Dirt Sweeper Is Time - Initial Version Of Tipping Points - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN
Man has reached a point in time
where he must choose before that choice
is forced upon him. Few rejoice
because the spectral pantomime
is faced with closure, cannot mime
a role with sense, nor find a voice
authentic underneath its grime.
Democracy has called the tune
since communistic threats appeared.
They, proving weaker than first feared, -
despite the missions to the moon, -
to dust dissolved are. Silver spoon
resumes his reign too highly geared
to cope with chaos which will soon
sweep the system, branches prune
which sturdy seem - soon to be sheared.
Enterprise has engineered
excesses while the baby boom
puts pressure on where once a boon
enhancing it was held, revered.
Restrictions? - Democratic doom.
It seems dream seams split one by one:
Social unrest, confusion, here.
There earthquakes, famine. Cracks appear
Inevitable. Time trap sprung!
Man machineseems out of gear,
Economies unbalanced, - fear
rampant that our race is run.
(8 October 1992)
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