…in Machine Gun City Poem by B. Sven Telander

Never ever had such a hip viper,
hep cat, quip sniper, hot cad,
Mr. Slick, Dr Cool,
strut his stroll,
in Machine Gun City,
during the year 2222,
than the one and only Jiminy Boneyard.

Outrace any turbocops in the hyperphonic zones
and outfox any pulsedetectives
in the necorictor sectors, he could.
Outsteal any and all torquetheives
in the whole damn 154 quadrants, as well.
Jiminy Boneyard was a tailgunning, overthrusting,
supra-sonic technomancer,
one solid fast-riding, hard-playing,
ultrachrome citizen.

So the avenues and boulevards of Machine Gun City
were rocked asunder with hype and anticipation
when the Duke of Destruction
from nearby Novatropolis paid a serious visit;
was more than any could hope for,
with the media elite dutifully chronicling
it all for the enjoyment of the populace,
enabling their already voracious
addiction to holovised carnage:
a toe-to toe to tomb,
head-to-head to hell,
thunder plunder rumble
between two psycho-kinetic
super future roosters colliding and riding
with competitive frenzy and magnified energy,
in a glittering arena of pain and spectacle…