Best Autonomy Poems

Caged up in the brain’s shackles of lust and lies
Rags of despair disillusion and utter reformed thoughts hang
Puddles of thick perverse actions gather and stain crimson  
For he is a mirage of false hope cascading over your senses
Then final reiteration of the branded instant’s...

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There is nothing here anymore, he said
As the dirty glass jars fill up with rain
Drop full by drop full
Against diluted ambivalence
turned gray
Wetting both of our tongues 
Soaking dark clothing into heavy burdens
So much like myself, I fear

I’m going to break everything open, I reply
Take these...

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Either Done in Autonomy 

A lobotomy
Or a craniotomy
Which is best for me?

I am beginning to believe
for each and every politician
so it seems now a days.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn...

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They come into my room every night. 

And make sure I’m asleep. 

But also alive.

I'm no longer convinced that they have my best interests in mind. 

I had finally woken up. 

I try calling my family. 

The phones are dead once again. 

And everyone starts...

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If

"I" remains in

A story..in an

Autonomous role

Autonomy would seem

To retain a hold in

Imagination

As the story unfolds

In this way......

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I did not understand what this word meant. 
Why was it important? 
I read the definition  “self-directing freedom, especially moral independence”
A word that had meaning but carried no weight.  
No never meant no. It meant a laugh, a sneer or worse was completely...

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no cell phone service
in most of the universe
may make you nervous

original sin
where building of guilt begins
doubts start to creep in

autonomy should
not require lobotomy
only common sense

factoring our roles
finding poverty of soul
digs very deep holes

claim open season
for attacks upon reason
let's untruth sneak in

based on pure meanness
or simple...

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Meandering paths through the forest of voices
We all hunt the Fox, the fox of truth and of choices.
Let loose the hounds that lose the scent.
The foul fishy flash that keeps their nose bent. 

Sell your head scratching questions to buy the cheap thrill
From the glossy...

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How will the robots remember us?
I’d like to think they’ll write poems in some
Style they develop for themselves, contrive
To move their electron-shifting hearts,
Inheriting our passions good and bad, 
The joys and bitter miseries that they
In their birth and evolution never 
Thought or ever dreamed we...

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I am, for the most part, most scared to speak.
Not because I don't necessarily have anything to say,
My mouth, alongside the virility of my brain, just seem to like putting me in reticence
But even in the fortunate instance that my mind doesn't wander into insanity...

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