We have two brush and pan sets
And one of those manual carpet cleaners that you push and pull
That need to be painstakingly cleaned by hand every so often
But we’re content with our lot – our sovereignty – our right to self-determination
When it comes to cleaning the chippies and dog fur off the carpet
We eschew the automised marvels of the warfare on domestic bacteria
Our Ruritanian idyll has been undisturbed for generations
Analogue recordings of unvarnished music-making
Exist happily alongside stethoscopes, Agee jars and sewing kits
But now the tranquillity and homeliness are threatened
By the sirens wailing their ode to Cassandra
‘Beware! The machines have risen. Save yourselves. Plug your ears!’
Massed on our borders is a horde of clamorous appliances
With foreign names like iRobot, SEBO and Eureka
And led by the traitor, Dyson
Once these Behemoths and Leviathans enter your domain
All will be lost
And your independence will be suborned to the appetite of the motor
Conversation, reading, music-making, eating – even coitus – must cease
No demurral will be brooked – no obfuscation heeded
No meal will be cooked when cleaning is needed
And when the machine approaches, move your legs
So as not to impede its progress
Avert your eyes and be respectful
For when you seethe, heave and weave plots of rebellion
Then recall the legend inscribed on Woody Guthrie’s vacuum cleaner;
‘This Machine Kills Democracy’
wbalanstuart
wiseblood.net 