"manufacturers" poems
Industrial love,
western manufacturers,
they **** us over.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
Off the train I hit the streets
and start laughing. This is ridiculous,
incomprehensible. How can innumerable bipeds
have individual inner lives. Why are they doing
what they’re doing? I have no answer
New York City but to also go about my business
in this case prepare for surgery, survival.
But why survive with so many exact replicas
to replace me? A swarm of ants or hive of bees,
social organisms they’re called, climbing
over each other, avoiding bumping and amazingly
making way, anticipating the sudden turns
and straight paths of others, strangers but brothers,
sisters incubating, the cells of a small
***** nodes of a single semi-conscious organism.
The concept of a higher power that cares
for me is also risible yet how else
can I explain the surgeon and his team,
robots and magnetic resonance imaging machines,
all primed and trained to save my life.
They are not particularly interested in what
I do with my time. I am immediately
in love with the Irish brogue of the head nurse,
the Indian skin of the physician’s assistant.
The long extraordinarily thin
fingers of the famous surgeon. All
mine to savor (and the other cancer patients).
Despair, lose all hope
that’s what the sign says at the gates of hell
and at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center the sign says
Be kind to our customers who are waiting and suffering.
Yesterday’s suicidal thoughts: the mind
is a clever servant, insufferable master. Therefore,
meditate on this: absolute need, dependence on the Other.
I still like Hombre, The Shootist and Ulzana’s Raid
but realize those dead heroes
were subordinate to society: the gun manufacturers who armed them.
Thus, I go for cancer tests, accepting, not predicting results.
Hero accepting help.
A torrential rain following five days of flooding,
tornadoes out west busting up wooden towns
all because too many of us are hoarding plastic, herding electrons.
None of us know how it will end, what the outcome will be
(of our surgery). The best that can be said
is Don’t forget to breathe. And you might
as well believe in that higher power.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
So tired yet so awake
I sit at the edge of an ellipsis
crimping the charred innards of my tattered soul
to make a masterpiece of gore
and internal war.
over the years of self loathing
I finally love myself
but getting ****** up feels ****** perfect
and watching this world unfold anew with each hit
or shot
rocks my mind
unkind but exemplary in it's own fortitude
to prevail my own veils
aside they're cast and fumbled with
as thick smiles seed
and the pace is set for the evening
I can't help but think that leaving
could do me good
but who backs out before the last shot?
who leaves before the deafening toll of midnight?
Cinderella's umbrella of security
and purity
is at jeopardy
and with great haste she wastes away the good looks
for late night *****
and nicotine
forgetting to clean
her closet of supreme validity on
the functioning teen
trying not to be mean,
but completely obscene in gestures
with the barbie's manufacturers groping for caspers
in the utopian disasters of the girl they forged
many decades back, but lost track
of the track that played that summer night
in the moonlight of immaculate humor and love
above all the oozing essence that manifested
now tested, for virtual ******
your cerebellum will tellem the positive
credo
that we all know is hooked on the days drift wood with
byzantine benzodiazapines to guide her haunted spirit
till
the cracks turn to crevasses and prehistoric protons mate with electrons
in the vat that is abrewing to plot the lies
watch the skies fade to grey as it may
be about time for the ecliptic rhymes to find
reconciliation
in the bladed grains of mortality and sigh
for being high in this lowered juncture
of subsisting future
buys you time to mull over such a daydream
as your last breath
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
Crap-tastic manufacturers thicken molasses,
While the turkey workers burn by the boss shoppers.
Consumers pay your bills and spit out your will,
After they chew up the crews and disrespect the efforts turned black.
Good intentions don't exist and content is what they expect.
So take pride that your worth dies when your work is defined by the consumers ability to think they're always right.
