Stop all the iPods (with apologies to W.H. Auden)

Stop all the iPods, shut off the iPhone,
Prevent the box from beeping with a muted mode,
Silence the keys and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let the people gather and the sadness spread
Viraling on the web the message He is Dead;
Put black banners at the top of every site,
Let page after page be turned black as night.

He was my Apple, my Mac, my Pixar, my NeXT,
My life at work and my life at rest,
My touch, my cloud, my mobile, my song:
I thought his vision would last forever: I was wrong.

The iToys are not wanted now; turn off every one;
Delete all the apps and dismantle the fun;
Pile up the digital and burn it like wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

(c) 2011 Marlene J. Geary