This is an old poem I wrote many years ago that speaks to the way I am feeling today – a bit disenfranchised.
LAMENTS OF A LATTER DAY HOUSEWIFE
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My neural-integrated hologram is totally out of synch.
My brand new helioplane is starting to clink,
And the housekeep control panel is always on the blink.
Oh holy Networks, what is a kitchen sink?
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My skin-graft pantyhose are starting to shed.
My battery operated contact lenses repeatedly go dead,
And my electrostatic hairdo keeps flying off my head.
Oh holy Networks, I’d better call tech-med!
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My null-grav apartment just rezoned itself condo.
The front yard force-field won’t reverse its flow,
And the local psycho-tech says I’m below statis-quo.
Oh holy Networks, my nutrient yeast won’t grow.
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