In the year 2098
Millions of robots are helpers to man
Doing the dirty jobs no others can
It's their mechanical fate
Toil like illegal immigrants
Metallic, not tragic,
Keeping America great.
But then something magic
And strange occurs, as a ghost,
One day, enters the machines,
A cosmic music virus jumps
From host to host,
From coast to coast,
And then there are joyful scenes
Of hip-hopping hydraulic pumps,
And, in digital-electric trance
The metal-droids begin to dance
Like James Brown, hot circuits
With ants in their pants.
They do the Boogaloo,
The Funky Chicken and The Jerk...
The Robots never stop,
And humans go back to work...
- - - - - - - - - -
Art by Mark Harm Niemeyer, available at MAIYA Gallery in Sacramento, CA
I like it.
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