His head was shaking wildly
like a nodding dog set free,
but as I passed the bus stop,
I could see his MP3.
She was walking, talking, gesturing,
a crazy life unplanned,
till I saw her earpiece dangling
to the mobile in her hand.
And said his sheep had blue tongue,
it was sadly in their bones,
but it came as quite a bombshell,
as he didn’t know they’d phones.
There was sat nav on the dashboard,
and a dropp down DVD,
and 400 watts of hip hop,
but he couldn’t count to three.
And that calculator in your phone,
is mega pixel bright,
but alas technologies escaped
and run off into night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem