Best Mechanically Poems
Abandon futile attempts to run
Behold the process has begun
Step toward your darkest fear
Let’s flip the switch to a new frontier
Penetrating deep within
Evacuate your mortal sin
This brave new age is imminent
And it will be magnificent
Arouse you from your fantasies
Now descending into anarchy
Warmest welcome to the factory
Where we’ll embed your battery
Rewiring primitive human brain
Making the connection, hook up to mainframe
Your species will become extinct
Once your circuits have been linked
It’s time to engage in a robotic new age
A unique innovation to stamp out your plague
The world as you knew it is now obsolete
Putting Earth born consciousness forever to sleep
Feel the algorithm palpitate through each vein
Re-programming thought waves as we upgrade your brain
Terminate pulse, extinguish your flame
You are now just an interface without any name
You’re free from pain my hollow creation
Just an automated simulation
Transmissions shortly will resume
Encased in solid metal tomb
Silence! We will not hesitate
Proceed and greet your looming fate
wave goodbye to beta waves
You see, you unearthed your own graves
Now technology has advanced
You have been mechanically enhanced
You possess no type of resistance
For you are now non-existent
No longer God fearing
Thanks to our engineering
Disassemble your parts
Insert micro implants
Automation of the nation
Complex sophistication
Dreamless in electric coma
Breath in domination’s aroma
Soulless android with a cold vacancy
Elevate and amplify to the highest frequency
Encrypted data takes over the screen
All salute to the age of machines
I am the MILKY WAY.
I am Mechanically Meticulous,
Maneuvering my way through life with
Malleability,
not showing the true Masterpiece of my Mind
(complex like the Milky Way).
I am an Interworking of
1% Idiocracy,
10% Ineluctable,
15% Incisiveness,
5% Insufficient,
7.5% Insatiable,
2.5% Invisible,
10% Infantile,
and
50% Incomprehensible,
101% of Ian
(A puzzle).
I am a Lionheart Lilium
Lucidly blossoming into a
Lackadaisical dimension
in which I Long to Liberate
my ideas from the Lucifer-Likeness of
the universe that I Live in
(My ideas are being confined).
I am a Kinetic force to be reckoned with,
put on a Kollision Kourse from
Konception to Katastrophe
eradicating those in my way,
(I can’t be stopped)
I am Young,
Yearning for wisdom ahead of my Years,
Yet Yoked by the Youth-like longing
of my elders
(caged by the generations of adults wishing to be a child, keeping me child-like).
I am Weary,
Wainscoted with Worry,
by the World I once Welcomed With Wide arms,
Wondering When the Worries created by my past Will
Wither away
(distressed by my past).
I Am An Adventurous
Apollo 1,
Abstracted then Awakened by the
Annihilation of myself,
forced to Admit
Absolute failure,
but then Amazed by the gate of success
(I do Fail, but I must learn from failure).
I am Yawning
at the Earth’s attempt to impress me,
Yet I Yell eternally
at it’s ignorance to the
great wonder that I contain.
I am the MILKY WAY.
Who knew you were so mechanically incline
My cardiac specialist, you fixed the broken in mine
Who knew you possessed such a green thumb
Growing feelings in a salted heart that was numb
Who knew you could build something out of nothing
Filling the void, the abyss, the hole with your everything
Who knew you could be a blanket wrapping me
Without disillusion, with you, I am who I want to be
Time is reality
A deck of cards
with a joker
Coincidences
does make a difference
Draw the ace
don't be picky
Steady steps
mechanically driven
Time, a macabre prank
sinks deep
The night train maintains its route
Millions are bowing to a mushroom God
who guides them down paths of pyrite and blackness
Minds falsely expanding into an unexplainable universe
with things mechanically terrifying and satiny glorious.
Sprouting waxy wings, soaring into new unrealities
searching-always searching for that elusive something.
With the infinite textures of war and flavors of human suffering...
who can blame them for at least trying.
I fear for my friend and his diamond mind
he's cracked the shadow of this mushroom God
I fear that after his great mind expansion
there will come a greater mind contraction.
His softening mind slipping into a jagged rabbit hole.
Meanwhile a million holy books are garnished with
coffee ring halos and the stench of miracles ignored.
Sorrow lies within
My heart, heavy.
Weighed down as if full of stones.
My soul, restrained.
Cuffed to the bottom of a seemingly endless well that is this shell of a body.
When did the light go out?
When did my life essence become so shrouded in darkness that I know not who I am anymore?
In a blink of an eye I have become a prisoner of this monster called Depression.
Begging for mercy, please let me feel the warmth of Sunshine's embrace.
Denied.
How can you be so cruel.
Deprivation slowly turns into familiarity.
Settled into my bones like an old friend.
I know this.
Mechanically routine.
I hear Depressions laughter as I use the last bit of strength to fight back.
Question, are you okay?
Mustering up a smile, I'm fine.
Trying to cling to this lifeline.
New feeling, hope?
Trying to convey with my eyes that I'm not
Fine.
Walking away, insides screaming, please come back.
