Best Mass Production Poems
number 10.)
Appropriations will be cost effective only when mass production is labeled'for
esthetic use only'.
number 9).
All committee decisions must be based on my own and no one elses.
number8).
The 'sleek new modern' must be based on Baroque precepts that stem from
facistic-anarchical individualistic expression over the state.
number7).
The media is to be tightly controlled based on my novel
number6).
There is no number 6.
number 5).
The deliniation of taste will be non linear.
number 4).
I will be awash with cash I now don't have.
number 3).
Teenage angst will be programmed into everyone well into their eighties.
number 2).
There may be a number 2 in a parallel universe.
And the number one result When Artists Finally take over the World is........
ME!
THE MEERKAT
Meerkats are delightful beasts,
Arousing warm affection
They stand in groups discrete
Looking in the same direction
COW
How now brown cow
A bestowal to the world art thou
Miracle of God's construction
Four stomachs in mass production
THE PIG
Our blessings upon you abound
In our hearts you did awaken
A sense of gratitude profound
For bringing home the bacon
CHICKENS
In these days of Genetic modification
There is a question that begs
Should we yield to the great temptation
To get a chickens with four wings and six legs
THE URBAN PIGEON
I've nothing against the urban pigeon
But could it not maintain a smidgeon
Of caution when it makes its flyway
In the middle of a six lane highway
THE ANT
The ant delights to frolic
In Formic acid vitriolic
But on the tongue of the Ant Eater
There is nothing could be sweeter
THE BULL
His spontaneous emanation
Given without solicitation
Should encouraged him on a mission
To be a salesman or politician
The mass production of coal is dead,
Buried infer lamps carried on the head,
Halogen miners sang the unforgiving dirge,
With fragments of flaky particles emerge,
Drilling hammers that smote the ground,
Never again to hear its rumbling sound.
Voices roar like dragons in damp vapour,
Highlighted the dangerous drudgery caper.
Its miners turn to face the cold idle breeze
Lusty diggers of cave brought to their knees.
Dust off running tears in nocturnal eyes
Sparkled pay in dissonant redundancies.
Tipping poison pouring out of their coat,
Coals brightly burn diamonds in the heat.
Hem and skirt tossed away in good wave,
The blockade collapsing stairs of the brave.
Sad hearts dramatically ending the way of life,
Kiss the face pioneers abandon with cheek.
Dirty power of bygone industrial revolution,
The demise ends centuries of veiled tradition.
Looks that is lost on the cloudy grey glare,
Tunnels bearing signature of the slender tear.
Tattoo rippled down on jagged wall mirrors,
Romantic fires to stare at the mantle towers.
Underground roads in loops of fuel suspended,
Prison row of tombs lay silently on the cold bed.
Rock fractals calling from cold depth of earth,
Snuffed out the foggy union in oblivious wrath.
Dripping tar brooms lay on the dormant floor,
Once supplied daily ration meals for the poor.
Now the pit is shut leaving the empty trucks,
Pulling the souvenirs bearing burden buckets.
Into the nostril part of murky breath exhale,
Indifference steps crystallised among the stubble.
Can we face climate change of clean living?
In the beautiful candescent global warming.
Dams, mining, extraction and fracking!
Logging, trawling, oops this urban expansion!
Plastic, toxic sludge and fertilisers,
Industrial revolution, Mass production!
Rising pollution and depleting fossil fuel.
Expanding population, you greedy humans!
Squeezing nature and melting glaciers
Chocking gases creating Climate conundrum.
Speeding extinction, your helpless restrictions.
Destructing ozone layers, eroding my very foundations!
The earth in pain whispers to me:
Why are you causing this depredation?
Look at my dereliction!
Please stop this destruction.
WHISPER TO ME Ii CONTEST
Sponsored by: Regina Riddle
Date: 14th June; 2020
Ode To A Dead Pilot
The time to sioux for peace is before the first shot is fired.
Weapons of destruction aer better turned around.
Point them at the darkness and then frown.
Fighting is for ^A^ngels and much nobler sorts than yew.
A Soldier in his britches needs a glory to behold;
other than the flag of his own country I am told.
