Cerebral Contents:

Update for 05.13.08:

Male Model by Phil Doran

Set to Replay by Willie Smith

Backsliding by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Tree by G. David Schwartz

05.05.08:

Disintegration by Don Hucks

Five Feet and Building by Joel Van Noord

Grocery Aisle by Richard Lighthouse

Cross the Road by Ashok Niyogi

04.29.08:

Lookalikes by Phil Doran

Dinner by Brandi Wells

The Modern Covenant by Daniel E. Wilcox

Death by Onions by Michael Frissore

04.21.08:

Future's Children by Kimberly Raiser

Identity Theft by George Anderson

The Datists by Adam Engel

A Great Deal of Money by Justin Hyde

04.14.08:

Mr. Papaya and Dale by Eric Suhem

California by Caroline Imreibe

Aftermath of Vehement Argument #1,068 by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Trip-Hammer Vitality by Lisa Nickerson

04.07.08:

The Florence of Basel, or Why Readers of Nietzsche Need to Read Burckhardt by Jeff Crouch

Slideshow by Miles J. Bell

Friends of the Poet by Sean C. Bowen

Picture Perfect by Leah Baldwin

03.24.08:

The Streak by Jeremy Hendrix

Grab Your Butts by Emme Hor

Far Away by Ashok Niyogi

Staring Down a White-Tailed Doe by Aleathia Drehmer

03.17.08:

The Hairbrush by Vernard Kennedy

Dog Days of Winter by Niall Berkeley

Poem From My Grave by Michael Lee Johnson

Mashed Potatoes and Hamburgers by Matt Finney

03.10.08:

Hard Work by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Jetty Cake Pigs by J.D. Nelson

I'm Quiet in Bed by Moctezuma Johnson

Tequila Shakes by Richard Lighthouse

Mill Time

by Mike Blake

Lassoed by time and circumstance again
The animal no longer fights it, docile
In his inner gloom, familiar with hours slipping by,
Carrying fragments of his dreams
(Nothing more to relish than a smoke or soda).
A knowing smile for another captive,
All of them held by that ceaseless line,
Moving meat for the time.

Monsters chugging, whirring, growling:
The constant life of the factory.
Figures in their unhurried movements
In steady sync with the cacophony.

As the clock conducts, red-faced and sweaty leaders
Loud and angry in their own failure
Rant that everything is against them,
Pressured from below and above,
Everything sits on their burden-rounded shoulders.
The Rodneys of the world yanking
On the restrictions of their daily routines,
Eyes caffeine-bugged,
Complaints, like blanks, fired from busy tongues.

Astutely serious, the Big Boss and his entourage,
Jowly faces heated from boozy lunches,
Take the tour, pointing here and there
At the laboring behemoths and their tenders,
The fastest, non-stop lines to fortunes.
Expansive, drink-fueled gestures hold
A sycophantic audience in thrall.

The clock conducts, with the assistance of buzzers
(An automatic response from the drones).
A quick fifteen minutes and don't be late
Or you might find yourself on permanent break.
With shrugs and sarcasm they resume their tasks
As forklifts roll through the enveloping din.

Keep eyeing the conductor and your day will crawl,
Frustration building with your daily output.
Thoughts of quitting intimately close
(So tempting in the heat of your labor),
Blood boiling with the daily anger.

And you well know your only recourse:
Bite the tongue and burrow deeper
Into timeless tunnels inside your head
Away from the cursed hands revolving,
Guiding the time factored symphony.

______________________________________
posted 03.12.07.

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