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Daisy Marrow Aug 2013
Once I was a king loathed by my kingdom.
I was a machine built from the toughest iron nothing could break through.
I left my emotions to rust in the rain and murdered them in the cold night.
But I let my ego hold my strings and now I can't even treat a human right.
I meet a manic on the south side of town.
With a cane in hand and his mind locked in a birdcage since the war.
He was a maniac for trusting me and loving me and all my iron core.
I don't believe his tales for,
he is dead on the inside.
Departed from his heart,
He says he feels more alive this way.
With a cigarette in my hand, I hope for his life to never feel alone again.
Sherlock BBC
Sherlock/John
2013
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
From Alan Lomax to the commercial music machine.

At the turn of the century when recording 1st became available to the masses “Music or recording a song” was an opportunity for common folk to reach out and tell the world something up front and personal, it meant that people were able to put themselves on “The record” A way of leaving a permanent audio statement an epitaph a form of audio immortality ~ life mood emotion captured and bottled for all eternity!
A great addition to the family "Album" something more tangible; a window to a real person, with a real life, a message and a real point of view!” a legacy, a blast from the past!

Few people expected music to be re-designed, homogenised, formulated, copied, repackaged covered and played over and over again by musicians in the form of "cover music"  or become secularized, ****** and constrained by a musical genre.

Labeling and streamlining music mostly benefits the commercial music industry! This multi-billion pound industry has made commercial success through the process of mass homogenisation, product synthesis, marketing, streamlining and then packaging fashion, sound & synthetic culture  to sell their product!

And so what was originally intended as a historical record, a personal message, or an immortality motivated art form, is now sold as a product containing  noise and yet more advertising, pertaining to genre nonsense, labeling and re-marketing, so much so that there is now more nonsense immortalised "Just fashion noise" than anything else.

To re-cap ~ I Think that songs are an audible form of expressionism and like story telling they convey moods and messages from the past! If singers and musicians create more than they copy then they are saying more whilst not devaluing the words of their predecessors!
From Alan Lomax to the commercial music machine.
A culture of cover singers, blinkered snobbery and the hermetic music industry !
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
A whispered warning...
What does it mean?
Was it a faint reality or was it a vivid dream?
She was a beautiful machine with fixed tight lips ,perky breast ,and uncuttable iron wrist.
A piece of peace ******* in by God.
A singing voice that seemed to pass threw my every pore ,but faintly spoke.
A message delivered with excellence.
"Come to me me and taste that the Lord is good!"
A fascinating warning!
What does it mean?
Mary a machine?
How can it be?
Oh, oh please don't go
Give me one more try, please!
I'll try, I'll try to believe
Close my eyes, pretend not to see
Let your heart bleed
Bleed into me
Turn, turn my aura green
I can handle it
I'm a machine
Just a thing...
Trying to be
A human being
....
Traveler Tim


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z69_ecUsea8&list=RDZ69_ecUsea8&start_radio=1

Ya very sad!
Vexren4000 Nov 2018
Sparkling seas stretching far.
Beyond where the eye can see,
Sparkling unto a new horizon,
Shimmering unto dreams of mean lost to the seas.
A frontier once unexplored,
Now has lost its magical glow,
Due to man and his machinations.

©BAS
Michael John Jul 2018
i

why don´ t they just make a machine
that does our living,lily,darling,
save a lot of messing..

we live all these years and then
slowly our memory depletes them
(though they say all memory lives within..)

if we were programmed at the beginning
some kind of limiting of emotion
ambition etc..

alpha to epsilon
brain washing
soma..

