"manufacturing" poems
The globalization
Once thought to be an important aspect
To connect the world
To diverse the world
Has been only a part success
And of course, a success to be
In a way people are connected
In the enchanting world of ours
Rising the common world consciousness
Rising and rising and rising
A day by day and day
The knowledge domain, a gigantic trip
Profoundly majestic experience uplifting people
Remarkably
All over the world diminishing the differences
Differences humans suppose to believe
Differences that drew humanity backwards
The differences mostly set by identitities
Identities in terms of nationality
In terms of religion, caste and creed
As we observe, differences softening them boundaries
A good thing as seen
Manifested due to globalization
Only possible due to global reach
Just possible due to connection in large scale
Diminishing are those differences as they don’t fit
Don't fit to the consciousness of the world
To the rising consciousness of the world now
More the fire it sets the plank to burn faster
Happening for good for sure, I believe
On the contrary differences too
In the verse of diminishing the truth
It contradicts the positivity
As see in the world today is extremism
Yes extremism happens to exist
If it exists for a long period
A whole long period of time
In the years to come
Is definately calling for absurdity
Which humans may not want to percieve
The adversities of the impact of globalization
Leading a chance for the high level corporates
To the world to have access to the marketplace
All over the world
Leading to a state of consumerism
To the people
People becoming more and more consumers
They are being brainwashed
For them to buy goods
That global industries produce
People are running after the products
****** consumers
****** sheeps
Those multinationals
And shark headed corporates
Are producing and manufacturing
The high headed corporates
The pigs are manipulating
Are brainwashing people
The sheeps are diverted towards it
The people
The only agenda is to gain more
And more profit only
By making the people slaves of themselves
And slaves of their products
And believe it
Coke and Pepsi may be
Right hand and a left hand
But the Coke and Pepsi both are the same
The very debate which is better is
Helping the corporates to sale
By making their brains washed away
Consumers
Sheeps
Brainwashed
In a sense they are enjoying
The debate they argue upon
And they are unaware
And they are manipulated
Knowingly and unknowingly
More often knowingly
****** sheep slaves
Another adjoining thing
most of the governments in the world
Are being run by the aid
Of the corporates
Only have a selfish agenda
And strategy to sale
Products, thoughts and philosophy
More and more and more
****** pigs
Brainwashing minds of the people
The sheeps
Having a streak of global consumerism
Selfish bunch of pigs
And the brainwashed sheeps
Say hell ya
F***king hell ya
F***k off
Get out'a here
****** freaks
Pigs and Sheeps
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 11:01 AM UTC
1216
A Deed knocks first at Thought
And then—it knocks at Will—
That is the manufacturing spot
And Will at Home and well
It then goes out an Act
Or is entombed so still
That only to the ear of God
Its Doom is audible—
5.4k
Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom)
“a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed
a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds.
to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally
“Sweet baby
with your head on my shoulder
I'm no more growing older...” Pradip
~
the unpredictability and randomness of the winds,
seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard,
powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic,
who can grow others who can feed
who can sustain multiple living creatures
each seed unique, a poem composed and complete,
authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors,
utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun,
rainwater from space and deep driven to
the clear milk of underground railroad rivers,
to give nurture to its revisional generational code
these new children of an old mix,
are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive,
that those who will one day grow old,
with deep gnarled roots, are most capable
of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within,
to those who give babies homage, in attendance
this then the newborn miracle, the new seed,
wind borne, replants itself in old soil,
taking but more so giving,
injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry,
how can this be?***
*I do not know the why or the how,
but am evidence of the therefore,
and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom*
7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
She
stops at the isle of gold lane and haze
holding her head up whine and gaze
that haughty look wander in space
She
Frowns
unhappily
on a bench across the street
intense perplexity
under her clouds
in a dark city
She
pouring arrogance
egocentric maiden
fear her own imperfection
He
"She's in manufacturing business"
"What does she manufacture?"
Unhappiness
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC
I give zero ***** anymore.
I have no more ***** to give.
I'm totally absolutely incontrovertibly
fresh out of *****
My supply of *****
is completely out -- see??
[cupboard door swings open
Only to reveal
a fuckless cupboard]
Even the **** Store is out of *****
I called them just now,
The guy on the phone said he was
Fresh out --
He told me:
*The production and manufacturing
Of ***** has been outsourced
To Shenzhen China,
And the workers are striking
Because they are getting paid
Fifteen cents an hour to produce
6 ***** a second --
Which is inhumane and just wrong.*
I asked him why they didn't pay better --
He said, **** if I know! Like I said,
I'm fresh out of ***** to give
So who gives a ****
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Put me on your assembly-line.
