What I Am
I am a happy cog
A happy cog in a warm machine
A warm, well-tooled machine
For grinding people into dust
And from the dust, the machine makes clay
And from the clay, it makes more cogs
Happy cogs
And with the happy cogs, it makes more machines
Warm, well-tooled machines
For grinding people into dust
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Author's Note
Originally appeared August 10, 1993 on Usenet talk.bizarre.
Other stories by j. h. woodyatt
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This made me very depressed while helplessly snorting in laughter. The words fit as nicely into the poem as cogs in a machine ... "for grinding people into dust." :)
Thanks, I suppose. I think I was feeling rather grim when I wrote it.
I really like your "grinding poetry"... Very stimulating.
I faved it.