And remember that reason takes a slumber when consumers choose the seasons of the year they want to see.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
My name is not romantic
neither is it fantastic
I am in the midst of men
commanding all human
I caused man a lot
Many suffer because of me
Others die because of me
Nothing Can be done without me
Everything is done by me
I break the chain of unity
Mean couples divorce because of my absence
When my voice speaks
it shuts all the mouths of truth
Those who have me in abundance
Turns to command respect and prestige
from those who search for me with courage
without knowing I disappoint the trust of a man
My searchers are my manufacturers
my lovers are those I lynched silently
I pray people don't recognize my inner self
because I am toxic and made from that
which I am
Am I not like the light?
makes the path clear in the dark
for all human to follow
I can't forget myself that
All that glitters not gold
It would have been better for man
to search for love and wisdom
than wasting precious time
killing and dying for me
I am only a deceiver of souls
making them believe my absence is a curse
so they can hurt and hate to purify their souls
but it is difficult to wake up the person not sleeping
How I hate those who handle me with their conscience
Helping others to recognize they can be happy without me
How I hate those who think I am not all about the world
Making others not to value me
I am the only voice of the world and
I am the only killer of the body and soul
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
The machinesed drones droning ozones
made of homogenised genes by replicants
from clinical doctrines and empirical indulgences
Soulless and efficient, bred for duties destructives
Capitalist fodder, programmed ready for earth's ****
Regulate as required, inputted subs with pigs hearts
Made followers with voracious appetite for blood
mechanised barbarians on leash with one track mix
Human shire horses in designer shods and faulty gauges
Manufactured manufacturers limited and corollated
Factories, dormitories partnered with like, watered
and bedded till tomorrow, audiod to the Sterling whip
Given ample ales, keep blinded and chained
Distract and cater to baser instincts, *** *** ***
Free 'love' free *** valueless values, what values
Enjoy kids must return to work desk seven on the dot
Time is money, clogs and production
waits for no man, do or your pleasures denied
Money, money money, honey for bees, honey for drones
Soulless, dehumanised, pale, aged at thirty, heart attacks next
Vacuous ghost programmed dunces
Malfunctioning entities devoid of humanity
Superficial plasticated robots, destruction default
Industrial pieces with industrial minds
Chemicalized drunks with wired brains
They roam around screaming freedom and power!
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
somethings really
gripe customers to excess
and in the griping
they seek redress
a box with five tablets of soap
isn't as it used to be
the size of the tablets
have been reduced
quite considerably
in years gone by
a bar of soap
had a fuller dimension
but nowadays
there is only smallness
in a tablet's dimensions
the customers are paying
a mint
for an undersized lathering bar
manufacturers of soap
must bring back
the larger bars
as customers
are voicing their valid
nah
nah
nah
nahs
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Let us awake from the decay of strategic costumes where the incestuous fragrance of madness permeates golden dreams of eclectic strokes.
Bureaucratic self-enhancement nurtures docile manufacturers of laborious compliance, whilst social conscience plummets to depths of callous and entrepreneurial versatility.
Enduring imitations of an unsatisfactory kind is like pairing mint fondant with rich and savoury gravy which is acquired with strategic dishonesty.
Oh, negligent wakefulness – will we ever arise and discern those lobotomised representatives in this legislative brothel of excessive absurdity?
Shake me at one minute to midnight in the House of Lords.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
THE FINE cloth of your love might be a fabric of Egypt,
Something Sinbad, the sailor, took away from robbers,
Something a traveler with plenty of money might pick up
And bring home and stick on the walls and say:
"There's a little thing made a hit with me
When I was in Cairo-I think I must see Cairo again some day."
So there are cornice manufacturers, chewing gum kings,
Young Napoleons who corner eggs or corner cheese,
Phenoms looking for more worlds to corner,
And still other phenoms who lard themselves in
And make a killing in steel, copper, permanganese,
And they say to random friends in for a call:
"Have you had a look at my wife? Here she is.
Haven't I got her dolled up for fair?"
O-ee! the fine cloth of your love might be a fabric of Egypt.
1.6k
It's the next best thing!
It's a scream!
It's got a screen!
and a million little buttons
that won't ever do a thing
to erase that feeling
that you're feeling.
why you are always waiting.
like the Rockie's or the Canyon.
like Columbus and the the great depression.
like Woodstock and world wars.
like the Illad and the Odyssey and The Beatles.
something more than
The consumer generation.
a definition through epic episodes.
a defining moment.
The revolution has been sponsored
by manufacturers and broadcasters
and warmongers and pundits
and people getting paid to tell you what you think.
and what do you think?
Why are we content with being incomplete?
unfinished and beat?
What the **** is so Comfy about that seat?
You are not generation X
or Y or Nothing or Nowhere.
or any of these false names they've created
to make us believe we are less than we are.
we've been duped.
the youth is not the future anymore.
