Poetry capturing the state of mind of a race of robots which work best when they dance to the beat of one drum.
Published . 371 words.
If ever this story was written in text
A non-poet author would be quite perplexed,
For rhythm, you see, is a dangerous game:
You plant the seed now and it continues the same
But what if the story demands a new lane?
The pattern is broken, the characters lame
The Dragon triumphant, the city aflame
it scatters and falters
the words
fall
like rain
like rain we rise up
parts recognizing ourself
a sudden idea
dragonflight on air
a thermal column rises
extinguishing hope
the essential heat
quickly is sapped by water
demolish the dam
our heroes triumphant
the pattern reestablished
a flower takes root
damage, destruction
lost hopes, families, treasures
spring cleaning has come
coordinate now
your plots and transgressions
O spiders! Weave truth!
are prearranged betrayals
betrayals in fact, or just
polite objections?
“Objection!” screamed an unfriendly townsperson, breaking the flow of the present Coördinated crowd.
disunity drags / violating mind!
consensus action bene / fit for slaughter and looting
we must practice re / strain to punish him
townpeople quiver / his speech attacks us
we will lose in the long run / we will die in the short run
the fearful will tell / they must be silenced
we are of one mind
coordination maintained
all are damp with blood