by D.F. Goodman
The robots stood in sevens,
Locked against the retaining wall,
Ancient since last they moved,
Summoned now by recall.
Jerimus the key holder whirred,
To sudden active mode awoke,
Slender metallic fingers flexed,
And the helix encoder broke.
Green light flooded the chamber,
Ambient diodes glowed on faces,
Strange forgotten frozen visages,
As the promised it displaces.
The last army of man stepped forward,
Launched upon the solemn stage,
Efficient actors for the cosmic finally,
Echoing their creator's rage.
Descending upon unwary inhabitants,
The gentle and conquered earth,
So long ago they had forgotten,
The long dead world of their birth.
Unprepared and rife for annihilation,
Jerimus led the savage assault,
When remembered by the encoders,
It would be a victory by shear default.
Metallic gods in brutal exactness,
Rained like clouds of doom,
Long after the first wave of destruction,
The earth would be a silent tomb.
Sadly not one human eye would weep,
Tears are foreign to electric eyes,
Mercy is not programmed in darkness,
Chaos is the author who writes and dies.
Robots stood in lines of sevens,
Silent now midst total destruction,
Their austere beauty marks the age,
Ending the long fatal seduction.