It's firmly in the grip of the old and accomplished.
Your fate is their whim for a dollar.
Your life is fuel for the fires.
crass entertainment inspires your desires.
And well, **** that.
pull the wires from your brain
and we'll fight to regain.
what territory they've taken away.
Make decisions for ourselves today.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
Dear Grandma,
Yesterday on Broadway
I thought I saw your face
front and center on the Times ---
it was Margaret Thatcher, she's passed away!
They say she was hatred;
ruined the British manufacturers,
the miners, and the arts;
forgot the Irish freedom fighters,
watched them die from a distance;
they say she failed the English poor,
even fulfilled the Belgrano's fate...
Grandma, I thought of you in your garden,
picking ripened Early Girls ---
you so resemble Mrs. Thatcher;
what will they say of you when you've gone?
No more than brief obituaries
printed in the weekend papers?
Murmurs at the memorial
during your eulogy?
Although you've wronged me once or twice
I can sympathize with your point of view;
I hope someday they'll forgive Mrs. Thatcher,
as I've forgiven you.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
As excited to return as he was to leave
Bright eyes such bright eyes
He senses my pain
We enter...
....
He skips to his drink
Downs it in one
Plods off to corner
Flops down in the cool shade
Raising a quizzical eyebrow
Then doses off with a contented sigh
....
Click, click of the mouse
The key to the asylum gate turns
The inmates scream out beyond my screen
Some live in heaven others in hell
Perversely I sit here
Omnipresent
My fingers jabbing at the keyboard
Harvesting the daily cruelties of mankind
Kind of "men"
I'm sick
At least sickened
I SEE WAR
LOTS OF HIDEOUS WAR
TWISTED CORPSES
INSANITY
GRIEF
I see twisted politicians pretending to care
Banks rubbing their hands with glee
Arms manufacturers celebrating bonuses
I see death equals money for some
Lots of death = Lots of money
Kids shelled on a beach, hospitals destroyed
"well they use human shields"
So that must mean those humans are worthless?
I see a death toll of 1400...and RISING!
I see no God
I see genocide
Clicking and typing just makes it worse
Calling each other "dogs" a repeated curse
Dogs!
Dehumanizing the enemy
For the purpose of easy slaughter.
The devoted mother and father
The innocent son and daughter
Where is this God?
Either/ any version will do
Or is it all about NOTHING!
Nothing but ********** and greed.
Click, click...
ISIS
When will humanity wake up
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Eyes wide open,
mind tightly shut,
we play victims to the postman
slotting news and letters
where little light filters through,
only as he sees fit.
Grotesque, gross manufacturers
spewing out page after page after page
of page three scandals -
of rich brats waxing lyrical,
American hip-hop DUIs,
fat cats cat-fighting.
Media
breast-feeds her gullible men
and milks the misfortunes.
We are part of the orchestra -
synchronised puppets looking to our
Master
to tell us
how
to read the notes.
Outside
there are flimsy flyers
advertising freedom
that have morphed into paper-planes,
but are impenetrable of ignorant masses,
flitting around the heads of the blind -
like cartoon characters after
being beaten up by
fists.
It is injustice.
Peel the scales from your eyes
and open the flood-gates, let forth the criticism!
Ask why an American singer's ten minute jail sentence
is more important than an Afghan girl's sentencing to be gang-raped.
Ask who the ten percent of the South African population are that receive sixty percent of our gross national income and how to alter that socio-economic gap.
Ask what is to become of learners who pass with thirty percent and if that is even possible when books aren't being delivered to schools.
Ask where one can find manifestos instead of accusations from each political party.
Do not let them dictate
your truths as
CAPITALISED LETTERS
with no urgency.
Do not let them confine
your insight to the ink on a page.
We are worth more than glossy sensationalism.
We are worthy of urgent honesty, transparency and enlightenment -
herein lies true freedom.
The liberation of the mind.
The uncoiling fist of a freedom fighter revealing the truth held within.
Amandla awethu.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
The turning dials of that old car radio,
Metallic, as the rubber coverings fell
off. What had once protected, lost by
the twisting of that radio's lifespan.
In a car, old as it's manufacturers who
are all dead,
Her strength is still strong on this long
journey to the bigger city.
