My cell phone sits upon the shelf, dusty and neglected,
Because with robocalls galore it has now been infected.
The ID of these automated bugs is not effective --
To figure out the true from false is work for a detective.
Technology has brought us to this pretty pass today --
To weed out all the robo-tares would take the CIA.
This unwanted attention from an overseas flimflammer
Makes me want to use unholy and disgusting grammar.
The only answer I can see to all my agitation
Is to regress back in time to simpler communication.
The telegraph might be the best and cheapest sort of mode
To foil the grifters while I’m talking only in Morse code! 
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