Warm up
Listening to intuition
Hands full
Cast as a wallpaper
Time traveler
Witnessed the disgrace
Can’t explain more
Stereotype, eccentric?
Towards a familiar face
Being a neophyte
With a marijuana life
Switching gears into auto pilot
Floated with no gravity
Clarity, that makes no sense
Unseen, unheard but close to heart

A selection bias
Let the Adrenaline rush
Dream or nightmare?
Claws sharper than Scalpel
Waiting for a response
“Yes” is the answer
Proof of life
Night with an open eyes.
God’s mistake
All come with an expiration date.
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
Useless Stardust Nov 2017
running, running, running gears,
quickly, smoothly,
running, running, running gears,
all towards the same goal,
running, running, running,
pop,
one jumps out, the gears continue,
running, running, running gears,
it lays there, useless,
running, running.. running...
it joins the pile as the gears continue
running... running.....
Scrap Metal Sep 2017
At a time where it seems so very hard, for me just to feel alive.
all I wanted then, was to drive
As ridiculous as it seems
it was the stuff of my dreams
all I needed was my car and vacant 4am roads.

Going through the gears, as if they were my final years
piston tatted-ring finger; hand firmly wrapped around the wheel
braking late into the corner
locking up the alloy steel wheels on my automobile  
the tires squeal
waltzing them back into rotation as I find the threshold
clutch in
twist of the leg at the hip, I blip the throttle with my heel
down into second
one swift movement
un-burnt fuel erupts in the pipes.
blitzing through the off ramp
keeping it tight, clipping the manhole cover in the apex
pedal flat coming out, bounce the tach' as its not worth the upshift
pitch the car into the long sweeping overpass bend
the back end kicks out on decel'
counter steer and slam the accelerator back into the bare metal floor
front wheels clawing in the direction that I please
keys slapping my knees
straighten out and I ease her back home.

reverse down into the narrow; dimly lit garage
as I climb out, I can feel the heat radiating from the machine I built
hot oil ticking as it finds its way back to the pan
I stand and watch my car slowly disappear behind the garage door
it is but another night survived
for both of us.
imagine your single most favorite thing to do is extremely dangerous, illegal and selfish.
JC Godfrey May 2017
Steam, Heat, sweltering mechanisms at work,
cogs, collected, combined, creating copper cirque,
wheels rotating, furnaces incinerating, gears moving at busy speed,
circulating, building, crafting, machines making what we need,
Tubes pump Scarlet Liquid, contraptions clank and ratchets clink,
as I ponder - what all the parts do, one requires to think.
Parts seldom give up, nor contraptions shirking,
but this wonder, marvel, machine, is the human body working.
A poem I wrote with not much though until I contemplated just how many mechanisms we conceal - just within ourselves! Then I really got thinking, Constantly, without end, our furnaces, our kilns, our production lines, never stop building what we need, there's a whole foundry within us, a factory, contained within.
TIME has so much power and say on our day to day.
It tells us if we are early or late.
If we should be hired or fired.
Determines if we're morally correct or socially incorrect.
Our definition of TIME is far from perfect.
TIME is a song that has your radio station infected.
Can't change the station, can't escape it.
"Ugh! I hate this song!!!" singing along

We are the dysfunctional orchestra,
the composers of this catchy tune.
Composed by the abused watches we wear,
the guilty murderer clocks we hang on our walls
and by our notorious digital clocks in our phones.

Our favorite dance partner is 'Father Time'.
Dancing to the ticking and tocking.
Grooving at the speed of gears turning.
Steady rhythm; never speeding or slowing.


TIME does not exist, TIME keeping does. Oh silly humans......
measuring something that does NOT exist.
Stuart Hayashi Jun 2016
white noise is like everything happening at once
too much for the speakers to capture fully
after all an audio device tuned into nothing is tuned into everything
The layers of machine gears grinding
screams of bliss and agony
all turned into static while plugged into nothing
plugged into nothing
plugged into gods glory
Julie Apr 2016
a blizzard of emotions,
twisting and turning,
pulled around a roundabout,
driving into love.

you seek to change gears,
your hands tempting to steer the wheel.
the tornado of your eyes
claiming the byronic charge of your heart.

you can't press the break,
love had cut it years ago
when you had stepped into the vehicle,
spun in a cold blizzard of time.
Swords and Roses Nov 2015
Tiny interlocking mechanisms working together to create a beautiful thing.
Sienna Luna Oct 2015
Greased wheels, I knew you once.
I loved to balance like a child.

Roaming the paved streets; riding is like flying.

I knew you when the store held you back.
I chose you from behind handlebars with purple streamers.

Your tires silently carried me to classes,
each brake stop signaled that we were close to our arrival.

I sat on your worn black seat like I was on a throne of sorts.
Even though that seat is tattered with one rip on the side,
all I saw in you was my own damn pride.

Spokes, I knew you once.
I played your tune each journey that we went on.
No hill was ever tall enough, no road was ever too bumpy.

Gears, I knew you once.
Click, Lock, Click
sometimes you were tight and never let me ride
sometimes you were loose and my feet went flying ‘round too fast for me to catch
                     what you were doing.

I knew you once, when time was young.
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