du weisst ja das ich das sehr genial finde ^^ ich mach das ja nur um hier mal der erste zu sein ^^

I really like this. Some how it reminds me of a spider. It seems like it is pulling upwards yet simultaneously falling.

Ten years from now,
there will be skin
covered machinery.
People will bear
each other no kin.
Their covering will tear
and be stretched across
binary brains.

My tent is rooted firmly,
As a factory: Machine.
I live inside, contently,
Though the outside is unknown,
It's presence is invading,
Like a cloth so badly sewn.
And yet, with all this ugly,
There seems to be a certain 'nice',
If anyone may look once,
Then they'll surely soon look thrice.

--
Skill comes from determination, yet determination requires skill...?

The witch Baba Yaga she still bakes herself bread
out of spiders and liars and red razorwire
using flowers that grow in the vaults of the dead,
using lye from the side of child’s funeral pyre
And it’s as light as the crisp, cracking bones on the fields
and as sharp to the taste as the ash-scattered shards
that are all that remains of the swords and the shields
of the warrior king and his bold bodyguards.

The witch Baba Yaga in the coldness of space
weeping tears for the cage and her gingerbread home
But icicled, weightless, they fly in her face
with the regular tick of deaf metronome.
Now her broken-backed biscuits have all crumbled to dust
and there’s rust on her tongue and there’s clay in her gaze
and the snow on her coat forms a bitter white crust
for her oven’s as cold now as yesterday’s grave.

It's a *WritersForArt comment

Nice work by the way.

*with the regular tick of a deaf metronome.*

Circumloquacions

My mother carried her death
in the two coins she wore
under the heel in her left boot.

Mottled mists escape pegged candescence;
wired shade cast liberal shadows
until the padlock rusted
open

Chameleon emotions desecrate
concrete landfills
upon which we cannot
land
despite its propensity for

the straight
'n
arrow
--->
must be the angle
must be the angel
the angle
angel

caught in balloon canvas
wings wrapped/gifted /
boxed away
carefully
in tissue paper

constructions

Conjoined piping traces information
slating fuse partitions
broken/circuit
Drop a penny in
the slot
and hear the fortunate
hiss on steam

--
Formatted properly here: [link]

--
I feel my brains, like a pear, to see if it is ripe; it will be exquisite by September.
-AVS, 1910

I'm telling you stories. Trust me.
-Jeanette Winterson

You are one of the people that will change things and I look forward to your future contributions.

thanks for that, i will do my best^^