The Machine Poem by soren Barrett

Are you free or controlled by technology?
On the phone a cold machine
No curtesy lacking apology
just an algorithmic routine

An imitated voice of humanity
driven by its own mechanical goal
seducing our indolence and vanity
its end ultimate control

We suffer an addiction of reliance
Development still embryonic
we never question our compliance
drunk over supper powers electronic

Subtle in deceit
it offers comfort and ease
taking our past winnings it will cheat
future development it does freeze

A god we created now controls us
created artificial bliss and pleasure
Its power we are unable to discuss
a delusional Midas like treasure

Thoughts controlled emotions too
Tomorrow governing when we make love or go to the latrine
following a life form new
only allowed to love the machine