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Chloe Peacock Feb 26
There once was a tale,
(a legend more like)
Of a girl who lived in a clock.
In between the gears and springs,
Away she was locked

All of her days she worked tirelessly
Every second,
Minute,
Hour.
Moving the parts,
Pushing the gears,
To make it tick nicely,
Tock precisely,
Pleasing to the ears.

Never did she complain,
Only perfect timing she did obtain.


Then one day,
It stopped.
The watch did not tick,
Nor did it tock.
Some say she died;
I say otherwise.

She left the clock
Wild and free,
And now she wanders endlessly.

But one more thing lies in the myth my dear
In every watch that ticks,
And clock that tocks,
There is a girl
Just
Like
Her.
C Mahood Jun 2018
An airship for me to share.

I wish I had an airship,
And flew up into the sky.
I’d wave to all the people,
They’d wave back as I flew by.

I wish a had my airship,
Nestled high up  in the clouds,
Away from pointing fingers,
Nasty jokes, and lots of crowds.

I would take my airship,
Over mountains to the sea,
Find a quiet place above the waves
With only room for me.

I wish I had an airship
That made my problems go away
Maybe someday I’ll be free,
But maybe not today.

I wish I had an airship,
To help me make a friend.
But only one who really cares,
Not one that will pretend.

If I had myself an airship,
What would everybody say?
Would they want to get to know me,
Or miss me when I’m away?

I will have the greatest airship,
With a massive big balloon.
I will save up all my pennies,
I’m sure I could Buy one soon.

When I buy my airship
I will fly it past my school.
When the kids look out window,
They will finally think im cool.

I just really want and airship,
To see how freedom feels.
And not to always be stuck inside
My Annoying chair with wheels.

I wish I had an airship
So everyone could see
I’m not just a boy in a wheelchair,
There is so much more to me.

Until I get my airship,
I will keep it in my head.
At least in there I’m Always free,
To dream and look ahead.

I wish I had an airship
So everybody knew,
I’m not that different after all,
I’m just the same as you.
Lyn-Purcell Oct 2017
Let me see your soul.
Bare all your scars to me.
All that pains you.
All that burdens you.
All that gives you joy.
I will cup your mechanical heart.
Feel its beat, and oil the gears.
No longer will it be the frost of
the moonlight.
But as polished as
sun-kissed silk.
Were it so easy...
Lia Sep 2017
at some queer second
         not quite between twelve and twelve
                    blue planet dust particles dream
                                suspend midair
                                 while sunbeams dance
                        across minute hands
                   in your eyes

            **** carpet melts into lush
       dark grass
      and azure electric runs across petals
         of daisies dipped in glass

                 air swims carelessly about in a tropical heat
                          and shimmers curiously like
                                  glitter in rain or
                                        paint splattered koi
                                                beneath oil spills

                                                   you stand at the
                                                      precipice to purple
                                                   infinity
                                       and curiously ask the darkness
                            "what time it might be"

                   soft words of loved ones
echo faintly in distance

       overhead
                    copper willows generously sprout
                         industrial light-bulbs
Maya Deren Salvador Dali Steampunk Coexist Environmentalism
Asifin rectiserial devotion of robots' rows,
one of those innigglable enigmatronic joes
too technical ta takeanickel,
was lice wed to bridewelling
industry of automating.  

A disgraced biotech nacnit art,
psyboggy and sci-
boggling bodywork of c ut-
ter t'ings, cute tongs
of a roblotchy klimtin machine
for flinching, fearmilking my clover machine
- 's crap, mottled gizmo garden
of a desultory heart.

Falseaddress au naturel.
Where discalced fleshlings wozrobbed
of underfeetfeeling dewy slickback.
and springrandy kaliedoscamps,
flowers ragandbonerainbowed
as debutant tramps,
were mercurywatered with metallicnausea,  
till leperfect epilepetals petaljackable
by autumnmaton's throttle.

From whence woody wires, steel stipes, piping steampunk roots
s                p              r                    e        ­  a               d
their cybernetic spandages the strugglength
of breedingbandages, dayseized exponentially
by minecraft boughs like blocky and straitened boa cons.
S           p             r              e                               a                          d
- lesslike medisun's strength o' pharaohalloy honey
when i phinx of cryptstrypt egypt
atleast eqypt by skygold for tourruinsism,
but as stains stramineous
s                       p                       r                            e                       a                         d
when it blinking turnedout lice was
notso fonziewonzie robocub on the blink,
who'd ochreleucously aqua adverse tyzertyger-
stainson his 'cactusgun jack' character peepeejays.
Or like lank swathes
of hay insanelysprayed
by a leafblower with an asian's stamina.

