The Saga Of The Robot Bandits (Work In Progress) . Poem by Simon Gwynn

A creaking senior cyborg let me in,
greeting me with a mechanical grin.
I offered as a bribe two auxiliary knees
fashioned in nickel by the Nipponese;
I knew a refusal for him would come hard -
he was due any day for the breaker's yard.
His worn visage cracked when I offered my gifts
and between his rusted and rheumy eye rivets
two oily tears did trickle through.
In a moment his programming ran all askew -
something approaching a nervous breakdown
swivelled his head madly round and round,
green sparks flew from his ball joint bones
and his leaky vents hissed steam and ozone.
This touched me and I drew him near:
'Come tell me, I vouch you'll have nothing to fear -
is it due to the fact that your type's rendered impotent
that you joined the Robot Liberation Front? '
He recoiled with a clank and with an air quite superior
abruptly propelled me within the interior.
And there in a towering hall I beheld
a sight which no man's yet lived to tell:
the barbarian hordes, the robot bands
in noisome dance, iron hand in hand.
While above the din of amok automata
their leaders bellowed bellicose data
in a synthesised tongue unknown to me,
(though I'd read cyberphonetics at MIT) .
While all around, to my horror, android girls simulated,
their privy parts with o'erpowering oils impregnated
and lewdly adorned with sparkly powder-coat paint,
without the slightest sense of restraint,
all kinds of lewd, lascivious acts,
somehow pleasing to mechanical artefacts.
By now, near o'ercome by the din and the sight,
I feared my ersatz costume was proving too tight,
though my tinfoil helmet and 'luminum vest,
fashioned to mimic a typical guest,
in the way of disguise had more than excelled,
within was becoming hotter than hell.
I knew it essential, to maintain respiration,
to find a place untainted by this inflamed congregation.
More, I had sworn to pursue my dire quest unstinting
to infiltrate their headquarters, unmasked and unflinching,
there to dismantle, dismember or in some way dispose -
as the deed rose before me 'midst the heat, my blood froze
and a rage possessed me and I clenched tight my fists -
of that tyrannical satanical fanaticist, DIS!

But my anger cut short, for I was once more o'ertaken
by the havoc around me, and with my wits near forsaken
I began to stumble through the clouds of rank steam
that poured from hysteric, overheated machines.
Then I spied a sentry deserting his post,
seduced by the frantic cacophonous host,
so like a bat in a brainstorm, I struck out for his door
through the grinding iron beat that thundered up from the floor.
Free at last, bright steel shafts breathed cool air from the depths.
Sweet release! I put my hands to my visor and wept....