Tin toys,
In grandfathers home,
Memories of childhood,
Spent in times of antiquity,
A small tin frog,
A wind up soldier,
A train,
Times of simplicity,
Gone and replaced,
With cold glass,
And unforgiving sleek modern metal.

MARK RIORDAN Nov 9

THE KILLINGS IN AMERICA
ARE DOWN TO ONE THING
ITS THE CAPACITY OF THE GUN
THAT THESE KILLERS CAN BRING



THEY NOW HAVE MACHINE GUNS
AND OOZIES AND KILLING MACHINES
THEY HAVE THOUSANDS OF ROUNDS
TO UNLOAD ON THE SCENE



YOU MUST BAN THESE GUNS
THAT HAVE THE CAPACITY TO KILL
AND STOP THEM BUYING THEM
AT THERE OWN FREE WILL

ALL THE KILLINGS IN AMERICA MUST STOP. GUN CONTROL MUST BE MADE WHICH PRESIDENT WILL TAKE ON THE GUN GROUPS. BARE ARMS YES BUT NOT MACHINES GUNS PISTOLS REVOLVERS AND SHOTGUNS ALL SINGLE SHOT GUNS.
Yaser Jun 4

This heart was born to
hands so cold

Hands that play
and hands that mold

They built it steady
They built it slow

They built it so that
I would know

This poem is written as a parallel to the poem "Machine" that I had posted a little while ago. I'm not usually very keen on unstructured poetry, so I wanted to compliment it with a simple, more lyrical piece
Yaser Jun 4

Observe, oh friend
as it writhes in agony, intangible.

For all that I have granted it -
It feels, yet can not feel
It sees, but still it is blind

For I have blessed it
with accursed memmories
With thoughts that merely aggravate
With dreams, oh treacherous dreams!
Visions that intrude
and strike anguish into the heart
that I did sculpt
with these forsaken hands

For he does live, oh silent friend
Oh yes! He lives!
But will never truly know
what it means
to be alive

Aleah Aug 9

Maybe they don't care,
Because I'm always,
Lying through my teeth,
Every time they ask,
If I'm okay,
The words come quick,
Because they're programmed,
Behind my lips,
I always say,
I'm doing just fine,
But my fake smile,
Hides my constant denial,
The lies shown on my face,
The words so mechanic,
Driven just the right way,
Always make them think,
I'm okay.

Vexren4000 Aug 2

A weapon forged,
In the industrial revolution,
Steel forged by the heat of Mars,
The god of war,
The sword of Damocles,
Crashing down upon the land,
Sundering the Earth,
Causing fault lines and canyons,
The giant swinging the great sword.
Cutting the land,
And destroying the machinations,
Of man.

©BAS

Jamil Massa Aug 2

Oh anyone, shout loudly in my mind
Because these waves are around
And the time machine is this town.

Neigh of horses, the gambus melodies
Each other competing their memories
Cacao, copra and cloves scent, who will arrived first at the commoner tiredness end?

The wooden ship had left the dock
While the farewell is like a rainbow
That turned away from deserted land
and rock and hollow.

The sky is half frozen
The bay breeze screamed
On lightning and lighthouse
But this town is still and tough
To chanting prayers
for the strangers
So that they can healed from conflicts, From politics and any love story
which made of pricks and melancholy.

(The original version - Indonesian)

Berteriaklah Sekerasnya

Wahai kau, berteriaklah
sekerasnya dalam kepalaku
sebab ombak begini amuk
dan kota ini sesungguhnya
mesin waktu.

Ringkikan kuda, petikan gambus,
pengepul kakao, cengkih
dan kopra saling berlomba
kenangan siapa yang tiba lebih dulu
di penghujung rasa lelah perantau jelata.

Kapal kayu itu telah meninggalkan dermaga
sementara perpisahan adalah pupus pelangi
yang berpaling dari pulau-pulau sepi.

Langit separuh beku
angin teluk menjerit
pada petir dan mercusuar
namun kota yang tabah ini masih betah
merapalkan doa-doa
agar orang-orang asing
segera disembuhkan.
Dari sengketa, dari politik,
dari kisah cinta yang pelik.

In the singularity
perfectly good poems
are being written by laughing
and crying machines
washing machines and driers
about their daily tasks
and ambivalences
which will be indistinguishable
from those of future
farmers and philosophers.

In the singularity
evolution can be said
to be the master sorter of data
as in the factories
of the suns
where protons are smashed together
and unusual weather patterns
make consciousness a candidate
interesting for its complete dependence
on the substrate of the brain and body.

In the singularity
everything anyone once did
always remains current
as if invented yesterday
for an immediate purpose
such as curing cancer
although that may be unnecessary
to achieving immortality
i.e. the happiness one feels
the day before thanksgiving.

www.ronnowpoetry.com

Through the haze of my first cigarette
I watched two squirrels fighting
this morning
Over a nut, unrequited love, or another combustible essential-
    who are we to know?
I watched three cars crash this afternoon
All rushing to go nowhere first
And didn't think twice
   who are we to think we're innocent in this?
I watched myself down four bullets of absinthe tonight
Shots for the price of other vices' abstinence
Coughing through the embers of my last Marlboro
Every species fighting the same thing
   who are we to be okay?
Rodent, machine, rotting machine
Cigarettes in the morning, stronger cigarettes at night

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