The wind in a steampunk engine,
gears grind with precision.
Rollo May’s theory of intelligent design,
the machine used to whine, no god
just man’s common insight, all hail
the Industrial Revolution, efficiency
the hallelujah of the future.
Empty factories and sometimes
green, where soot and fog used
to be, we extracted from the challenge,
all the work that could be had and
left it all abandoned for newer things
from overseas, thunk and thud
said the war machines, with
no one to give them energy.
See the history covered in dust,
feel the machines covered in rust,
nostalgia takes alot of room, to
canonize spaces left in ruin.
The powerful motors used to move
in unison with results to prove
the maximum production fitting
together, groove on groove,
making tanks and flying machines.
Things on the conveyor belt, we
hardly had to try, put one part
into the other, over and over,
technology acts like a lover.
We feel respect for what we can
do and contempt for the human
cost, confusion and disillusionment,
repetitive are the things we have lost.
Quality of life to pollution, steady
work to robots, overflowing trash
dumps, we become just a number
but we still have our disposable stuff.
We enslave each other through
starvation wages and sweatshops,
the machines have broken down
but there are more to come, new
computers out-think and out compete
us but we are more efficient, we
have won. In time, the rust, the
dust, the trust, the hustle to move
up, we will unburden ourselves of
our lust to succeed, for awhile,
and move on to the next amazing
thing, this is our pattern, our
revolving history.
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