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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 11-June 03:29:02 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 16778
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Fed to the Machine
[time] => 2003-04-30 16:35:00
[hometext] => saddest thing i've ever written. an account of a clone of a man, fed to the machine
[bodytext] => sedated at birth and placed in line
tattooed barcode on my brain brainwashed with my destiny what i should/will be what i should/will like and dislike what invisible man i should/will worship what i should/will amount to be an inconspicuous, presentable Nothing fed to the system shipped to school taught by example, how to be greedy, intolerant, superficial taught how to be like others how important it is to fit in taught the lies and hypocrisy of history and religion and yet, underneath the grey skin of this system true knowledge can be found sick, sad, and sadistic taught to administer and accept pain without emotion, without breaking stride marching like a lifeless ant mindless, uniform, and resilient given a diploma that told the world "this faded replica is ready to be poured into the foundation of The Great American Dream" ---translation--- "this poor bastard is know ripe to be bled and fed to the machine" shipped into the workforce breaking my back for measly pittance but, not to purchase my needs but rather, to quell my consumer wants to buy the neat new shoes with lights and glitter laces to pay off my new ginsu knife set ($49.99) to afford the gas that shuttles my pinto to the slavehouse in which i will be shackled until i'm too old to be of any use learned to fear and loathe those who are different they're probably psycho devil worshippers who eat babies and rape senior citizens equipping my home with the latest home security system to protect my wife, 2.3 children, dog, and goldfish painting my white picket fence with that mindless grin on my face praying at meals and bedtime hoping that some burn-out isn't selling crack to little jimmy hoping that some football star whose jersey number is higher than his IQ hasn't knocked-up little Suzy hoping that my wife isn't nailing the mailman praying that my neighbor won't win that damned christmas light contest this year swearing that i won't show up at church this week with a hangover growing old in silence forgotten by the system useless, stuffed in a "Geezer Farm" that reeks of ***** and pain those neutral-colored walls echoing the wails of the dying and insane (it's like the whole world has been shrunk down to fit inside this little building Death's Waiting Room) staring out the window watching the last leaf fall from a tree watching as fall's chill breath blows all life away filling the air with her presence everything feels dead and hollow a single tear falls from my eye racing the leaf silently splashing onto my withered hand i sit alone, with the only tear i was ever allowed to cry looking back on my life trying to remember the highlights recalling only the inoffensive norm that i was ingrained to achieve filled with regret, with sorrow with the longing for a second chance wishing that i had it to do all over again wishing that i could go back and live a life worth remembering wishing that someone was here with me to hold my hand and hug me to tell me that they will miss me when i'm gone to tell me that they love me before Death finally remembers me i'm sorry i'm sorry i didn't leave a legacy only a stain, like the ***** i am i'm sorry that i raised my children mechanically that i loved my wife mechanically sorry that i embraced, and eventually became, the machine that i never questioned the system and above all i'm sorry that i'm going to die before i ever even lived [comments] => 7 [counter] => 277 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Cancer [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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