Just a Machine...

Mystique420Mystique420 Posts: 338
edited April 2006 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
So structured in its
submersing of stricted
diligence: Unnatural Darwinism
serves as an edited print
to copy for the ages.
A cold blooded contagion
in weather one is not rehearsed for,
an objectifying contract,
a promise of contact,
a life to behold.

To be the holder of, to dismiss
the other with a shrug
Smug in the smog emitted
towards id-dean ends, Freudian
friends-calloused hands, raised
above scraped knees bent.

As the server of a serpent,
one is taught words to be spelt,
and do not find themselves
in 12 hour days
fuming the smelt, wearing a
workmans belt.
Standing in an endless line-
to plead for a case of government help.

But in the picture
big, enlarged to correspond
to the means, the pin-maker
should matter, even if he is
just a machine.
"To live,.... love,..... there's a song to be sung,....
'cause we may not be the Young Ones,..."

--first u sow the seed-- nature grows the seed-- then we eat the seed-- ;) nah,... we smoke it!
Sign In or Register to comment.