Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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Bionic?

I wouldn’t want bionic eyes, lest heaps of bacteria I see
Crawling all over my dinner plate, camping all over my body.
And oh dear, how I’d notice more grubbiness, very frustratingly,
Which would have me forever scrubbing, and rubbing at each poor old knee.

I wouldn’t want a bionic nose, for imagine what I might smell,
For there are some nasty odors about that my senses would repel.
And should I have an allergy, imagine all those shocking sneezes,
Should little pollen balls come floating my way upon summer breezes.

I wouldn’t want bionic ears, lest very unpleasant things I hear,
Things I would rather not know about, lest they upset, rather than cheer.
And I’d hardly want those noises enhanced that so often irritate,
But that funnily enough, the ears of the younger set captivate.

I wouldn’t want bionic legs, lest they advance too quickly for me,
And I, then end up on my back, due to the sudden velocity.
Or lest I arrive somewhere too soon, and just end up waiting around,
Or lest I go walking too often, and a growing fatigue compound.

I wouldn’t want bionic arms, lest some heavy load damage my back,
For I’m sure that I would go lifting things that really required a jack.
And should I hug someone affectionately, something might well go crack,
Or once again, I might tire myself, given all the wood I could stack.

I wouldn’t want a bionic brain, lest I outsmart myself, get confused,
Or due to overusing it, end up mentally battered and bruised.
And should I become known as clever, and my head then begin to swell,
What would I do with my hat, and how does one a rising ego quell?

No, I think I’d rather remain as I am — just me — bionic free,
For I have enough problems without being wired electronically.
Yes, I’m too bigger risk as it is, without being partly bionic,
So, thanks for your kind suggestion, but with my own body parts I’ll stick.

By Lance Landall


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