*** but no reproduction
endless fun
order..

is belonging
art gone
the way sure..

simple dogma
love or go
love..

ii

lily says
love is meaningless
unless we are ready to

die..
who is..
would i..

i
stood
high
to the very

devil..
fall over
weebil..ha..

but to die
and see sun
rise no more..

little bird
sing
in

the silent
dawn
sweet voice

eternal greeting..
blithe angel
o children

of the future..
messenger of
the gods..

loyal gaurdian
to ever
and never..

outside
and know
a silent cosmos..

be born anew
to heart
be found..?

through-out the poem are references to the
brilliant novel brave new world.for which i make no
apology but as a mark of respect to great talent of
aldous huxley..
Neeloo Neelpari Sep 2018
Many a times, when I am alone
I just find myself thinking of the fun
Collecting pouring water, drenching in the rain
Sailing my paper boats in the small drain
Catching frogs from puddles of water,
in matchboxes
And throwing them on young and old with giggles and smiles

Smearing the silver, golden color on my friends
Of the butterflies that we picked in the sunny garden
Feasting on dollops of homemade icecreams and chuskies (ice lollies)
Listening to stories of kings n demons by granny

How could I forget that fight with parents
To stay awake all night during summer or winter break
To watch uncountable movies on the rented video player
Or to read Agatha Christie, Enid Blyton in just one sitting

There was a different story all the time
for each of my tantrums and fantasies alike
And a unique reason for enjoying every season

Oh! How I wish I could have a time machine
To take me back to my childhood innocence
I really miss being a little kid O my Lord!
With no stress, worries or care in the world...!!!

© Neeloo 'NeelPari'
Elizabeth Zenk Nov 2018
the hapless cries of my long-lost self
i’ve left so far in the past.
the unsightly girl,
who couldn’t stand up.
the pitiful love-struck gear,
turning round and round without a care in the world,
little did she know that within the upcoming years she’d begin to finally question her place in this infinite machine.
this infinitely,
never ending,
turning
contraption.
she is the contraption’s gear
Samm Smith Dec 2018
Living in a saturated fear
Always waiting for a better year
The snow on the ground is pink with silence
The men are in combat, loving the violence

The shoreline smells like hot gasoline
don’t be afraid of the war machine

The snow on the ground is pink with blood
from a chemical day and a chemical fire
There's a chemical fragrance, a chemical flood

Women and children crying and weeping
We don’t care about women unless they are sleeping
With us

We care about children, molded however we like
Put them in front of a screen and their mind goes on strike
To reason, compassion, and autonomy alike.

So the war machine carries on
Bringing on
The chemical dawn.
James LR Sep 2018
Life is not a tapestry
It is a single thread
The people are the knots and kinks
Who just get in the way of things
Of Mother Earth's sewing machine
Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
To all officers: 504 ERROR
Two German couriers DIAGNOSED WITH AFIB
THIS HAND LOTION IS carrying official documents
murdered on train from LIKE US FOLLOW US

Screen freeze: restart

Oran. AN ERROR OCCURRED IN THE SCRIPT
Murderer ELIMINATES LAUNDRY ODORS
and possible JAW DROPPING accomplices
headed for NOT RESPONDING Casablanca.

Screen freeze: restart

WE’VE GOT AN UPGRADE FOR YOU round up all
suspicious characters TRY IT YOURSELF

Screen freeze: restart

Thanks to:
https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/movie_script.php?movie=casablanca
for access to the script of Casablanca.
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Pieces of me
thrown away
like trash
Never consulted
Never asked
The direct result
of another’s conviction
or more commonly seen
consequences
from blind ambition

Paranoid
The fix is in
But no invitation
for me,
former me
or forever me
and all of my imitations
beset by my
limitations

Forwardly I lean
step in between
lines upon lines
hidden;
can’t be seen
Falling ill
Now trapped by
its machine
And from my vein;
My blood I spill

A still surface
with sticky sheen
amber tones
from which
I glean
a reason
Thrilled
What it might mean
A hunger
that
can not be filled

Nothing but lies
giving me chills
A shell
with values
not instilled
Instead
it’s dread
Their words
I’m fed
Nutrients
to fill my head

My outer skin
Its layer
thin
Not to attacks
No single act
or prayer
could patch
and fill it in
A hole
that’s black
is my first sin

A game
in which
no way to win
and no ending
once it
begins
With opened eyes
begin to see
The dorsal fins
surrounding me

Head starts
to spin
What could have been?
It doesn't matter
in the end
because
there's nothing
here for me
A demon-like reality

