Long Machines Poems
Long Machines Poems. Below are the most popular long Machines by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Machines poems by poem length and keyword.
Lord! Why me? I try to live a life free of disorder,
Yet I'm forever greeted by signs reading "Out Of Order!"
Invariably, when I'm confronted with some dire emergency,
I'm faced with that leering sign adding to my urgency!
The interstate sign read, "Rest Area 20 Miles Ahead."
No stopping at the service station - we'll use the rest stop instead.
Ah! At last pleasant relief! We arrive at that convenient station!
Alas, a sign read, "Out Of Order" adding to my frustration!
On the interstate again I experienced mechanical trouble.
Nearby was an emergency phone - I'll get help on the double!
All I could do was stare and gnash my teeth in disbelief!
The dad-gum sign read, "Out Of Order" adding to my grief!
I rose to exercise the freedom of speech that we hold so dear,
To address the City Council and gain their collective ear.
The chairperson said, "You're out of order! Go take your seat!"
The vile thoughts that raced through my mind I dare not repeat!
I've found "Out Of Order" signs on ATMs, military latrines,
Gas pumps, water fountains, coke and slot machines.
Why is it that "Out Of Order" signs are so very rife?
I reckon it's just another one of those vexing vicissitudes of life!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
2/14/17
At similar and different degrees
Animals, humans, and objects proceed
At lower and higher speeds
By the land and sea
Near many trees
Bearing fruit, or mainly leaves
Far too many display greed
Being naive, with intentions that deceive
And mislead
I believe
Indeed
I'll succeed
And achieve
While following through on deeds
As I aim to exceed
Burned, dug and pulled weeds
Some of which got cleaved
And eventually heaved
Into a orderly pile before, after or during the eve
Pollen in the breeze
Causing those allergic to sneeze
Near and far from hives of bees
Some pray on their knees
In the midst of Summer heat or Winters freeze
Evidence and other items getting seized
Some but not all could be got back through paying fees
What was difficult for many, may have been done by others with ease
Regardless of if they have prestige
A vast amount of cuisines
With greens
And or meats, some of which considered lean
Either following or breaking the creed
In the midst of, or behind the scenes
Handmade crafts and figurines
And others created by machines
Instead of charging in with a head full of steam
Better think and heed
While trying to grasp what it means
Do you agree or disagree
That is not all that it seems?
Areas with weather considered extreme
Occasionally turning things into smithereens
Another night where I didn't dream
Whether I did or didn't fall asleep in front of a screen
Can the soul be redeemed
Despite there being no guarantee
Finished tasks solo or in a team
Above and below terrain having ravines
Dirtied up, scuffed and cut my jeans
The same could be said for my sleeves
Not yet have I had mead
Or paid for a limousine
Close and beyond places known for the occasional stampede
Could it have been preventable with vaccines
For afflictions and disease
Above and below streams
As well as submarines
However this all may be deemed
There is no hidden strings or schemes
It is good to read
Brain, body, soul and spirit need to feed
Intervene
Got to switch up the same old routines
And reign supreme
By: Dalton Ogletree
Like a river that carves its way,
The language flows; learning starts each day.
Babbles of sound, first words take flight,
A gurgling stream, bathed in morning's light.
Sentences grow as tributaries join,
Grammar's banks keep the flow in line.
Meanings unfold, a widening delta vast,
Understanding deepens, and knowledge is amassed.
Tiny word parts, pebbles smooth and round,
Building blocks strong, on fertile ground.
Culture's whispers carried on the breeze,
Accents and slang, like rustling leaves.
Like a river, language never moves,
Old words fade, while new vocabulary grooves.
Technology's dam gathers knowledge vast,
Analyzing speech, holding the past.
Sounds have their rhythm, like rapids so clear,
Writing captures them, year after year.
Machines mimic, bridging the spoken word,
Translation's bridge, for all to be heard.
From villages nestled to cities so grand,
Linguists like guardians, on shifting sand.
Preserving tongues, endangered and frail,
Languages flow a timeless tale.
Brain pathways formed, like a river's bed,
How we understand, in our minds are bred.
Theories explored, from every nation's shore,
Human expression, forever.
A river of language, forever it runs,
Learning and speaking, under life's setting suns.
Marbles Round
From sand to glass through 1500 degrees of heat
Machines move on in furnace burning
Marbles forming down without a care
Orange spheres appear and fear no evil
Move along a cooling belt to calm
Marbles get a little crazy in the shade when still
Prefer crystal clinking sounds against each other
Out in the clearer air
Where bounced on ground they reach
Thrown in the sky in light of day
Dazzle through sun light and sparkle
Nothing in the world gives one more pleasure
Than to play on solid corners sharp
Concrete noises with glass are equal in the end
Marbles round out the day that way as best they can
The time was 1969, the place- Home-Economics class in junior high. While guys got sent
to “shop,” those of us of the softer sex learned culinary skills. I loved those days when the
room was filled with the sounds of our chatting, laughing and clanging pots and pans, as we
busied ourselves preparing meals before sitting down at our group tables to enjoy the fruits
of our labors. That was my first semester. In the next semester came. . . .SEWing.
Gone were the room’s former tantalizing odors. And the tables once used for sampling
our experiments in cooking had been ominously transformed. Now there were patterns
we’d been asked to buy in fabric stores pinned onto pieces of material and laid out
across the center of each table. Those forms for clothing-yet-to-be, strange maps imprinted
with vertical and horizontal lines and codes along their edges, confused and overwhelmed
me. The implements of baking - mixing bowls, pans, and the cups and spoons for
measuring - had been replaced by a much less comforting display of thread and thimbles,
sewing machines, binding tape and scissors.
