Blued, nickel reflecting light,
Shining on the Reaper.
Longing to swallow
A half-dozen biscuits
1 part Copper,
1 part brass,
2 parts lead,
1 part saltpeter,
1 part charcoal,
1 part sulfur,
The recipe for the dough.
in jaws of tungsten
It spits the metal bolus,
And gives new name to grim.
Bound to a destiny encased in brass,
I await the fateful day,
Feigning my existence all the while,
Holding the beast at bay.
A girl, made of glass.
A boy, made of brass.
Hearts of paper.
Tears turn to vapor.
Not enough time.
They say it’s fine.
Hearts turn to ashes.
Skin burning, from the lashes.
Liars sell their secrets and lies.
While every rose slowly dies.
It's hard out here for an automaton
the sun is hot on my metal
Over heats my copper wire
Causes all manner of motor malfunctions
In cold winter days the residual wetness I step in
shorts my circuits
and shocks my partners
I am fond of small coffee shop nooks with outlets.
I don't need to travel too far to recharge
And since I'm so shiny
often briefcases and lipstick come around
sit their lattes on my discarded instruction manual pages
To offer me oil
I will let them insert the Nettie *** shaped disk where they choose
it's rough being a clock work boy
I set myself to operate
at three hours before is necessary in case
I'm distracted by some new upgrade or need
to document another error message.
they never write me back,
bronze looks good on thigh plates
I had this woman notice my key today
protruding from my back
the translucent panel showing into all my cogs and gears
she said she wanted to turn it
back, so she could see my program
run it from the beginning again.
I warned her, turning the key
would only turn back me.
I would rather let the program run on it's natural course,
sure, I'll get closer to the end, but I'm a curious construct
haven't seen the end of my functionality yet
woman keep coming up and asking me to turn back the key
and I am weak,
but don't worry I said
if I run out of energy, you can always turn the key back.
I'll play it all over and you can remember.
She didn't like the idea of doing the same thing over either
she turned the key, waited for it to run out,
left me on the doorstep for some other person to turn back on.
it's hard out here for an automaton.
the sun is hot on my metal
over heating my copper wiring causing all manner
of motor malfunctions
and system failures.
I tried to stay gold, I tried.
Now I'm left with brass where the gold used to be.
I've stayed up drinking, and swallowing swarms of bees
to **** all of the butterflies he's still sending me.
by the time
and all the pretty
maidens are stacked
like Russian wooden
in an insatiable
the most toys
I am a sheet of music
I start quietly building on the quartet of Strings
the Violin starts a shimmering sound
backed up with the viola
the solemn sound of the cello
and the ground breaking bass
united in harmony
There is a rest a break in note
I am part of a Symphony an overture
out of the heart of the music
a quiet roll
the timpani building in sound
full orchestra building in amazing ******
Fireworks, Percussion, Brass, Woodwind, Strings
Combined together in unity
performing to the quality levels of sound
the amazing Tchaikovsky in 1812
Creativity and Imagination
shaking the core of the earth
Get me down to the local band stand
traditional and modern grand
Cornets, Euphoniums and tuba's in tune
I love the sight I'm so immune
from the pits of Yorkshire and round the globe
Scores resounding from Adobe
The Conductor's baton keeps the beat
and if its wrong they stamp there feet
from amateur to championship
all you have is brass to lip
contests regional every year
and music reading not play by ear!