Place your thoughts above on things where Christ
does dwell, and walk on streets of GOLD.
Even in your dreams and memories it will help you to grow old.
There was once a MAN who was once a boy.
He played with toys, and after graduation then He heard:
Great engines sucking air into intakes,
and the expelling of the air again to reach a multi-colored
transfer pointe and sometimes after running out of fuel
a man does NOT bail out...
but takes his planethopping function into the DEAD terrian.
Avoiding populated areas, to kill a cactus NOT a populas.
When that MAN is inn his Heaven and rewards come due.
I want to hear everyone in Heaven say,
'He was a boy getting into that aeroplane, but he
became a MAN today.
I saw several of my men turn fear away from populated places,
as they crashed and died in flame into the desert cactus,
to ensure the best proclivity of mass production.
The wreckage of an aeroplane.
Charles Hice
Saturnalia
The Romans celebrated
Sweet Saturnalia
and the Christians waited
for the birth of their god
who suggested a mass production
not wine flowing end of Winter
But the birth of a nation
where beginning and end is the same
start as you mean to go on
end in shame sweet Saturnalia beget
a son of purity and gain
a conscience of pure myth
a culture filled with emptiness
no pagan worship of their god
but filth and gainly enterprise
to kill a man before he grows
The Roman calendar forget
the myth comes with driven cries
onward soldier and acquire
then happiness awaits
save us from the fire
But Saturnalia is fate
trust the end and not a mire
Corridors, power, call it what you like
When shadows fall, on this hot June night
These walls, this place, I'm absorbed I wonder why
They, the inflicted, their embers, we now throw them to the sky
Sleeping giants of Auschwitz, in mass production die
Good boy psycho killers, into their new world they tread
To look for new horizons and leave behind their dread
Behind half moon meadow, now decaying in ancestral creep
Amidst discarded gates and ditches, this, the city sleeps
Their corridors of Epiphany, whilst Christianity weeps
Written using the track titles to the Touchstones album
The City Sleeps
Im talking with nobody listening, see,
front line walking just like a refugee
sentimental, old friend says I'm out of touch
so hard to be gentle when handling the softer stuff
you've seen this face before, You remember the name
in mass-production I, I'm plenty of the same
much more than y'bargained for, now, don't lose your cool in the rush
stripped down n' ribbon bound on arrival the petals are crushed
more than a brother, too dear to bid adieu
another armchair moralist, the word is not the truth
another armchair moralist, too close to be cut loose
down under the waterline, down in the thick of it
I surrender one last time, although, truly sick of it
my nightmare scenario, yeah, my indiff'rence killer
after I hopping over bedpans go to find him in the mirror
only I and I alone must throw myself to the wire
as you sit on a distant throne, too green for the fire
what will it amount to, in the case that it does not combust
I could do without you only missing the sense of enough
more than a brother, too dear to bid adieu
another armchair moralist, the word is not the truth
another armchair moralist, he's dear to me,
too close to be,
expensively... cut loose
I fell off the assembly line,
halted production ...
cost the robot makers money
in lost time
No labor was given in the interrupted duration
Mind control wires weren’t put in the cranial console
Free radicals floating in society
is a no-no
Independent thought permitted?
I don’t think so
Reject models are shipped to the ghetto trash bins,
labeled as inferior and defective
Being poor is a capitalist sin;
that’s the way it is,
that’s the way it’s always been
But the poor trash didn’t get incinerated quickly
enough that day
Somebody liked the flawed black object
being thrown away
Slipped through the cracks of society somehow;
was reprogrammed by a force
greater than
the universal masters of misery
... got cut loose from the rat race plow
Was made into a model of authenticity,
given a voice: original and free
To speak on things that are hard to speak on —
mass production of oppression has always been wrong
Loose monkey wrench thrown into the works,
gum up the line
... help another model fall off,
and become a partner of mine
Wanted poster says:
Being a Robin-in-the-Hood is a crime
As a voice of unauthorized non-conformity,
I’m way out of line
My views aren’t packaged on some assembly line —
I’m a model of authenticity,
I’m totally self-defined
From now on
I will dance as if on fire -
And when I say on fire – I mean sporadic dancing is the only form I know.
