i lay upon the mats at night and wish upon a satelite
and all the sun ive failed to see the bulbs become bright blinding me. chatting to the folks in thier distant green rooms with bread board walls, the gadget began to grow fierce spurt and crawls.
i pucker u to kiss the robot thier are so many lined in a row in this animated lot. i swing on the power lines like monkeys did before and all the fear ive had once has flung its self unto the floor. the wires streach for miles and the grass is but clones, and in this distant paradise there is no such thng as family dinner but cubicles with telephones. i look at this woman and wonder if she is my mother or rather a science fair project complete with emotion. then in this industrial heaven the suicidal bot hung him self from a capacitor on a cable tower they had to strip the wire and reset his registers and memory but an hour later he was still up there once more. we all sit back and watch each others images waiting for his fuse to blow, till all we see that lines the fields is his waste that spills and spills. smelling of sulfur and burnt batteries. this is the industrial paradise a figure of what the world has come to be.
i thaught your style of wrighting mixed with ur idea of poetry throughout this piece was absolutly splendid.
i like how you refered the world to a ‘industrial paradise’
Very Nice indeed.
i liked it as well.
That piece was absorbed by the true eyes of an innocent un-infected drone of social repulsiveness. You just put the world in terms much more truly and orderly than the true chaos of earth. I really, really liked that rant.
abstract infused with originality, impressive – most impressive.
that was awsome
That makes me smile.
Mannequin