Quote:
Originally Posted by Donnageddon
not when the atmosphere ignited
nor when belly buttons were discovered
fore-tolled the
end
not the ruptured sea bed
or apple throat-ed swallows of pride and prejudice betrayed by veins of blue gushed certainty
not the taint of silicon or feint of rust
dried blood red flakes of decrepit forgotten dreams
impressed on crusty arid sands of gunpowder
and gods
simply;
we went to lubricate the machine and forgot
how it worked
long passages of crossed hands and words with exclamation points and tribal lies
followed by:
quotes of ghosts
treasured chests of blurbs and revealed wisdom
spitted and arced and wimpered
but
no one remembered how it worked
watching the blue screens and scratching our heads
yesterday it seemed plain
one thing fit in the other thing and gears hummed (the comforting sound!)
but
it did not hum it laid there
quiet
cold dark
alien
an after image of the campfire when eyes are closed and the rain comes
the warmth a jesting memory
walking away - sneaking glimpses behind
to catch
the same reflection of furtive glance
fevered and confused
beneath the porch
waiting to remember
how it worked
|
Very nice! It put me in mind of the short story we read a few months back in the Book Club:
The Machine Stops by E.M. Forster. He envisioned a future world where people were completely dependent of self-maintaining machines. When they ultimately broke down, no one knew how to repair them, and the civilization was thrown into turmoil.