Heaven & Hell
I seized the crimson threads of dawn
And strolled all through the April morn;
The white cliff’d shore, the whispering sea,
I thanked the Lord all silently
That he’d allowed me to be born.
Then lumbering towards me though the mist
There comes the Electronic Solipsist,
Disdained the joy of being alone
Jabbering into his wretched phone:
I wish the bastard would desist.
It is a plague throughout the nation,
Loud technology’s recompense,
Ubiquitous speech but lacking sense:
This is audible damnation.