The Locust - Book Of Bot

He's a wretch and
Like all the rest he thinks
There's time to make trouble
And time to make a mess
He says
"Punch in, automate,
stomp on, stomp out"
Mechanized and traumatized
He's tapping things obsessively.

Finds his boss's office
And tears it apart
Torches the evidence
Quits his job

Voltage highways
Currents moving constantly
BLissed out and circuit bent
He's summoned by his majesty

Anxious electric
Taps into the registry;
A challenge to the monolith,
The obelisk is posturing.

Sleeping monsters rise
(Manichaean disguise)
Ransacks Junktown.

Glass-eyed ogre
Builds himself and armory;
Lives like a hammer
(A vulgar diplomacy)

A new kind of prophet
Tyranny
Trauma
A new aristocracy

Finds every flaw in the eyes of his enemies
Wages war and flies his flag
Prelude to the coming of
A new machine metropolis.