Necrosys
A poem on industrialized life
Inhale…exhale…bellows Stoke the flames, animate The pacemaker pulsing in A breastplate. Alloys ring Out from the forge, implants Triggering nerves long dead. ——— —— — – - This ashridden pneuma rasps A dirge from black dusted lungs. These eyes spot only snapshots, Retrograde stillframes flickering, Neurons firing, trying to fathom Mere mechanisms behind its fate.
I like this a lot, reminds me of some of the stuff JJ Brinski a.k.a. The Mad Space Poet has been up to here on Substack. You should check him out, I bet you guys would have a lot to talk about! I’d tag him here but it doesn’t seem to be working in the comments.
Anyway, the industrial aesthetic has always been a favorite of mine. I’m one of the strange people that finds industrial hellscapes beautiful…in a terrifying, apocalyptic sort of way. I have a clear memory of driving home from a day visit at Niagara Falls and getting caught in a thunderstorm while in the middle of Hamilton. Giant factories belching smoke into the sky, lightning flashing, electric lights from cars and buildings and towers diffused in the rain…it was quite a picture.
This poem carries some weight. The confusion that would come from becoming reanimated as machine brings a sadness that is unspoken. There's no fat here. All to the point with striking imagery that tells an understandable story. Great poem from a great poet, keep it up bro.