I Temple Poem by Alan Bruce Thompson

The sect members flocked into the halls,
To receive the hallowed sounds in the walls.

The voice of promise boomed out into the icrowds,
And swore salvation from the iclouds.

Above the heads were held the holy phones and pad,
Without them life would be meaningless and sad.

The holy iTemple crowd echoed with one voice,
The newest phone provided only one holy choice.

To possess the newest meant to be above the crowd,
To own the same phone was the wish cried out aloud.

To all own the same was sold as the label of individuality,
Such a propaganda reached the limit of incredibility.

The iTemple was the biggest sect gathering of all,
To be found in the center of each shopping mall.

We promote our products with 'iTemple first',
We place tariffs on all competition and label them cursed!