Phones And Their Phoney Fluff Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Mobiles, bright stars, brainy by far,
In hand, pockets, no small pests are;
In today's times make sense—
Thin line— sense from nuisance,
Pubs bars are, but what do they bar?

When walked in, were a good servant,
A master now so arrogant,
So pull their phoney fluff,
O man, do call their bluff,
And just as ye bid make them bent.

Let's not fault techno-tools' new breeze,
Let new skills, know-how, knowledge please,
Technology is ease,
Let new tools and toys please,
Need there's none to bend down to knees.

Let them shrink miles, make man mobile,
Should we wilt to their wonted wile?
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Tongue-in-cheek | 01.04.2017 |