Brock Gates Poet I do not know?

A Pint of the God Machine

A pint of the god machine

Surfing the digital space

drifting

and sifting throughout the net

to find the key

and yet it never appears

so as I might fear

there is a fee

to pay for knowledge

little universe in a box

and I’m trapped in a state of mind I cannot describe

strange and stranger still yet

there is a way about machines I don’t quite understand, as I’m sitting in a 
space of not my own creation being yearned on by beats I did not breath life 
into, and still yet I drift and pseudo-surf throughout the space of cyber

and I’m lost

I cannot find my desire

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