No one knows from whence they came
No one knows their names
But there are microscopic “men”
Computing thots inside my brain
Androgenous android nanotechnology
Sent nanoprobes into my ear lobes
They’re nameless, shameless, from the unknown
Making my skull their new home
They’re like lice eating my mind
Foretelling my doom in good time
Storing my memories in Morse code
Transforming them into strange songs
Translating them into what’s right and wrong
After a many a long years
One returns to my ear
Slips thru the Eustachian tube
Used earwax like it was lube
Stopped at the edge like it was a door
His feet on my skin like it was the floor
For the first time saw the real world
And faintly whispered...
“What the...?”
Little gods inside my heart
where pumping blood is an art.
With a mind of their own
doth these gods call me home.
Little gods with golden hair and a quantum halo
perform their task with utmost care as if they were from Cairo.
Confined within a job to do
never resting, always true.
Little gods never skip a beat
yet one slips beneath his feet.
Oxygenating all my cells
Is he under the One God’s spell?
Then he squeezes up my aortic arch
and down through the arterial flow
struggling against the downward stream . . .
He flies out into the world, out my finger’s cut
and screams --
“What the . . .”
Little men inside my skull
run machines that make me whole.
Trapped within the storage bond
of neuron chem and thoughts beyond.
Little men with pencil hair
program charts for pain and chair.
Neuron cranes moving protons
up and down -- switching thoughts on.
Little men run all around
one trips the cord -- make no sound.
The cord of life, a fleshy wire
holds angel light and angel power.
And my eye whites turn black
and this little man has his back
against the grey computer.
He gazes out the window of my eyes
and wonders --
"What the . . ."
Salvation of hollow-burrow, spaceful for life,
hiding and appearing engaged that day.
Seven Sleepers, unwanted companions,
pardoners, neither demigod-cyborg nor god.
Peaceful in retreat of folding nocturnal-diurnal.
Contemplation bleached the sinners,
restraining lust, abstinence for circular bell tolls.
The Cavern's Sleepers,
Sophia of hibernation,
tapa Barata.
The morph to cyborg is a devolution for mankind
Raindrops keep falling on my head
Long after I think I am dead;
With a chest of iron and legs of steel,
I have a body I just can’t kill.
Rain drops cover the gut in the bin,
And I am powered by a motor within.
Far cheaper than a positronic brain,
Is a ‘borg with a mind hazed by pain.
When the raindrops fell in my heart
I rose-up and tore myself apart.
They came and put me back together,
And guaranteed me to last forever.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
My curvy bouncy young mum bump
Of unjoy pump by punk guy jump
You wormy crony cuckoo cyborg of my numb womb grow
My ovum mock your wrong grown coup
Go mourn by of onyx orgy you grow
From crummy mob of gory cum you bourn
No cub run cry mummy for you my young unborn
No young curvy bouncy puppy boy by norm
Upon gun my coy gown for fun won
Now burn or bury my crow cow born
In a desperate world
Where man is hated
This fur clad woman
Her cyborg pack created
Silvered dogs
Mechanical teeth
Squatting like humans
Engineered breed
She stands there proud
Holding her sword of MacBeth
Forwarding her packs
To hunt for death
The earth now barren
Stripped and bare
Skulls and bones
Lie everywhere
Even the sky
Refuses to come out at night
Even the sun
Refuses to burn bright
This once beautiful planet
Now rancid and wretched
With this fur clad woman
As her cyborg dogs fetch
Who would have thought of man
To be treated like this
For thousands of years
They had already lived like this
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy3.php
(This is a fictional poem)
Three years ago I was shot five times by a robber in a convenience store.
My brain was removed from my dying body and I'm not a man anymore.
Surgeons put my brain in a robotic shell.
A lot of people think it's neat to be like Robocop but I think it's hell.
Now I fight crime for the police day after day.
I try to get rid of my misery but it's here to stay.
When the bad guys shoot me, the bullets bounce off and I feel no pain.
But it hurts to know that the only part of me that is human is my brain.
When this happened to me, my wife married another man after she got a divorce.
Now I've been consumed by self pity and remorse.
I can no longer make love or even taste food.
This shell may be very advanced but I think it's crude.
If I could still cry, I'd weep because of what I've lost.
I may live forever but I don't like what it cost.
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