Subconscious Industrialization by Nolic Nique

Poem name: Subconscious Industrialization Poet name: Nolic Nique Poem: 1.) Punch the Clock: How the Mechanized Cuckoo-Bird Systematizes your Cortex       with a Steam-Whistling Beak (   					Never let a clock look you in the eyes 			lest your nature get systematized to the mechanized cuckoo-bird’s   				time-zone. A steam-whistle in every second, his robot back-up dancers 					behind your thoughts, rewiring your cortex with routine 						to the small-mindedness of factory equipment.  						    When the instrument you work, works you,       						and hardwires your freewill to think in machine language.       2.) You Never Stood a Chance: The Workhorse Against the Capitalist                                                   with Chainsaw Jaws (   						In this piston-shaft merry-go-round of routine, to the darkness of the factory   							of your mind. You’re a working man, a superman, you turn it on 					and even the machines can’t keep pace with your breakneck craftsmanship. 			    I respect that, I seethe with the same fire. I define myself by the skills I’ve acquired. 			      But the machine uses that against you. In this world, every second costs a cent 	  			every day, a dollar. The cigar capitalist with chainsaw jaws will count his money 	  			 as your hunch-back becomes his desk, until you’re worthless.               			   A wheel-of-pain awaits these workhorses’ numbered days. Industrialization                 		     would have the life-force of mankind line-up to the subconscious assembly line                        		    of cloned ideas. A clockwork paganism of consumerist items                        		    a pantheon of man-eating machines. Its ironic these good men resemble 		   			      the playthings they slave for, but reassembled.      3.) When Entertainment Loses its Enlightenment: How the System of Control Cures                                                                                               the Insane Pain of Freewill (   				Now, Imagine if the make-believe freedom of thought                       became electric shock-therapy. They want to stop eunoia.  			   Entertainment must lose all sense of enlightenment,  		    		  predetermined as the plotline of a 9 to 5.                   Imagine if looking away from the television caused insane pain.     			      That’s what they want. No-more shall the storyteller’s toyshop             of mythological spare-parts speak in tongues of mind-bending metaphor. Now,                         a dark-age of frameworks. Art, a system of control, a reoccurring dream                                   spoon-feeding you white noise until you get back to work.   End of poem. Credits:  Copyright © Nolic Nique Nolic Nique is an emerging poet and Arborist. His  industry is seasonal which allows him to spend his winters writing and reading. He ran an Arboricultural company for the past two years in Toronto, but just shut that down to move back to Ottawa.