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(The Machine)

Poetry By: flavoredair
Poetry


Our parents often tell us they were once young and idealistic. What are they now? What will I become?

For the Lorax, L. Frank Baum, Pink Floyd, Chief Bromden, One, my soul and any one who feels caught in the wheels!!


Submitted:Jan 3, 2009    Reads: 562    Comments: 92    Likes: 41   


If you are a child of the machine, and the cogs are bent what does it mean?

I reflect on the compromises my parents made, now they're stuck to conveyer belts, they only go straight

And those robotic preachers, our teachers, those fools! With their hypocritical lessons and apocryphal rules!

And the government tools, and the government lies, and the government pays, so cogs compromise

Once I burned with passion and reveled with glee, for its mechanical arms could never touch me

And the smoke and the smog that it once spewed so clear, is now in my lungs, is now in my ears.

I'm on the cusp of conforming my place, I need to survive will my convictions waste?

Will the machine break down 'cause I am bent? I smile to it and die. I relent?

And if a cog cries will the machine rust? No! They buff it with lime, they do 'cause they must

I AM an individual! I can see! Never should our teeth EVER meet

I need food and shelter and warmth and love, and the machine promises all of the above

The machine is absolute! It doesn't dent, even if cogs are slightly bent.





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