"mechanization" poems
Young people can you feel the suffering?
roca wear, gucci, apple, facebook, mcdonalds, apple bee's,
honda, lamborghini, harvard, Community College
american express, pnc bank, walmart
Wage Slaves, ceos, owners, lenders, renters, indebtedness
Structural dehumanization, systematic mechanization
Exploited labor feeding blood to your hungering consumerism
Young people you are embracing MISANTHROPY!
Embracing the hate of your own humanity! Why the hypocrisy?
Wealthy children, poor children
Trying for enlightenment through education
Parents garnering wealth through the oppression of their victims
Parents garnering debt through the oppression from economic inequality
Still you invest and promote the only legitimization of your being: CAPITALIST UTILITY
Capitalism engineering unrelenting misanthropy
Vicious economic system discarding humanity
Perfecting the concentration and accumulation of wealth
With the expansion of human alienation and murderous competition
Prostituting your body to labor exploitation and consumerism
Where does your wealth end up?
multinational companies? financial corporations? military arms contractors?
Loyalty lies in their pockets, backstabbing everyday tactics
Killing you through the exploitation of your body
Because they know the birth of another proletariat or bourgeoisie can replace you
Entities, not human, how much have they bought you for so that you cannot see!!!
Beware of these misanthropic missionaries granting your body power and agency
When your body can no longer be plundered for profit you will taste tears and blood
Young people will you deliver your forefathers and fathers
From worshiping capitalist misanthropy?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Here oh postmodern nihilist
the grave awaits
your death
wish:
Life
a
struggle
escape it
death
so tempting
grasp it
and take its era with you:
Keep it
away from our church's
our schools
our civics
and further culture.
Lo, the children
black as the hell they die in...
Its inordinately subjective unconsciousness;
confused emotionally with its ineptitude of reason.
Blaming its former God,
for their own doing.
Wanting to save that world upon themselves left behind from such a rejection.
Lest they live in a Christ so unjust.
As to not know all men equally,
but to judge them--in their distinction.
Creation
your natural law
emphasizes that which we do not want to come to terms with.
If only we could make us all inter-dependent biological beings of mechanization.
Chain me to genetic determinism and biochemical reactions foremost -- lest my soul affirms inequality:
Liberty exulted
by the risen Lord:
Supremacy/Autonomy
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Plumped rouge with pigment
her lip fills to graze the ********
intent to disquiet the likes of de Sade
autografted with ocular detachment
should a Marquis wish to harness
the song of the morning
within a bandolier of Seine
to ensnare any bustled Persephone
gilted by discharge of ions
into a ménage of torment
through the Porte des Lions.
Hers is the tincture of doxy
caramelized and debrided of naivety,
empowered by the eve of invention,
swollen to curves and grounded in Paris.
Illumination defies pervasion
down to every gear and pulley
she has hushed through mechanization
and lulled by steam,
swaging a cacophony of flickers
encased in glass by the Lady’s watch,
where every rivet of her plate glisters silken
reverberation in cascade,
elegant, caged, and towering,
outspoken in silence,
ever challenging the Champ de Mars.
"Paris by Gaslight," written by Dionne Charlet, is the title poem to be featured in the upcoming steampunk anthology Paris by Gaslight, the third anthology in the By Gaslight Series from New Orleans small press Black Tome Books. Look for the first two collections of poems and short stories set in Victorian Times, New Orleans by Gaslight (ISBN 9780615801186) and Cairo by Gaslight (ISBN 9781516961528). Both collections feature poetry by Charlet, under the pseudonym Dionne Cherie.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
#
You are in there, I am certain of it--
Behind the gear's finely-honed,
precision fit gear..
in to gear
in to gear
into gear..
And I wonder.. do you want out?
The machine on the outside, self-repairs
Any attempt towards dismantle from
the external, is futile..
But the internal, beautiful girl..
"I don't know what you mean, about 'machine'"
She is apprehensive, those beautiful
brown eyes, looking up at me..
"Look down, sweet girl"
Her thighs, fully parted, as I slide
in to her.. those amazing hips,
moving so perfectly with mine, extracting..
Milking from me, my warm pulsing *****
a deeply-penetrating lubricant, pulsed
deeply into the machine
As if to lubricate its gears..
As if..
But penetrating so deeply, as to now
permeate the insides of the
mechanization's innerworkings--
turning from lubricant, to that
of a corrosive nature..
Fully coating now, the inner you..
as it turns back now, into that
of a healing balm
Bringing to you a moment of Light
and internal clarity--
long enough for you to see
That the machine is made vulnerable
by the ever-changing qualities of
Love that found its way through
As the awakened parts within you, for the
first time.. understand
the machine's love-blocking, nature
And you begin to choose, mid-orgasm
the machine's dismantle, from the inside--
*'Little by little..
Line, upon line..
Block, upon block..
Precept, upon precept..'*
Until we have the chance, once again..
to do it all again
#
Aug 15, 2021
Aug 15, 2021 at 11:38 AM UTC
knowing the simple implementation
of all this ****** frustration
into some kind of mechanization
into the institutionalization
of something you'd call psychoanalysis.
i've analyzed
i've criticized
i've materialized
i've realized
that we're all waiting for our final grade.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
Her laughter
español refined
Her essence
Engraved between mine mind
Her all
I seeketh to lie me down
To lift me to her cosmic airlift
To bait me in Spanish brown
To tasteth me as a sweat
Dripping from her limbs
Her wings hath caught me
Cleansed me of mine sins
Her hands wide reaching
For I've been reaching back
Stand-by for mi amour'
A ranch casa style shack
A willow tree in back
Fuchsia in the front
No mechanization of mankind
No needs, deed's, nor wants
Only eachother
Up against the wind
Flapping ourn ivory glides
Feeling free once again!!!
