They give us a black sun,
A poetry of the absurd,
Wailing strained metaphors,
To programme word by word;
They give us rock and roll,
Regimentation of the beat,
Electronic identity,
Programmed tweet by tweet.
So where is there more substance,
Where can I begin to belong?
And where to read the meaning
In the phrases of birdsong?
The sun breaks through - a gentle heat -
We too sit and write - word by word.