poem
Volume 31, Number 3

The Future

So this now is the future.
No flying cars.
No solutions, all the same problems.
People are slaughtered
In huge numbers worldwide.
It will not stop.
No one finds an ending.
The very richest
Only spend to go to Mars.
They’ve got the money,
And they know Earth is so last year,
Down the toilet.
They’ll buy Mars in advance
And sell shares later,
When all our ice has melted,
And fires never stop.
Techno makes the future future.
AI takes over.
The great quantum computers,
In nanoseconds,
Enable endless scams and porno.
It’s the future,
So we have no control.
It’s done for us.
We all pay by auto-pay.
The future is secure.
The police have brand-new weapons.
Folks just vaporize.
No record, no body, no trial.
You bet it’s secret.
And there’s private security
With disease masks
All around the rich people.
Till they get to Mars
We’re not permitted to infect them.
I’ve seen the future.
I’m living in the middle of it.
Can I get a drink?


—Rick McKenzie