The MachineE

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The Machine is everywhere.

Submitted: July 29, 2013

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Submitted: July 29, 2013

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The Machine

You lift, fret, and do

Just as you are told- 

In the factories

And in the offices;

On the construction sites

And in the streets

Then one day

Through fate or observation

You feel the void

And you put it all together.  

You catch a rare glimpse,

A shimmer ;

You see the machine

That which you are not meant to see

And you start to doubt and question

Its schematic

Its authenticity

Its motivations

The conspiracies

You can see the giant gears

And the pistons move

The flywheels turn

The turbines rotate

The flesh fed into it

The profit it generates

The children sacrificed to it

‘It surrounds everything!

It is everything.

My God.’

And then it consumes you

Its existence.

And then you fear

That no one else can see it

Or smell it

That foul and cruel odor

It’s too large

Too complex

Too old and too powerful

Ancient and ominous

Automated

It is in the sky

And the religions.

But you yell anyways

Until your throat bleeds

Until they medicate you

Until they silence you


© Copyright 2018 James Begert. All rights reserved.

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