Cautionary Rhymes For Gen-Tech

© Raymond Huber 2020

Meet Global Norman. He’s addicted to every new digital device, every kind of technology. Read his over-the-top poems:

Mobile Phone (Listen to the song here)

In which we meet a mobile-clone
When Norman tries the latest phone

Norman liked to be alone,
His best friend was his mobile phone.
He much preferred the glowing case
To any boring human face.

The phone was always in his hand,
He had to have the latest brand.
Texting, movies, email too,
He even used it on the loo.

Each new model was a blast
And each was smarter than the last.
His coolest was the Buzz-For-Free,
Half the size of a bumblebee.

He took the phone to bed one night,
Snoozing by its tiny light.
But while he was in deepest slumber,
Someone tried to call his number.

Norman snapped out of his doze,
The tiny phone went up his nose.
He sniffed and up it went again,
Into a sticky bit of brain.

Now this is what young Norman does,
His eyes light up, his nostrils buzz.
And if you call he’s always home,
A walking talking mobile phone.

Global Norman

Ask me why the Earth is warming;
The answer lies with Global Norman

Norman hated cold and ice
He wanted warmth at any price.
When Norman heated up his mansion
Power bills became gargantuan.

He turned the thermostat to high
Enough to cook an apple pie.
A million mega-watts of power
To heat his swimming pool and shower.

Seven heat-pumps sat in rows
Where Norman lay and warmed his toes.
Watching wide-screen plasma tele,
Sun-lamp shining on his belly.

A massive furnace burning oil
Kept Norman’s hot-tub on the boil.
An endless summer was his goal
Fuelled by gas and wood and coal.

The house could not hold all the heat
Which soon flowed out into the street.
A heatwave roared up to the sky
And planet Earth began to fry.

Icebergs melted at the poles
Glaciers crumbled into holes.
Super-storms began to blow
The sea rose up to overflow.

He watched the news of climate change
And Norman thought it very strange
That scientists could get so mad
Just because the weather’s bad.

But ocean waves swept in one day
And floated Norman’s house away.
He got up and looked outside
At water, water, far and wide!

A polar bear swam past his window
Norman did not laugh or grin though.
The bear looked deep into his eye,
And Norman feared that it would die.

He saw that melting ice and snow
Was drowning creatures high and low.
He stopped using too much fuel
And planet Earth began to cool.

He now keeps warm by climbing hills,
(While paying less on power bills).
Norman built an eco-cottage
Using sun and wind for wattage.

Gadgets and Gizmos

Norman’s spending all his money
On gadgets that are weirdly funny

Norman loved to buy machines,
Gizmos from his wildest dreams.
Strange inventions filled his place,
Contraptions crammed in every space.

A widget that unscrambled eggs,
An instrument to scratch his legs,
A robot that would tease the cat,
An exercycle for his rat.

Electric knives to slice his jelly,
Revolving tables for the telly,
A beanbag with a laser light,
Which also told his weight and height.

Norman soon spent all his money,
On a battery-powered bunny,
And a microwave that sang
“Mary, Cook A Little Lamb”.

But his gadgets made him gloomy,
His house no longer felt so roomy,
Norman gazed on all his junk,
And his spirits went ker-plunk.

What use was a goldfish-propeller,
Or a personal armpit-smeller?
And a digital leaf-blower,
Shaped like an oversize feijoa.

Norman cried, “Enough’s enough!”
And sold off all his useless stuff.
(Except a chocolate Noah’s Ark,
And a toilet seat that glowed in the dark).

He got heaps of cash that day
All of which he gave away.
Gosh it made him feel much better
To be a giver, not a getter.

Net Dot Nut

The tale of a computer storm
That spells disaster for our Norm

Norman was online all week,
His nickname was the Cyber-Geek.
He’d gaze into his laptop screen,
And drift in pixelated dreams.

His laptop was a kind of leech.
His friends would ask him to the beach,
But while they dived and got all wet,
Norman surfed the internet.

He scrolled the web for endless hours,
No time for eating or for showers.
Or giving Chips the Cat her meals,
He ignored the desperate squeals.

We’ve sure made progress since papyrus,
Except for the computer virus.
The laptop opened up its drive,
And loaded Norman’s brain alive.

Traveling through the internet,
His mind went faster than a jet.
But then his electronic bliss,
Was interrupted by a hiss.

There’s nothing like an angry moggy,
When it’s hungry, cold and soggy.
No food was found inside the house,
She pounced upon the laptop mouse.

Chips landed on the shutdown key,
The screen went blank quite suddenly.
The cat ran off to find a home,
And left poor Norman all alone.

He was as close as he could get
to his beloved internet.
Streaming in a hyper-storm,

At dub-dub-dub-dot-net-dot-Norm.

Remote Controlled

Features a diabolical control
That tries to steal young Norman’s soul.

Norman loved to watch TV,
He only stopped to have a pee.
Every waking hour was filled,
With shows that either bored or thrilled.

Channel hopping was his sport,
His concentration span was short.
Cartoons, cooking, daily soap,
No show was safe from his remote.

Not satisfied with television,
Norman hired an electrician,
And explained his mad intention
To make a new remote invention.

