|We Shall Rise (standard:poetry, 236 words)|
|Author: Unsun||Added: Apr 10 2001||Views/Reads: 2112/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|The life of the despotic cynic|
I am a real boy. And the blood that is pumped mechanically through the fleshy pipes beneath my skin. Blood and bone, Balls and brains, they are real. The chemical engine stomach that burns away food, to transform them into energy for me. Destruction and reformation of matter to power the mechanicians of life. Rusty cogs of bones grind against each other and dull and slow nerves transmit commands to weary and worn muscles. owrk engines which are long out of date. I am a real boy. I am the human machine.The one who sees the rise and falls of civilizations as a pattern. "civilation go up, civilization go down, civiliation go up, civilization go down". The macrorythmn of human existence. And during this beat of the centuries, the beauty of cynicism has been crushed. I am a real cynical, boy. And we, the cynics, pessimists,realists and nay sayers, who have been oppressed by the legions and hordes and platoons and squadrons of yay sayers, idealists, and optimists. now the time is ripe, and we shall rise from our own bitter ashes a flaming bird of vengeance and reality. we the human machines shall bring an end to the tyranical rule of the spiritual yes men. We the machines who are people too, who think negatively towards a positive end, will pry loose the nails with which we have been crucified on a cross of ignorance. Tweet
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