The soaring of the new eagle not as we know it!

Living on the outskirts
of the nineteen seventies
riding the wheel
of Neanderthal thinking
I was struck head on by
the new age symphony
of robotic minds
planning the demise
of the last chords.
My memories pulled
along with my hair,
the stylus stuck
in the Grand Canyon,
fossilised remains lie
near a skull empty,
the clear skies of thinking gone,
an ill wind blows the dusty pages,
one hears a guitar string break
over the fading drums
of a heart deserted
while the eagle soaring
is big brother watching.