away From routes not mapped. I obstinately refuse To live as a recluse, Or in a ghetto for The non-activist Geriatric poor, Those history missed. Tam willing to relocate, If it's not too late. If only to act as a brake: Toys disobey the child. Change for change's sake Turns objects wild. Obsolescence as an aim Leaves all change the same.