Manufacture me limb by limb.
Make me transparent to all of the pain I used to know,
love me like the back-beat to your favorite songs,
let your passion move me,
and I will
do the
same.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 8:58 AM UTC
I'm sorry
I can't be a bad boy
for you
I'm not the kind
of reclamation project
that women dream of
reclaiming
It's the attitude you crave
not the mood
I've been manufacturing
this bad boy body
for two months
Who am I fooling?
It's the mind
where the fantasies
and possibilities
take shape
Even though I've flashed
a knife at a bad boy
it doesn't matter
for I wasn't the bad boy
nor am I a rock star
or a pro athlete
or a student
who wears detention
like a badge of honour
I'm a ******* poet
and who wants a holder
of fantasies that have already
been disclosed?
I'm sorry
I'll make it up to you
I'll be the ear you require
when your heart is broken
I'll be the nodder
you require
when you need to make it clear
that all guys are *****
even though it was the *****
you were hypnotized by
in the first place
Bad boy body?
Bad boy language?
It's doesn't mean a ****
for it's all in the mind
Who am I fooling?
You'll be okay
for the sea is teeming
with jellyfish
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
oh **** off...
migrant crisis my ***
what with Ukraine
happening?
East European...
how about western women?
Manchester mothers?
no?
oh well....
watch my face...
do i ******* look
like i, might, care?!
no... no?!
well...
thank you...
because?
i don't!
i'm thinking: let them
**** your harlots...
you managed to call my ethnicity,
vermin.... RATS....
whatever ally you
had... gone...
next time you ask, ask
a Pakistani to deal with your women...
i'll be most obliged...
to tell you:
**** OFF!
no... you told me once,
you do not assert the stature of telling me
twice...
i don't care whether it is
or whether it isn't your island...
you violated, or at least your
citizen, the rules of p4rivate property...
no...
nein nein nein!
for once i'll turn the volume
to a Reading Park volume:
**** you!
and your ambitions
of a mastering of the races...
claiming quasi Boar fixture;
******* capitalists...
with their made in china of
what used to be the manufacturing jobs...
arbeit macht frei...
arbeit macht frei...
arbeit ist frei...
mein, mein, herr...
made in china..
my *** my *** was made in china...
your argument for liberty?
hardly comprised in Monaco.
yes, those Eastern European
women...
pretty much as those ***** whip
Western European men...
the sort of men:
shy of death...
one you almost
wish to **** with a bludgeon
that might leave fingerprints;
lesson no. 1...
you come after Eastern European women...
lesson no. 2:
there are no Western European
"men" to come after...
sure... *******
little men...
something between
petting an in between
petting a panda and a koala;
totally castrato,
just the way Western Women like
their men to be...
obedient...
pussy-whipped...
leashed.
mind you...
what are the thoughts
of an Eastern European man
concerning Western women?
and, why,
would, i, heaven, and, hell,
on, earth, ever,
want, to, **** this,
exercise, in, making,
equivalent, raising,
a, ******* brat?!
i don't want these women,
no more than the women
want me...
apparently Pakistanis are
in higher demand.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
Is there a doctor in the house?
I think I'm having southern withdrawl symptoms
shakes and such
brain a blubbering mess
why give one so much feeling
if they can't get rid of it healthily?
Too much for one body to handle
maybe throw in another personality
nothing bad ever happend
just a technical problem during manufacturing
a wire connected wrong
or not connected at all
amygdala super sensitive
looking for comfort in wrong places
stupid faces
blazing aces
therapists are kind but really need a map
words only convey so much
can't help if they can't understand
whose fault is that?
Probably the broken robot
me
doesn't speak in proper vernacular
accustomed to being freakish and safe
greasing joints with *****
circuit boards of tofu scramble
electric feed back every once in a while
when I cough
perhaps new meds will calm overactive internal reactions
or maybe being all vulnerable to candy hearted young men
spilling secrets and insecurities to friends
but they'll all leave
right?
Europeans had no problem taking over lands
staying with natives
eating their foods
but if the natives had shared their deepest secrets and feelings
pilgrims would have gladly returned home for persecution
than to put up with an emotional Squanto.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
I was overwhelmed by the enthusiastic response this poem received when I posted it last month. As it seemed to resonate with the current prevailing mood, I figured I'd try a quick spoken word video to go with it.
Thank you again to everyone who commented on, liked, added and reposted the written version.
https://youtu.be/wGxRvuMWCig
Credit for filming and editing goes to Cornelius Something of Manufacturing Content
manufacturingcontent.co.uk
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
I thought of myself as a geyser, a glacier for love
bundled up tight,
And ready to explode with the affection I dwell upon.