I fiddle through that plastic box of old
cassette tapes. My finger picking out a
title to fill the radio's mouth. To fill it up with
so much music; that it's old speakers *****
out noise.
Choking the engine of the car's battery,
the lights on the gauges flicker,
And I pull over the side of the road,
it's dark outside and cold. Not of the night
but of the music's chords.
_I'm alone._
Waiting for a stranger to stop by,
and jumpstart my car. But only a God,
could jumpstart my heart.
As I reminisce on what it felt like being in
love. A station I had once tuned into,
with all it's cheesy love songs. And their
catchy hooks.
_I miss the sound of the music._
A small car pulls up beside me. Yellow
as the sunflower open to the sun.
Bright as a smile; of someone you're glad to
see. 'How long has it been,' you'd ask them.
The window went down;
as a girl with a smile greeted me only by a gaze.
'Do you need help stranger,' she asked.
'Help with a lot of things, I doubt you could
come up to. But you're welcome to try,' my
heart replied.
I nodded slightly, hoping this could be
a quick fix. The quickest way for me out
of a conversation.
_But my car was dead._
The stranger offered me a ride to the next town,
to grab a mechanic. I reluctantly agreed.
And before I hopped in that box Sunny,
I had to grab my plastic case of cassettes.
She seemed keen on what contents I had
at hand. Insisting I put a tape inside her radio.
'Hey that's my favourite band,' she said.
I never smiled as real in that moment,
than I ever did before.
With so much in common, we fed our ears
on good music, with our similar tastes.
Making it to the next town, I gave my
thanks.
_Not expecting much back._
'Here's my number. We should hang out sometime
to listen to some good music.
I'll trade you my number for a couple of tapes,'
she said.
She drove off leaving me with a smile,
a number, and a reason for them both. As I
wondered where next this story would go...
__I'd love to tune into that.__
Feb 27, 2022
Feb 27, 2022 at 1:10 PM UTC
Renault and Ford have joined forces to create the perfect small car for women.
Mixing the Renault 'Clio' and the Ford 'Taurus' they have designed the 'Clitaurus'. It comes in pink, and the average male car thief won't be able to find it - let alone turn it on - even if someone tells him where it is and how to do it.
Rumour has it though, it can be a real ***** to start in the morning! Some have reported that on cold winter mornings, when you really need it, you can't get it to turn over.
New models are initially fun to own, but very costly to maintain, and horribly expensive to get rid of. Used models may initially appear to have curb appeal and a low price, but eventually have an increased appetite for fuel, and the curb weight typically increases with age. Manufacturers are baffled as to how the size of the boot increases, but say that the paint may just make it LOOK bigger.
This model is not expected to reach collector status. Most owners find it is best to lease one, and replace it when it becomes troublesome.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
(1) "Gimme" cap(billed cap with a manufacturers name on it-
found at truck stops" everywhere.)
(1) Pair of bibbed, denim, overalls (with enough pockets to carry who knows what!)
(1) Folding Buck Knife with 3" razor-sharp blade
(1) Pair of scruffed boots(with steel toe - in event the knife is dropped)
(1) Batch(more than three) hardwood tree limbs(pre-trimmed)18" long
(1) Park Bench(seats at least three)-Strategically placed in front of the
county courthouse, or other municipal facility
(1) Bottomless bag of stories, tales, yarns, opinions, etc.
Blend together, stir frequently, START WHITTL'N! ENJOY the DAY!!
(Weather is not a factor)
copyright: richard riddle-February 09, 2015
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
Today shed I a tear for every lost soul
Lost in the furtherance of ill-conceived war
Lost at the hands of a political goal
Lost now to good health, consistently poor.
As refugees they travel to find peaceful land
Relying on handouts from a charity trough
Reviled by so many who don’t understand
Who deny there’s a problem or just shrug it off.
Would a family not desperate get in one of those boats
And set sail over seas that so frequently ****
And give all of their money to who promises the most
Who manipulates their misery with such deadly skill.
Yes, shed a tear for humanity’s sake
Have we lost all compassion and good grace
Let us recognise the pain and the risks that they take
And be grateful that it’s something that we will not face.
But politics the ***** whose behaviour is arch
And the arms manufacturers and their riches
Mean more refugees will set off on the march
While so many lie dead in quickly dug ditches.
Man is truly his own worst enemy.
