Treasure Island

Mark R Slaughter


Not Human


Steely carcass eyes me down
In grit of stance, without romance.
Mulling or reasoning do not exist
In yammering circuits:
You do your job without recourse
With focused aim on driving force.
I just evanesce
Beneath your shining might, regress.

But do you weep or even care?
Have you humour, wish to share?

Do you suffer mental strain,
Let wine enthral, succumb to pain?

Are you graced with living flesh
In sensuous skin,
With heartening pulse to underpin?

Are you blessed with colleagues wise -
Thoughtful patrons to advise?

‘Irrelevant, ' is all I see conveyed,
To force me ponder while dismayed:
You're naught in constitution;
Automaton institution;
Creative destitution
Devoid of resolution:
Alas, you are not human.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

Submitted: Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, March 20, 2012

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