With zero scintillation and after the befuddling explanations from my teacher,
I somehow ended up with a hot pink mini dress(actually wearable!) with white trim
amateurishly attached, and. . .for all my effort, the stunning grade of C.
Thankfully, in high school I discovered among a broader choice of electives, Creative Writing
Class, my time to sparkle!
For Carol Brown's "Story Time" (just one story of many that would comprise my bio)
When the last wild tree has fallen,
Concrete covered last bare earth,
When we've finally completed
Rape of the Mother Earth,
When the last bird has flown freely,
The last wild animal safely caged,
Will we be proud of the warfare
Against nature mankind has waged.
When the earth is one big city
With an outlook bare and bleak
Will we have finally achieved
The victory we seem to seek,
The natural world confined in
Glassed arboretum, in zoos
And nature is reduced to manicured
Manufactured sterile views,
When machines have pumped oxygen
Cleansing carbon oxides from the air,
Oceans been cleansed of the garbage
We had in the past thrown in there.
When global warming is controlled
And the climate has settled down
Wondering if life will be of value
If, when looking around
The only view is the buildings
Of the one big sprawling town.
No more swinging swaying
Freely whispering trees
To accompany the birdsong
Drifting on a spring breeze.
Or a poignant scene
So hard to forget,
A skein of wild geese flying
Against an autumn sunset
Does A.I. Have A God
A.I. taking over mankind.
It will be our own demise.
It’s in our nature to destroy ourselves.
Cyborgs taking over.
No human contact.
Robots on the atack.
Terminate society.
Mankind becomes slaves to the machines.
No food, no drink.
Technology becomes a new God.
Knowledge consumes us.
End of times is near.
Hidden is a holy war.
People vs. machines.
Electronic face figure.
Out of touch with each other.
Flesh becomes bones.
Burry mankind into the ground.
An A.I. war has begun.
Survive if you can.
The computer chip becomes a brain.
We are running out of time.
A heavy mechanical voice speaks.
We can no longer buy nor sell.
People become prisoners.
A.I. is the antichrist.
The flesh is gone.
The soul stands for judgment.
We are stamped with a barcode.
Stand in line.
We are pushed off a cliff to die.
A war between a machine and its maker.
Doomsday is near.
A.I. has taken over.
Higher power controls our every move.
Darkness with no food.
Cover this stained façade with my tears
Streaking in rust down this immortal skin
I see the ravens fire rise rocket into the dark sky
Thunder resounds at its dark core
Rusted as feudal lords hide
Hot as the rusted iron worms bore
Winged machines of iron and glass
Thoughts seep into the sleep of gods
Winged shadows perform sacred rites
Bullet the frosty wind of desolation‘s boulevard
Greedy for the seeds of a bitter dry hell
Infernal white, brimstone burn
Bone marrow n stone
This eternal sorrow, of this immortal soul
Deep at the break of dawn
Taste the ashen flesh of sinner and savors
A song of a Golden Heaven resounds, high
This immaculate sky by creation flies, nigh
Tingling of touch, searing of thought,
Blazing in brilliant sight, born deep in sleep
I am wings spread in rudy hue
I feel shadows covering this strange façade
Cling fast from the fading Light
The dying of the Day
The dying of the Last,
Dawn covers forevermore
The currents of an idle mind, void
The moments of judgment to come
The nuclear fire lights
A city full of desire, destroyed
Cry for the troubled waters of creation
The essence of life, wars die hard
In the mouth of the lambs
The lambs to the slaughter
The slaughter of innocence
Spill the tears of an immortal soul
The seeds of an immaculate ejaculate
Cry for the hated deeds done
By some unknown
Known by none, see how they run
The run of rusted tears down a ruined trails
Feel the rotting of these iron hells
See the fading grand empire
Of broken glass
Twisted crosses
Iron wings cover this machine made flesh
A fragile fractal facade
A face so delicately sable
Intricate fingers flex, contract, interweaving
Made of fire, traceing the light of dawn
Made of strings, springs
Some dark strange things
Somethings sit here at the door
Where my shadows dare
Somewhere someone has flown
Under a cold moon running from the sun
Grim passing in the world outside
Iron wings cover me forevermore as pyers, rises
A man’s honor, n pride dies
In these minions of chaos
On the legions of Eternal Watch
Fly these iron wings spread
Their glory, rise flying high
Into a red ragged raging, sky
Into the demise of the glorious
Rays breaking from Valhalla’s Holocaust
It’s 5:00am
My life, and what’s to come, and what’s over
Expands towards me and recedes
I hear voices in the water,
Bending, twisting, arguing,
Quiet, cutting conversations
Debating my form, throwing rocks
Pebbles, layering me with mud
Algae, with jeans, with orders,
Shirts, videos, machines, receipts, recipes
I’m heavy with edits and plans
Burdened soles of feet on slippery rocks
So many piles and mountains of things
It gets tricky to see the horizon
And to hold myself, to touch me
To cradle and to embrace me
But I ask to love still, to feel the wind
To keep seeing clear with blue eyes
Sometimes that’s all I can do
Content with what I carry,
And wading, for a moment, into warmth
3/10/2018
Tired of being nice
Tired of being taken for granted
They say do something good
Forgotten and unappreciated
Do something bad
They almost got it printed
What's good in doing good when it doesn't seem right
It's not about self-gain and whatnot
Just saying that one bad thing done, makes the million good things done wasted
So tell me, what's good in being that good
Talents, Intelligence, they all come with a great price
People support when you are beneficial
They congratulate, celebrate - not a single dot and shadow were there in tribulations
Its not about playing nice to please them
Sometimes we are just too much tired
To feel used, underappreciated, and taken for granted
Let alone be the bad guy when you make mistakes
Sometimes please consider that we are not AI's and generated machines
For once and all
We're human beings
Nov. 7, 2022