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Lilywhite Jun 2019
When did I become one with the machine?
My body’s lost its meaning.
When did my pieces become parts?
It’s such a grimy feeling.
Not a single original thought—
Just an animation,
turned on by the input of systematic oppression
My output; just regurgitation
Anxiety and crippling depression
Time constrained by the weight of the world
Do you feel the pressure?
And you already know this
Foraging for focus
Keep your thoughts in sync
Close your eyes and listen,
but don’t forget to breathe
Your mind’s eye is preoccupied with patterns on repeat
They call it groupthink
Whoop, whoop
Thought police
Loop, spiral, fractal
Segregated sentiment seeking your sentience
Coagulate and listen
Maybe its madness or
maybe it’s ******* progress
Reel it in, just breathe, don’t regress
Ya gotta feel the feeling
Let it be,
Fleeting
Because you’re what’s real
So feel your heart,
Beating
Now ease your mind
You have to remember to forget
it’s just the grind
and you gotta play along sometimes
Are you a cog in the wheel?
swaggmaster Mar 2019
im halfway between wanting to die
and wanting to drink more beer

which is the worse to fear?

something that will leave you dry
or something that will make you fly
Star BG Mar 2018
inside morning breaths
I ready self for new day,
putting thoughts and intentions into gear
Excitement builds to drive
on road of unknown.

Mind moves pedal-like feet.
Transmission of heart in vessel purrs.
Breath adjusts gear stick in mind.

L - loving life’s experiences with gratitude.
O -  opening heart to love energies.
V - veering away from judgement or fear.
E - expanding into dreams.

Inside morning breaths
I align to move with
Gods Power Steering
Don’t leave home without it.
It leads way with self as copilot.
First poem of day. Woke up to an image of gears being shifted thusly poem was born. Havent written much last few days. (healing)
Star BG Jan 2018
In the drivers seat of my day
I put my
thoughts into gear.
First gear self love.
Second gear compassion.
Third gear optimism.
Fourth gear trust.
Fifth gear miracles
Sixth gear love to all.

In the drivers seat of my day
I put  my
Heartbeat into song.
Song of gratitude.
Song of peace.
Song of joy.
Song of faith.
Song of love for all.
I expanded with two words drivers seat.
Gabriel burnS Aug 2017
Put some stress on those legs
Not a dress that begs
My permission for takeoff
caught the wave... are we high; are we there yet?
She hears tick tock, tick tock within her head.
Tick tock, tick tock the gears turn and grind as the clock work falls in line within her mind.
The time is rushing within her thoughts too fast for her to stop.
Soon she will wind down and will not tick or tock.
The clockwork girl will have no more thoughts, time runs short for her well-oiled clock.
Goodbye my lovely clockwork girl tick tock, tick tock, tick tock!
This was made for a new years eve D&D; game called A Tick In Time. That I wrote for my gaming friends.

Michael Robert Triska Copyright 2017
Well this machine just wasn't built right.
the receptor only processes certain sounds that it's familiar with
or images that seem to
not really exist,
motors seem to be weak
only get enough juice to function
above low power
when the system is running on the backup generator.
even then it only can move for about
an hour
it needs to be shut down for eight hours
every night
and take a fifteen minute break
every two hours
so it's really only useful 14 hours a day
at best
and if you ever forget to shut it off
or try to leave it on more then that
you'll need to send it back
to the shop
for thirty days
we recommend washing it every morning
and putting these capsules in the top
when you boot it up
it may make mistakes less often
or it could self destruct
chances are if you remember to shut it off
it will not destroy itself
there are better models but they are for display
to make you see how much more you
need to tend to this model
we really need you to know
how much care this machine takes
it doesn't do everything it's capable of but it can do
pretty much everything.
Tony Luxton Jun 2016
She called me from downstairs.
There's some gear, medical stuff
outside, two cases, a midwife's
instruments, why put them here?

Don't touch them, you never know
these days, perhaps they're from next
door. She's a midwife, so I hear.
I'll ask them to identify.

They checked and foud her car unlocked.
But why left for us to find?
A joke? A cruel comment,
mocking us who nest no more.
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