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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=577153" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Machinist</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">This flagrant bawl, the fore-and-aft of a misery lingers<br>Upon my lips as I nonchalantly sit here, with my hand<br>Cradling my forehead as the rivulet of the morose waters<br>That slither across the wooden table where the machine<br>Breathes its electric dysfunction billows over my respite.<br>It seals the chasms, the restless machine waits there<br>As if akin to me, with my lips ajar with cigarette -<br>I am a machinist and I am one with the soliloquized wind<br>Of the shamefulness of rue and bereavement -<br>A disease one goes through in a carousel, what a circus! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This stale drink that is quiet yearns to be caressed in a lustful<br>Joust of human flesh and glassware triviality – this loneliness<br>Is far from what the populace had told me: Loneliness is<br>Your own image in front of the mirror, trapped and desolate<br>As you stand idly askew.<br>These fools know nothing about loneliness – a sordid detail<br>That is passed on through tongues, over musical beds and<br>Fiery love-making as we rampantly try to eschew death by<br>Hiding in secret places, away from people, away from love, <br>Hope, religion, commercialization and other things; <br>But what luck I have, in front of this machine as I sing<br>The elegy of its gears, the electric facture that fulminates<br>Like the harlequin. And here, from the pits you start to<br>Curse their faces, retch at pavements, get piss-drunk at<br>The local bar that you frequent albeit your soul lost in<br>The nuisance of the freeways, saluting the cars in an acquiescent<br>Capitulation but the cars only stifle to break skin and not<br>To claim your life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Windsor+Guadalupe+Jr">Windsor Guadalupe Jr</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=577153" data-title="The Machinist de Windsor Guadalupe Jr" data-description="This flagrant bawl, the fore-and-aft of a misery lingers
Upon my lips as I nonchalantly sit here, with my hand
Cradling my forehead as the rivulet of the morose waters
That slither across the wooden table where the machine
Breathes its electric dy..."></div>
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