PC's

Computers demand your attention,
Refusing to be just ignored.
One has so little choice
but respond to their voice,
To check on what there is stored.
You May pick a night
One you think is right
That’s free for watching T.V.
But the PC’s subtle power
Has reserved this one hour,
To scuttle your intended spree.
If your Aunt, had chosen today
To email her favorite niece.
Till you jump out of bed,
To find out what she said,
You’re not going to get any peace!
If technologies curse,
Is to get any worse,
And PCs refuse to behave.
If we don’t quit the routine,
And scrap the machine;
Each of us will end up a slave.


©Bill Austin.