Visions Of The Future Poem by Michael Bisson

Nothing else really matters,
upon the shelf
Time has shattered
numbers grow, then they scatter
Rolls away like days of summer
Now grey clouds there full of thunder

I asked for answers, receiving short reply
We learn to live and then we learned to die

Bionic birds they yearn to fly
Fluttered wings in napalm skies

Seas are grey and filled with plastic, if u turn away, makes actions drastic

Jimi moves at blue lights tomorrow
shiney people made of solar panels, they throw there fists, they fight there shadows

Roads fork, split, rise to floating islands
Where words are sold and used in calculating fashion


Segregation equals separation which causes agitation, resulting in aggrivation.

Nuclear bees hover over plastic cameraed flowers, set in electric quilted landscapes ablaze chemical scented powers.


Bionic birds dont sing, androids dont dream of sheep
Obese people sit, click, flicking, switching, all in virtual sleep.