But see here,
Because my love lusted over was in winter's bitter flake
And now I am left with a fifth and a pack and some sort of swelling ocean in my eye.
I know I was worthy
Perhaps even still
Of the mind's manufacturing of a twin soul.
I practice growth
And I take this loss
And I find new arms to warm
the barren chill in the cave which they name my heart
In each chamber your voice echoes
And hell, i know I haven't been the first to ask
"please, just some quiet, just some rest"
I go to sleep with the quake tonight,
wake me after the shock.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
“creamy unto delicious” he marvels and marvelously replies,
when a hazy memory from mournings past asks howz it taste?
this café au lait in a french handleless cup big enough to drown
your bad dreams, just the thing, the A way to start to day, manufacturing schemes to wipe the slate or just add to a long longingly “to never do” list, time frozen, whitened emptily clean, a familiar frenemy
but staying in bed on a beauty of mostly sunny, partly cloudsy day,
is tempting now that he is armed and dangerous with mug gigantic,
doing nothing is so sublime, until a lunchtime of Corona and lime,
reminds you that dinner planning will be needed under the influence of vin rosé, ordering by app so easy, marveling at the choicest array, easy quick under his non-currant existence, wordplay for no-audience
when there is no one there to disagree or temper your eyes appetite,
or bring you café with heart designs in caramel and white, or inquire
howz it taste so you nonetheless reply out loud with tears while wondering how memories live-on, in drinks and catch phrases,
you answer when she no longer, not here to ask, to gentle reprimand,
but answer the answer to everything, with an all encompassing
crémeux à délicieux creamy unto delicious,
reminder to David, you now, king of nothingness, shepherd of no one,
no longer need a real voice to answer unto anything
~for my lover of everything french~
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 9:18 AM UTC
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Trump Trump TrumpTrump
Trump Tru umpTrump
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
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Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
I'd like to mention that my city Karnal was once the bastion of the armed forces.
Close to my house in NDRI campus until half-a-decade ago stood remnants of the old British Barracks - an irksome reminder of the colonial period.
But we went inside the rickety ruins of an olden period to play hide and seek and sometimes just for fun as an adventure.
I had seen them - the erstwhile barracks in that dilapidated state only, carrying the Union Jack painted at some places, and I had seen the ruins crash to ground - a reinstated taste of Indian freedom.
The Colonial army camped here until the occupying British chose to shift the army camp to Ambala due to high occurrence of mosquitoes in the city of Karnal and found this place fit only for a great cattle yard.
Karnal has seen negligence & side-lining ever-since along the course of history.
The Indian Oil Corporation's petroleum refinery was decided to be built in the neighbouring Panipat city & so was the National Fertilizers Limited's manufacturing plant built there and not in Karnal.
In Karnal they built research institutes, filled with greenery these make the city a comfortable place to relax at ease.
But ****** shameless people don't realize the value of plants & trees and keep removing them off the face of Karnal & even where I live, in the NDRI campus - acronym for the National Dairy Research Institute campus.
****** blood sucker stupid human beings are sometimes more irritating than the malarial mosquitoes.
They cut trees assuming trees shelter mosquitoes!
True they might be but I keep wondering what about the potholes dug by them into the coal-tar & gravel roads to facilitate the installing of religious & marriage tents.
But nothing can be done to change the people whose mindset has been falsely ligated with the thought of we are the best & we won't change.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Syllables mixed,
Meaning dispersed between the two conscious minds,
Connecting them,
One.
But yet no sound was made.
The Brightest Star
Just smiled and waved,
The wind
Blowing though the rays that embrace Karim
Like a strait jacket of light, blinding bias.
Karim could hear the ants in the mycelium;
Manufacturing temples.
Tears flowed to the present light.
His tears then created the Nile River,
Where the stream keeps their society alive,
Engraving their history into ours.
Since that day,
Karim could only smile and wave.
Jun 16, 2022
Jun 16, 2022 at 4:26 PM UTC
We have dignity, right?
Since the 1600's we've thought with minds of reason
Anselm of Canterbury created pragmatism
Out of the most sacred and holy of things
And since then our rationalism has worn suits.
War is for the common, the petty.
Let the east quarters bury themselves in poverty
Leave them to their primitive ways
I want my son's to return
They'll be studying the Romantics in the Fall
We have no need for war
I want my daughters to come back to their homes
Instead of manufacturing arms to fight
These unreasonable beasts
We have no need for war.
Let the Calvary of America flex its powered machines
We are civilized.