I am told I dance like a white girl
I look them in the face, eyes blazing.
Do I look like anything else?
From now on,
I will write as if I am Emily Dickinson, Virginia Woolf and Silvia Plath
And what I mean by that is - they suffered from the same debilitating illness I do, so maybe I can learn to weave what feels like a death sentence into something beautiful and life preserving.
I force feed myself drugs, this is the only way that I can make this wet blanket of hopelessness peel itself off of me. The residue of wet melancholy will never leave, but hey, when did I start believing in miracles?
I pray to a God I don’t even believe in, hoping that I will not end up with my head in the oven, confined to my home or water filled lungs.
From now on,
I will be a lioness,
I will not fall for the handsome price in the Disney movies I gulped down as a child, thirsty for the "idea" of love. I will not be the innocent, sweet, pure princess –
I will no longer be a wall flower, with innocent eyes, waiting in her high tower for a righteous prince to come to her rescue. No my dears,
I will be the dragon
Lungs full of fire,
Eyes full of desire
Fangs, waiting to pierce the flesh of any man who thinks I cannot save myself,
I will make the ground rock with my presence!
From now on!
I will be a ferocious shark within the sea of mass production
My soul, older than the fossilized bones of yesteryear
The trappings of regret and hope intertwine - causing a fuse so strong, so bright – that even I am blinded by its vehemence confusion.
From now on, I will scream -
I am no new soul,
I am no naive, fragile adolescent -
No, I’ve walked these roads filled with vile and contempt before
People and their viscous words fill my head – But they do not know
Their hateful words are no match for the distain and disgust I have for myself!
This soul has walked down a road of self-made abhorrence -
I can cross fire -
I can swim the deepest of waters -
I can climb the highest mountain –
Without batting an eye!
From now on –
From now on
From now on!
Don’t forget to breathe when your big heart takes a blow
When your soul is in the dumps and your spirit’s sinking low
Don’t forget to breathe, your focus might break down
You might drive into a ditch or something on your way downtown
Don’t forget to breathe when you head out for the day
You got it all planned out but it might not work out that way
Don’t forget to breathe when you can’t focus any more
Just take a big deep breath and blow them blues right out the door
Don’t forget to breathe when you listen to the news
When you hear those politicians and they talk about their views
Don’t forget to breathe when you hear about corruption
It’s everywhere, especially there and in that mass production
Don’t forget to breathe when you see the next disaster
Or when you hear that all the ice up north and south is melting faster
Don’t forget to breathe when the water comes a risin’
Cause them that’s breathin’s gonna go on evolutionizin’
Don’t forget to breathe when the wars begin to spread
When the poverty surrounds us and the soldiers are all dead
Don’t forget to breathe, the dominoes will tumble
As the mighty powers of the world fall to the ground and crumble
http://mike-martin.net/Breathe
To watch the dark, and twinkling skies,
Brings joy and love, to my curious eyes.
To think of where we are today,
It sends my interested mind away.
To a place where thoughts and dreams come true,
To a place where all the planets are blue,
And green and round and full of beings,
An alien planet, that’s full of meanings.
You ask yourself questions, when so engrossed,
On what it is like, on the sea coast,
Of an alien planet, so far away,
To make you want, to run away
To catch a flight, to the nearest rocket,
Sail up to the stars, to go into orbit.
To glide by all of the shining diamonds,
To ponder and watch, at endless horizons
How much I would love, to visit the stars,
The velvet of night, the orange of Mars.
The blue of Neptune, the rays of sun,
The awe of earth, held by a gun.
The gun being held, by mankind themselves,
With pollution, mass production, and everything else.
A world gone to waste, our spot in the space,
A fact that no one, can seem to face.
I look up at the stars, whenever I see,
Through the polluted clouds, and satellite debris,
I see some worlds, untouched by mankind,
And think to myself, I hope we don’t find,
I hope we don’t find, a world to destroy,
We’ve already destroyed one, a child with a toy.
We can save the planet, we aren’t done yet,
We need to work, forget about debt.
