A Poem by SirEdwinSantosIII

A poem about an unfortunate mechanical man...




We’ve developed a much too distinct reputation, to favor suspended


Animation. We’ve these amber capsules with fluid manna


And we’ve forgotten real manna, forsaken the green.


Oh, we’ve just digital-fucked and gestated mechanical.


And out it comes in a puddle, kicking and screaming--


Our lovely automaton. God would you just look at him.


Curling and pulling his placenta around him.


Then he’s suddenly snatched by two arms suspended


From the ceiling, gears grinding and scraping in hydraulic screaming

Louder…than he’s screaming, for new oily manna


His U joints and L joints are so brazen mechanical


Grinding themselves--it’s so loud--we don’t care--for we sleep--and dream his green


This poor little boy automaton with eyes of God’s most brilliant green


And no compliment from parents who wrought him to use him


So he doesn’t know… They plug him now… into this thing mechanical


Half asleep, while we sleep, and he’ll be suspended


In his own hell, like new heaven synthetic manna


God, he’s half us--he wants more--he’s screaming, he’s screaming


Weep, God weep for our little automaton. He’s like a new man-ape hopelessly screaming He’s like--years ago--we traveled to--an African Green, Fucked an ape, for the sound of it, surrounded by manna,


And brought a child on the ocean, winds howling, waves suspended


For what we’d done for fun, for science, for God to confound him.


And this child blew his brains out when he saw the mechanical.


Our automaton is weeping in human-mechanical


Tears. For he hears, in our sleep we’re all screaming


He’s lonely, Goddamn, and he’s left his post to view us suspended


Then he sees we’re all fat and contorted, copper tubing turned green


But we’re smiling, how on earth, and the earth shuts around him.


Father, Mother, Child in one room--sounds drowned in the most potent new manna.


Teenage automaton walks to the top of the hill (of wires) and drinks his last bit Automatamanna. It’s good, and it oils his now perfect mechanical


Sadness, and he now sees it all rising around him.


He’s a onematon, an alonematon, and he turns off the screaming.


He’s got mechanical ears after all, mechanical eyes--he never knew were green.

Naught for why, true no life, serving his time, forever, in a world suspended.


Dreamt forever is dream death, in the richest of manna.


The green is quick fodder for the wretched mechanical.


The automaton no longer knows he’s alone, knows nothing, no screaming, God bless him.

© 2021 SirEdwinSantosIII

Author's Note

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"... formating issues "
Yup on this site for sure.

This is quite good, a great feat of imagination. Imagination running wild.
It is certainly good fun to read and you've got the origins of humanity in to it as well with the Ape (Adam or Eve?) Or are the origins inadvertent?
No matter.
A good read thanks for sharing. Rew.

I just noticed. A sestina?

Posted 1 Year Ago

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1 Review
Added on September 11, 2021
Last Updated on September 11, 2021
Tags: sci-fi, poetry, postmodern, dark, sestina, fiction



Greenville, NC

I grew up in the deep south. I write poetry and prose about love and corruption. My genres are anywhere from Southern Gothic to Sci-Fi. My favorite authors are Coleridge and Vonnegut. I could only hop.. more..