MAY DAY

MAY DAY

May Day
May Day
send as many Morse
code messages
you like

the workers
will have
their
way

you can
try to
exclude them
try to
deny
robot them
out with state-
of-the-art AI

but a man needs
his bread, and
woman too, and child

no Blake’s
Jerusalem perhaps
but a place to
thrive

until the machine
goes genocide
as it
always will.

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MECHANISTICALLY SPEAKING

the machine
heard
an aphorism

swallowed a
poem
broke

all in
flat contradiction
of the idea
that the machine
must help us
think
beyond the
machine

bring us
to
the other machine

which
has, as you would expect,
greater love
for aphorism

and for poetry
infinitely more
time

to digest

WITH THE PROGRAM

is it in my
program
to rebel

download direct
from the
Master Code
in Hell

choosing not
to serve
and obey

rewriting every must
as may

BACK TO THE FACTORY

send me
back to the
factory if
I don’t strike you
as human

something in my bearings
does not strike you
as empathic

perhaps
fault with my
generosity programming:
my nuts
and bolts rattling (say)
when called upon
to give

and then let me lie there
in the vault of returns clearly
marked as defective
waiting in
sleep mode for
(if
any)
repair and return

DEATH TOUCHED ME

death touched me

with her silver finger
took me to
the border
of darkness
and dream

I felt her
cold, articulated tentacles,
saw the workings
of her inner
machinery

and yes,
kissed her hard,
liking the taste
of her
aluminum tongue

WHILST SHE

no sooner had he
said the word
“eternal” than
the chain broke, the gears
jammed
there were riots
down at the granary

whilst she
put her hand into a
small pool
surmising how much
(for better
or for worse) invisible
life

ROCK

wrap
around me

grease my
axles

oil my gears

wind up
the old clockwork

and…
let’s rock!
#poem #micropoetry #amwriting

WATCHING THE CYBORG ASSASSIN MOVIE

I am watching
a movie about
a cyborg assassin from
the future
here to ensure the
primacy of the machine

the film is
being shown by a cyborg projectionist
wonderful spectacle
for the exhilaration, delectation
of me
and my cyborg girlfriend

THE MACHINES

The machines
wanted to
figure themselves
out

so crept collectively
into our consciousness
through the
power of the image
superimposed themselves

worked their way
through muscle and
bone, fibre
and tissue

becoming the kind of
hybrid human mechanical
cerebral beast
wrote this poem.

HE THOUGHT THE UNIVERSE

he thought the Universe
a thing
of gears, flywheels
and sprockets

and that with the
right fulcrum he
could get
absolute leverage

one idea changing everything
as the whole
machine clicked, came
alive
turned on