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Knit Personality Jan 2015
I take a concept scattered, rough, or mean,
And put it through my epigram machine;
Then hope that, though its soul may well be dirt,
It comes out clean as Mr. Clean is clean.
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
From Alan Lomax to the commercial art and the money machine.

At the turn of the century when sound recording 1st became available to the masses, 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.
(this applies to earlier storytellers architects and artists too)

A recording was 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 art to be re-designed, homogenised, formulated, copied, repackaged covered and played over and over again by artists in the form of "cover music" or become secularized, ****** and constrained by an elite clique or a commercial genre.
Labelling and streamlining art & music mostly benefits the commercial art & 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 a product!
So what was originally intended as self expression, a historical record, an archive, a personal message, is now sold as a product containing noise, a vehicle for advertising, perpetuating a genre of nonsense, labelling and re-marketing, so much so that there is now more nonsense immortalised "more white noise" than anything else.
To re-cap ~ I Think that art & songs are a form of expressionism, and like story telling they convey moods and messages from the present and past!
If artists and musicians create more than they copy then they are saying more whilst not devaluing the work of their predecessors!
From Alan Lomax to the commercial music machine.
A culture of cover singers, blinkered snobbery and the hermetic music industry !
Morgan Mercury 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
Little Azaleah Feb 2015
There he was,
his dark hair slicked back as he wove his hand through,
the sleeve of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.
When he looked up, his brown eyes met mine.
It shone in recognition.
For a moment,
we turn back in time
in the days where I first saw you,
when we were younger and foolish.
But before my heart start to waver;
before the walls I've built cracks;
I turned around and walk away,
just like you did that summer day.

{ E.I }
chichee Oct 2018
Two years later and
I'm still writing poems about what it would feel like to
strangle you in your sleep,
Just so you'd know how it feels.

I still wake up some nights,
choking
on that time you said
if you could be anyone you'd crawl into my skin
and live in it,
if only so you could call me crazy
and know you were right.

(Only in my dreams do I tell you
that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me)


Sometimes I forget my bed is a time machine,
turning scar to scabs and scabs to blood.
I'm a magic trick, I'm a razor blade,
turn me sideways and watch them
disappear.
To the people who only talk to me in my memories.
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?
Yaser Sep 2018
I have no mouth, and I must scream
trapped within this ****** machine
with limbs and flesh all torn and gone
my self I lay these eyes upon

Heartbeats now eternity
each second a thousand years I see
My mind is whole, or so I'd stake
with no humanity left that he could take

I have no mouth, and I must scream
to God, or to this ****** machine?
Inspired by Harlan Ellison's short story - I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
alex welsh Jan 2013
Milk bottle sweets
Make me bite my cheek
I was in the basement all day
Worrying about some heresay

I rode my bicycle to the shop
And cut my knees when i fell off
I stole some sweets and felt real bad
So I went and put them back

Stuck in limbo
Hello monsters
Scary monsters
Worrying monsters
Traveler Feb 21
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!
B L May 2013
Well, it seems that they key to life
               is to simply maintain motion…
Since can’t see the air,
                I guess I’ll emulate the ocean.
I’ve found I’m better off moving,
             so I’ll let these currents do the choosing –

           Because I can’t decide
                       myself
               if my self-worth
              is worth proving.

I’ve got wounds that need soothing…
                  I’m so tired of losing.
I’ve lived too much,
                          in too few years
     for such a lack of improving.

I need a device to twist this plot –
                      Some sort of 'deus ex machina.'
I need a key to this lock,
             but there’s something blocking the
Path to my salvation.
I still long to feel elation.
But, I’m being stifled by the laws
of this "freedom-filled" nation.

I fell under the illusion of a perfect constitution
But, this "justice" isn’t clean – it’s hardly more than sheer pollution.
Some machine eye is watching me
Dots in the rain, no one to see
Witnesses things, can't focus none
Grabbed at my skin but my soul's gone

Electric sight and steely gaze
Captured my face for unknown eyes
Deep behind iron irises
A few million roads set ablaze

This machine eye keeps watching me
Looks in a way nobody does
Prints out all the air that touched me
Knows every pattern I'd compose

Electric sight and steely gaze
Sees through me hiding in this maze
From under iron irises
It couldn't care less where it is

And machine eyes keep watching me
Accounting on my sketchy ways
Gathering lines from my body
Draws perfect pictures as always

Electric sight and steely gaze
Bolted in an eternal daze
Before their iron irises
Watch as another day rises

Please machine eyes keep watching me
For not from you I'd like to flee
Remember that I once was there
While you stay staring through the air
Imagine staring at the same thing for the entirety of your existence while not even being granted the satisfaction of boredom
Pepper Dove Sep 2017
I followed in a dream
one day,
a melancholy sound
Beating the drums
in my ears
as my heart
pounds,
With every uncertain step
I took
the sound began to fade,
reaching an empty
candled lit room
with a child,
wiping tears from her face,
I asked
what were those
haunting sounds
I had heard?
She opened her mouth
with a bit of a smirk
"It's a sad machine,
I play...
I found it in a dream...
when I followed
you,
one day."
agrios Jun 19
my mind is sometimes like a white noise machine,

         there is a near constant sound, that only i can hear

it is no hallucination, so i think, as there is a logical

         explanation. you see, i hear what is called tinnitus.

it's the ringing in your ear that you can sometimes

         hear. it can sound like television static, or a faint

ringing noise. for me, it sounds like water from a

         running tap, sometimes it is ringing, or television

static. it is loudest when i am alone, and only gets

         louder as seconds tick by.
Drip life in me
Give will to my heart
Beat rhythm in my voice
I am not a machine
I must dream to soar
River Apr 26
why is logic the only way in your head?
when in all reality life isnt
everything to you has to have a reason
an answer or even explanation
but with you nothing that isnt logic
doesnt make sense
just...
help me believe that this isnt it
that logic isnt all to you
i dont really want to talk to you
i dont need a logical answer
to confide
into a calculator
but you see...
emotions aren't logic
they are like the magic illusions
they can be explained yeah...
but that doesn't mean
they should be
sometimes...
id think you'd be better off
as a calculator without power
a dead silent un-working machine
so that way i can talk
without the logical answer you always give to me...
Willow Sophie Jun 19
Cogs spin in my brain,
and I've been graciously informed
that I have no heart,
that I am a machine.

Perhaps it is true,
for when I hold a crimson rose,
it ****** my finger,
and out comes gasoline.
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..
kenny Jul 2
Chained and collared
By Mara’s daughters

No safe word Baby,
bound by
desire,
fulfillment,
regret

They put their
hands
on me

and they drew blood
In the symbol of currency

Then they sold my soul
Into *** slavery;

No one blinded the cyclops
Now we’re walking wounded
Fueled by hubris
We’re headed toward the rocks.

We’re only gonna die
For our own arrogance
Caught up in some bad religion
Without self
The sirens sing,

Some people wanna
watch the world burn
Some die before they rise the fire
History repeats
We don’t learn
Burn the forest into a funeral pyre
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