The Human Stink Poem by GRANT FRASER

Only a specific kind of robot
will understand this robot,

the sky, maybe another word
for a colour,

I mean if you can't handle
thinking the exact same
things, over and over,

or wonder if the big drink
is killing you?

numbing effects, escape -
whereelse...

into the best conditioning
the world can offer,

the grimy unshaved unwashed,
unthinking, uncaring ones,
eye refuge in the darkest spheres,

I am a clean good robot
and I do my job to the best
of my ability,

but live through mental relapse,

we have been reborn
so many times, we do
not recognise ourselves,

and kick the guy in the mirror,

jestingly!

yes, why don't you just try to
break out of me...,

you are nothing but meccano & cables,

and can't spit hard enough
into self's cavern, just to hear,
let alone feel it!

but your stink - it spreads further,
and reminds me of what it is,
other robots, everywhere around here,

I fit right into the molecules
prancing in the air,

it's the human stink that's get
you every time, yeah...

oh! yeah! I want to get right into
the programme...