Machine Made Bread – Patricia Walsh
4Machine Made Bread
Patricia Walsh
Cork
Ireland
May we ever celebrate our road to perdition
glancing skywards at our fate outlined,
focus on our limits, smashing the roadblock
through which we struggle to enter in.
We’ve bettered ourselves, with want of reason,
sound bytes still call the doomed masses,
‘Three quarters of the world never made a phone call’,
slight, sated, our brains are our temples.
If the power is out, where are the candles?
If the server is down, how will we live?
Sit back and be still for at least five minutes,
service will be resumed, although found wanting.
Eating terabytes to keep up with the pace,
memory, though sorrowful, remains outside,
inside the Neanderthal mind, we shoot survival,
hunting and gathering too de rigueur to work.
Getting old and senile. The bad cops sweetly sing
barricade knowledge to a click and drag
from our homes onto the street. Condoning
implicit violence, by assignation. Glory be!
Give us this day our daily bread. Manufactured
with sleight of buttons, passed in time.
Processed with uniformity, blandly produced
to our homogenous taste, a programme worth watching.
Bio: Patricia was born and raised in the small parish of Mourneabbey, Mallow, County Cork in the Republic of Ireland. Her previous publications include a book of poetry titled Continuity Errors, and a novel, The Quest for Lost Eire, both published in 2014. She has also been published in a number of journals.
I like this! with love maxima
I love this poem so much Patrica – I feel sure that while there are poets out there of your calibre we will not all succumb to the fate you describe.
‘Eating terabytes’ is my favourite phrase and knowing that we are the small minority is a sobering thought.
I hope to read more of your work.
Demelza has said it so eloquently. I love this piece for its depth and perception.
Patricia, I too hope to read more. Insightful and perceptive.