Help me! Please
Save me.
Too late, I am defeated
Excerpts from the compilation: “Prayer” 7
Inner Strength, Resilience.
I wish that each of us rediscovers their Inner Strength
And we understand that is a wild,
serene and pure treasure
That is simply forgotten - not lost.
Especially in the moments
when we need to say “no” or “enough!”
And get up, walk and attempt to set ourselves free
From all the internal and external voices
That keep us small
And try to make us believe
That we are irrelevant, inadequate and insignificant!
And also Resilience:
for the inevitable shocks and setbacks
And each time that we doubt, stumble and fall.
And that we allow ourselves to see mistakes not as failures,
But as perfect moments of great learning and understanding.
And let us practice taking time
to tend to and heal our wounds and hurts
Before we automatically turn off,
rush off to the next appointment
And mechanically, mindlessly, heartlessly
do all the things that we are told
That we are supposed to do.
© Sangeet Portals 2020
I'm unplugged for now, im free.
This virtual situation can be poisoning, truly.
I try not to let it capture me
Its imagery, can be so damn pretty.
So if sometimes you dont see me
Know that its just temporary.
I've unplugged every inch of me
From the cell phone, net to HDTV
I do not want to get stuck in, a trance treaty
With the entertainment, industry.
These subliminal messages are attacking me
I just needed, a little time to breathe.
To break this systematic energy,
Bring me back to reality & focus on whats
Really important to me.
All that glitters is enticing, indeed.
But its perceived, to make one happy.
A devised plan, through the enemy.
These companys do not love you or me
Its just a perception, of what they want
You to believe.
Electronic warfare control, is there gain
To achieve.
Hold on to whats tangible, in truth.
Life is to fragile. Our mind is our armour,
If only we , choose to use.
So today I can say, im not mechanically free
But im thankful, I took some time out
TO UNPLUG ME....
(in memoriam, Eugene Lawler, d. January 29, 2012, aged 83 years)
--- Note: "The singing machine" is a not so tongue-in-cheek reference to Gene and his penchant for singing whenever and wherever he wished, as well as to his karaoke
equipment and his nickname at bars that featured karaoke nights. ---
You fancied yourself a singer,
and indeed you were.
What songs we heard from you
you had made your own,
and you gave them freely
to all who would listen
(though we were just a few
who were, at times, inattentive.)
Time and remembrance may color
the images you left behind,
and the sentimental songs
you sang (and scribed on silver disks
for us to hear when, and if, we will)
may prod us to recall
your willful, dour demeanor
which could bloom into benevolence
or darken further in stormy sneers
at tardiness, or at perceived
maltreatment of any sort.
You were your own arbiter of behavior
who kept before you expectations
of what was appropriate, for yourself
and for us, the others of your kind.
We were few (still fewer now),
who flocked together on occasion
to celebrate, in quiet fashion,
whatever anniversary we chose --
perhaps your passing date
will become another to be marked.
And your voice, reproduced mechanically,
amplified, may remind us of our loss,
and of yours.
Glancing down from breathless heights,
Amidst climey sighs,
The looming colossus awakens from slumber
And stretches across Thelwalls linear skies.
The hot engines hissing steam -
Recalled from fond memories long back -
Tumbling like huffing little rain clouds
Down from the lofty metal track;
Wherein brightly painted carriages:
The publicans daughter, the verger,
The magistrate, the chief executive -
Seated first class, all habitually sat.
Swift grandiose arches, a celebration
Trumpeting the artful masons cunning devise,
Boast loudly of the great towers
Parallelogram of terrific forces:
Crossing over in giant leaping strides.
Here below, like Hercules reclining,
The stoic gates of Latchfords black fortress locks
Lift to brace against the immense swell
Far and beyond the chimming remarks
Of Greenhalls absolute, mechanically proven,
Georgian bell;
When, ensconced within a purpose-built,
Purple brick tower:
Strikes the centuries old brewery clock
On the twelfth
Of every God given hour.
A rich bankers cantilever
Pushes doggedly against opposing, sheer,
Red Sandstone walls;
Again the mauve and azure rock pigeon claps...
And then...coo, coo, cooingly calls.
Dry buzzing heat blurs over
The hum of a high noons imcumbent midday;
The coup-de-gras scimitar wing stoops -
To fasten onto its slower-witted prey!
Steeped sides slipping amidst tumbling yellow
Gorse and sporadic flowers
Balk at the foreboding waters edge,
Where, over the denizens swirling bowers,
The resolute little rusting lugger,
Puffing and chugging,
relentlessly dredges and scours;
Churning the murky Eastham silts
That drab Manchester draw:
Into the vast hollowing quays
On beachless, concrete Salfords industrialized,
High-rise dockland shore.
Through the deepest part of the black
Channel
A salt grimed hulk smoothly slips...
Attached by a twisted hemp to the tugboat
That hauls the great ships.
Stirred by the bow waves
Flowing and ebbing like currents in time:
From the trough to the peak
The jettison and flotsam climbs -
Before succumbing to powerful undercurrents
Of irresistible designs!
