damn, I feel contemporary
shaking my ass to
computer-generated music
(the raging storm outside
doesn’t make a sound)
a friend made me a playlist
he called it culture wars -
he saw us clashing,
us and the robots
he said: it’s all about the hi-fi.
he said: the robots are winning and
what we’ll be left with is machine noise.
(I thought: who needs rainfall when you’ve got cymbal clashes
on your finger tips?)
machine beats - machine raps - machine cha-cha-chas:
incessant noises, barrelling through space
(no need for anything beyond the
electric)
damn, I said to him
damn, you make me feel contemporary
you and your beeping and your mechanical tapping
you and your fancy funky fucked-up beats
you make me feel like a robot -
you make me feel like a hot shot
baby, give me a culture war anyday
(and the storm gave up the fight –
no one was listening)
across cyberspace, he smiled:
i got a cd the next day.
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