Ah, Indelicacy! And Indélicatesse, a spathe's a spathe!

Except when it's conflicted kitbash for technomantic
terraformers, a robotany of jokes.
Peelback theirradiated diamondalmondnoded
circuitboardedup nonchthulucene sod,
- whether animal skills of oenomal skells digging their own
skeltels or servomotors or vine pulleys do the job
- and bimanal clangour of any claque'd clock
my 'chine's more tethered t'an untilled
tone than a sweeneypea  of rookierighteousness,
or a smaragdine skiff for seashocked oclaphiles
and banjoesgreened whilst a nesteggedhivedivingfelinophile
twoots. Green, aye,  taste of me sown oddwozobb-

jectionidyll, immaturenettle
slobotically slubgraded
ta passionrust like intranettles
of cobaltglancefrom
exitwoundingeyes.
i shoulda wilted empowered by an err
at such phat pathos,
but a yah bouquet of carrotstickflowers
beautyknotted carat and styx
and int'allforgotme knotsinmystoma 'chine,
decompoozed vin tij,  pints.

Once upon a zone of overgrown zonality,  
couldn't see, so now youseehowfar me 'n' Ceejay've mown
feckclod unclad, tilled till dishabille, bald the land
o' ruderal youthwhere i sawed my shrink
and saw halves in having.

Half bullchaff, half trashfinch...
Surprise. And nosurprise! Cropper.
And notacropper! For Cee's lovepimpedup her mechanibullish  
lyborg int'a lawnmower o' liberty
- ta badassvertise? No lice, lice sellnever
license ta liesellers hissenses, or ask r kelly
- tho' ark'd go with  'I believe iconfly-
mo'! Ee-yyyyyelmm! With a
'la shyzer vert!', advertised busters of sighs

- alsays ' Way: buy two sighs to make sure you fit'.
No now i vum ta vroooooom,
Mevrouw, with Our zimmer of choppers,
hack dripripe the naysayingvines, rerunning necks of...
And **** the dusty keptoutoftouchwith grass off.

Dislodge this android's figleaf
seeds of dehumanisation rigged.
Couldn't automoultit with forays
inta spores' ways when i was
transeasonally beswitched,
when greenmicrosystems of nanoedens
were clogged subroutines of nanoiddiction.
But then all uvluvs were unCeezenned ,
dint swiv indelihelic utters like Hernewbroom of cupes's
vrooming atsuch toureutic scriptures of brass bracken,
my artificial indelicateligence
strictured
like a caterpillar called icarus
on a heliotrapeze in a pod, suchwas  
the ferrous fallow of a fobbed hurtphobe 'bot.

But i'm suretimesdataset deadcertsquared
me and Cee've mown
junkjungley techamech nonatural zone, shorn
the me grownfrom an overblown underblown
green iron frown. Ee-yyyyyelmm!
Leaves turfshag of fironilings and waultyfirings
with a blendered slenderness  
where once i met a foe who may be
mentalic, meta-faux, but
'smown obsolete mode, old mould.    

But irenderno ambigcruelty, tuts 'wards
swampthing scrappile
of fibroushusks and computercasing,
cellulose memory and memorybankserasing
-  holograins and veins of my leave-
rs i guess i'm half still.  

   But blessed greased blades endawn
the manydayed plain,
ephemeral emerald still a jewel of renewal
that grows gaining agains that grow dif-
feroruntly from the planted pain.
Sungta'll growtasingta likewhirs - as a sprinkler
salted with returnreturns spinsipt t'pisnips  
- and'll oo-oo-whir like 'twern't no wistfulagedperson's
choice of radiostation.

Nowhowdoes my wrecktech omzig nedrag nonfunction verywell
thankyou funny. But am i totallytender,
setoutta bedelved, dugupenter a harvest of sacrifices yet?

