Ode to Fighting Robots

I’ve decided I don’t use enough fucking descriptive terms in my god-damned blog.

I guess there’s nothing for it but to celebrate the robots, robots who are “idealized post-modern savages“.

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Ode to Fighting Robots

silver-fist, babelfish
low-to-the-ground–vaccumed to the wall–
full of flame-throwers and bandsaws…

spin like flin, an angry din
axes and sharp sticks.
Robots making robot toothpicks.

Majesty of microcircuitry.
Radio-controlled Andy Warhol waltzing on tripwire
white iron and ornery LED conspire

Still life in electro-strife–
an onlooker’s geek rush and tussle
breed of new athlete’s mind-muscle

dissatisfaction, stirs within
our saucer-shaped metal-killing-coaster.
If circuitry got sympathy, it would have been a toaster.
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God it’s horrible. I’m like some kind of abomination.