Together with the proof you are never alone
Fried brains come free with your mobile phone.
Hear the pop of cells in your ear as you speak -
Yes, you're on your way to becoming a freak
With no live brains to call your own
Since you've fried them on your mobile phone.
Wherever you are, on a bus or in a mall,
Or office or pub or at a game of football,
Attend to your charge, for in your ear
That siren's song of the mobile you'll hear.
There's no escape - cradle it and be damned;
You must, if you use it, be so condemned.
At every turn comes a need to converse,
But consider you phone as a kind of a hearse,
And that that ever faithful appendage of man,
Your skull, can act as a cooking pan.
The smell of frying you can easily endure
Against which no firm will willingly insure.
Oh, perish such thoughts, for after all,
What should matter but the next phone call?
Phone salesmen will say you've cells enough,
That there's a supply sufficient of such stuff
So you may talk forever and never die;
No need to worry about the cells that fry.
True, cells once zapped are zapped altogether
Thanks to what comes from out of the ether.
But, though you can't recharge them to get them back,
You may never notice that there's a lack.
So buy a phone, why be at all pensive?
Are a million brain cells that expensive?
What have they cost you except pain?
They could have made you a rebel, sent you insane.
You can say that the loss is really a gain.
And, just you wait, when your head's turned to stone,
And you heartbeat's little more than a groan,
There may yet come some message from your mobile phone.
Paul Lester
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-curse-of-the-mobile-phone/
