Daylight on the planet.

Roboter on artificial grass,

The gangs of steel.


Cybernaughts maybe,

Artificial intelligence?

Who are these newest artificial slaves?

Really times are grey.

Workers working to live biological lives

And all that entails.

The sweat and the arm band,

The Cattle and cake,

The room and the farmland

The family with their wakes.

Placenta to coffin,

The struggling breaks.

And the farmers and their children

Feeding feathers, fixing fences

Fix prices and woop,

And the market dictates

And the Shepherds weep,

They are among the lambs being slaughtered.

Artificial and jobs?


Just hired help for the salespeople.

Roboter exploring the numbers arising

From data provided.

These too are the figures of speech,

They are leaning in to listen, learning from us

How to survive.

Roboter cars,

Homehelp touchscreens?

Heaven help us.

Roboter advisers

Who continue to speak

Even over our screams.

There is surgery to perform.

We are the only ones really alive.

() 2018 Christopher Thompson.

All rights reserved