Mechanical Poems

In the blue light of screens, the soul is lost in a mechanical dance

In the blue light of screens, the soul is lost in a mechanical dance,
Where thoughts flow like rivers through forests of pixels and silver threads,
In a world where dreams are frozen in frames, with no time for dreaming,
And the mind struggles, like a captive bird, in the virtual cage of silence.
Technology steals our gaze, drawing

Mechanical Man

Too many tiny minds
telling others what to do
the sighted led by the blind
even tho' they can't do it too
curtailing all creativity
restraining imagination
destroying individuality
those who can don't need advising
those who can't should stop supervising
let me make my own mistakes
it's the only way I'll know what it takes
to get where I need to be
so put the key

non-mechanical

Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.

In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.

I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.

You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.

You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.

All

Clockwork Girl

In cogs and gears, her heart does beat,
A clockwork girl, both strange and sweet.
Her eyes, like polished brass, aglow,
Reflect the time, the world below.

With gears that click and springs that chime,
She measures moments, day and time.
A copper bodice, sleek and tight,
Holds secrets in the fading light.

Her hands, of bronze, a delicate dance,
Point to the hours,

In a cyanide night and neon stars, I lose myself in reflections of a mechanical city

In a cyanide night and neon stars, I lose myself in reflections of a mechanical city,
Humans, these flesh-and-blood dreamers, are now mere pulsating organs of machines,
In an eternal dance of digital desire, where each touch is an impulse, each kiss a data transfer.
My consciousness flows through cables and circuits, seeking answers in the labyrinth of

Beyond the Ivory Tower

Soft ivory pages, crisp and new.
Insulated from the world's harsh truths,
Snuggled in the comfort of rote learning, it waits.

Protected from challenging ideas,
Camouflaged as a bastion of knowledge,
Ignoring sounds of a changing world outside.

Each lesson absorbed, concepts released,
The slightest spark of curiosity dimmed,
Minds anchored to standardised forms.

Slow to evolve, the system creaks.
Returning to the safety of

shadow of intent

ill never get used to
the numbness that tinges away at everything 
every movement
a rusted nusiance 
as if the words that make up my reality are too much to bear
there are no creaks
or technical things to tweak
because i am still
unfortunately, a biomechanical thing
instead there are aches
pains
issues that, like the rain
always streaming down my face
struggles to catch

AI - Amy Ingram

Amy Ingram, who lives next door,
like nobody, you've met before,
always talks with a whirring sound,
and walks an inch above the ground,
all mechanical that's for sure.

She reopened the hardware store,
mending microwaves and mowers,
AI hope for our run down town,
Amy Ingram.

Red capped residents, soon got sore,
said "this ain't our town any more",
but some of us stuck to

My Best Mechanical Friend

My Best Mechanical Friend

You pester me with the slightest errors.
You bing and bong
Giving me night terrors.
I want drive along
And not listen to musical scarers.

It’s three degrees and you let me know.
You shout at me. 
And then you show
On the dash a disaster ahead
And you bing and bong 
While but nothing is said.

You’re a lovely car

not mechanical minded

not mechanical minded


In my new life in Portugal, living in a small village and before I had a dog, I needed to explore my new country
I bought an old motorbike (Zundapp) the seller advised me to buy spark plugs, so I bought a few which I put in the tool leather bag under the seat.
After

The Mechanical Nature of Reincarnation

A hundred years from now
or in the next moment
I will be dead, gone and back.

Not this 'I' with its sticky ego
gumming up the works;
forever tinkering, jury-rigging
a mental machinery
that was always poorly designed.

Most likely, baby me, is already out
of the chimeric soup,
he or she probably
made of spare parts also.

Are we are all variants
created in a biological

Mechanical Dawn

Watching the first light 
of a Mechanical Dawn 
cress the filigree 
of a divinities detonated forms, LIGHT!
Breaks cold & precise 
     The passing of morn
           Processing the binary of life 
       The stains of tachyons
The

Mechanical Destroyers of Life

The switch clicks the power surges
The beast it comes alive
The reels dance to a silent tune
And the screen becomes a mass of light.

It awaits its first victim of the day
The victim who is desperate to play.
The addict who knows he cannot stop
Even when that last penny has dropped.

The beast falls silent 
The addict walks away
But

Mechanical Betrayal

There is a machine that can duplicate all you do, 
Even think all by itself.
Just one can replace an entire crew, 
They will come for your job, out of the blue- 
They are precise, and fast and stealth. 
There is a machine that can duplicate all you do, 
Like a head spinning, mind blowing deja

Computer Madness Sonnet

computer madness sonnet 


computer madness infects my soul
every day when I turn on my PC
and encounter endless  haiku error messages
constant crashing, constant eating my files
at times like this it seems to me
that my mad as a hatter crazed computer 
is plotting against me and only me 
it wants to drive me quite insane
sending me

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