Remember the Future in chrome and concrete?
An intelligent house on a well spoken street.
The robot would iron and hoover and clean
No poor people anywhere,
None to be seen.
Hover to work for just six hours a week,
From a hole in the wall I would choose what to eat.
The music was rubbish and sport was just weird
Religion was mad men
In blankets and beards.
War had converted to some kind of game,
All the people were children who all thought the same.
Love was a pill and depression a cloak,
No one pictured a cow
No one made up a joke.
But that was the future when I was a thirteen,
It didn't quite work out the years in-between.
The future of now is just Tuesday next week
Crap weather, new iPhones
And on line critique.
