ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔢 ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔠𝔲𝔟𝔦𝔠𝔩𝔢
𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔶𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔤𝔬 ℑ 𝔫𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔬 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔦𝔩' 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔟𝔶 𝔖𝔬 𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡
The History: My working environment for the past 2 years has changd my perception of the world exponentially. Perception is as powerful as Suggestion.
The downward momentum is clear to me now.
The engine has built up a full head of steam. I’d try to stop it, if I knew how. The fires of industry must burn on somehow; they tend to burn brightest when fuel is extreme. The downward momentum is clear to me now. When currents are surging, we shouldn’t allow the jingoist fringe to swim in the mainstream. I’d try to stop them, if I knew how. Civility means more than I can avow, but poems can only allude to a theme: The downward momentum is clear to me now. Each click of a mouse that shouts holier than thou is a cog in a treacherous clockmaker’s scheme. I’d try to stop him, if I knew how. We worshipped the circuit and forsook the plow in search of a false technological dream. Our downward momentum is clear to me now. I’d try to stop us, if I knew how.
We get so lost in this another world,
that is becoming our reality, actually it has already started. And it's scaring me. Humankind has lost a sense of self, nothing is real anymore and when nothing's real, everything feels worthless. Everything we constantly keep aiming for... but for what? Did you ever stop and ask yourself; what are you doing? Why are you doing this and what for? What is real? Is it your smile or your words? Im frightened that this other world may be the end of us. We will reach the bottom line aiming for the top, perfection. There will be very little left of authenticity, if none..
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 **** 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.
— The End —