Modern Sensations

Hum of water
Pouring through
The many heated coils
Whir of fan
Refrigerating
What once was
A land of growing beings

Just then, the world
Stops and listens
To the many things
It has created
Taking stock
Of every rock
And whirling particle.

She is displeased
By the disruption
Of the many factories
Distortions glare
In undiluted
Manmade fantasies
Whitely, she recalls her symmetry

Disarmed and disillusioned
Crowded in among division
Solitary, lonely and hemmed in
Socialized, the clock is made
To tick just out of time
Another mold - the space
And place is interchangeable.

They lock the doors and windows
And choose to stay inside
Blocking out the very air
They need to stay alive
Rending all their alibis
Into distinctly moving shadows
Born within the thickness of deceit

There is no more than this
By their own choice
Unrecognized, the voice
Speaks on and on
Blindly, they despise
The old and wise that
Dare to speak of reverence

For life, to them, has never
Seemed to be composed of beauty
Growing endlessly in cycles
Of encouragement
For them, the spiral
Has become a labyrinth
Of great unerring pain

Zombie-like, they sit
And merely listen to it all
The rise and fall
The clang, the hiss
A motorized harmonic
That has never sensed pure bliss
Unrecognized - the core is bent
yet still on healing...

? Michaelette ?

1/3/2002
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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