20th Century

The mechanical sound of Steel gears are Turning They are turning And churning us up into little pieces of malformation They are grinding The world down Into human Dust lives snap like tiny twigs against the impossible blue sky’s drip with the reddest of red blood staining the tree tops the drones remove us from the earth like a raven who is pecking away at small ants the gentleness of breath has now become a monumental task we have signed on to run the hate machine and we are tangled in a broken system of a misconstrued democracy looking for paychecks that are printed on worthless pieces of paper the great buildings fall and crumble into dark alleyways like paper Mache’ dolls as the world spins off its center we are the catalyst of the doom machine the manipulators of death with steel eyes and cold plastic hearts we have pulled the levers of septicity on ourselves and cut our own wrists with rusted tin cans disassembling everything rearranging everything killing everything we have destroyed everything like an insane child let loose in a toy store and we leave nothing to be inherited because inheritance is a lost word inside a 20th century dictionary.. - Ken Riccio original poems (c)