Marcus McPhillips: in the style of W.H. Auden’s ‘Stop all the Clocks’
You are our North, our South, our East, our West,
Our teabreak week, our Sunday rest.
Never have we been so united, hung on every word,
Bating our breath like children, how absurd.
Other humans are not wanted now, lock up every one
Close down the coffee shop, snaffle your tongue.
A technology revolution has come,
An unstoppable train of click, and hum.
Yet we are social beings, searching for satisfaction,
Not by GIF or JPEG, but real life action.
So turn off your broadband, bin the camera phone,
Aspire to life before, and after, the constant drone.