A dated nineteen-fifties sci-fi novel,

Trouble with aliens and sinister creeping vines

Seeding and quickly spreading with an incidence of signs

The world is on the brink; homeland, and foreign climes

Excepting valorous wrestlings of deft scientific minds

Of evident authority and eminence informed

Assuredly have clues that solve, and know what humankind

Indubitably needs, the remedies; in righteous hands

Impressively, excessively imperious

Stand, stare, four-square, well-groomed their hair, so serious

Entrancing absolutist in their bearing; orators

Sagacious in their words, high-minded, at the very curve

Where ‘real-time’ (what is that?) eventful happenings

Play out quick consequential shifts and level changes

Their nerve combined prefers a regal conscious coldness,

Analysis while paralysis holds the huddled proles in thrall

One sealed collective wall of unanimity, and constant

One single effort; mutually decisive deeds

Of stonewall presentation like a corporation’s front

‘Ein Volk, ein Reich...’.- oracular indeed

In one’s best interest, temperately entreating offer

The wise judicious scientists would curb the populace

A madding crowd observes the curbs, complaining scarce a gripe

The scientific wise-men esteem the people two-bricks light

A flock of folk whose ample care is therefore their vocation

A primacy of shepherds in a promissory world;

Emollient compass spreads contemptuous-complimentary

Give barbecues, and pubs, and pan-fried sliced potatoes

Effectually relinquishing all heave-ho, all say-so

The people seated click instructing kit to close the windows

As glorious pours in tech, regaling them to torpid limbo

Volition, and decision, all life-energy, defrays

Another similar novel of the nineteen-fifties

A horror; impotence has settled on the stalky eye

Stood starting from a head; a torso leaden, leaning lies

Muscle-wasted, interfacing with undead robotic drives

Observant servants, every need, desire, conceded

By bio-chips and fusion – elementary particles

No person needs to work them, they have circuits that conceive

And act in lieu of you and your activity

No finger left to lift, no pace to best foot forward,

No synapse in the world alive possesses vital knowledge

The efficacious gadgets make themselves; appraise a planet

Palatial sanatorium, deadbeat human patients on it