Sensory Fief

Poet instinct says:
make your metaphors old
a feather in your fez
a tome for hands to hold

but is that how it goes
from daily modern life
the dead have lost their toes
while ailing conquers strife

rather tell now's pains
than ancient plow lanes 
swapping schemes we wrote
with reams of digital notes

who owns this land
the leader bows
don't give a hand
your beamer vows

yet feelings alter facing you
teach me how to see it too
adorned with nothing shameless cry
naked humble sans techno pry

alone together which way reads
scanning feathers flying leads
news is gory story blob
sun makes calm the fizzy mob.