I no longer shall tinker with the machinery of death.
quote by Harry A. Blackmun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Because the Illinois death penalty system is arbitrary and capricious - and therefore immoral - I no longer shall tinker with the machinery of death.
quote by George Ryan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Introduction To Post-conceprual Poetics(3)
post-conceptual poetics is a redefination of being a robotics in digital age, humanity in the conceptual frame of digital machinery, a machinery of reflection on the machinery set ut by I-machinery in the operation of social and intellectual capital.A dead butterfly knowing that she can fly over death with language of conceptual networks growing out of the mixture of digitalization and socialization-intellectualization process.WOW.
They simply don't know that much about what they're doing. There isn't enough control. There isn't enough capability in ordinary people to tinker with such a complicated piece of machinery.
quote by David R. Brower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An American will tinker with anything he can put his hands on. But how rarely can he be persuaded to tinker with an abstract idea.
quote by Leland Stowe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baseball's Sad Lexicon
These are the saddest of possible words:
Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Trio of Bear-cubs, fleeter than birds,
Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
Making a Giant hit into a double --
Words that are weighty with nothing but trouble:
Tinker to Evers to Chance.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In daily dying to ourselves
In daily dying to ourselves
As we pain
Each day, each minute,
We get used to dying
And every death that comes
Close to our skins
Whichever is it
As there are many of them
At the end
Not a death that comes
Really matters.
And so the stress is gone
In fact, we start to welcome
It like a guest,
The invited one, we even
Ask it to stay
And be home with us.
Little deaths here and there
Each is real, nothing frightens anymore.
And death becomes
So boring so common so tiny to tinker
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time To Tinker 'Roun'!
Summah 's nice, wif sun a-shinin',
Spring is good wif greens and grass,
An' dey 's some t'ings nice 'bout wintah,
Dough hit brings de freezin' blas;
But de time dat is de fines',
Whethah fiel's is green er brown,
Is w'en de rain 's a-po'in'
An' dey 's time to tinker 'roun.
Den you men's de mule's ol' ha'ness,
An' you men's de broken chair.
Hummin' all de time you 's wo'kin'
Some ol' common kind o' air.
Evah now an' then you looks out,
Tryin' mighty ha'd to frown,
But you cain't, you 's glad hit 's rainin',
An' dey 's time to tinker 'roun'.
Oh, you 'ten's lak you so anxious
Evah time it so't o' stops.
W'en hit goes on, den you reckon
Dat de wet 'll he'p de crops.
But hit ain't de crops you 's aftah;
You knows w'en de rain comes down
Dat's hit's too wet out fu' wo'kin',
An' dey 's time to tinker roun'.
Oh, dey 's fun inside de co'n-crib.
An' dey 's laffin' at de ba'n;
An' dey 's allus some one jokin',
Er some one to tell a ya'n.
Dah 's a quiet in yo' cabin,
Only fu' de rain's sof soun';
So you 's mighty blessed happy
W'en dey 's time to tinker 'roun'!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have deep respect for people's individual faith, but when faith gets connected to the machinery of state, or the machinery of hate, I find it very confronting.
quote by Andrew Denton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Engineers
All that we are
Is all that we need to be
All that we know
Is you and machinery
Were engineers
We are your heartbeat
We are your night life
We are your 'low-line
We keep you alive for now
Were engineers
We are your voice
We are your blood flow
We are your eyes
Were all you need to know
Were engineers
All that we are
Is all that youd love to be
All that we know
Is hate and machinery
Were engineers
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God isn't compatible with machinery and scientific medicine and universal happiness. You must make your choice. Our civilization has chosen machinery and medicine and happiness.
quote by Aldous Huxley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes of Death
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes of Death
I killed for those eyes to look into mine
Into my eyes of pain and guilt
I dared to walk into your path
I dared to take your hand into mine
And I dared to tell you my darkest secret
I stared into your Eyes of Death
And I lost my soul to them
When I looked into your Eyes of Death.
To this day, I am still dead
To this day, I can no longer live in the mortal world
To this day, we shall not die of fire, water, or love,
But of our Eyes of Death that rein our souls
I stare into your Eyes of Death and I cringe at the sight
I look into your Eyes of Death and I am no longer alive
I looked into your Eyes of Death
And I died again, before I could run from them
For I cannot stand to be around you to this very day again
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes…of Death
poem by Jade DragonHeart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grandma, I Never Knew You
I never knew you
You are my grandmother.
I get mad at God
For not giving me a chance
To know you.
You died ten years
Before I was born.
It breaks my heart
Every time I think
That I will never get
The chance to know you.
I look at your picture that hangs
Almost everyday.
I wonder if I have your eyes.
I wonder if I have your laugh.
I wonder if I have your smile.
I wonder if I have your nose.
I wonder if I have anything of you.
I guess I will never know
I guess I will never get to see you.
Death is the most tragic thing in life
Death is hard on me now than I was younger.
Death is what I have inside
Thinking of everyone that I have lost.
Death is forever
Death is longer than an eternity
Death is permanent
Death is a scar that never goes away.
Death is what I feel everyday
Death is what has to be.
Death is what is happening everyday.
Death is what no one knows for sure.
Death is what everyone goes through.
Death is the reason why I am the way I am
Death is what I fear…
poem by Kimberly Santistevan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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But a rise in the wages of labour would not equally affect commodities produced with machinery quickly consumed, and commodities produced with machinery slowly consumed.
quote by David Ricardo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The nonsense woman
The nonsense woman lives in our street
She really is not a pleasure to meet
She goes on and on about her cat Mylogie
And makes our day quite foggy
The nonsense woman went to the shops
That was just before she drops
Her cat Mylogie
And got quite soggy
The nonsense woman found another cat
The cat sat on her mat
She called it Tinker
Who was a bit of a stinker
The nonsense woman lay in bed
But to her lonliness and dread
Tinker and Mylogie were both gone
So these days she won't even eat a scone
Very much to our relief
She has got so much grief
She won't even come out her house
And all day is a quiet as a mouse
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cherry Stones for Kate
Tinker, Windsor castle,
Tailor, Savile Row,
Soldier, head of regiment,
Sailor, Heave-ho.
Rich man - very rich man,
Poor man - more's the pity.
Beggar man, beggars belief,
which of you will be the thief?
Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor
Every marriage is a failure
yet marriage is a common fate.
These are cherry stones for Kate.
Poemcatcher Royal Wedding book, poem collected at StAnza in St Andrews
poem by Sally Evans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Post-conceptual Poetics And Life
today, i have finished writing 'POst-conceptual poetics and life' in Yangon, Myanmar in Myanmar language.I will publish in local magazine, first.maybe, self-publication: the conceptof death in robotics and the concept of death in human machinery, reflecting social capital and intellectuial catital connected with ethics beyond borders.
poet nyein way
My Fortune
My fortune is big, bigger than oil and silver,
Open the chest of treasure which is hot and ready,
The skin has been contaminated, of goals and looks,
How are your messages recorded by the machinery?
My fortune died a long time ago, houses were fair,
Jokes were limited, never are they strong to live up to now,
Make the jest and keep order and justice.
I produce the machinery,
And you do the hard work.
My fortune is big, but I am biggest.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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