Oh, the grand machinery of the pompous parade,
Struts its shiny contraptions, a glitzy charade.
With levers and pulleys and wheels that spin,
It promises greatness, but where to begin?
The gears grind on gossip, the cogs click on bluster,
Its bolts are just rhetoric, its nuts, just a fluster.
"Behold my great contraption!" it boasts with a shout,
But the whole damn ensemble's just fluff, no doubt.
So keep your grand contrivance and its vaunted flair,
I'll take my own chaos with a little more care.
For all that it boasts and all it'll achieve,
It's just a grand show, not worth a reprieve.
YOU ARE READING
Dimensional Doodles
PoesiaThis collection is a tapestry woven from the threads of cosmic wonder and digital intrigue, each poem a distinct journey through realms where intellect and imagination collide. Dive into a universe where quantum whispers mingle with the syntax of th...
