Short Machinery Poems

The heart beats no more
Once was blooming, growing seed
Now machinery...

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trees in industrial park
equals industrial park

Beauty of Nature can't hide
machinery of dead souls...

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Time is,
     precise machinery device ...
     does not delay,
     it doesn’t advance,
     it doesn't break ...!...

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Tyrant and friend
I keep buried deep
To cease your incessant
Reminding
Your intricate machinery
So finely cut
Your delicacy
Subjugates my freedom...

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this tempest
this bitter tempest
rages through my delicate
fleshy organs
through my flexible
enduring plasma machinery.
i crave for never-ending thunders....

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Oh for the assistance of machinery
As my wife and I suffer so bitterly
From wet soapy hands
That slip on plates and pans
Which occasionally crack most disagreeably...

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The World machinery is stopped 
To restart waiting for a long gap
Where to start where to go on map?
This poem comes from Lankans hill top
Adam came from Heaven,World to start up...

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One promise 
No deal breaking, seal cracking
Absolute YES to make this caress
Belief creeps through oily membranes
Chemical science, gene machinery to tissue pulsing
ALIVE in the sense blood has no dust...

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Where is it that we go, behind closed eye lids?
An untouchable imagination, beyond the physical and off the grid?

Where is it that they go, in man made machinery to the sky?
A place unseen but seen, and gravity is what they defy?...

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The World machinery is old
Beyond repairs 
Rusted
Oil leaks,nuts loose and lack of spares
Still to carry on unable to replace
No output but unable to oust 
These Government machineries 
People oriented is what unfortunate 
Dirty politics...

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Out of the cold of depression;
Into the spring of hope.
Coursing by way of incession,
Slowly learning to cope.

No longer I wait for tomorrow;
Screaming and pleading a truce.
Gone are the valleys of sorrow,
In the mountains I refound my youth....

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The internal warfare has begun

Machinery of mass depression is at bay

Bombs of anxiety will be released

Like a capital, my heart has been besieged

Cavities of blood gushing

Chemicals of dopamine rushing

But nothing will calm this foul play.

Nothing will keep these demons away....

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A generation seeks to build and create metal machinery electricity krytrons to make this globe go round expanding like a virus that knows no cure stupid boxes couch potatoes 
Clickers information out of context 
Drama at a pretext style to mock 
What's cool and what is not 
What use to simmer is now a crock pot...

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Sleep in your eye's
Crumbles like Pie
Upon fresh sunrise dawing
On garden awning

And it can't protect in all directions
As the Sun moves full circle
When the Dead turn Purple

And come the flower Wreaths wilt
Full tilt into ashes and silt
Waving Farewell

Is the Heart's call

To rage against Hells machinery...

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The cold lonely night
Crept up on us as we walked
Through the abandoned building
Where once people had gathered
To serve the now idle machinery
Then I heard the sound
Of weeping as we passed
And in a corner of my eye
I saw the girl with bloodied clothes
She looked up at me 
Before she disappeared 
From my sight.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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In a humming white room
mother was up late but unresponsive.
Her face and body hooked into tubes,
We stood around whispering inanities
not listening to our words
just the gasping sounds
of the life support machinery.
A young nurse bustles in:
"Maybe tomorrow
Doctor says it's touch and go."

The next morning it was go
and we were late....

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She dances under waterfalls
this maiden oh so fair
she becomes one with nature
wears flowers in her hair
with the whisper of her garden
forest bird songs kiss the land
she is blessed with inner beauty
But does not yet understand
ugliness, buidings and machinery
over the hill not so faraway
they are closing in around her
will soon close her light of day...

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Life is small
and simple. Even
The years shrink.
The man knows 
that his anomie 
comes from the truth. 
The world is a 
blank on which 
many impose comfort. 
The truth of the blankness 
sometimes leaks through. 

That leakage 
is the disease 
which shuts down 
the machinery of joy. 
The man knows how
the delusion of self importance 
is so much 
better than the truth....

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Delicate tools on	
		Sterile linen
	Perfect machinery with
		Cross-checked drugs
	Anxious hearts and
		Wide-open eyes...
	"Two thirty one;
		to be exact.."
	Announced the lady
		Draped in green
	"Here's your precious,
		and that's a boy.."
	Uttered a kind but,
		commanding voice...
	Echoed on the walls
		a cry so loud
	Painting smiles on
		those who behold......

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(This is a true story)

While my dad was using a saw, his hand slipped.
It cut off two of his fingertips.
I thought his days of using that saw were at an end.
But a short time later he started using that saw again.
It took courage to use that saw again after what he went through.
If you use dangerous machinery, please be careful or something similar might 
happen to you....

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When you were ten years old,
you lived in the 19th centrury,
never thinking, knowing,
the hum of odd machinery,
enlightenment, a few years later, 
electric symphony, motors
and war chants screaming 
after depression, God dying
somewhere face-down in a
German prison, and with
60 odd years, the greying beard
and wet eyes contemplated drying
five feet underground in 1965....

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Calibrations in preparation an attempt to prove faith.
Machinery, gears,and spinning wheels,all to tribute the celestial. A plan a difference of system floating within endless vile air.Its suspended yet active in grey silver bronze thoughts of interaction.The faults are guided,the beautiful,the molded,the wonderful.
                                                                  _sky...

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I feel quiet; most serene-
the rage that swells in me subsides...
Limpid dreams and silent streams
(Eden scenes and sleepy tides)

Tranquil themes, untroubled times-
patient, placid, peaceful Minds.
Unruffled rest, sedated crest;
Reconciled determined Rhymes

fill my brain with calming cleanse;
focused thoughts through laser lens.
Cool, collected directed pens-
From the Heart my poems stem....

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Under the lamp light 
I found the crying mouth
Though everywhere I walk 
I run into flowers
My hands guided 
By your brimming eyes
My inward pilot
My harried captain 
Is a ghost 
Of what machinery there was
But I 'll do it anyway
I'll lie down on the graves with you
Keep grasping at the grasping
Loving in the darkness
Drawing wings 
On cave walls
Under the lamp light
I found the crying mouth...

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Cobwebs catching settling dust,
they save me much work.
Machinery showing rust, 
a colorful quirk.

It’s all a total must. 
It’s part of what is.
like a pie with a crust,
a soda with fizz.

One shouldn’t sweat the small stuff,
like a dust bunny under the bed,
or a golf ball in the rough.
They’re just cobwebs in one's head.


Cobwebs and Dust theme
written 3/21/2012
for Francine Robert's contest....

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