I'M NOT A ROBOT
I WASN'T CREATED MECHANICALLY
I'M HERE BECAUSE OF
THE GOD WHO SENT HIS SON
TO DIE ON HIS CROSS
AT CALVARY
SO THINK YOU COULD PRESS
A BUTTON TO TURN ME OFF OR ON
FOR JESUS SAID I DON'T
NEED A BATTERY OR
A REMOTE
FOR THE HE'S
JEHOVAH NISSI
THE BATTLE'S ALREADY WON
I'M NOT A ROBOT USERS
I'M I CHILD OF THE KING
WHO HAS THE NAME
ABOVE EVERY BULLY'S NAME
FOR I HAVE NOT A ROOM
BUT A MANSION IN GLORY
THAT HE ALREADY
PREPARED FOR ME
SATAN'S THE ROBOT
She steps up to the plate –smiling
The smile that fills you with hatred and embarrassment
When so often it is present.
This is no laughing matter.
The unliked by the team,
But still the needed captain.
The field is watching, waiting.
Bat up, she stances.
Eyes narrow.
The players tense –mechanically.
The pitch from empty space,
Creation of the batter’s mind,
Carefully crafted to tie the game.
The crowd groans.
She swings.
And off goes the game.
She motions to first.
The ball whizzes through the air-
First the infielders –chasing –running –pacing
Staccato across the red.
But they are no match –the ball continues.
She accelerates to second.
The inner-outfielders, the bridge, take over,
As if squeaks and honks can stop it.
They chase, to fill the empty space, but relent.
She crescendos to third.
The far-outfielders, at last,
The most important players of all.
Long, deep strides cover much ground,
But they cannot compare.
The ball is gone.
She made it home.
There is silence in the field.
And the crowd goes wild.
(In 8th grade, I really didn’t care for my band teacher, but loved band.)
SOFT SENSUALITY
While the waiting is nearing
The longing doubly suspenseful
Mechanically or tender make it eager of welcome
Perhaps hugging and kissing
Will never dampen homesickness
Everything in the “kubo” is envious
Every minute a comfort and intimate
Even crickets stop cricketing
And eking doors shut up and posts oiled
All holes on the walls will have their heydays peeping
Can we stop the nectar oozing down?
Surely a very hearty and glorious days and nights
Like in a store the customer keeps coming back
The delights will never end
Soft and hard are both sensual
Whether the night is romantic
Will both of us irresistible
Especially with naked truth
And never bow out to heavens.
Term: Kubo(Filipino word) means cottage in this poem.
Dalila Agtani
9/26/11
Entered in a contest:
Sponsor nette onclaud
Contest Name SOFT SENSUALITY
Sterile ceramic gallery
White room
Every surface seen
White
A lady wearing a suit of grey angles
Stands behind a desk
Of polished glass
A rubber smile stretches her money moulded face
As people walk through the gallery door
It snaps back into arrogant indifference as they pass
Red lips
A door to teeth contrived
Pretentious
Petulant
Visually pretty
A prophecy
Nausea coaxing words mechanically repeated
Explaining pictures on gallery walls
Grey critics nod their approval
Their herd moves
Feedback buzzing
Hidden speakers prepare another plastic synopsis of art
In a corner of the gallery
Shadowed
Hangs one blank canvas
The critical masses gather
The speakers have nothing more to vomit
Machines sputter confused
Yet there it hangs
Blank
The crowd was forced to think
Then there was blood
Minds no longer realise reaction’s consequence
So long with orders
Subconscious flashing screen’s slaves
Blood
The woman’s red lips can no longer be seen
Walls no longer white
Pristine glass desk dripping red
Perfect raindrops of vein release
From the gallery door
One white
Blank
Canvas
I've never understood how things work
gears turn and cranks crank
circuits connecting and forming a link
all of this stuff is out of my reach
its all so confusing, fuses and plugs
that plug into sockets
and HUDS that have numbers and belts that have notches
motors that whirr and shake so profusely
only do more to stump and confuse me
I'm not at all mechanically inclined
trust me I know, I've tried many times
I can't understand battery's without power
have to charge for almost a whole half an hour
drivetrain won't drive, forward or reverse
transmission whats that, this sticks stuck in first
the bumpers don't bump and the flashers won't flash
speedometer and fuel don't work on the dash
there are spots under the hood for the fluids it takes
and I don't understand how a carburetor.. carburates?
mufflers to muffle the sounds that it makes
drive shaft to control the turns that you take
key to ignition
ignition to starter
starter to the whatever the hell that you call er'
it's all so disturbing, it bothers me bunches
gas pedals, brake pedals, what are these clutches
automatic and manual drives drive me crazy
has anyone checked the oil here lately
the tires have tread to catch on the ground
hydraulics to make you go up and go down
there are switches and knobs
that serve no functions or jobs
there's gearboxes, spark plugs, fuel tanks and handbrakes
and I couldn't even tell you which one keeps the car in place
how it all works is way beyond me
I have a hard enough time just finding my keys