The Obsolete Man Poem by Keith Dovoric

He don't know no circuitry
He don't know no scheme
He don't know no hook-up
No invisible stream
Running thru his living room
Fast as fast can
No there ain't no connection
For the Obsolete Man

The Obsolete Man
The Obsolete Man
There ain't no connection
To the Obsolete Man

His head down in the river
His body, sallow and damp
He reaches for his wife's ashes
And lights his kerosene lamp
It must be 1850
Wherever he stands
The world is full of consumption
For the Obsolete Man

Now don't you feel sorry
And don't you feel sick
To be obsolete means
You've already seen thru the trick

The Luddites know it
And ol' Jon Swift understands;
They're standing right with me
‘cause I'm the Obsolete Man