©Joe Wilson – Today shed I a tear…2016
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
While
The negativity
Manufacturers
On this wonderful planet at an alarming rate
The
Greatest
Love and wisdom comes from the CHILD!
Not
History
Science
Theology or
Those good and bad,
BUT,
From those
Who
Speak
The
Truth
And utter
JOBBY!
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
UKFT has launched Made It, a collaboration between the trade body, Graduate Fashion Week and Marks & Spencer designed to bring together graduate designers and UK manufacturers.
As part of the initiative, which was launched at a reception at the Houses of Parliament last night, Marks & Spencer and the UKFT will sponsor a number of Graduate Fashion Week winners to have their collections made in the UK.
In addition, to promote a better understanding of UK manufacturers and to encourage designers to use them as their preferred source of manufacturing, the UKFT, Marks & Spencer and Graduate Fashion Week will host a series of Masterclasses at five select universities across the country.
Hosted by Damian Collins MP, UKFT and Graduate Fashion Week, the reception included a catwalk show and was attended by key policy makers, industry influencers, major retailers, leading brands and UK manufacturers, with special guests including Graduate Fashion Week ambassadors Alesha Dixon, Mandi Lennard and Caryn Franklin as well as designer Zandra Rhodes and fashion critic Suzy Menkes.
“The UK has some of the best designer graduates in the world and some of the most talented manufacturers – Made It brings them together. Not only will we see the creation of some stunning collections, the project will also help to ensure the success of the next generation in understanding the business of fashion, which is a fundamental part of UKFT’s purpose and key whether you are developing a new brand, working with manufacturers or growing business overseas,” said UKFT chairman Nigel Lugg.
Graduate Fashion Week managing director Martyn Roberts said the initiative was “a wonderful opportunity” for GFW students to get first hand knowledge and experience of working with British manufacturers. “These are vital skills for fashion design graduates and essential for keeping Britain at the forefront of design,” he said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
We are the pretenders, the decievers
I am a lover, a believer
We are the manufacturers of wrong, of wrought
I am a man who has preached, and also taught
We are providing the means known to divide
I am a man that can't be bought, I put no price on pride
We are a formation formed from shadows, from shrouds
I am a man that has woken up and saw my country, my town
in flames and fury, baked by the disease of propaganda
We have tried, failed, and thrown our hands up
I am a man who you cannot corrupt
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 9:30 PM UTC
Mao Tse
Sorry you misunderstood
me, I didn't mean
to mislead
Mao Tse
you can be a world leader
by setting an example
Mao Tse
how 'bout cleaning
a ***** planet
Mao Tse
I hear your plea
but, you are heading
in the wrong direction
Mao Tse
over here
we have cars
that run on water
Mao Tse
they even cost less
then pollution makers
Mao Tse
popular mechanics magazine
gave us the plan [schematic]
more than a decade ago
Mao Tse
thank you for working
overtime to save the world
Mao Tse
we love your solar panels
Mao Tse
not enough time
to retrain thinking?
Mao Tse
oil men of greed
have destroyed us again
Mao Tse
oil and water don't mix
Mao Tse
you can not die
from spilling
the power of the wind
Mao Tse
did all of your pollution maker manufacturers er,
gas guzzling ISIS supporters
really bounce back
after less than one year
Really? Mao Tse
Really?
I'm sorry you had closed
your ears
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
**** refuses to use DPA, nationalize producing,
distributing accurate testing, PPEs,
not saving taxpayers billions over-spent,
100,000's of their lives,
while preaching his 'corona schmorona'
policies at disease super-spreader rallies,
exterminating republicans.
"...We(e),..." can inspire billionaires:
replace our 'shoulda, coulda, woulda' situation with a win.
Loans can purchase combining of medical manufacturers
to supply States with testing, PPEs, stop carnage.
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 6:36 AM UTC
We are against the death penalty, and so
Of thoughtful caritas one recommends
Life sentences with no chance for parole
(And endless-loop re-runs of Lost in Space)
For
1. The manufacturers of this new computer
2. The famous software company who couldn’t
Program their ///es out of a pay toilet
3. And the electronics chain who replies
To emails with “Dear Valued Customer”
And vaporous words which say nothing at all
And now may Olivetti Underwood
Have mercy upon their polluted souls
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
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Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC