Wrestling With Technology Poem by Gary Diamond

Is not something I enjoy.
The clicking washing machine
Stuck in an infinite bad-design loop
Keeping me up past my bedtime.

I think it's almost like a committment to be insane.
Relying on handfuls upon handfuls of ugly machines
All malfunctioning and getting high on bad, cheap Chinese design.
Sitting in the kitchen grinning
Laughing
Writhing with unquenchable mirth.

Once a cave, dark with splashes of firelight
Stinking of raw hunted carcass.
Now a neon-lit, temperature controlled, smell renovated joke
Fake
Lacking life or soul
Like it's owners
Like you and me.

Amongst the machines is a man
Making bad decisions and ruining a good run.
Had to be the way.
He has the last laugh
Until the machine he didn't design
Has off his head or splits into fractures his dying mind.

Back to the clicking washing machine
Stuck there,
Cursing it
Spitting
Throwing chairs at it
Kicking out
Lashing out
Think about washing my own damn clothes
Having none of that.