Monday, November 23, 2015

Robot dreams

do robots dream what
their purpose will be
if ever humans ceased
and fell into eternity
or does it even matter
in a robot mind
to have a reason
when working in line

instilled the order
of one zero zero one
never anything more
no laughter, no fun
in their creation
was made to release
the boredom of work
man's labor to decrease

what then can be said
of the creation of man
was it to decrease
the labor of creator's hand
to diminish demand
from the divinity rule
could man be thought
of as God's pack mule

can the same be said
for the reason of life
to lessen the burden
of God's own strife
for did man not instill
what man wanted not
when man first created
the purpose of the robot





Sunday, November 22, 2015

Silence of snow

pale sky and land converge
old lovers, they are
in a veil of displacement

a place once known
now hidden in white

soft, the world lays
in peace and still and cold

where passersby reveal
where they left and
where they long to go

a shuffle through the
shattered frozen rain
shaken from floating fleece

those sheep in the sky

and eternity is rolled
out into the distance
into the silence of snow




Thursday, November 19, 2015

Waiting for winter white

that orange and yellow
licks the fence in sunny
cold wind, the heart of
remnants beating against
the shadows stretching

whereas this time lingers
in those shadowy fingers

is it the leaving of life
to a solid slab underfoot
that lays linear squiggles
across lawns and up the
houses to their very eaves

whereas this time lingers
in those shadowy fingers

they long to hold what
now drizzles into the
black plastic bags or
heaps held in the back
of the house under tarps

whereas this time lingers
in those shadowy fingers

for all to come to halt
leaking liquid on the drive
clings to pavement in
bitter whistles as we
wait for the winter white

whereas this time lingers
in those shadowy fingers



Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Hell in

I broke a jar
she cut her hand
her skin so thin
those many years ago

and many years before
she spent her time in line
with chattering children
the echoes of odorous food
in commotion of feeding the masses
within four cafeteria walls

and then, when her work
was done, she didn't escape
the chatter of children
for I imposed upon her
and retired her rest

she had cartoons on
the basement television
while she microwaved
or whipped together a sandwich
for lunch, it wasn't much

a loud scream, abrupt banshee
sounded each time
she found me behind her
or simply coming up the stairs

frazzled the nerves
that shone from her tired eyes
and coiled out in the curls of her hair

thus the times she spontaneously
broke out in barks and whimpers
as though a dog waiting at the door
she got away with such behavior

for hell she might have been born into
a hell she may have lived in
she was a hell in