They constructed the device,
And lazy Norman paid the price.
The new remote was a delight,
It turned on everything in sight.

He became a sluggish glutton,
With every electronic button
Connected to his lights and heaters,
Windows, cupboards and egg beaters.

Norman sat in bed and pressed
A button that would get him dressed,
And another click each night
Whisked his clothing out of sight.

Appliances at his command,
And entertainment on demand.
Every action by remote,
Made his tubby tummy bloat.

A bit of fun controlling telly,
Turned his muscles into jelly.
He knew that he had lost control,
But who would save his wobbly soul?

The electrician smashed the door,
And scraped poor Norman off the floor.
He dragged him to the local gym,
Where Norm got fit and mighty slim.

Ear-Pod

It’s a blast of rock-and-roll
When Norman’s Ear-pod takes control

Norman’s Ear-pod filled his brain,
It did much more than entertain,
Playing music night and day,
It chased his worries far away.

Speakers deep inside his ears,
Drowning out his thoughts and fears.
Disco daydreams while at school,
And Hip-Hop made him feel so cool.

Pop Songs gave him good vibrations,
Jazz erased his irritations.
Country Music made him dance,
And Classics put him in a trance.

Norman liked the volume loud,
It sent him sailing like a cloud.
He’d close his eyes and sing along,
He knew the words to every song.

One day he wandered on the road,
(His Ear-pod was in shuffle mode).
Someone yelled, “Look out, you goose!”
But the warning was no use.

With Heavy Metal in his head,
He did not hear the truck that sped,
Around the corner mighty fast,
And snagged his trousers as it passed.

Norman flew behind the truck,
Like a flapping farmyard duck.
As music pounded in his brain,
He landed on a passing train.

Norman lost all his control,
The Ear-pod changed to Rock and Roll,
He did not hear the clickety-clack
Of wheels upon the railway track.

The music pitched him off the top,
He crashed into a garden plot.
And deep inside a compost heap,
The Beetles sang him off to sleep.

And as young Norman soundly dozed,
His Ear-pod music de-composed.
He learned a lesson from the violence,
Now he loves a little silence.

Computer Games

Is about some stolen socks
And Norman playing on his Box

Norman’s Mum went out one day
She said “Be good while I’m away.
Play your Hex-Box if you like,
And watch that naughty puppy, Spike.”

Norman grabbed the Box control,
And with a single-minded goal,
To reach the highest-ever level,
Of a game called Damage Devil.

Meanwhile Spike ran out the back
And launched into a bird attack.
He got inside the chicken coop,
And made the chooks fly loop-de-loop,

Norman locked onto the screen,
The house was now a burglar’s dream.
A robber came and picked the locks,
He stole some silver and some socks.

The game held Norman like a charm
And he ignored the fire alarm,
An earthquake, a tornado blowing,
An avalanche and lava flowing.

He won the game and full of stress,
Norman turned and saw the mess.
The house was a disaster zone,
And Spike chewed on a chicken bone.

His mother made him sell the Box
And buy his father some new socks.
He had to take Spike out for runs,
And bake the chickens hot cross buns.

Fast Food

It’s really quite disgusting
When Norman eats until he’s busting

Norman was a fast food fan,
Frozen, fried, or from a can.
He was a speedy, greedy eater,
Guzzling ice-cream by the litre.

At breakfast he would eat cold fries,
At lunch three peanut-butter pies,
At night a pizza topped with lollies.
A day of fatty foody follies.

It must be ready in a flash,
Or Norman chucked it in the trash.
TV dinners quick to swallow,
With pre-cooked sausages to follow.

When he searched the supermarket,
Instant food-stuffs were his target.
Thickened and emulsified,
Sweetly flavoured, brightly dyed.

To speed the trip to pick up meals,
Norman made some shoes with wheels.
They got him to the shop much faster,
But hurtled him towards disaster.

Down the highway Norman flew
And slipped upon some oily goo.
A somersault, and with a tuck,
He landed in a garbage truck.

It was fuIl of scraps of food,
Overcooked and partly chewed.
Now he eats whenever he feels,
In his fast-food-meal-on-wheels.

Teenage Driver

Here is Norman as a teen
Who drives a mighty mean machine

When Norman drove his Dad’s new car
He thought he was a racing star.
He rumbled through the busy town
And revved the engine up and down.

Thinking it was really cool,
He squealed the tyres like a fool.
With music making ear-drums pop,
And windows down at every stop.

He hung an arm out like a noodle,
And skidding round a passing poodle,
Yelled at all his high-school mates:
“Go and play with roller skates!”

On Brownie St or thereabouts,
He tooted at a group of scouts.
His air-horn made the children jump,
The scouts all landed in a clump.

His father said “Now that’s enough!”
And suddenly got really tough.
He took the car away at once,
And told him not to be a dunce.

Dad made Norman ride a bike,
And take the scouts out on a hike.
He had to sit some driving tests,
And knit the poodle woollen vests.

Now Norman drives a limousine,
A glossy, rather mean machine.
His new job, though, is hardly sinister,
For now he’s driving our Prime Minister.