The Machine

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem was inspired by my all-time favorite band, Pink Floyd.I hope you like it and it makes you think.

Submitted: November 03, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 03, 2007



Welcome, my son, to the Machine,
Are you ready to fulfill the need?
As the mothers cry as their children die,
Let's put this veil over your eyes.
As we supply your alibi,
And tear off the wings, so you cannot fly.

Welcome, my son, to the Machine.
Your number's up, time to get clean.
So take out your pencils, and take out your books.
With your roller-blind eyes, and your vacant looks.
Waiting for the worms, and their hooks,
Forget about trees and the babbling brooks.

With your back against the Wall
There's no one at all, to help you.
In these post war dreams,
the phantom's screams, cannot hurt you.
Mother was right, there's no need to fight,
Join us in the dark, we'll take care of the light.
Welcome to the Machine.

Ha ha. A charade you are.

© Copyright 2018 Evan Matthews. All rights reserved.

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