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
A night of stars and galaxies too,
Wrapped up in black and multicolor,
Wringing out my idolatry; a ****** mental coup.
First, again, the third and forth as well,
A withdrawal of emotion, my payment’s in lieu.
To fret and to toil, for each and all,
Heart locked in place, while you stand in a queue.
To have you is sorrow, to forget you won’t do,
My disillusioned paradigm a macabre slaughter of squalor.
To tear within; your knife to pass through,
The tandem mechanization of a broken nous cast to Hell,
Confided in old friends when it wasn’t right to.
Alone do I sit, alone do I prove new,
A spark so fleeting; product of a scrawler.
A rebirth a second, a boy made anew,
The offensive given from inside, the brain is his cell,
Ever changing, ever warping, a wish to avoid methylene blue.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
As they revolved
Welcoming me
Into the mechanization
The clock whispered "10.10"
All the answers
were now vaguer. Better.
AFK
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 6:01 AM UTC
As if I cared...
I mean I might ... but
I'm past that point
Where I would ever let her know... again
The things I shared
No dark truth spared
During that insignificant blip
If even that
Along the evolving corridors of time
Was... As I repeatedly said
Impossible to quantify
Without the metronomic
Mechanization of the machinery
To create periodic downloads
That that first 20 days
Had not actually been the six months
That I would have sworn it to be
I was paralyzed ,hypnotized, afflicted addicted, predilected
But there wasn't one fiber of my being
Physical, emotional or spiritual
That held back. ,ever hit pause
Or ever even gave me cause
To doubt.....
I was lost and didn't Fn care
I was all in... .within.....
Those first three hours
AND THAT AIN'T ME!!
Well.... Then again....
I guess it must be
So I heard myself say - and I knew
Absolutely new- as I heard the echo of my words come bounding back
That it was true...... absolutely true
And in many ,many ways
I said to myself
As I absorb those words
With an Invincible Pride
That I had never known before
" I WOULD DIE FOR YOU!"
As the next three weeks passed
Perfection was becoming a word that was a pale ,poor and inferior. relative
After the breathtaking Heights .....
......of my reality
Then as I was still doing trampoline tricks among the clouds
She said. " I'm not ready... I'm confused
I'm still broken but you are perfect you're what every woman would ever want or ever need.
You make me laugh ,you care for me more than any man has ever cared about me, and show it like no other ever has...."
I'm sure there was more
That's all I heard as I took the misstep and fell from the clouds
To hit the ground
Dazed and Confused
But I tried to gather myself
To muster together my Bliss.....this ...is..
Not really that bad
Not the end of the world by any means
The whole thing was just too heady
too quick and I could really see that so....
Relax and let time do its thing
Which I did
Until it turned out that someone else
Had intervened became involved
I just never ever expected something like that to occur......but it did
And at that moment I kept my promise
I DIED FOR HER.....IN EVERY WAY BUT ....."
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
the mechanization of this way to will our minds still fights itself
and we're losing the battle as we rule our lives from out of our minds;
in our souls, and still through the placement of shrines in our halls.
it's filled at the altar with sacrifice after sacrifice,
and today, i think i'm going to sacrifice drinking too much and gaining something to feel.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
Regarding yours truly
he experienced setback
amplified by Luddite propensity
nostalgic longing for simpler age
bring back horse and buggy
better yet find me a mancave
and/or apprise me
ideally via email
Flintstone web page modality
allowing, enabling, and providing
excellent linkedin access
whereby augmented
and/or augmented reality
telecommunication simulation
delivers, exports, and ferries lame poetaster
to small town America
a place that time forgot and
the decades cannot improve
within which dwell
strong women, good-looking men
and above average children
Wobegon place name
preserving lifestyle
exhibiting voluntary simplicity
though aforementioned fictitious locale
fires up imagination as does
a place called Willoughby
flourishing along outer limits
of twilight zone
buzzfeeding outlier zee
crème de la crème confabulist
this side of Schwenksville
hankering towards... nebulous
body, mind and spirit synchronicity
courtesy sweat of mine brow equity
acquiring alliance, cognizance, existence,
guidance, intelligence...
think **** Proenneke
alone in the wilderness survivalist
jack of all trades
I would live free,
yet nevertheless die
ill equipped to captcha victuals
and/or drink
to stave off hunger
and/or thirst respectively
one twenty first century beastie boy
heavily dependent upon
urbanization, mechanization,
industrialization, civilization
to savor creature comforts
climate controlled environment(s)
courtesy finite fossil fuel extraction
**** sapiens scourge upon planet Earth
me metaphorically on par
one more human parasite
zapping nonrenewable resources
thus desirous (yet helpless)
to forsake consumerist lifestyle
yet lack ways and means
to toil physically
to wrest good n plenti
juicy fruits of labor,
which initial premise
as iterated with poem title
dramatically off tangent, yes?
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 9:02 PM UTC