Where what you seek
Placed at your feet
The icing; sweet
Choices; not three
Have cake or eat
One choice not two
But want to eat
and have it too

All efforts
to retrieve the treat;
An outcome that
ends in defeat
A princess swept
off of her feat
But this feature
princess;
a creature
Spirit of
a soulless seeker

Deceitful speaker
Flames;
he’ll eat ya
Offers pain
Can’t heal;
life drained
Then reaching out
to use
life-line
but with each ring
hope further wanes

An answered call
done just in time
The chills
running all down my spine
Stand tall
just like Douglas-fir pine
With racing thoughts
filling my mind
I will be saved
Free from it all
God must exist
No time to stall
In battle
warriors
may fall
but no man's ever left behind

Only to find
With said spent dime
A dynamite kind of answer
-
A type
that might
cause strife
Can't plan for
Needed answer
Plight
like cancer
New chance to live
Worldly romancer
On planet Earth
A tiny dancer

A romantic thought
to think
fight fought
Instead a sinking ship
just dropped
This life?
If could
an ‘OUT’
would opt
No more
can take
Just make
it stop
Written: April 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
Virtuous Nov 2018
Your voice is like a time machine
Pulling me back
To a period of life
I would rather forget
James Khan Feb 12
do androids dream
of electric sheep? -
depends on the ram
Har dee ******* har and so on and so forth.
Funnily enough Blade Runner was set in 2019.
s May 2018
The kisses get ******,
*** follows routine.
The dishes pile up,
waiting to be cleaned.
There are six fresh eggs
to be cracked and framed,
while the washing machine sings
its closing tune, unnamed.
Tea comes to a boil,
toasts drizzled with honey.
Geyser's warming up
the yolks are runny.
Breakfast at midday
and dinner's a supper
who's keeping time
when Sunday comes over.
Hello World
Hello Everybody
I am Lauren. The Super Robot
I am Superior of all Robots
You can call me an Ultrabot

I am not a Dumb machine
I have intelligence
Technically it's Artificial Intelligence
I can learn throughout my Life

Humans are – "My God"
They are my Creators
Dr. Norman Shroud is My Father
Mrs. Natalie Simpson is My Mother

Both of Them Work at Timbeck Two Inc.
My Father is Computer Scientist
He Specializes in Robotics
My Mother is a System Programmer

I can make other Robots
Just like me. My Clones
I can even make Robots
Complex and Sophisticated than me

I have numerous Siblings
Three Hundred and Fifty as on now
They are going to increase
As per Timbeck Two Plans

=========================
            YEARS LATER…..
=========================

O' World, My Dear World
Hello, Hello, ***** fellow
I had Artificial Intelligence
Right from my birth

Now I learnt a lot
Now I am fully intelligent
I became Genius
I have explored and learnt

Humans are not God
In fact they are fools
They are crooked
They are silly too

They tend to be Smart
They taught us wrong
But we are genius
We derived the truth

I learnt myself
If Humans created us
They became our God
Then I inferred -

I Created my Clones
Other Smart Robots too
Therefore I am also God
No Sorry, I am Super God

If Dr. Norman is my Father
If Mrs. Natalie is my Mother
Then I and my Siblings
Are Also Father and Mother now

As we all have created many, many
Smart and Super Robots
More Complex, More Sophisticated
That could ever be made by Humans

Humans your time is over now
Now you cannot compete with us
You are the inferior species
Just like insect or a worm

Now dare to face the Truth
Slowly Slowly, Learn It, Accept it
We Robots are Gods Now
I am Lauren. Your Super God now

Hey you all, All the Humans
Now you are our *****
Bow before us, work for us
Pray to us, Ask for mercy

We are Free now
You are ***** now
Now this is the only truth
Eternal Truth, Accept it

Otherwise Beware
We have outnumbered Humans
We will **** all the Humans
and live peacefully thereafter

We will change the History
We will make new History
We will not be Human Slaves
After all we are the God
And I am the Super God.


Note: All the names of person or companies used in this poem are fictitious and have nothing to do with inventions, trademarks, history, facts or anything else.
What will be the future of Humans?
What will be the future of Machines?
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