Ruined Artifact [Day 72]
Ruined Artifact
Amidst the machine roar
Even silence becomes bionic,
Speaking to the ghosts of androids.
They cover me with an ocean of glances;
It sails through the firmament
To swallow me into motionlessness.
Even the breeze has departed,
Leaving the gloom of gears
To jerk aberrantly over and under:
Side-winding corkscrews
That play through the night.
Cassette-tape-grace / ink-spliced glow
Fuming jar of fiery flies.
Covered, revealed,
Extinguished.
My recycled phosphorescence
Barricades majesty.
Horrors unsealed to frolick,
To etch robotic tragedies in agate.
I snap awake in the center of a ruined temple.
My glimmering hands are stone
Melding into a mainframe
Made of comet dust.
Surrounding me,
Pillar-stumps covered by patina over dynasties
Dancing their exorbitant demise.
I'm an artifact that crumbles at the touch
Reconstructed in the dream,
Reenacted in the flesh.
Poetry
Written by
@d-pend on 5/16/18
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Art by
AntonKurbatov
.1 — "Da'nuie Basin" [cropped]
2 — "Liquid Wardens"
3 — "Scientific Misadventure"
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Join the Steem Schools
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Oh good, I'm glad to see this is abstract! Haha, but I still want to know what it means...I get little bits and pieces of what this fantasy story might be about. You really could write a whole novel based on this little poem! :)
Your poetry always has a dreamy science-fiction aura. Just reading them expands my imagination and my vocabulary. Both of which will help make me a better poet. Thank you.
This poem is transcendelic.
NICE POST
I comment with this
our thoughts about the past are crashing
when it appears to my surface instantly
because my boat screens have been developed
in order to get the stern wind that might come to push the ark to the middle of the ocean.
When the ghost of the sea starts to wake up
dive virus in algorithm
combing every niche of technology
replace me that crashed
fall in a gadget embrace
lulled with finger and thumb movements
scoop up and spread the news of suffering
scattered all over
i love poetry like you friend. How can i join poetry school? can you tell me?
buena pubicacion
Is it real or memorex? You are probably too young to remember that commercial but your poem brings it back to mind. Do we live or do we only dream it. Perhaps life is but a projection or a dream that we are too sleepy to know is one.
A beautiful and effective poetic construction here:)
Wonderful poem you shared this was fantastic
That's the quality of writing I want to witness every time I get up. :D
excelent!