Unaware i'd go onta twobloomtown till: where
did my potplantmeccano mashmish maelstroms of waif ROM;
green cogs and rams programmed ta mum and ham;
cabbudgets and letuscysts say the bells of synthetics;
barddrive boughs of the elmth and bowels of the nth:
******* boughs snapping to slaphead branchcollars,
scattering tyreswings of prostheticlimbpanzees
draggedup ta see limb, climb byes,
bite my every family with a damocles firewall of familyjungle surgery:
g...

o insecuritybreachwhere Her loveliness and lovely sweat chopt
and swept awaythe forsolongkept

will-ta-argue, that had for so long kept
my will arguing,
arguing with the ground
about my grounds forarguing withthe wither-
ing, stareswallowing, stair-
faced ground, no groundparent but wildneighbourhoodwatcharenakillingfloors
of hugboun-
ties time's toughlove chainsawed
offasifwith fredwardwolverscissorkrugerine,
morsal handshake a-hanching.
Mortallowmatic morsels of digital farewells  
removed by cornhead and rural roomba
of chutzpah purer than a gandermooner's,
Her mower the answer to my metalvegetal pinocchioprayers,
Her mower the overgrower of my loverphobia
and nova sower of dingleydells,  fluffy squelchy seasons,
vegetarianovourous forests of vitalism
and lurching lovers' poncey meadows - real ones.
4 CJ
Tintin Aug 2017
You only live
so I keep my life?
why do you speak
so much of
giving your life
in exchange for mine?

As fires blaze
in the sanctity of our room
cards lay out
in a gamble

I cannot allow you
To suffer again
To be toyed with or worse
Ripped and burned

The both of us
We'll be filled with love
When the executioner comes
To collect us
Tintin Jul 2017
This is our gamble
these cards on the table
neither of us
will be a sacrifice

your life
for mine
what kind of twisted fate
lays waste
to an innocent being
who was trapped in
a mechanical hell

As gunfire
and bonfires
chaos explodes

take my hand
and in our execution
let's both go
to Elysium.
Tintin Jul 2017
She talks
and asks
why
I cannot speak

She drags me everywhere
and has a grand time
while I am forced
to live in a mechanical body
she crafted to me

Radio waves
are my only means
and one sentence repeats
in my limited vocal ability

I pray for Elysium
and the soft grace and rest
still she drags me
I'm nothing but a doll

spirits take me
from this prison
why must I be forced
to live a life already full
There skulks a vigilante called Scumbrella
the urban jungle's answer to John Steed.
1/2 werrr, 1/2 weyyy, a mentally unstable fella,

in chazzashop-dapper togs: no tweed.
His swashbuckling bartitsu umbrawler moves
rotoviolate English Detroit run to seed,

tho' motley movements defy fitzes & sleuves.
At the dead of night, at the scene of a crime,
off scofflaw stage brollycrook hooks youths,

pimpled pitbulls yet to gnaw bone of hard time,
hoodies he hooks into patella in the face,
then jabs bumbleshoot at their custardpuss spines!

As Mez Pops put UK airspace in its place,
gamp glider Scumbrella l/ accipiter swoops
at trainee mugger, now 'Mum'-yeller auto-Maced

(epiphora of cowardice). Trenchcoat cape dupes
Bash Street chavs w/  shadowplay abillowing,
blots out fullmoon for pack of coyot' yoots,

further blinded by brollyspokes set twirling
by borgne majorette of a mean Gene Kelly,
crimefighting in the rain - what a wonderful feeling

to flaconade ferals w/ ferule of umbrelly,
or on evildoer's cupola springshut subumbrella
l/ panoramic facehugger - that should quell any

scally's scritch should Scrumbr'a skirl Rihanna
a cappella (upon umbrellairguitar, a wee noodle).
Since squabashing tall 10-year-old who twocked Fruitellas,

he's sasquatch-scarce once sirens fill twitchells.
Spiceheads & dratchells expand gangland slang glands
at groggy Z-doggs who dogpiled in IRL,

now duffedup triphazard to any backsteet errand-
boys 'n' girls, runners 'n' riders. Digladiation
Oswald Cobbleoddjob-style done, t'Umbrella Stand

pub a heifer of a zephyr his transportation.
No time to spare, as sirens have been replaced
by ambivalent armed response unit's simunition,

pyongyang of bullites onomatopiercing space
stealth deadened in penultimate comicstrip panel.
Later...at pub w/ his have-a-go antihero mates:

Pteropine Man fresh from frightener in the ginnel,
louring at being mistook for that Yank upstart bat
again; the noble *******-ophobe on sabbatical,

by Yewtree interceptions burntout, Madeleine McCatt
his offduty searches' fluffy focus ; snooty of Stella,
Captain Norfolk Black Turkey Magic sat

w/ an Adnams, Charles Random de Berenger's
seminal ruffianbusting manual sole topic
of convo for the Cap'n's workfriend, Scumbrella.

Snickets of recidivism precipitation now licks,
but in phonebox where, l/ Ms. Zellweger,
supers flaunt granny pants leans lost brolly ironic.
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