Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Wild Growing IV

What wild utility in our industry
It is practical magic that created machines and robots
All built from tools produced and applied by minds
Leveraged on beverages and fingers prototyping
In an opposable demonstration in fortitude.

A tree vertically scaled as a vine creeps to swallow willow
It is the willow wolf that hops to divine embrace
Of the sun's court which if placed in light
Spoils brewing anything for you
     but a bitter beer     or some spiced tea
           Too sour to drink without honey

But in shade is nice, in a peaceful shade nicer
Of park or preserve of tourist or homespun industry.
The industry of the mind put to sleep by bitter life
Like any rust will destroy a tool if left to rot in rain
as any machine or robot or lot of destiny.

What rusts plastic but sun
What corruption spreads in the unused and unprotected.
It is but itself, but an older self married to time, as a cancer will end all

Electronics then inherit, but dust will marry this
As rust must marry iron in another marriage with time
While resting
       as one might drink a beer.

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