Machinery Poems - Poems about Machinery

during elections,polla colla is sprayed people abstains from voting or cast vote to all of the above like putin war machine phantoms defeated in failed state during elections, polla colla is sprayed people abstains from voting or cast vote to none of the above like putin war machine phantoms defeated in failed state during elections, polla colla is sprayed people abstains from voting or cast vote in...

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What hallucinations I spy things skeletal defy… Intellectual apes as pale figures conspire expires in the deep dark pools of infinity. Do you, kin? Lost along the way from the Holly Cost? I spy you there a pale thing of obscenity, obsession with desires deep, words do offend? Indeed? Yes, they Do! Come a little closer my...

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Of pale melancholy And the infinite fall Of broken machinery Cast upon vast shores Decimation reservation The prodigal son returns Jagged reigns of jaded egos Amber suns stretching upon seas of sanctuary Blue oysters cast a cult of personality Here is where the mechanicals recoiled Gears turned deep inside the obelisk Onyx realms reaching to monolithic...

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Imagine a shore stretching to infinity. A Pale thing upon its sand. The ocean water is black Midnight blue depths Of Oblivion. Skeletal hands rake Pale Machinery Melancholy and full of divinity Mechanical parts and bloody ruination of hearts Outer rim of Sapphire Skies Columns of fires reach, reaching, searching convulsing pyres Of Melancholy Pale Machinery and Imagery Across a shore ablaze under a sliver moon...

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Of Melancholy and pail machinery in second parts of symmetry Looking over the infinite sea of mercury Long mechanical white lines Its fingers skeletal and bright against the dark indigo night Imagining the world in its infancy Melancholy breeze; mechanical pale, stringy Something glints in the gloom and watery air, an odd device. Of Melancholy and pail machinery in second parts of...

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How gloomy is the dusky dark! Now deep, deeper, a rusty black, so pale is the newborn thing, Wondering if the blurry night was just a covering…. Pay attention to the magnetic, mechanical, maniacal midnight, Nocturnal at its darkest hour of all. Does the alluring night make you shiver? Does it? Indeed. Beautiful sapphire is, in its way, the celestial skies...

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Cyber Sunday Cyber Kraut is served Cyber Baby goes down for a nap Cyber Relief felt by Cyber Mommy Cyber Grandma is Surrounded by Cyber Children Video Monday Video players at the table Video battles, Bow! Bam! Bing! Sing! Video children Video World Video Land No one sleeps Nothing but cyber reality, and videos The new reality, No mouth speak any more No poetry No art No gardening Reality: New World Order A cyber...

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All dressed in matching shirts, belt buckles and ties, The big black boots made from leather, And their pride and joy, sitting upon their head, With the biggest brim, leather strap and a feather. There’s headers and tractors, sprayers and drills, Harvesters, loaders, and ploughs, And the thousands of farmers, from this region, All walk around and casually browse, This new equipment...

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At the edge of the woods Among the brush I left my machines at home I leave, in my skin, the pus Can't puncture the wound Can't bring myself to the outside So into the wood I'm consumed My machinery is what I crave My machinery is what I need To make a path and walk away To make a path and become free I left...

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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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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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Feel like I'm walking on bones that make up me and I'm treated as though I'm machinery. Machinery that needs little to no upkeep and it's not until I stop running that you notice me. You say what's wrong with this damn thing? Why won't it work? So I push on when there's nothing in it for me and my whole body...

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Blinking lights, Grey faces worn down by an endless chain of encounters with machines Social life becomes a checkerboard of electrical impulses and responses Happiness has always ...

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