We need to get rid, of toxic material,
It’s like man kind, is something bacterial,
A virus to the world, so beautiful and pure,
We don’t deserve it, and that is for sure.
To work together, is the only way,
To save the earth, from a gloomy fate,
Reduce the plastic, cycle to work,
Stop the cars roaming, we need to rework,
To come together, man woman and child,
To save the earth, before we’re exiled,
And end up doing what I first said,
And move to worlds, to break their bread
* more is revealed standing upon the threshold ~ than trying to cross it* by poet
There are no answers except the obvious one
plain language, and earth goes round the sun
There are no problems, only that they occur:
random chance, denial, then existential blur
Search the abstract,
conspire in a dream
scoop one’s mind out,
(open up) and scream
There are some leftovers, evidence of a past
showing one basic truth, life’s not meant to last
What a mindless fate, and price to pay;
still, nature isn’t cruel, has no conscience per se
Beyond the cusp lies
a juggernaut of bricks;
Whatever put it there
stuck fast in the mix
And all the time wasted contemplating what if,
trying to see beyond oblivion’s cliff,
an afterlife is promised, or so some say;
They drip feed gore, while turning good blood away?
Fly up to heaven,
where in the hell?
It’s all purgatory,
down here as well
Gods have been made through mass production;
an AI one’s coding, under self-construction,
conceived by data, not natural evolution;
these cells in our hand, a personal contribution?
It’s nobody’s fault,
there is no blame;
we may have choice,
although none to claim
So disappointing, understandably so,
to find logic itself sets limits it can go
Yet here I stand on the threshold of knowing,
aware at last, there’s nowhere left for going
Content in myself
only when I am,
It’s all very real,
but also a sham.
By David Kavanagh
Luscious Sausages Anyone
This early morning, I've viewed a most interesting video clip...
About how tongue licking tasty sausages are produced in the pink...
The latter half of the clip shows a very highly hygienic mechanical production line...
Complete with human handlers plastic suited, in face masks and with gloved hands...
It portrayed a super duper mass production environment......,
All clean and hygenic, all spick and spank, methodical and efficient...
You get to see fast producing lines of long strips of pinkish sausages...
It shows the stringent standards applied to have sausages properly sized and shaped...
There is both a human and a mechanical process to select only the best sausages...
Before they are packaged and stamped, presumably to be marketed thence...
Make no mistake, the production of sausages, a staple diet of the Caucasians...
Is undoubtedly undertaken by food manufacturers who adhere to the highest standards...
On hygiene, safety and countless other recommendations that meet all the existing food regulations...
After all, sausages are such a part and parcel of the fast food segments for generations...
But...
But people, if you watch closely the initial part of the video clip...
On how the tractor trough get ready all the processed meat...
Brother, be warned! You will be so disgusted that you may want to puke...
Seeing this clip, I can't help but feel extremely relieved....
For such a processed meat, be it sausages or burger patties or whatever you call it...
Does not featured on a regular basis in my family diet...
Now it is crystal clear why processed meat are are deemed extremely unhealthy...
Watch this clip and discover yourself why processed meat is so tasty yet unhealthy...
Sausages, pink and delicious, hot dogs and hamburgers, anyone?
@@ NOTE... a video clip on the production of sausages ,
from churned carcasses to packaged sausages...
Should be on the internet, look up on it and be educated...
away with capitalistic free market enterprise
where the concomitant features of greed, power and wealth
fuse to form a pact of unrestrained mass-consumerism
while simultaneously obliterating any shred of a humanistic ethic.
the hollow emptiness of a hedonistic philosophy
representative of the western civilization
rings with the sound of falseness
from the belfry of commodification.
debunk the myth of the supremacy of man
where the less sophisticated species
remain in a role of subservience
while religion upholds this point of view.
the travesty of contemporary existence
epitomized by the crass characteristics
endemic in the advertisements
prior to the advent of a holiday or sale.
opinions about significant political issues
and the general emotions toward the processes of life
trivialized into a farcical sport
by the producers of commercial goods.
renounce the superficiality of the make-believe world
and also the stamp of mass production
that transforms a creative human being into an obsolete soul!