Work Day In 'Lore

All is mist, cloud and fey
When lectric "Ring-Ring" wakes the day,
Drowse, blear, puff, weep,
Drag out from beauty sleep.

Time tells ticking past,
'Late of chore, quick of 'fast,
Rush to last flight,
In swift nick of tight'.

Swirling, swaying, swinging, weaving,
Onward through 'muters of melee dawn.
Screech for Red, and scram for Green,
Honking, bleeping, cussing, creeping.

Like God of gods, awaits our Boss,
He who holds our future toss.
For tis His to shower tribute,
And tis us to smart salute.

Lectron notes of note and nothing,
Whizzing, winding, waiting, working.
Liverables of measure,bringth sweet pressure.
Loss of many qualition, giveth Him 'munition.

Weak of work, mush of mind
In noon hours of lunch behind.
Watch how far of Scalation can,
Afore He bringth iron hand.

Meeting, 'sourcing, doc generating,
Tis the life of consultant-in-waiting.
Business in infanthood abounds
He who brings them is asounds.

'ssess our worth does He,
Who holds our worthy destiny.
Bring forth butter, song 'n dance
For tis our only chance.

Long at last cometh a break,
Of 'ffee, tea and cake.
Friends speak free, couples see,
And all is fun and spree.

Down it pours in windy torrents,
Slipping, sliding, slushing, swishing.
Run for cover, flee to shade,
Drench is the call of the day.

Yet again thro' right of flight,
Back through 'muters of tired night.
Screech for the Red, and scram for the Green,
Honking, bleeping, cussing, creeping.

Home-sweet-home long in-coming,
Quick of 'sup, rest becoming.
Keep of early lectric larm,
Drop in to blissful balm.

Life Science

Life Science

Watch now as the hopper rests,

It’s slender ‘pendages on smooth green,

Basking in nature’s splendor,

So full of life it seems.

Think then of the other-worlder,

Humanoid yet millions far away,

Gazing upon our sacred temple,

With soulful eyes that shredd’th ice,

And hopeful dreams of better worlds.

Might not he be true?

Create we have of mechanical men,

Who think like us but far better,

With emotions more than some,

And needs more than most.

Cry he does, ’bout his planet-brain,

Whine he does ‘bout his diodes,

Solve he does the question

Of life, the ‘verse and Everything.

But is he life?

Ask we have of ancient philosophy,

“What be life?” in delightful earnestness,

That which consumes? That which gives back?

And in a flash came the wisdom of science,

Be it resplendent, be it yet unknown,

Or be it mechanical,

“THAT WHICH SELF-ORGANIZES”.

Truth be told there be just one truth,

That the ‘verse teems with life.

^© Copywright Rahul Lakshmanan