Heaven & Hell

I seized the crimson threads of dawn

And strolled all through the April morn;

The white cliff’d shore, the whispering sea,

I thanked the Lord all silently

That he’d allowed me to be born.

Then lumbering towards me though the mist

There comes the Electronic Solipsist,

Disdained the joy of being alone

Jabbering into his wretched phone:

I wish the bastard would desist.

It is a plague throughout the nation,

Nihilistic contamination;

Loud technology’s recompense,

Ubiquitous speech but lacking sense:

This is audible damnation.