This poem is not yet finished, it's going to have a fourth and fifth part before I'm through with it:
I.
"A Spectacle," it is whispered.
They stand Amazed;
Stupefied
by its Inscrutability:
Mouths hung open
in dumb awe.
Most are Frightened
by their Lack of Control;
Written off as a Miracle,
They are contented to say;
It is God's will,
Or the Devil having his way.
But there are others,
Those with a notion
of Conquering
the Unknown.
Their interest is piqued;
With some supplies at hand:
The Dabbling Begins.
II.
Curious,
They know it is inevitable.
The Select Few:
Whose eyes cannot see their hands,
At their disposal:
The progress of man.
When first introduced,
Resistance is felt;
From The Frightened,
unwilling to change.
Consequently,
The Voice is arranged:
(softly now - for they are afraid)
"Do not be afraid,
for the benefits are many;
New levels of comfort,
Convenience and leisure:
If you'll only pay the money."
All is Accepted,
The guard is let down.
Why had it been there?
They wonder with a frown.
They cannot seem to recall.
The Infiltration Begins.
III.
Unnoticed by most,
It slips its extolled black tentacles
Into its creators' everyday existences.
The Frightened now proclaim:
(so boldly, so ecstatically)
“These exquisite appliances;
Are so very quick and helpful;
How novel, how fresh,
We simply must get them all!"
"The television industry generally accepts 1948 as the year it attained complete public acceptance."
Building the Parlors,
To be surrounded by their families:
They sit
Staring,
Clutching at Utopia with empowered hands;
These comforting machines have become their intoxication.
Progress is exponential,
In the Accelerator.
The course of a civilisation has been lain by the clever fools;
And all are now irrevocably engrossed.
(...and this is where parts 4 and 5 will go eventually...)
They will be about the FUTURE of humanity and its technology.
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