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Robert L. Martin

Brain Machines

Brain Machines
 
They run themselves out of touch
In communication with nature as such
With overbearing voices they all shout
You have nothing I know what you’re about
 
I have it all my superior reasoning
Like a savory stew with its proper seasoning
To hell with nature and what it demands
What it’s all about is out of my hands
 
Humility is a world I find so strange
Like a drifter lost on the open range
Pretension has given me too many words
Can’t hear the songs sung by all the birds
 
I look for nature to be my guide
Only through her can I truly confide
Brain machines only a small part of living
Lore of nature the rest in its giving
Brain machines can’t run forever
Nature in its simplicity runs eternal

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