Poster Childs for the post modern
With the intention to overtake
Our own philospohy, that indicates-
(with the raise of a brow, a tip of the head)
That -
We have no need for war.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 4:19 PM UTC
high finance and terror
you had half a job
the commissioner made a huge mistake
where words just disappear
oh do help the rich and well-connected
they need you
careful that your boss does not see you
favoriting my tweets
unstar! unstar! panic! panic!
social media illiteracy
bio: follow or **** off
**** the king of hearts
quadruple cheeseburger
acidic fruits
keep chugging
harm on y
a night of debauchery in the works
our minds refueled with petroleum
entropy hour with free golden shower
where truth gnaws at your legs
but you continue walking
human irrationality
gets beaten to a pulp
by bot rationality
how bland and discordant
getting them drawn and quartered
humanity can do without us
that **** poet saw the egg hatch into regrets
**** the only one who cares
manufacturing awkward silences
and making a killing
what the hell is anergy
miss world virginity 2012
what have we done
ghost eating humans or some **** like that
someone already thought of that
funny thing you wanted to say
your timeline can beat my timeline
mute only the users who make too much sense
the epitome of trying too hard
and then coronal mass ejection
all the over the place
you know this goes nowhere so you want out
no more outreach from this point on
shredded the flow chart
too much in the projects
exit stage down
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
A pine cone swept in the timber
in blow with wooden needles
that a lantern was the wiles of birch
along the frills of enlightened where spores till
this deadwood manufacturing transport
with a pipe cleaner's lore of trees
whether they intertwine on the carpet again
in loom to manifold in the soil.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 8:31 AM UTC
I walk with a limp now,
Two of them in fact,
When I used to glide,
The strut of youth,
Was on my side.
Pain's now the game,
Moving more slowly
My worn knees are done.
The warranty you see,
has fully, finely expired.
Today they took MRI pictures
Of my knees, sized 'em up
For manufacturing,
A perfect, artificial fit.
Metal and plastic components to
replace my played out natural bone.
They assure me it will not hurt,
(Allegedly)
Surgery they declare will,
eliminate the pain and put
a spring back in my step.
I'll settle for the absence of
Pain with every step I take.
But, I'm pretty **** sure,
I'll never ever run again.
Even for we humans,
Built in obsolescence,
Is an unavoidable truth.
Man, getting old is really the *****
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
Stupid white girl.
We are not allowed to do anything.
We're prim and proper, white girls.
We are not allowed to fight back.
Put us in our place, white girls.
We are not allowed real work.
We still want our twenty three cents back.
The child of fair skin and blue eyes.
But with all my female privilege,
Came a nasty stamp on my body.
Like a watermark.
FEMALE.
I have heard that when a woman looks in the mirror, she sees a woman.
But when a man looks in the mirror, he sees a human.
Even with that watermark, our pale skin is used as a canvas.
And everyone else has been handed the tools to color in our curves.
Covering us in blue and black and purple and red.
Redrawing our minds so they cannot process the discrimination,
Painting over our tears so our feelings can be buried,
Manufacturing open legs when you want them,
Closed when you don't.
Erasing the lips we use to speak out,
Erasing the eyes we use to see all of this.
You think just because you held the brush,
Just because you created this monstrosity of a "masterpiece"
You get to claim ownership of this piece of artwork
That you blatantly disregard
Is my BODY.
The "fe" you tack onto "male"
Does not stand for Free Entry.
The "wo" you tack onto "man"
Does not stand for Wipe Out.
Women are barely able hold a pencil.
I was lucky to hold one long enough to draw myself
A conscience, a backbone, legs to stand on, and a mind.
We were only taught how to use the back end of that pencil
To erase our mouth and keep the secrets.
But these days the secrets are keeping themselves.
I will not be put in a glass case
You will not charge admission
To have people come and analyze me.
Buy me.
Give me value.
Categorize me.
Preserve me the way you created.
You are no artists.
You are vandals.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
Manufacturing
Market-based economy
Recycling plant
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
Felt made from wool,
Wool comes from sheep.
Made by layering and compression,
Much like traditional education.
Acid used for bonding,
Water used for washing.
To remove the hate from felt,
The soft then beaten to make it stubborn.
The non-beaten remain soft,
like sheets and rolls.
They are unmarred by society.
Some get dyed in colours,
Some retain their purity.
The coloured cut,
Considered waste.
It’s the beaten that suffer all through,
But with each process becoming stronger.
To face the world,
when the time comes.
Finishes bring out beauty
Shedding the unwanted part of themselves.
They walk on to guide and polish others.
Stand out
Yet blending in nature.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC